Chapter 3
A Fools Intermission
In a dimension that could only exist in imagination: a pristine office building, with walls so white they hum with holiness – so bright a mere mortal would go blind, or mad, from a single glimpse. There is no ceiling, only blinding light from nowhere and everywhere. Outside every window, the cosmos churns: nebulae drift like ink in water, galaxies spin in slow, steady silence. White-suited employees scurry through sterile halls with silent urgency.
In a large meeting room surrounded by the most pristine glass, a flustered, middle-aged man with glasses stands before a long table, surrounded by expectant, watchful eyes. At the head sits a woman who radiates power without a word. Her appearance is perfect, not a single thing out of place, her eyes perfectly white and bright – soul-piercing.
She stares intensely at the man and his PowerPoint presentation. At the top of the PowerPoint presentation, the title reads: Operation Chiquita Banana.
“And as you can see, based on our projections, everything should have gone according to plan,” the man says nervously, a slight tremble in his hands. “Our analytics team is checking for any miscalculations. Rest assured, we have our best people on it. We’re more than certain our next operation will be executed flawlessly.” He presses a button on a remote, and the next slide appears.
It reads: “Operation: Dead Weight.”
A cough fills the silence that follows.
The woman stands without saying a word, and the whole room stands in unison.
“Gabriel. Walk with me.”
An older man, with a calming presence and a full white beard, joins her as they exit. The rest of them remain standing, heads bowed. The giant glass doors to the hallway swing open before they even approach, perfectly silent—no metal, no electronics, just magic. Everyone in the meeting room releases a deep sigh of relief, some collapse into their chairs.
As they walk through a busy hallway, every head bows as they pass.
“My Lord. I understand this might be frustrating, but that's…”
“If you say anything about fate or destiny, I swear to ME, I’m going to lose it.”
He shuts his mouth.
She stops and faces him. “There can’t be any more mistakes. I have watched millions of lives affected by one. Spared. Moment. One mercy turns into a million regrets, Gabriel.” Her voice booms, tinged with sorrow.
“So you sayeth, My Lord. If it would please you, my Lord, we can try again soon.”
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“No. The fool has earned himself a night of peace. Let him enjoy it while he can.”
They continue walking in silence until they reach a set of massive double doors, which swing open on their own. A blinding light floods in as they step through.
Somewhere far below the whitewashed heavens, beneath the weight of a trillion unremarkable stars. Scott stands in front of his shower, fists clenched – prepared to fight a shower curtain. Unaware of his so-called fate. His destiny. Just him versus bad plumbing and nerves. Completely oblivious to their break in their mission to be rid of him.
First, the rogue AI car trying to pancake me. Then the banana trying to finish the job!
He white-knuckles the curtain and hesitates, then yanks the curtain and yells.
Nothing. Just an old loofa, a tiny bar of hairy soap, and the same rusty shower head. Scott exhales, relieved.
Phew. I can’t let myself be so paranoid; it was just a bad day. That’s it, a bad day…Besides, I must be meant for something bigger…God wouldn’t save me for nothing…right?”
He turns the knob. The pipes groan. After five seconds of threatening to explode, the shower dribbles like a dying garden hose.
He lets out a sigh, “I guess the shower will have to wait until later.”
He turns and leaves the bathroom.
He plops himself on the futon. An episode of I Love Lucy plays on the TV. Lucy begins to mirror Harpo Max, and Scott laughs loud and genuine.
A knock on the door. Scott jumps and quickly looks behind him. He waits a moment to make sure he heard right, and sure enough, it comes again.
Tap tap tap.
He gets up cautiously and peers through the peephole. It’s Mrs. Nezbit from a few doors down. He lets out a relieved sigh, unlatches the locks, and opens the door.
Mrs. Nezbit stands with a plate of freshly baked cookies covered in plastic wrap. They smell divine.
“Hi Scotty, I’m sorry to bother you so late, I thought I would drop off some cookies to thank you for helping me when I had that nasty fall a few weeks ago.”
Scott smiles. “You didn’t have to thank me like this. I was just helping out a fellow neighbor, I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”
“I know, but you went out of your way to help me when I needed it, so please, take them. It’s the least I could do.” She pushes the plate towards him. He reluctantly takes it and gives her a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you, Mrs. Nezbit. You didn’t have to do this, but I truly appreciate it. I guess the ladies will have to wait one more week for the return of ‘Beach bod Scott.’”
“Oh, Scotty. You don’t need to change who you are. You’re just who you need to be. One day, you’ll be out of this dumpy old place with a nice girl. I just know life has big plans for you.”
“Careful, Mrs. Nezbit, Mr. Nezbit might think you’re flirting with me.” He winks.
“Oh, Scotty…” She giggles and gives him a playful tap on the shoulder.
“Thank you again. Have a great night.” He musters the biggest smile he can.
“You too, Scotty. Take care of yourself.” Mrs. Nezbit shuffles away, a little more pep in it than usual.
Scott closes the door, looks at the cookies, and his smile slowly fades.
I hope you’re right, Mrs. Nezbit.
He turns off the TV. And sits in the cold silence.
He looks down at the plate of cookies and sees a note.
“Keep shining, Scotty. Even if the world keeps trying to dim you. - Mrs. Nezbit”
And just for a moment, it feels like a little more fuel was added to his soul.
These damn cookie fumes are making my eyes watery.
He wipes the tears from his eyes.
Chapter 4:
Operation Dead Weight
