b h a g . n e t visual and conceptual exchange b h a g . n e t
THE KEY
from the novel M7
The day M7 went to pick up his elevator key in Administration was something else. He had spent the morning processing Withdrawals, though this procedure didn't happen very often.
As always, there were protocols. The Periodical Withdrawal Check-List was 145 pages of detailed instructions that guided one step by step through the progression of a periodical's ultimate demise: banishment from the Collection.
M7 enjoyed the final part best; that's when he took the oversize red rubber WITHDRAWAL stamp and stamped the living hell out of the entire forlorn lot. He liked to press the stamp into the red ink pad a long, long time, really juicing it up, before wholeheartedly stamping the cover of the periodical title page, savoring every press as if it were his last instant on earth.
He had just finished stamping issues of the Alternative Fornication Reader when a Messenger appeared at his cubicle.
"Good morning, sir," said the Messenger, handing M7 a red envelope with a gold seal on the back.
"This looks quite official, Messenger."
"It's from Administration, of the highest priority."
"Do you know what it is?"
"We never know the contents of a message, sir. I have been asked that you open it immediately and reply to me at once."
M7 opened the envelope. There was a hand-written note in gold ink on black linen paper asking him to come to Administration at two o'clock sharp to pick up his elevator key from the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate.
"Please tell the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate that I will be there promptly at two."
The Messenger bowed, then floated away.
M7 reached the Administration Wing about one forty-five. He entered a spacious rotunda with a high domed ceiling that mirrored the starry vault above.
At the entrance to the offices was a thirty-foot metal door flanked by two short guards standing at attention. They wore three-pointed red velvet hats and black velvet uniforms with sabers. Each lapel had the initial A embossed in gold.
The guards looked exactly alike and spoke in unison.
"Please state your name, sir," the guards said. "M7, uh, sirs."
"Please state your business."
"I am here to receive my elevator key."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Yes," said M7. "I was summoned by a Messenger."
"Do you love life, sir?"
"I...well...suppose I do," said M7. "I'm not really sure."
"That's not a very definitive answer, sir. One must love life, always."
"Gentlemen," said M7, "I love life more than words can say. I love life more than loving itself, even more than that."
"Very good, sir," they said. "And what time is your appointment?"
"Two o’clock."
"Then you are early, sir, and will have to wait."
"Perhaps the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate is free," said M7. "Might you check and see? What do a few minutes matter?"
"Sir," said the left guard, "the universe is a destiny-machine, if you will. Matters of importance should be conducted according to specific coordinates of space and time. If these variables are not adhered to, randomness comes into play. And we cannot have that, sir. Not in Administration."
"Very well put, Umar," said Umar.
"Thank you, Umar," said Umar.
"You're both named Umar?" said M7.
"That is correct, sir," they said.
"And you're twin brothers?"
"Identical."
"My good Umars," said M7, "if you do not allow me to enter now and progress through an unknown environment to the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate then by the time I arrive I will surely be late for my appointment."
"Being late for an appointment is highly frowned upon, sir," said the right Umar.
"That's what I'm saying, Umar. One must allow a gap before the appointed time to gain one's bearings. That's why I'm a little early."
"We understand that, sir," they said.
"Good, Umar Umar," said M7. "I'm happy we're speaking the same language. I do not wish to take up any more of your valuable time. If I may just enter and make my way to the Secretary I believe I still have a chance to arrive at exactly two."
"By my estimation, sir," said the right Umar, "if we allowed you to enter right now you would be early for your appointment. We know for a fact that the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate is in a very important meeting that isn't over until exactly 1:58 p.m. We have been instructed that it is of the utmost importance that the gap between meetings be as tight as possible. Empty minutes are meaningless, sir. By our estimation you still have three minutes before we can allow you entry and we are taking into account the time it takes to reach the Secretary. Even then we have allotted thirty seconds leeway."
"Well said, Umar."
"Thank you, Umar."
"Gentlemen," said M7, "have you taken into consideration the fact that I have never been here before and that it might take me an extra few minutes to locate the Secretary's office?"
"We have factored that into our deliberations, sir, and feel that you will have just enough time to acclimate yourself and reach the Secretary at 2:00 p.m., assuming that you do not dawdle."
"And what if I decide to dawdle a bit?" said M7. "As it's my first time inside Administration I might be compelled to dawdle a little…to get my bearings, say, as would anyone the first time they're admitted to such an important place."
"Dawdling is not allowed in Administration, sir. Dawdling presents a problem. There is no room for dawdling; that's something we wish to make perfectly clear. We have been instructed to take swift action where dawdling is concerned."
"Fine, Umar Umar," said M7, "I will not dawdle."
"Very good, sir."
"How long have you been guards at the Library?"
"We have been here for many years, sir, following in the footsteps of our father and his father before him and so on. The post has always resided with our family."
"I find that compelling," said M7.
"Thank you, sir. We have never been referred to as compelling before."
The Umar's pressed their right hands onto their earphones, listening intently.
"Yes," they said, into the microphone on their lapel. "You may enter, sir."
The Umars stood aside allowing M7 to enter as the doors slowly opened.
"Can you direct me to the office of the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate?" said M7.
"We cannot, sir."
"Do I not love life enough?"
"No, sir. You love life as it should be loved."
"Then why on earth can't you give me directions to the Secretary?"
"Because we have never entered Administration, sir, and have no idea where the office is," they said. "The layout of Administration is a complete mystery to us."
"I find that hard to believe, Umar Umar."
"It's the truth, sir. It is forbidden for us to enter. That's the way it's been, always. For our father before us and his father and all of the fathers before that."
"What if you should have official business with an Administrator?"
"That has never happened, sir, nor shall it ever."
"What if the Director summoned you?"
"The Director himself?"
"Yes, yes…what if the Director summoned you for a meeting?"
"That will never happen, sir," said the Umars.
"You boys take the prize," said M7.
"Thank you, sir," they said.
"Umar Umar, what if something went wrong? What if one of the Administrators goes nutso and starts smashing things…tearing the place to shreds…attacking one of his colleagues…and you can hear the screams growing louder and louder?"
"There are guards inside, sir. We man the entrance. That is all. We have only the most cursory contact with Administration. We are under the auspices of the Admiral Guard Post Commander and report directly to him."
"That's splendid, Umar Umar."
Once the giant doors had opened, the guards stood at attention a few feet apart, facing each other. They removed their swords from their leather sheaths and crossed them for M7 to pass through.
"Good day, Umars."
"Good day to you, sir," they said.
M7 entered the Administration Wing.
Bright red carpet ran down the center of the black marble floor as far as he could see. The sides were roped off by black velvet strung along gold posts. Large portraits adorned both sides of the walls. M7 presumed they were former Directors or wealthy patrons. They were all very serious fellows. Ammonius, Leucippuc, Epimenides, Lamprias, Tibullius, Synesius, on and on.
A display panel on the wall listed the offices of the various bigwigs. Under the Director at the top were various Associates, Assistants, Aids, Coordinators, Subordinates, and Secretaries. Each title had a lit colored gem beside it.
At the very bottom of the list was the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate.
When M7 pressed the blue gem of the Secretary a string of blue gems appeared along the right side of the wall. He followed the gems along the hallway which had a high domed ceiling again lit with a panorama of stars. Strings of gems flashed on and off across the walls, none the same color as the one to the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate.
Messengers floated by. They stared mindlessly a little ways in front of them, whooshing along the marble floor.
The series of turns M7 took were so varied and strange that he had no idea where he was in relation to the entrance. He thought about the Umars and all that crap about not being too early and keeping the gap as tight as possible. Nitwits.
Eventually M7 past the offices of the 2nd and 3rd Secretaries to their respective Subordinate Associates though enormous sweeps of space separated them.
At long last the gems stopped when he reached the Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate at the dead end of a hallway. He pressed the large blue gem in the middle of the door.
A small peephole opened and he saw an eye eyeing him. Without thinking, he placed his left eye up to the hole. Eye to eye, hole to hole, that's how it had to be.
The metal door opened.
The Secretary to the 4th Subordinate Associate was dressed in white from head to toe. Dress, boots, tights.
"Better late than never, M7," she said. "Do come in."
The Secretary motioned for M7 to join her on the sunken circular white couch in the middle of the room. She opened a silver cigarette case, lit two cigarettes and handed him one. M7 had never smoked in his life, but he could not refuse this gesture. Seeing her red lipstick on the little strange stick was thrilling.
"Don't worry about being late," she said. "I know the freaks held you up. We're not allowed to interfere with their naïve and childish ways. The post has been in their families for generations, which I'm sure they mentioned. We simply adjust accordingly. For instance, your appointment was officially scheduled for two o'clock., but knowing how the Umar's operate and factoring in the time it takes to reach my office, I knew perfectly well that you wouldn’t arrive here until nearly three."
"Once I realized how full of shit they were, I was terribly concerned about being late for such an important appointment, Secretary."
"Oh, that reminds me," she said. "I want to give you your elevator key."
To M7's amazement the Secretary began unbuttoning her white silk blouse. He took a long drag. Her breasts strained against her white brassiere.
"Your key is in a safe place," she said.
"I can, uh, see that."
"Your key has been nestled close to me all day."
"You cannot imagine how much that means to me, Secretary."
"I forget which side the key’s in, M7. Why don't you find out."
"Uh…you're certain, Secretary, that you wish for me to locate the key in your, uh…?"
"Yes, M7. Please."
She leaned towards him on the couch. M7 slowly reached into the right cup and but came up with nothing.
"I guess it's not on that side," she said, smiling.
M7 searched her left cup and found the small silver key.
"The key is coded for specific floors, entry ways, and exit ways," said the Secretary, buttoning her blouse. "You'll learn them as you go along."
"Thank you, Secretary."
A single chime sounded from somewhere above.
"I'm sorry, M7, but I have to go now. The 4th Subordinate requires me."
"Certainly," said M7, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray as she had done.
"Give the Umars my best," she said, winking at him. "Just follow the gems."
He walked out the door clutching the silver key in his hot little hand.
© 2007 Mark Katzman