Return of the void

2 days.... 2 days with feverish dreams all relating to the event this Sunday, as well as Monday. I see her.. In my room.. in the corner. She waits for me. As the objective person, I am, I have been able, even in my feverish vision, to describe her even in depth. It would be a shame to call her modestly created, even blasphemy. Some would say. If I believed in God, it would be a pure image of perfection expressed in "living" form. Even though she is steel itself, her construction is out of the ordinary. Someone must have bent reality (my subconscious self) to construct the perfect hourglass shape. An expressionless face peers beyond my humanity into the deepest depths of who I am, trying to penetrate me, and create a chaotic state within those bounds, I have created to fulfill my own destiny. And she just stands! She stood there both of the days, while I lay my in bed, the sweat tingling in large drops from my forehead against the pillow. Like a statue she was watching me, beyond her facade there seemed at times, a sneer of a smile. Would she lunge a me? I was unable, because of shakes, to move my hands and tap away the sweat. I was unable to call in sick; unable to do anything at all. 

The spoils those underlings must have used the days to. Only can I imagine there is pure chaos when I enter yet another day. 

That day was to be today. Terror and turmoil would roll once I would get my eyes on any underling, not working his hardest. There was a staff meeting yesterday, or should have been, but I have received no such thing as any summary, or even a call from Paul or Brain. Anarchy! Like a crusader walking into the unholy land, crouching low, taking up the sand, and smelling it for the first time, knowing that his heritage, his true lord had been here, I felt at this point. I walked inside my lounge, and could only marvel at the marbles, as only my ancestor had been here before me, placing the foundation of truth, as it wasn't me who had built this great tower. I smelled the clean air, as close to perfection as any air would be, thanks to the plants which were well endorsed inside this house. Air-condition, fake air, had to be mixed with the true air, in exactly the right ratio, causing no harm to the employees; neither to me. 

Hell broke loose as I looked up from the tiles - All these Arabs, and local people were fluttering up from their chairs and couches, throwing every piece of parchment, leaving the water pipes as any other forgotten object of the Nile, uttering a yelping sound, in the resemblance of a wounded dog. My eyes were on them. All of them. These I had given a job. A living for gods sake. They were sitting in the lobby, smoking their cigars, like any big shot, who had cheated society would do. I was not one of those, and neither should they be. They are here to serve all of man, and I to rule, through these servants. 

Silence... Pure bliss... The only sound existing is this newly created void, was the swathing of a mob. "ah Tom" I could mutter to myself, and look around for the always hardworking guy. He heard. He looked at me with an exhausted face. Abruptly, as he recognized me, the face changed into darkness itself. And fear. Like he had seen the devil he spun on his feet and walked the other direction muttering to himself.

I shrugged off his odd behavior, as he always seem to be a bit odd, and walked off towards my lift to the heavens. Tom we have learned about, as he is, in the previous days, there is no getting around how he is thinking; although it has gotten worse these last weeks, than it has ever been before. 

"There is lady waiting for you. She is still there!.. Still here!!" I turned around and just in the spur of the moment, i saw Tom set into a run, to hide further down the corridor, stopping only in the farthest corner, crouching into a position only a weeping child could mirror.

A thing I usually don't do, as I did in this moment, was to gape, open mouth, my tongue almost lolling out. There was no discipline in this no order, I could not see any reasonable or logical explanation, which would begin to tell the truth as of why Tom did such a thing, and told such a tale. No other persons than me and Beatrice, were able to enter the elevator, and I knew she, for one, would never let anyone up in the holy garden of Eden. But still.. That woman. That one who had been keeping her eyes on me in the bed, was a course into discourse, and maybe, just maybe, there was a woman, which Beatrice had allowed inside my sacred chambers. Hatred began boiling inside my heart, but still my contempt outwardly fashion and layers of deceit flowed from me. A mask I was used to wearing.

Without the use of my key, the doors, like a gate into heaven or hell, opened before me. They were acknowledging me presence for all I knew, and I walked in satisfied with the logical response of the lift, to open for their master. They closed... and oddly enough they opened again, what could this be, would they not accept me now that they had already opened? Were they throwing me out. And how could they open when I was the one with the key. They needed a key? All kinds of thoughts flew through me at those moments, but as soon as the doors closed again, the thoughts disappeared. I was empty inside as the place was empty except for me. 

An odd sensation crept upon me, musical even. I have no relationship to music. It is a plague upon the man, causing artistic fluttering where they should have their thoughts streamlined. There is no sense in music, and it causes chaos within order, smiles where there should be cries. The death of a person is nothing if there is music to soothe, to calm. I loathe it.

But here I was, without any incessant notion  to start such a thing, but a tune sprung into my mind, and as all things that collect themselves in your mind, they will have a need to spring out once they're collected. Imagine sending a letter, once you have all the words written down, there is a need to send it immediately. That was how I felt, to my own loathing and despair. The only way I could overcome this, was to concentrate. The machine itself had a tune, but one that was automatic, fulfilled, and always the same. I thronged my mind with thoughts to listen to true music, and at last my humming ceased. As the humming ceased so did the lights of the elevator. I pressed up against the door, reminding myself of the earlier traumatic experience, which had led to the fever and sickness. A point of reality, as I saw the door, was enough for me to feel safe.

It felt like something was enveloping me although this was not warm as a machine in function. It was cold as iron and it wouldn’t start heating to my touch. It had surrounded my creating a deeper claustrophobic feel to which I almost panicked. I sensed there would be no escape, and it kept getting closer and tighter around me. The cold from the touch chilled me down into the marrow of my every bone, summoning forth something deeper, something darker. Fear. I couldn’t breathe in this cold! There was nothing to see in this complete darkness. It was now too close. Close to breaking my bones by the next move, the next second, all I had known as my "life" went out of me. I just closed my eyes in the deep terror of what could happen next. I felt something now as it throbbed closer, something deep and hurting, enough to make you scream for mercy. I could hear it, the cracking of bones, of tendons in muscles being stretched enough to whip to the eternal pressure upon them. Every fragment suffering from the pressure, was worse than the next, the sounds spread to eternity and back. At last it was only a cubicle of death and despair, all my bones compressed to a form  and fill the small square, so much alike to every aisle of stalls my workers were in.

I was compromised, just as my files system and life. Almost laughable that I could think, and could consider that my head would be squared and flat. Maybe it would even be possible to file and sort me to fit my own neatness. What a wonder? There was nothing left to feel only to hear, as my skull cracked open and the liquids from my brain began protruding out running over and filling my eyes down to the mouth. The worst taste I had ever come across, was this vile thing, I now tasted as no man had ever done before me. This was joy and pain mixed in a masochistic combination. It was madness! I began to savour it and taste the happiness of giving up. Letting go and be free from the work I had done. There was no order!? Here I was nothing but a head not feeling anything else, than my brain still thinking. The cold that enveloped me had gone and it felt like I was just sitting against the side of the elevator with the numb body.

What a blackout it was, but waking up was much worse than that of the blackout, the dream trance I had let the noise of the elevator set me into. I found myself in my haven, or at least It should be my haven, but something was amiss, completely wrong even. Usually when you wake up from a blackout, you need to distinguish yourself from your surroundings, as well as know that you are whole. I was whole again, and not a broken bone in my body, although I found that my arm was completely stretched. My mind climbed from the shoulder and along the arm into the hand, which held something by a firm grip, enveloping whatever it could be. It was cold, as the elevator had been before, but softer still. It had once been warm but the reason of his insane laughter had made it cold. 

I tried remembering, I truly did, but nothing came out of it, except that my eyes still was closed, as had they also caught damage in the trance stage and shut down. Was my body really there, or was it only the consciousness playing fools games again, throwing around his head like a ball against a brick wall. connecting thought to what really wasn't there. I had to see, to know, that I was whole now, when I hadn't been before. no matter that it was illogical, when you experience your own death, you want to be sure it is not real, even though you know it isn't I My eyes moved, twinged and fluttered open. Death, death was all around me, but it was not me who had suffered from such an accident on this, my skyline floor. I stared straight into the eyes that any hag, witch or mythical killer of a lady could produce, or at least of what remained of it from life. It was the sad remains of my Secretary, poor Beatrice, to which my anger and hatred had fluttered just for a second, against. There was a tinge of manic laughter left, and I felt hope yet again, it was not me, but her that had lost the head in the elevator. Her body sat disjointed from neck and head. Everything disappeared in my own unreal laughter, as to this situation. As I think now, I could not cope with it, and someone had committed a murder, which of course could not be me. The lady, I had seen no sign of, but there sure was the smell of frame around the air, in this place.

Here she was, this Beatrice, inviting a stranger who was up to no good, inside the sacred place, and now she was paying for her misdeed. Her head in my hands, as the headless knight who had just found his head, her body in a kneeling stance praying to god. The blood trail went inside my office, and like a dog on my knees, sniffing out some secret I had to discover, I followed it. 

As I watched, and let her head watch, together we saw a script none knew, letters revolting and obscure, but still readable. "This is your work" I mumbled to the head of Beatrice. A normal person would be puking at this time, but I merely stood and watched as the letters hung on the tapestry, dripping a few drops from time to time. A new decoration to remind me of accounting, finances and insurance. To remind me that there still was work to do. I read it aloud to be sure what was the message "Meet me in Soho". London was all that streamed through my endless number of thoughts.

This should not stop me from taking the workload of the day. I sat by my chair, throwing Beatrice out into the corridor and began examining the stock market, as I would any other day. The computing abilities of my mind, seemed at a even higher point than they had been any other day before this, and oh how i reveled in it, forgetting everything around me until I was ready to sleep like a child. I took my couch in the office and feel the darkness that I so had longed to succumb to, one which was not filled with dreams or nightmares alike, but just was the void I had hoped for. Nothing could stop mechanics of a true worker!