V. H. King's Ink

Bzzzt.

Bzzt-bzzt.

No one else seemed to hear the vibrations coming from Mallory’s purse.  Sometimes, Malcolm forgot that their hearing, vision, and reflexes were far more heightened than the average human’s.  This especially happened when they were under stress, and right now, Malcolm felt like they were just about drowning in it. 

Bzzzt.

“Now, I’m not saying an overhaul of your policies and cultural norms will be easy to establish, but I can guarantee that you’ll see improvements in morale.  At a time like this, that might be more of a bottom line that your quarterly profit margins.”

“Those are strong words, Mallory.”

Malcolm was afraid they weren’t strong enough.  Ever since they’d set foot in the conference room, with its glossy tabletops and bright screen and twenty-story view, Malcom had been able to feel Mallory’s blood surging through their veins.  It wasn’t just how much this project mattered to Mallory.

Having Mallory’s appearance and reflection was one thing—they’d been able to wrap their mind around that pretty easily.  But nothing could have prepared Malcolm for the experience of Mallory’s emotions thrumming through their body.  Every bit of passion Mallory had for her work, Malcolm felt—and Mallory cared a lot. 

“Let’s hope they are strong enough.”

Malcom held their head high as they said the words.  Shoulders square.

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt—bzzzt.

Bzzt—bzzzt—bzzzt.

Underneath the rustling of papers, the board members didn’t hear the phone call come through.  Malcolm’s chest tightened anyway.  Still, they kept their eyes on their audience.  They couldn’t blow this for Mallory. 

“Well, Martin here certainly had strong opinions about bringing you in on this.”  Joseph Bristol, the company’s CEO, folded his hands on the table.  “If your words match his sway, then I think we’ll owe you quite a bit of thanks.”

“That’s extremely flattering, but the real work—the hard work—is up to you.”

“You’ve given us plenty to think about, at least.”

“You have to show your employees that you still have a heart.  Otherwise, you won’t have employees.”

“Not that is bold.”

Joseph’s face bore a smile, but Malcolm could see there was still doubt in his eyes.  Malcolm put their hands on their hips—the navy dress snug over hips that weren’t theirs, but that they’d held plenty of times. 

“Let me ask you to do an exercise with me.  You each walked into the building this morning, right?”

Nods around the table.  A few board members leaned back in their cushioned chairs, ready to coast through the rest of the meeting.  But Mallory wasn’t here to play, and Malcolm had no intention of letting her down. 

“Do me a favor and describe what it would have felt like with one lung.”

“I suppose it might be a little harder to make it up the stairs,” Martin said.  “But hat’s what the elevators are for.”

“The air might feel thin,” Joseph offered.  “Maybe you wouldn’t get enough blood to your brain, or you might feel fatigued after walking to the john.”

“No sudden moves, gentlemen,” Todd Ghelinmeyer said. 

A few chuckles around the table.  Malcolm entertained the laughter, hoping that the humor would help.  They put their hands behind their back and took a few steps to the side.  Their palms were sweaty, wrists trembling.

Bzzzzzzzt.

Bzzt-Bzzt Bzzt.

“Very good—now, say there was a fire on the middle floors of the building and we’re forced to evacuate.  What would it feel like then, to have just the one lung?”

“In case of fire, use stairs.”

This time, Todd’s quip earned nervous laughter.  The men in suits sat with various stages of frowns forming on their faces, trying to see the point. 

“Wouldn’t there be first responders?” Joseph asked.  “Firemen and paramedics and the like?  They could get us out.”

“Could they?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow.  “I mean, would there be time?”

“Martin has a point,” Malcolm said.  “Would it be worse to stay here as smoke and heat rise and soot coats your throat and each cough seizes up what’s left of your weak lung?”

“Well, I suppose if—”

“No time for that,” Malcolm interrupted.  “The fire is roaring up the stairs.  You think and you’re dead.  You come up with a complex plan and you’ll be half-burnt to the bone before you get through step one.”

“Are you suggesting our company is in such a dire position?”

“I’m telling you what your employees have told me—from senior managers to the facilities staff.  Their lungs are burning and they’re doing their best to survive.  Whatever explosions happening in the world outside these doors, the smoke and embers cling to their clothes when they come into work.  Your dismissiveness and indifference only fans those sparks into new flames, and your company is already suffocating.”

“Why haven’t they said anything?” Todd asked.

“They said enough for you to hire me, didn’t they?”

“Fair point.”

“And I’ll make one of my own: did you not see that your own building was burning?”

At last, silence.

Malcolm waited for a buzz.  There wasn’t one.