My Schtuff

“The Wheels on the Bus”

A bus rolled up to the curb and the doors creaked open.
A line of children filed on as a warm breeze, swept up in the dying days of summer, rustled the trees. Han Choi stared out the windshield, never once making eye contact with the boarding children, or offering a friendly “Hello.”
Han looked down at his hands; the steering wheel was slick with fresh sweat. As the last child found his seat, Han’s eyes darted to the large rectangular mirror above his head. In the second and a half he took to check, Han counted twenty pairs of eyes staring back at him.
The thermometer had read 72 degrees Fahrenheit as he left the bus station that morning, but for some reason Han couldn’t shake the chills of biting cold that ran down his spine. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for longer than a standard blink, and reached out for the lever that would close the bus doors. His hand, still slick with sweat, slipped off the black rubber handle.
Shit.
Han glanced back nervously at the children.
No one seemed to have noticed.
A smile forced its way to his lips and he gave an awkward nod to the gathered children behind him. He faced forward once more, found the handle and pulled, closing the bus doors with their iconic creak before joining the traffic on the main road once more.
Only four more stops.
Four more stops and it would all be over.

One week earlier...
The automatic glass doors slid back silently as Han strode through and into his building. The grey, eight story, concrete building didn’t stand out in any particular way along the downtown skyline of the capital city. Then again, it had been designed that way. As much as Han’s employers liked to make themselves known in his country, they also liked to pretend they were just like the people they governed.
This particular day was nothing special for Han Choi, nothing different, and nothing out of the ordinary. He had arrived at work at the exact same time he did everyday, said hello to the receptionist at the front desk, and somehow managed to weave his slight frame into the crowded elevator just as the doors began to close. As the doors opened once again, Han stepped out onto the white linoleum floors of the 4th floor. He navigated his way through the maze of white cubicle walls and found his desk exactly in the order he had left it for the weekend just days before. Except for one thing.
A pencil.
Han noticed the yellow pencil and immediately pushed it back into place along the row of other various writing utensils he kept on his desk, his immaculate and ordered desk. His computer hummed to life as Han checked his calendar for any meetings that he might have on this late August monday. Of course he had already known there would be nothing on that calendar long before he even entered the building, but checking it was routine, just something he did every day. Just as his email popped open, Han’s wrist watch went off with a single beep. He looked at it; 7:43. It was time to use the bathroom.
Just like every other day.
After taking care of his business, Han approached the pearl white sink and bent down to wash his hands. Lathered twice. Rinsed. Repeated. He stepped towards the paper towel dispenser in the corner when something caught his eye. It was rare for Han to actually examine himself in the mirror as physical appearance and good looks meant little to him as long as everything was clean and in order. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the grey lines of hair just above his ears. Tired and pale blue eyes stared back at him in the mirror as he adjusted his wire rimmed glasses. After a long second, he finally dried his hands and left the men’s room.
He returned to a new post-it note on his desk.
Meeting. Upstairs. Ten minutes. Don’t be late.
Han suddenly felt very, very warm. Upstairs was his secretary’s code for the big boys, the very people that ran his division. Han didn’t understand; there were hardly ever lay offs in a government job and he had always been a hard worker. He had always done what he was told. Perhaps it was a promotion? He doubted it. He might have been a hard worker but he also never particularly stood out.
What could they want with him?
As he made his way to the bank of elevators once more, the question clouded his thoughts.

Han looked down at his blue bus driver uniform. They had of course gotten him the right size; even such a small detail would not be overlooked by his superiors. Still, it felt just a little too snug on him. Particularly around the throat area.
“So, have a kid of your own?” The man’s voice asked from behind him.
Han blinked. He had completely forgotten about the “bus monitor” throughout his entire ride. The man hadn’t said a word and in turn, Han hadn’t exactly tried to make any conversation himself.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was asking if you have a kid of your own?”
“Uh, no, none of my own.”
The light turned green and Han tapped lightly on the pedal as traffic began to move once more.
“Married?”
“No.”
The man let out something between a snort and a laugh, but he was quiet for a long second.
“How about siblings?”
Thankfully, Han had pulled over for his second to last pick up. This gave him an opportunity to turn his head around and look at the man that had dared ask such a question. The man behind him sat there with a wide grin of pearly white teeth. Han studied the man’s features silently. Broad shoulders, thinning hair, a slightly crooked nose and old acne scars to make for a thug-like appearance. He was probably somewhere around Han’s age, maybe a little later into his 40’s, but time obviously had not been kind.
The man playfully smacked Han on the shoulder, “Relax friend, it was a joke. Lighten up a little, ok? I know it’s your first day and all but it can’t be all bad.”
Yeah, it can’t be all bad.
Maybe he should just lighten up, enjoy the day and relax a little.
Unfortunately, the black Glock handgun taped to the bottom of his seat was making any thought of relaxing a distant dream. .

Han sat in a dim room at one end of a large oak table that seemed, to him, to stretch for miles rather than just about five feet. Across from him sat the director of his division and two other government officials he had never seen before.
“As you know Mr. Choi, our country’s population is growing exponentially.”
The first man, bald and short, spoke up.
“Over the past few years, we have put laws in place to try and slow this rapid growth. You may be familiar with the most recent and effective, ‘one child per couple’ law.”
Han nodded silently in response as the second man began to talk.
“Well Han, may I call you Han?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Recently we have found that our efforts have been in vain. So now we must to turn to alternative plans. As a member of the division of Population Control, you, of course, know this already. One option seems particularly promising, because it results in two things. How our friends in the west say, ‘it kills two birds with one stone.’”
Han’s boss finally decided to take his turn.
“It’s still in its infancy stages but we need a tester,” he said solemnly. “As a man without child or even a spouse, we figured you would be perfect for the job. We hand selected you to be the tester of the beta phase of this project. You should be honored.”
Honored? Somehow, something deep inside him told Han that whatever came next would completely wash away any sense of honor he might hold.
“You know it’s in everyone’s best interest for our beloved government to keep our people under control, correct? Well, over the past few years we’ve felt our control and their belief in us slipping gradually. With this project we can create panic and then stop it, once again showing our people that they need their government to keep them safe. At the same time, if this works, we have a new way of dealing with the ever growing population problem.”
“Two birds, one stone,” the second man added. His teeth were sharp as he smiled; menacing.

As Han pulled into the school parking lot, he could feel his insides knot up. He knew what was coming. Still, he had been given a job, and he needed to see it through. Afterall it was for the greater good, right? That’s what they had told him.
Instead of taking a right and joining the other buses in line, waiting to drop their loads of school children off, Han continued down to the lower level of the parking lot. He glanced up at the mirror. Not a single child spoke up about the change in course, but he could tell some of the brighter ones had certainly taken notice. He went to the farthest end of the lot, just as he had been instructed, and pulled to a stop. The large yellow school bus idled with a low roar as Han closed his eyes. His mind was racing.
This was wrong.
Beyond wrong, it was despicable. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he’d never be able to consider himself the same man he once was when all of this was over.
But it had to be done.
He reached under the seat and pulled the handgun free of its hiding spot. Han held the cold, black and menacing gun in both hands, staring down at it. His mind was racing, he couldn’t do this, not here, not now. These children were innocent. They had done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve this.
With a deep breath Han stood and turned towards the children. He raised the Glock up to chest height for all to see, as if it were a piece of art. A very scary, very deadly, piece of art. Several children in the back screamed, but most simply sat in quiet fear and shock. Han swallowed hard before pointing the slick black weapon down at the nearest child.
Deep brown eyes brimming with tears stared back at him.
The muzzle was pointed between those brown eyes.
He could feel himself sweating, but hesitated. He wasn’t sweating.
Han was crying.
He stared at the young boy, the gun still poised to end his short life. It was barely visible at first, but it moved quickly and as Han moved his gaze from the boy to his hand, he saw the gun trembling ever so slightly. He was scared.
He, the supposed murder, the man with the gun, was scared. They had told him it would be easy. They had given him psychological testing, taught him to detach himself from the situation. They had thought that because he himself lacked a child, he would lack the remorse and caring for one as well. They had thought he would listen obediently to his superiors, just as he always had. They had thought he would be the perfect individual to murder a school bus full of children in cold blood.
They had thought wrong.
The gun fell from his hand and clattered on the metal floor at his feet. Barely speaking above a whisper, with tears rolling down his face, Han muttered, “This is wrong, I can’t kill them.”
Over his right shoulder, the bus monitor let out another half laugh, half snort like before,
“Yeah well, that’s why I’m here.”
Han’s eyes went wide as the shot rang out. He looked down, noticing his blue bus driver uniform becoming darker and darker over his left breast pocket. His hands somehow found their way to the growing stain, dabbed it, and came back crimson red. Han fell forward, into the aisle. The last thing he saw in his life were the scared faces of children.
Children that he had been told to kill.

One month later...
“A failure? The beta test was more of a...minor hiccup.”
The division head of Population Control spoke into the end of a red chord telephone. Behind him a TV flickered quietly as a news anchor reported about the tragedy that had occurred on a local school bus just a few weeks before. “No no, don’t you see? As far as they’re concerned this is just a tragedy, an isolated incident. We need to make them believe that this is the doing of an individual. An individual on the loose that is more than willing to do it again. Then, after a few weeks, we wrap it up and end the project as if it never happened. The public realizes they need us to keep them, and more importantly their children, safe and we save our country from over population for the next three generations.”
As he spoke, school children lined up on the block outside of the building, waiting for the school bus to retrieve them. Above them, the man began to wrap up his conversation, adding,
“We are proceeding as planned.”
The head of the country’s Population Control Division hung up the phone and made his way to the large glass window in his office before staring down at the street below. His face was unreadable, emotionless as he watched the children talk amongst themselves.
A bus rolled up to the curb and the doors creaked open.