Good-bye all.
M
Executive Extinction
maryccharest@yahoo.com
“It is finished.” My small, hollow voice addresses the room; the room does not answer. It rests in corporate condemnation. A fresh coat of wax grips its exterior - I have always paid close attention to the details. “They’re coming,” I whisper. Unlocking a hidden panel, I remove two bottles of water. “It’s hot today,” I remark, “and they’ll be thirsty.” I pour each drop methodically into the crystal carafe. Prisms waltz with the burls below, struggling over who will take the lead.
Shades of muted wool and silk proceed into the administrative core. They circle the black leather, crafting their own executive dance. No one takes the lead. Everyone craves the sway. Gray wool sits at the head and black cashmere to her right. She runs ripened fingers carefully through her mane of gray and motions towards the goblet, “Water?” “Yes, Ms. Liness,” I reply, filling her glass. Black cashmere trembles. “Water?” she resonates, nodding towards the vessel. “Of course, Ms. Hackle” I respond, filling her glass as well. The others look on craving their own chalice. They wait. Hackle eyes Liness with contempt; the fine nape of her neck bristles with congenital hostility.
An oblong silhouette of Liness glistens behind her. German and French blue sparkle discharging beams of light from the glass. Wormlike shapes of aging lead twist, embracing the modern illumination. Holy light illuminates her for a moment, and then fades. She is a jewel, forged from the most ordinary materials: sand transformed by fire - soldered on both sides.
Liness swallows, and considers her commercial realm. I recognize the look – it is the gaze of mature trepidation. “Her time is almost up,” I say. Walking toward the door my foot trembles. I panic. Muted wool and silk notice my oversight. They make a mental note. Ms. Liness yawns lazily, and bares her dentist’s latest masterpiece. Her perfect white teeth stand in formation, awaiting inspection. Black leather chairs reflect a forged admiration for their leader.
“Two matters are on the table,” Liness says with a cool unease. “There must be a vote.” Black leather chairs tilt in anticipation. Hackle smiles, her synthetic black hair framing her face lift agreeably. “She didn’t bruise much,” I muse. They notice me move closer to the door. I have ruffled their feathers again. The circle around the burled mahogany constricts. “Termination and relegation. Who will begin the vote?” Hackle commands.
Liness stalks the room with her eyes – searching for a defense. She looks at me, and then down at the cup before her. Strained, she takes a sip. Liness endures, nobly accepting her destiny. She utters expressionlessly, “Termination? If so, remember - it must be undivided.” One by one the muted wool and silk raise their hands in fused favor. Hackle smiles, adding hers to the final tally. “So carried,” Liness heaves a sigh. “Relegation?” Liness proceeds, with slight hesitation. They look at her hungrily, each eyeing her chalice – waiting. Hackle places a finger on the rim of hers and glares at Liness. “It is time,” Hackle states raising the chalice to her lips. Victoriously she swallows, watching her legion with approving eyes.
They raise their hands slowly, each contemplating their position – their number. It was her turn now. It will be their turn in the future. Silence fills the void. “Relegation carried.” Hackle moves towards the door. Her breath is thick on my neck; I feel the room shift. It sways to their dance – I move to its music. “It is time,” she explains, while peeling my uniform off. Layer by layer, I allow her to strip me of industry, trade, commerce. I stand, exposed to the circle, awaiting my fate.
Liness joins Hackle and remains still by my side. Hackle seizes Liness’ royal robes of the business realm; Liness slips on mine. “The circle must continue,” Hackle states with imperial fervor. “You are yesterday – I am today.” They looked at Liness, vacant of position and power – standing regal none the less while robed in lowliness. They hate her for her complacency, and remain self-righteous. They wait. Hackle turns to the window and watches the light dim.
Intensity cloaks the silhouette; it yields to the revolution. Ancient glass melts and transforms, bending to a progressive influence. Bright hues are crushed, painted, and fused onto glass. Solemn blues give way to gold infused red; it kisses her lips. Serpentine lead links each piece of glass in place. The process is complete; Hackle’s induction is concrete.
Liness walks down the ruby red carpet, and offers Hackle her chair. “Water?” Hackle demands, raising her glass toward Liness. Resistance surges and then is suppressed; Liness pours from the carafe, filling the crystal vessel. I watch, disrobed and cold. My wrinkles are naked and in full view of the on looking spectators. Age spots speckle my surface – imperfection; a piece of a bruised crop awaiting removal – no longer productive. Black leather leans in my direction, and circles around me. Soaring, spinning, constricting, they devour me until a hollow moment remains where I once stood. Naked, cold, weary and old - Executive Extinction.
