Short Stories

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Main Entry: trust
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, probably of Scandinavian origin; akin to Old Norse traust trust; akin to Old English trEowe faithful -- more at TRUE
1 a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something b : one in which confidence is placed
2 a : dependence on something future or contingent : HOPE b : reliance on future payment for property (as merchandise) delivered : CREDIT
3 archaic : TRUSTWORTHINESS
4 a (1) : a charge or duty imposed in faith or confidence or as a condition of some relationship


Last night came and went with all the familiarity and monotany of any other Wednesday at work. It left me feeling tired, and ready to find retreat and solace in the comfort of my bed. With the week wearing on and the energizing effect of the last lazy weekend wearing off, it's safe to say I'm reveling in the countdown, that's already begun, to the next weekend. I did, indeed, find myself walking as fast as possible out of the building and towards my car. I never cease to be internally consciencious of the increased speed I travel with when I know I'm heading away from work and not towards it. Speed limits, traffic laws, friendly and courteous driving ethics - they all go out the window when they are coming between me and my bed in the morning. So I walk fast, and by the time I get to my car I'm practically running. I'm not exaggerating. But as I'm running I'm suddenly hit, again, with the thoughts I'd been having for most of the morning regarding trust. Now trust, as far as personal relationships and emotional issues, is a fairly common topic of conversation for most individuals, and most will willingly admit to lacking it. But I'm talking about trust in a larger perspective. I'm talking about global trust. I'm talking about trust in things like the government, leadership, management, organized religion, societal sanctions, and the likes. I'm sitting at work flipping a penny over in my hand and wondering how it could possibly have the phrase "we trust", much less "in God we trust", embedded on it. What IS trust after all, and do we as human beings even come close to obtaining, much less, maintaining it? I don't think so.

So, I'm sitting at work last night at 3 am doing what I do most nights - playing on the internet. Ok, maybe I don't usually do this, but our computer system was down and I couldn't do anything else for the time being. So here I was lost in my little internet world when I hear a slight knock and a muffled "hi" coming from the front of the lab. I glance up and immediately wished I'd pretended I hadn't heard him speak. Not that I have a problem with him, or any of the other police officers that get paid to wander the campus and the hospital, investing all of their energy in finding ways to make the lethargic hours go by faster. But they always seem overjoyed to find me sitting here all alone with a similar predicament of boredom and lack of work. However, it's not the same - I have internet. I reply a very unenthusiastic "hi" from across the lab and hope that it will subdue him, but it doesn't work. He mumbles something else that gets drowned out and tangled up with the sounds of the humming refrigerators and incubators and arrives at my ears sounding something like, "are having sun moo owl wee." Jibberish. Now in order to not appear blatantly rude I have to get up and walk to the front, fully acknowledging his presence, and appear to be interested in starting up what I know will turn into an hour long conversation. I smile politely. "What was that?" I ask, as I hesitantly approach the window over the front desk. I slide the glass doors fully opened just in time for him to repeat his clever, "I haven't seen you around lately." He says it with an attempted charming smile. "I'm here every single night," I respond dully. "Huh", he says, taking pride in his perfect entry to full fledged conversation. I smile an awkward smile and wish that it more clearly stated "go away".

Once I gave up hoping he would just say "bye" and mosey on away, which clearly was not going to happen, I submitted to the conversation and tried to see it as a way to pass the time. I regretfully glanced over my shoulder every once and awhile at my computer. The screensaver eventually popped up when it finally went idle. I sighed a defeated sigh. Meanwhile, our conversation flows uninteruppted from his assignments, the lack of excitement in the ERs, the other police officers and where they are posted, politics (my view and his), life in general, our generation of what his generation views as complete retards (rightfully so), the education system, communism, the prison system and my theory of reinstating the eye-for-an-eye-tooth-for-a-tooth system, etc. etc. Eventually the topic lands on hospital security and how he's the only cop assigned to this 7-floor building. "Huh," I sarcastically reply, "that's encouraging." He chuckles as if it's funny; I don't think so. "Don't worry," he attempts at encouragement, "you can always use the panic button." My eyebrow goes up. "You know, the panic button under your desk," he clarifies. I look at him for a few seconds, like he's crazy, before I lean over in my chair and try to look under the desk. Nothing. "All these floors have them," he says. "I'm sure it's there. It's recessed into the wall. You have to stick your finger straight into the wall in order to push it, so you can't accidentally hit it." I look again. "We don't have any panic button," I assure him, wondering how stupid that is (trust concern #1). We eventually resolve to forget about it; there is no panic button. "Well, you know the emergency numbers, right?" he asks. "I'm sure they're on the phones," I respond, again thinking how intelligent I am to be assuring him of the fact that not only do we not have a panic button but I also don't know the numbers to call in case of a threatening situation. He spouts off the numbers which I immediately forget and we move onto talking about Taser technology, and how he is in charge of the academy's implimentation of this new technology. Now this I find interesting; he picks up on this and keeps talking about it. He's explaining the technology and telling me, in great detail, how it works and the rules they have for using it when he suddenly offers, "I'll show you the videos on the internet if you let me in." He nods toward the large metal door standing between us, to our left. "He doesn't know the code to get in", I think - another comforting factor to consider, if I ever needed him to be able to get in. My first instinct is that of a paranoid and untrusting world-wise 25 year old girl: why should I trust YOU? I was immediately suprised at my mistrust. If you can't trust the one person on campus being paid to protect you, who can you trust? This answers my enduring question: no one. It's amazing all of the things that went through my head in the 3 second time period it took for me to come to a decision. I thought of all the things we've successfully confirmed thus far: 1) I am, indeed, the only one on the floor, 2) I will be the only one here for the next 4 hours, 3) there is no panic button, 4) I most certainly do not know the emergency phone numbers, 5) he is the only cop in the building right now 6) he is efficient with hand held weapons - all very much LESS than encouraging. All this, and I still reluctantly pull the door open. He enthusiastically pulls up a chair next to me and we begin our search of Taser technology.

Trust. Who can we trust? Do we trust anyone? I have to say that an hour with the police officer on duty that night at MCV, left me thinking about a lot more than just the various conversations we had. I have spent the past 24 hours replaying my own thoughts and feelings about the situation and realizing that I, like most, do not trust anyone. We had covered most of the issues of trust in our conversations - mistrust in the government, clearly; mistrust in other countries, regarding terrorism and communistic threats; mistrust in the general population (you should have heard some of his stories); we even covered the topic of organ donation and death, ultimately leading to the question of trust in God - something we, especially we Christians, say we have as we load up on the best car insurance, health insurance, fire insurance, theft insurance, retirement plans, mutual funds, etc. What we didn't cover was why I couldn't muster up the courage to refuse to open the door, look him in the eye, and tell him that I didn't trust him. So as I sit here and stare absent mindedly at the penny in my palm, I ask myself if it is more beneficial and courageous to cling to the false ideology that we still know what it means to trust, or to admit that we don't. We have lost the concept that we originally saw as important enough to be printed on every piece of currency we produce. Maybe it's time we took it off. This realization is something that is hidden in a recess deep inside me, a reaction to it triggered only if pressure is intentionally and directly applied. It is now alarming and stimulating that reaction - something resembling a sloppy combination of urgency, regret, and fear. Maybe he helped me find that panic button after all.

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