The Parato Principle

Originally published in Flash Me Issue 30

It was raining outside when the night clerk climbed the stairs. At her knock on room 303, a middle-aged man opened the door. He seemed out of place in her tiny Romanian hotel. The American had pale skin and wore a black shirt and black trousers. And he had stuck thin-screen monitors to the walls of his room. They showed flickering, grainy images of bats and trees. She heard a chorus of chirps as they flew.

She said in careful English, “Your fax, sir.”

“Call me Vlad. Come in.”

That wasn’t the name from his passport. She bowed slightly and stepped into the room.

He turned to his bedside table, picked up a wooden letter knife, and sliced open the envelope. As his eyes skimmed the fax, hers darted between monitors. Each scene was different, but the moving images were black and white and poor quality.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Constanta.”

He followed her gaze. “Realtime updates from the cloud,” he explained.

“Sorry, repeat please?”

“A group of bats is called a cloud, Constanta. They’re showing me where they are.”

“These bats... are yours?”

He nodded.

“What are they doing?”

“Hunting. You don’t believe in vampires, do you?”

“Vampires?”

“The other hotels, they have crosses in the lobby, or wooden stakes, or garlic garlands. None of that here.”

“Such things are for tourists, sir.” She was still watching the screens. “The pictures are – what is the word? – primitive.”

“There’s nothing primitive about them! They’re sonic images reconstructed from what my bats hear. That’s what causes the flickers. Each bat call is like a flashbulb going off. I possess sixty-four bats, each implanted with command and control microchips. They’re sucking all the 4G cell phone bandwidth for miles.”

“So they are–” she sought the word “–artifacts?”

“Don’t you understand English? They’re real bats. But they’re like puppets.” He picked up his cell phone and caressed the screen. The bats changed direction.

“They obey, in totality?”

“Twenty percent. That’s all I need. The Pareto principle, the eighty-twenty rule. You’ve heard of it, of course?”

She shook her head.

“The principle is, if you control the important twenty percent of something, the other eighty percent doesn’t matter. This is my first full-scale test. I need wine to celebrate. Bring me a bottle of your best red and two glasses.”

“Yes, sir.”

She took the stairs down to the cellar as thunder rumbled. In the cellar, she selected an old bottle, dusted it off and took it up to the kitchen, where she put it on a brass tray with two wineglasses and a corkscrew. Then she climbed the stairs to the third floor and knocked.

Vlad had gotten ready for bed. He opened the door wearing a black robe and black slippers. On the monitors, the bats had left the forest. She saw glimpses of buildings in town.

“Open, sir?” she asked, indicating the bottle.

He nodded.

She opened it and filled his glass.

“Pour a glass for yourself, too.”

She shook her head. “Rules, sir.”

“Who’s to know? You’re alone, aren’t you?” He touched her hand.

She looked at his hand, then up at his face. He grinned, and for the first time, she noticed the length of his canine teeth. She jerked her hand back.

“Are you...?”

“A vampire?” He touched one of his long canines. “Dental crowns. All it takes is technology.”

“But why?”

“Because people are attracted to power.”

“Do you drink blood?”

He raised his glass. “Only this kind. Join me.”

“Rules, sir.”

“I’ll show you something to change your mind.” He did something with his phone and she turned to the monitors. The bats descended toward the street.

Constanta saw a blurry image of a figure walking along the street. As the bats converged, the figure began running. Constanta heard the high wail of a woman screaming as the bats closed in. Her fists pounded against a door. Then the door opened. Images of rooms and hallways flickered. There were more screams. The woman curled up on the floor as the bats landed on her.

Constanta was unable to turn away. “Are they... feeding?”

“No, she wasn’t the right one.”

The bats took flight, streaming from the building.

Constanta edged toward the door, but Vlad blocked her.

“Have some wine,” he said. “You can help me find the right one.”

“I belong downstairs, sir.”

He put a hand on her arm. “It’s late. No one will notice.”

“There are other guests.”

“None on this floor, Constanta.” His grip tightened on her arm.

On the screens, the bats changed direction.

“I am the night clerk, sir. If a guest requires something, I must be at the front desk.”

“I require something. You.” He dropped his phone on the bed and tugged loose the belt of his robe.

Constanta grabbed his phone from the bed. “I’ll call.”

He laughed. “The bats? That’s all you can use that phone for.”

They swirled in the dark screens, wings beating frantically.

“Maybe you’re the right one,” he said. “Let’s find out.”

She jerked her arm free, backing toward the window. Rain pelted against the glass.

“Shouldn’t you check your bats?” she said.

“The bats?” He laughed and reached for her.

She stepped aside, and the window shattered inward.

Suddenly the room was full of wind and rain and bats. The bats settled onto Constanta, clinging to her clothes and hair.

Vlad looked stunned. “I didn’t...”

Constanta held out her hands and bats landed on them.

“You!” he said. “You’re the other eighty percent.”

His eyes darted toward the wooden letter opener on the bedside table. He lunged for it, far too slow.

She caught him, pushing him back against the wall as the bats flew around her. Her hand tightened on his throat, lifting him off the floor.

“Am I the right one, Vlad?” She flicked her tongue between sharp teeth.

“No. No,” he gasped.

She looked up at his frightened face and whispered, “You invited me in.”