All The News (PG)
Hey, guys. This is my Weird Ships Week entry, or at least one of them. Please answer the study questions after you've finished. Also, thank you for reading.Akbar Le Grey sat in front of his computer screen, typing a quick editorial. It was Saturday morning and he was stuck waiting for the 667er staff to hand in their own articles. Golden light poured from outside. He gazed at it, thinking of someone he shouldn’t.
She works for you…it isn’t right. He shook his head. He was becoming far too romantic. It was disgusting, like unflavored oatmeal. Mushy. You had to pour lots of sugar and cinnamon in it to even begin to fathom eating it. She smelled like cinnamon…
His phone rang, tearing him out of his reverie. He sighed, unsure if it was from relief or annoyance.
“Hello, 667er offices.”
“Akbar?” The voice on the phone was slurred, yet unmistakable. It was
her.“Linda.” He said. Oh, that name. What he felt as the name crossed his lips. And she…she would never be his.
“I’ve…” She paused, as though she were trying to reach for something. “I’ve got my article. In the lobby. It’s kind of long…The article I mean. The lobby’s medium-sized.” Linda giggled. Then, she grew serious. “I need you to, erm…help me edit it.”
She
needed him.
“I’ll see you there.” He said, and ran into the hall.
- - - - -
PJ scrambled to type his article on the bus. He had no idea whom he should have interviewed. At least with the rant, he hadn’t had too much difficulty. To conduct an interview, typically you needed another person. It seemed that PJ was always in want of another person…
PJ glanced down where his fingers were flying over the keys. He examined what he had written.
AKBAR AKBAR AKBAR AKBAR.
Bleh.
PJ shut his laptop, wearily. Lately, he couldn’t get his employer off of his mind. Akbar had been so kind to him. Given him a job, not gotten terribly angry when he failed to turn an article in, even the Best incident… He looked at his shoes, wondering why Akbar’s eyes mesmerized him, why his hands captivated him...
Would it be so bad? Would it be so terrible if I loved him?The bus stopped, picking up new passengers. PJ absently watched as a figure, cloaked in sheer black veils and smelling of honeydew, sat across from him. If she was trying to be inconspicuous, she had failed. Perhaps it would have been better if she had not killed the bus driver after flashing him her bus pass.
As people ran down the aisle trying to regain control of the now wildly out-of-control bus, the woman in veils studied PJ. Her entire face was hidden…except for the eyes. She had unfathomable eyes, like the bottom of the ocean. PJ felt strange watching her watch him, disinterested in the scene around him. He sank into his seat and tried not think about Akbar.
“No one,” the woman said. She had an inscrutable voice, not high and whiny like some women’s or low and calm like others’. Her voice was just right. “can know who I am.”
- - - -
The lobby was cool, cavern-like. Akbar had received an inordinate amount of money from the 667 City Hall after the 667er hit fifty issues. Already in possession of a printing press, several computers, and swivel chairs, the staff had decided it was time to rent an office building in the middle of downtown 667 and away from the pseudo-smut produced on Chaotic Creativity Blvd.
Linda stood on the opposite end of the enormous room, leaning against the wall. In her hands, she clutched a briefcase and what appeared to be a bottle of green Kool-Aid. Akbar grinned as he approached.
“Hey, Linda!” His voice cracked. He winced at both the cliché and his lost calm. He could hardly breathe. She looked at him, silently, and took a swig from the bottle. Breathed herself.
“I love you.” She said, wiping her mouth.
Akbar reeled. So simple! How could she just have said every thing he wanted in three words? Had she even said them?
“I’ve loved you since you started this paper. Every person I interviewed was for you. Every rant I devised, yours.” She drank again, and continued, shakily. “I can’t live without you knowing that. I’m not asking for anything dramatic. I just want to know if you could grow to love me as well.”
Akbar felt quite weak. His legs were like jelly worms. “Could I? Could I love you?” His voice soared. “Linda, I do love you!”
He grabbed her by the arms and pressed her lips against his. Linda melted. He could taste the Kool-Aid, bitter yet somehow sweet.
“No!”Just as the bus pulled away, a figure was outlined by the sunlight pouring through the glass windows of the lobby. PJ stood stolidly in the middle of the room. Linda’s face contorted, horrified, as she saw him.
“PJ, I love you too!” She cried.
Akbar’s heart sank back into his chest. Linda’s bottle reflected back at him, mocking all the feelings he had.
“No,” PJ repeated, barely above a whisper. “I love Akbar.” He placed his hands over his mouth the second that he had said it. His eyes began to water, with embarrassment and fear.
“PJ, I…” Akbar started to say, walking toward his friend. Indeed, was he only a friend? After that confession, would they ever be the same again?
“Don’t touch him.” A woman’s inscrutable voice echoed across them room. Her veils
swished as she ran toward PJ, sunlight shining through black. You could almost make out her figure… However, the newspeople in the lobby may have been too distracted by the gleaming sword she was wielding to notice.
“_____?” Akbar asked. He was feet away from PJ, afraid to move. “______, the subjective flaneur? Why are you...?”
“I love PJ!” She said, angrily.
PJ smiled for a moment, then frowned, and in the end, looked very confused. “Wait a moment, _____ is the subjective flaneur? Seriously? I knew it!”
_____ stared at him intently, unfathomable eyes softening. “Usually I deliver my articles at night…” She said. “But, I was running late one evening. You gave me a ride to the office, PJ. Oh, you don’t remember it. I wasn’t in disguise. Yet, ever since that ride…”
She retracted her sword into the folds of her clothing, and held out her arms, confessing. “I have thought about you, PJ. I’m risking my identity for you. I don’t have if I ever voice an honest opinion again. I love you.”
“But, what if I’ve started to love him? Or what if I’ve started to love you too, ____?” Akbar said this, without thought. “What if…I love all of you?”
A peaceful silence fell over the room.
“I love all of you, as well.” Linda murmured and sipped.
“Could I have some of that?” PJ asked. She tossed the bottle to him. He sat down on the floor, and drank. “I…I don’t love just Akbar. I love ____. And, Linda…I’ve always been grateful that you took over the rant.”
____ grabbed the bottle now, drank. “I see good in all of you.” She said.
Akbar smiled. He turned to his staff and kissed all of them, long, hard kisses. “Then, I guess…There’s only one thing to do.”
“daycare center?” PJ grabbed the bottle back. “I’m up for that.”
“No.” Akbar kneeled before his staff. “667er contributors…will you marry me?”
At this moment, George Dupin walked into the lobby, blinked, and replied. “Sure.” The rest of the newspeople nodded.
And then they had sex.POST-READING INQUIRIES
1. In the story, Character!Akbar wonders if it is ethical to have feelings for one’s employee. Is it? Why or why not?
2. Who do you think ______ is? (Alice can not tell you because _____ will probably write nasty things about her in her column and/or murder her.)
3. Vodka. Absinthe. Love potion. Far too much sugar. Which do you think was the main ingredient of Character!Linda’s “Kool-Aid”?
4. Did Character!PJ seem too angst-y? Be honest.
5. Was this a good WSW entry? Before answering please consider that the authoress of this piece of fiction is a distraught young woman that worked as hard as she could on it.
6. The 667er staff is a fantastic group of people who probably didn’t deserve this sort of trash written about them. Appreciate them by reading the 667er and saying lovely things about the articles.