Monday, August 21, 2006

The Tale of a Secretary, Chapter III: The Smiling Man

Prerequisites:
Committee report
The Tale of a Secretary, Chapter I: Scenery of Salvation
The Tale of a Secretary, Chapter II: Introduction to a Diligent Task


The wooden chandelier swung back and forth, sometimes illuminating the three guests as well as periodically condemning them to the shadows. Like many a great past struggles between shadow and light, fortune tends to alter direction like a pendulum.
After time and again having been confronted with the vast abyss that is man's ignorance and finally submitting to it, Amanda had, following endless days of training in the utility of the sharp tools of intellectual combat, reluctantly kissed absolute certainty goodbye and finally embraced a tentativeness of mind. She was now supposedly a full-blown critical thinker.

In some ways this was a graduation celebration. Mr. Reed was however not occupied with the present; his thoughts were lingering in the past. Ever since that tragic incident involving the cold and milk-frothed coffee that resulted in the crippling of one waiter, Mr. Reed and Mr. Libel hadn't set foot inside The Brokeded Tower, or in any other of The City's taverns for that matter.
At that time, seemingly to complicate things, the City Guard's mandatory involvement couldn't be denied, but as soon as the case had been stated, they had no option but concur. We're living in a society. That's all there is to say about that. That incident however, now seemed to be ancient history.

Mr. Libel's thoughts were also wandering in the past. As fate would have it, the silly notions that we catch and ingrave as kids can come back to haunt us. Put differently, to argue for the practise of continuous reexamination helps to constantly inoculate us against falling into the pits of wishful and irrational thinking.
If he could point to the sole lesson of greatest importance in Amanda's training, it would be this: the will to believe is stronger than the will to discover truth. This is what we ought to affirm.
James was so deeply concerned with his musings that he almost forgot the reason for him being here.

* * *

The clock, it appeared, was frantically working its way toward closing time and since most of the regulars already had left, a sense of eerie abandonment lay down over the tavern floors. An exhausted waiter with drops of sweat covering his face was running errands across the room.
"Mighty fine coffee here, boy. Black as the night and strong enough to down an ox", Mr. Libel commended.
"Y-yes, Sir!", the terrified waiter hastingly replied, not even slowing down as he swerved by, just as if he was chased by something ominous.
James, apparently unaware of the cause of the waiter's distress, shrugged his shoulders and enjoyed another sip of the revered beverage, thinking that this ought to be what the gods are drinking, should they exist.

"Was that really necessary, Brother?", Mr. Reed asked.
"Was what necessary?", James replied perplexedly.
"Come on now, that poor fellow's workmate was halfway across the Styx when they resuscitated him."
"Oh, that. Point taken."
Since Amanda had nothing to relate this conversation to, she was getting excruciatingly confused.
"What was necessary again?", she asked in a puzzled way.
"Long story. Perhaps for a later time. The moral however is: Ah, I forget. Something about purity control.", John explained.
"I think I see where you getting at.", Amanda replied.
Suddenly Amanda's eyes froze in terror, focusing on a dark figure sitting at the other end of the room.

* * *

"Amanda! Amanda!", a voice called out from the darkness. "Open your eyes, Amanda!"
When she did open her eyes she saw the concerned expression on John Paul's face.
"I was having this fantastic dream. The world was so strange. I could look into everybody's eyes and recognise their warmth, their good intentions", her words floated out of her mouth in a slurring fashion just like you would expect from someone returning from the land of dreams.
"Hey, John! What's going on over there?", James cried out from a distance.
"I don't know! She must've had a seizure or something. Get the nurse!"

James ran away to get Mrs. Dobsom, the boarding school nurse. John knew from experience that Amanda was not prone to getting these kinds of attacks, so naturally he was concerned.
"What is the last thing you remember, Amanda?"
"I was running over this hill and you were behind me. Then I... fell. These pictures, they were so real. I want to believe they are..."
The clouds were gathering. The rain was about to start pouring down.

* * *

By a table in the opposite side of the tavern sat a man. A remarkably slender figure with his bony fingers resting on the table. With all her senses sharpened the only audible impression Amanda could catch was a somewhat dampened and regular breathing emanating from the man.
Since John was facing her, and the back of the chair effectively cut off James' line of sight, she was the only one who could see him. Hence she was the only one who felt his presence.
A weak lamp was suddenly lit across from where the man was sitting, partially illuminating his face. The man was smiling.

"What's wrong? Amanda!", John cried out.
She was still paralysed by the simple yet complex facial expression. After a few more seconds, she regained control of herself.
"He...", she pointed to the place where the man was sitting.
Libel and Reed leaned forward and turned around respectively. The man had evaporated.
"What do you mean? There's no one there.", James wondered.
"I swear, he was there. He... approached me once before."
"You're an attractive woman, Amanda, and surely you're old enough to handle those situatio-"
"It's not that!", Amanda cut James off.
"Well what in the gods' names is it then?", John asked impatiently.
It was a short pause during which the only hearable sounds were those of the creaking roof and the storm outside.
"Nothing. It's nothing. Let's get out of here."
The three departed without a sound. When they hit the streets, the cloaks slowly vanished into the vastness of the abysmal night.

1 Comments:

Blogger J.P. Reed had the audacity to say...

My hat goes off to you, bro'. Impressive, to say the least.

22:48  

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