Spencer Mack

  I slapped my mop onto the ground and pushed it lazily. The cleaning crew was the worst, but I only had a few more shifts before my team rotated back to The Garden. That was the name we used for the labs we ‘grew’ chemically enhanced food in. Any job was better than cleaning crap though.  The lunch buzzer interrupted my mediocre mop job.   “Hey, did you hear?” Jose ran up behind me and clapped me on the back, “Apparently we’re only a week away from release!”  I felt my shoulders drop, “They’ve been saying that for years man. We’re not leaving.”  “No, really!” He insisted, “Marge from the Political Wing told Crazy George that the infection is nearly gone!”  I stopped and turned toward Jose, letting him see the sarcastic glare I was giving off, “Crazy George is your source?” I let out a mocking cackle and continued down the hall.  Jose didn’t let my pessimism diminish him, “You’ll see! Today at lunch announcements, we’ll be told. I can feel it!”...

You look in the mirror. Tie, perfectly off centre and a dashing smile. You can feel the confidence in your chest, like a perfect sculpture waiting to be revealed. Take a moment; you earned it. You turn and face your office. Dark mahogany desk framed by a staggering arch top window overlooking the city. A bearskin rug - one of the last polar bears - lays sprawled across your floor. Old hardwood creaks under your feet as you circle the room. The world will now be yours. Be proud.  Deep breath. Check the time, perfect. Everyone will be waiting. Norma should be coming soon. She has the entrance planned for maximum effect. Turn your phone on loud. If any conversation gets too long or useless, you’ve got a plan. A slight nod to the bartender and pass your drink to your opposite hand. Within seconds your phone will ring and you’ll need to scurry away. Simple. Elegant. Just like the life you’ve built and the world you’ve changed. The world was in pieces. Pieces that you have picked up. Man...