“Our perceptions are fallible.”
- Carl Sagan
In the heart of Genetrix City, two men walked into an enormous office that appeared to be even larger than it was because mirrors seem to have been surgically placed into the walls; giving the illusion of space where there was none. In the centre of the room stood a monstrous oak desk; behind it was a large leather swivel chair. A statue had been placed at each corner of the room: in the northwest corner was the statue of a warrior, northeast was a statue of a poet, southwest was a wax statue of a betrayer, and southeast was a steel statue of a story teller. The only piece of furniture that was out of place was a large hundred year old wooden rocking chair that had been repaired with duct tape and rainbow pins.
At the large desk was an older woman with blond hair falling around her child-like face and framing her golden eyes. She was a heavy woman who covered her fair skin with a professional dress along with a wedding band. As she calmly put aside her paperwork, she watched the office doors open with a dead-eyed stare, masking her cruelty. To her right was a dainty maid with plastic arms and fake legs. Her fragile face was reconstructed in plastic, but her eyes were ancient and soft. She wore a comfortable oversized black dress that covered a mostly plastic body, shaped like an elegant doll. She was both perfectly beautiful and perfectly terrifying. The maid was gracefully dusted the ears of the statue of Doña Marina, the betrayer, when two men entered the office.
“Hello, Mrs. Duvall. I am Voltaire, and this is my cane… Seymour.” The first man said politely. He was wearing a suit that covered his entire body. Voltaire had hidden his face in a long haired wig and a fake beard. He had used bronzer to cover what little skin that could be seen and he also wore thick, black sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes. His body moved in a grotesque manner, not because he was blind, but because of how he always leaned to the right. Furthermore, Voltaire held a transparent crystal cane which was all but virtually invisible. As he walked, he swept the cane over the ground in slow confident motions.
“I’m Ben,” the other man said quietly. He had black skin and feminine eyes framed by long eyelashes. Ben was also a heavily built fighter, but his muscles were covered with a layer of fat that gave him a softer appearance. He wore a business suit that did not quite fit due to his expanding weight; however, he hid this under his jacket that covered his curves. He held a leather case that was outdated by ten years, but still looked brand new. He had a plastic hand attached to his left wrist that was designed like a boxer’s glove in the absence of flesh.
“Please, call me Maria,” the woman said while watching the maid closely. “Gentlemen, what is your proposal?”
“Three billion,” Voltaire said while exploring the office with his cane. “Or we will make you so infamous that twelve year olds will make you the villain when they play in sandboxes.”
“Show it to me” Maria said.
“This is a copy of what we have,” Ben said, placing the briefcase on her desk. “The prison deals, the records of your meetings with the rebels, and the chemical weapons. We have evidence that can expose your anonymous corporation and your worldwide chain of ownership. We can also prove that you used it for every type of economic crime possible.”
“I helped rebels frame a dictatorship.” Maria said. “I should have won a prize.”
“Let’s see if the rebels, their families, and civilians who were affected by chemical weapons feel the same,” Voltaire said. “This little pile is just the tip of the iceberg. Those little pop stars that you control – sorry, own – will make front page news too.”
“You seem to know ‘water’ we are doing here.” Maria laughed at her pun as she took the papers out of the case. She looked over at the maid who had begun to dust the statue of Scheherazade, the storyteller. Maria then reached under the desk to take out a garden hose, which she used to spray water in Voltaire’s face washing away his wig, make-up, and beard.
Voltaire fell to the ground and his sunglasses fell to the floor. All Maria could see was some clothing, a wig, a beard, and a cane… there was nobody wearing them. Then the invisible man spat out the water as he blinked water droplets out of his blind transparent eyes.
“And people say I have no sense of humor.” Maria said rolling up the hose and putting it under the table. Maria looked over at the maid dusting the statue of Sappho, the poet, and said, “Ben, I have a business deal for you. I am willing to give you six billion dollars. I will give you the three you asked for and three more a man with invisible flesh and blood.”
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely for your entertainment.