Numbers Are You

The guard scanned the identification tags on the crowd streaming into the convention hall. 163. 113. 121....  He nodded approvingly as each person with an appropriate number passed. A 96 appeared!  He blocked her passage. "Sorry, ma'am, but only folks with numbers over 100 are allowed inside." 

   96 turned away, but 84, taking advantage of the guard's momentary distraction,  slipped past.

   "Hold it!" the guard shouted and lunged at the two-digiter, but 84 slipped into the throng and disappeared.  The guard whipped out his phone, "An 84 got past me, Sarg.  Couldn't help it. I was busy holding back an attempted gate-crasher, a 96. Sorry." 

    The sergeant's voice crackled in the guard's earpiece.  "Don't worry, Lou.  We'll get the 84.  Two-digits will stand out like a sore thumb among the high numbers."  Papers rustled over the line.  "We got a bigger problem, Lou.  Got reports of fake IDs bein' scalped.  Keep your eyes out for suspicious-looking tags, like the wrong size or fuzzy print. Be on the alert."

    "Roger," the security guard acknowledged.  "By the way, I had a 185 came through this morning.  Highest number I've gotten so far.  Have you spotted it yet?"  He laughed.  "Shouldn't be too hard to see the gold star next to the number." 

  Inside the hall, near the registration table, 185 whispered to 110 and 103.  Like her, they carried counterfeit IDs but with less lofty digits.  "I can't help feeling nervous," 185 whispered.  "I should have picked a more modest number, like you did, maybe 130 or 135.  Some smart-aleckey 150 type, trying to prove he's mislabeled, might ask me a question I can't answer."

  "Don't worry," 110 replied.  "No one will bother you.  People will be too impressed with a high number like yours."

  185 was not reassured, and her eyes darted over passers-by to notice if they were casting suspicious looks in her direction. "I hope I can bluff it out if a 150 big shot challenges me. 

  A security guard burst through the throng and grabbed 185's arm.  "Gotcha, you phony.  Better come with me quietly and make it easy on yourself."  The guard sneered. "Takes more than a high number to fool an experienced hand like me." 110 and 103 slipped away into one of the tester's booths. "What gave me away?" 185 asked as she was dragged to an exit.

  "No 185 is gonna' hang around numbers like 110 and 103," the guard sneered. 

  The phony 185 shook her head.  "No, officer, you're mistaken.  I got in trouble because of my E-score. 

The guard laughed.  "Unlucky for you, lady, I tested off the charts for PP."

"What's that?" 185 asked.

 "Paranoid personality," the guard answered proudly.

Martin Lindauer has published short fiction, essays, and memoirs in Ha!, The Jewish Magazine, New Vilna Review, Oracle, Poetica, Shofar Literary Review, The Short Humour Site, Slab, and in several anthologies.