Today, of All Days
The memory of today begins atypically, typical. Adorned with suit and tie, not Armani of course. More modest, one button, tight across the chest, which isn’t helping the chest pain, gleaning a navy sheen wrapped in a blackened city night. I don’t recall when I woke up. But that’s the smallest detail of the oddities in my day. This day.
Early morning meeting scheduled with Decard, and lord knows he’s ready to let loose. Residuals are down this quarter, revenue is down 7%, net has been dropping for the last 3 quarters, and I’m apparently to blame. “You didn’t watch the numbers right, did ya boy?” He’d growl at me every time the orders were miscalculated. Never mind the low-end system we use, nor the lack of training or existing structure, and god forbid there be any support in corporate America. No, it must be on me.
I approach the glistening double-doorway, cascading with shine from a precisely quartered sun, rising from a bed of fire off in the distance with the refraction of water cascading in front of the entrance of the building, within the awaiting courtyard entrance.
I touch the door, and I feel the door. I can hold it, brush it, and appreciate the cold-bite of steel, yet I cannot affect change upon it. I cannot move it. There is no exertion of force that can be made upon the locked door. I reach for my keys, yet nothing is in my pockets. No phone, no wallet, no keys. “But I drove here, right?” I think to myself.
Illumination and a fire dance fill the courtyard with a shimmering and almost offensive burst of light as the sun conquers the horizon and moves to take the day. People appear, almost like an instant as I gaze to the hand-crafted horizon. Chattering and mutters abound and the playful laughs of children flocking to the fountain to make their wishes fill the air. A breeze comes, and do I feel it?
I see the dropped bag from a shopping tourist floating away, being swept away. Hats being displaced on heads from those around me, such a challenging gust. Yet, the hairs on my arm do not move. My tie remains perfectly still.
The doors are propped open. Gary, the doorman, holds his regular post. “Good day, Gary.” Standing resolute and stoic as ever, no response, just like most days. I do tend to muster a reaction from the old dog when I bring a box of donuts in. I like consistency though, and so does Gary.
They recently remodeled the board room on the 1st floor, thankfully. The 18th-floor meeting room has an amazing view, but it’s always so crowded in the elevators.
This door is open… to my welcome surprise. There’s Decard. “If he’d have simply run the checks, we wouldn’t have had the cancellations, the ratings wouldn’t have dropped, we wouldn’t have lost our biggest supplier, and god knows what else that clumsy fuck lost us.”
Man, I hate Decard! Always blaming me. And honestly, I don’t need this job. The partners on the other side of town have been begging me for months. “I’m sick and tired of you blaming me for every fucking thing that happens in this office you pale-skinned, dog-browed, wheezing fucking moron. I hope this company goes under just so you go fucking broke you cuck. Oh, by the way, you are a cuckhold! Jerry banged your wife in his band’s van for like 3 months straight, and you didn’t know because your head was up my fucking ass the whole time!” He stared right through me the entire time, expressionless.
“Can you please go get him and tell him he’s late for this meeting?” Decard says.
I turn, and his secretary is behind me. But this is my meeting. And I’m standing here, losing my last brain cell on him, and he pretends I’m not here. “Is this a power play?” My mind begins to race to the conclusion
“Fuck it, I’m quitting anyway,” I mutter to myself as I draw back with every ounce of being I can and load it into a fist tighter than a fixed election, and I let loose! My fist comes crashing down into a rage of!.... nothing. It goes right through him, and he doesn’t move. No one in the room is phased by my movement.
I take a look around and suddenly a black vortex appears in the corner of the room. Emerging, as if a single, black particle expands into a black doorway into…somewhere. Out steps a shorter man, no taller than 5’8, in a stunning white robe, clocked in the paleness of refracting light within the room, He lifts his head and I see, the universe. Blue, purple, auras, planets, galaxies, stars, beginning and end, it’s a seeing stone into all of life and death simultaneously, and then it releases a roaring echo.
“Energy, to dust. A quite vexing one, the cycle, wouldn’t ye say?” The low, almost growling feels intimidatingly soothing.
“I’m dead, then?” I speak. Acceptance is clear, I’d felt as though I were in a dream state, but I assumed my emergence was forth-coming. Instead, I am met with the specter of life.
“Ay, my friend. Ye are yet dead. Some linger, far longer than needed, for many a reason. Lost love, revenge. But ye that stand here before me, remained to tell your boss to fuck off.”
-The NFT Author