By now my hero Messny was working his way through a series of bizarre situations. I think I may have just read Franz Kafka’s The Trial.
20.
Messny felt a bit of a fool standing to attention in front of the glass sphere. He looked back down the room towards the man working at the desk. It was difficult to understand why he had to go through this fuss every single time but the secretary did not seem to care.
The man at the desk studiously ignored him. He had brushed him off as one did with a fly. Messny was an annoying irritation. His face was set and he stared fixedly at his computer screen. There was a mechanical, precise manner about him even to the uncoordinated manner in which he jerkily moved. His face was fixed in an expressionless mask. Messny would get no sympathy from that quarter.
While he was waiting Messny allowed his eyes to roam over the secretary’s immaculate suit, his muted tie with pin, and crisp white shirt. Everything was preened to perfection. He found it amusing. It looked so restrictive, boring and uncomfortable. Quite unlike Messny’s loose fitting, colourful garb. The secretary was an automaton. He was following his instructions. It was so infuriating to be kept waiting like this but a smile began to creep into the corners of his mouth. The secretary despised him and all he stood for but Messny would not have swapped a single minute. He imagined the same precise, sterile landscape on the inside of the man’s head as there was on the outside – everything uniform and in its place. There would be no hidden thoughts behind that mask. Everything was orderly and in its place.
A buzz broke his reverie and wiped the amusement from his face. They were ready for him. Messny turned back to the sphere still clinging on to the jaunty feeling of superiority that might even have contained a touch of arrogance.
It was time to present his case.
He was confident. He knew his position. This was of no consequence. He talked easily unhampered by fear and outlined his defence. They were bound to understand. Minor indiscretions were of no real importance.
At the end of his disposition he felt that he had explained it well and awaited the outcome.
There followed a short silence as his input was analysed.
Messny waited impatiently.
A section of wall silently slid aside behind Messny. Two big-set men in dark suits stepped out noiselessly. It was as if they had been stored in a cupboard marked ‘Break Out In Emergency’. They had slept and now they were activated.
Without hesitation they silently bore down on the unsuspecting Messny. Something made him turn round. He stood he ground as they came up to him. His eyes searched their faces for intent but they were expressionless, their eyes held no emotions. They wore the same fixed mask as the secretary.
For a moment Messny had been stunned but that soon turned to sheer terror when faced with this menace. He knew they weren’t going to pat him on the back and send him on his way or congratulate him on the way he had handled himself. He had the impression that their job was to break him utterly and leave him limp as a rag doll to be thrown into the bin.
He stepped back with an involuntary stagger as they reached for him.
A strangled cry came to his lips at the sight of those pitiless faces. He turned to escape and slammed into a clear glass that now separated him from the door.
Messny screamed as the hands closed on him. Their steely grip tightened as he clawed desperately at the glass and shrieked at the top of his voice.
The secretary appeared unconcerned. He carried on studying his computer screen without a glance.