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BUTTON OR DIE
Caton looked at the rectangular device with a round red button in its center. Still looking at the button, he implored, “You can’t be serious?” His voice was full of disbelief and shock.
“But I am.” The man in the long black coat spoke evenly and calmly—so calmly that it was disconcerting.
“I press the button, and I get a dollar? And I can press it as much as I want?” He paused, finally looked up from the button to the creepy man in black, and continued, “I’d be a moron to believe this. I press the button and get a dollar—that’s it? I don’t understand.”
“It sounds like you understand it perfectly well.”
“How do I get the money?”
The man in black stood in front of Caton, far enough to avoid crowding his personal space, close enough to make him uncomfortable. “It will be deposited to your CashApp account. I find it interesting that you don’t believe me, yet you are asking about deposit methods.”
“I don’t believe you at all, but only a fool turns down any version of Pascal’s Wager.”
“Well. I certainly am no God, but I understand your jest. So, do you accept the offer?”
Caton studied the button. The base was made out of wood and about four inches long and wide, and half an inch thick. The button itself was centered, looking like a raised red ‘O’ in the center square of a tic-tac-toe board. It was low to the base and flat, like a mushroom without a stem.
“I press the button as many times as I want, and each time, a dollar is instantly added to my CashApp account.”
“And…”
“I have to press the button at least once per day.” Caton stopped at a thought, “Or…?”
The man in black said flatly, “or you die.”
“What?”
“Could you imagine unlimited wealth without some downside attached?”
A thin smile crept onto his face as he asked. It was the first time he had smiled.
“I guess that makes sense. Unlike, well, everything else you’ve said.” Caton didn’t believe a word of what he was hearing, but saw no harm in humoring the thin, middle aged man. He sighed. “So what now?”
“You could test it.”
Caton still didn’t believe a word of what he’d been told. But he also believed in hedging his bets—and not looking a gift horse in the mouth. He pressed the button. He grabbed his phone. He opened up CashApp and saw there was a one dollar deposit that had just been made.
He was realizing how absurd this all was, and how ridiculous he was acting in going along with it. At least I got a dollar out of this, he thought to himself. He decided to try for a bit more, and pressed the button ten more times. His balance went up ten dollars.
Caton was smiling and nearly laughed as he asked the question, “And what now? Or should I just keep pressing?”
The darkly dressed man answered, his tone as consistently calm as it had been throughout.
“Now we make it official.”
“I don’t know what you’re playing at. I can press this thousands of times and transfer the money. What are you hoping for?”
“Only for you to understand the rules. And to sign this contract.”
The man in black opened his black briefcase and removed a single page, which he placed on the kitchen island that they had been talking over.
The contract read:
==========================================================
I, Caton Jospem, agree to the following.
If I do not press the button at least once on a calendar day, I will die.
Only I may press the button.
This contract is effective for the duration of my life.
This contract takes effect the day after the signed ‘date.’
x_____________ date:______
==========================================================
Caton read, and wasn’t happy at what he saw, “What the fuck is this?!” Caton’s mind was reeling from the absurdity.
“It’s what we spoke about. If you hadn’t yet pressed it today you would have” he looked to the analog clock on the wall “about six hours left to press it. But today is a grace day.”
“Sure. Right. But I don’t think this is legally binding. Last I checked, murder is still illegal.”
“This is a contract between us.” Trenchcoat man looked a bit agitated. His next sentences were concise bursts, “It’s extremely straight forward. You saw how it works. Is there any specific issue that remains?”
“Between us? As in, no one else will ever see it?”
“Correct.”
Caton stopped to truly think about what was being said for the first time. Up to this point, he had merely entertained the man, but not seriously entertained what he was saying. He wasn’t far into his thoughts when he felt that the whole situation was ridiculous.
Why was he even talking to this man? After a long day of work, Caton had wanted nothing more than to be back at home, drinking a beer and staring at a screen. He wondered why he had let this man into his home. That was when he realized he had no recollection of letting the man in. He had been driving home. Then he was talking to this tall, middle-aged trench coat wearing man. There was no memory in between.
At this confusing realization, Caton asked, “How did you get in here?”
“How did you get in here?”
Caton did not know how he got home, but seemingly, the man in black did.
“I… I don’t know,” Caton stammered and fumbled for words. “What is this? What are you?”
“I’m here to facilitate a deal. That is all. Think of all of this as a cosmic experiment that would be considered unethical. Or think of it as a dream. But if you sign, you can make all the money you ever wanted. Anytime you need money for a bill, or for a gift for your child, or to get caught up on child support, you can just press the button until that problem is solved.”
Caton didn’t like what he’d just heard. He was angry and it showed on his reddened face and glowering eyes.
“Fuck you.”
He grabbed the page and signed it.
