Flashback

Was informed that I should post this.

Step. Breathe. Raise arm. Step. Breath. Raise arm.

He took one step at a time, with the calculated precision of machinery inherit in every gesticulation, every movement. He was the methodical one – the man who wasted no effort, breath, time, or anything else in favor of efficiency. He came to work like a well-oiled machine (and a well-built one at that) – coming in exactly when he needed to and not a moment before, working without pause or falter until office hours were over, and leaving precisely the moment it did. His colleagues nicknamed him “Iron Man.” It wasn’t a compliment.

Today, there was a board meeting. He slowly paced into the room, found the seat marked his, and sat down amidst the curious gazes of his co-workers. He was an imposing titan of a man, with broad shoulders and a heavily lined face – that was impeccably shaven clean of course – and nobody could divert attention away from him once he attracted it. And yet, for one that attracted so much attention, so little was known about him. What did he do outside of work? Why did he never join the rest of them for lunch breaks?

He didn’t care. And while the rest of his co-workers chattered about, engaging in mindless talk, useless speculations, pointless bantering as the executives ran late, he sat with the patience of a Buddhist monk. As chitter turned into angry musings about the tardiness of the executives, he sat stoically, not heeding the badgering of his neighbors.

Finally, the manager showed up. He idly noted the red face – sprinted up the stairs, how wasteful – and the almost indiscernible yet still visible blotch of discolored cloth on the suit – spilled his coffee on the car, was trying to wipe it off – and stayed silent. The rest of the chitter had ended. After a few panting breaths, the manager stood up straight and began speaking. He remained silent as the manger began speaking of recent changes in the work environment (the CEO wasn’t pleased with this branch’s lack of productivity) and how recent economic crises have called for heightened need of effort (be very careful because you’re all on probation and if you slack, we’ll fire you).

“… and also, I would like to congratulate a specific employee for all of the hard work he’s done. You all know who he is, he’s been producing consistently fantastic reports and data and the higher-ups all agree he deserves a promotion. So everyone, here’s your new…”

He sat in shock as everyone’s eyes were redirected towards him. Some of his colleages were gazing at him enviously, others calculating, still others congratulatory as claps filled the room. But he didn’t notice that. The iron façade of stoic patience faded to one of shock and terror. No, not this, not this again, please no…

He beamed as his fellow firefighters congratulated him, shouting out his thanks for their support, clapping them on the back, shaking hands fervently. He grinned, from ear to ear, as he relaxed in the serene feeling of being surrounded by friends… no, practically brothers. “Thank you everyone! As your new chief officer, thank you all for all your support!”

Two weeks later, after two weeks of hard work but content satisfaction, they received an urgent desperate phone call from a woman whose house was on fire. They geared up, drove to the designated address. He didn’t realize anything was wrong until they arrived, flames already having consumed the house in its entirety, shocked neighbors outside praying.

“My home! My home… oh my god, my wife and kids! KAREN! SAM!”

He screamed with primal terror, and tore into the house, screaming all the while for his wife, his children. That day, he received third-degree burns all over his body. That day, three of his fellow firemen died to drag his body out of the blazing inferno. That day, he lost a home to return to, his family.

He blinked, feeling the phantom pain of flames incinerating his skin, burning flesh. An angry coworker - Carl, a good ambitious man with temper issues but goodhearted – was interrogating the manager when he stood up. All eyes roamed from the heated spat between Carl and the manager to the silent giant who had rose from his seat with bated breaths, expecting him to berate Carl.

Instead, “I resign. Carl can be manager.”

As pandemonium reigned, a shell-shocked Carl gaping amidst confused jabbering, he walked out of the room. He didn’t want to manage people anymore, didn’t want to feel sorrow again. All he ever wanted to be was a machine.

Hmmm. I was told the first part was great while the second part was... not. I'm inclined to agree. I seem to be fascinated with flames and tragedy and stuff, huh. I need to write happier stuff.