“When do we do it?”, asked Abhi
“Yesterday”, said Paul
“8 pm then”
Abhi looked over his shoulder as he worked the wire cutter, jumping when a pair of headlights passed by. Paul leaned on the wall next to him and spoke on the phone for everyone to see. They were inside in five minutes.
They shone a flashlight down numerous corridors. Paul paused and thought for a second, then turned left.
“Will you know it when you see it?”, asked Abhi
“I’ll know my own work”
As it turned out, he didn’t. They opened door after door. Every room had identical paintings.
“If we can’t spot the real ones, how can anyone?” Paul asked.
“But what’s the point? They can’t mark it up and sell if its not unique”
“They can if the buyers don’t care”
Abhi was quiet for a while.
“So all we made was printing plates for a new currency”, he said.
“Yes, to wash away old sins”
“Plan B?”
Paul looked back at the familiar canvases. “Plan B,” he said after a few seconds.
“Do you want to take one of each? Just in case?”
“That’s like a firing squad using blanks. Doesn’t mean anything”
“It does to the people in the firing squad”
“Not to the guy who got shot”
Abhi nodded, and uncapped the plastic petrol can.
“I always liked fireworks. That’s that”
The Apathetic Indian 