Miz
Level 20 Mizard
Just a short thing I wrote. I have no idea where I will go with it, or if I will continue writing with it. It was mainly practicing trying to describe a character (or characters) and a possible setting without giving any real details on it. The original had far more clues but I edited them out. So you can hardly tell this is a sci-fi now...
It could be imagined right now: the meticulous work prepared at his desk, the stacks of incoming and vacancy of outgoing, the trails of exhaust and the cautious hum of takeoff. His anguish I assume would order the brandy and he would order my resignation. The grimace on his face masking his strong bone structure as his assistant’s attendant's secretary, brave and desperate as she may be for work, would walked upon the tips of her high heels towards the desk, my physical file in her hand. The red ink pen and stamp being his weapons, he would demark it, denounce it, my field and character, and label me nothing more than an outlier in rank.
I’d have to presume only for the worse! What if he decides it fit for me to be convened! Oh the degradation I would have to face at the eyes of those various senior officials, who seek nothing more than to amuse themselves. Their inattentive expressions displayed upon those wide screens, surrounding my person and leaving me nowhere to hide. Their dazed eyes would stop, only for an instance, to glare viciously and become alive when viewing such a file as mine. I could rely possibly upon my diligent civil service of nearly six years, and 16,000 reports upright, but could it stand in defense? As a mere mortal how would I protect myself from a pack of wolves, allured by the scent of meat, analyzing every report and line-action since the dawn of my career with upmost scrutiny?
No! No! Not yet! He wouldn’t terminate me, yet! My worries, of course, are premature, I am confident my letter accurately explains my dilemma! Actions were beyond my restraint and control. Even with my discretion, I could do little; I am only conducting my duty, and the objectives given to me by those higher. The Commissioner even with his ferocity is a man of similar needs and wants. I even had that dinner with him, once? Think about it, it all really pans out: he will read my report about my late transmissions and be assured that it was entirely an accident. That I was heeding his orders, and implementing the policies as preprogrammed and debriefed. Hell, look solely at my location, this horrible place. Would I really come to this scenario by my own designation? In that sense, I still have a purpose to pursue: a madness to retrieve and return to him. For that intention alone, the Commissioner would not risk another colleague of such merits to persist, regardless of what the files may say! I would, even in all of my so-called recent “wrong doings” and misdemeanors, be the only sufficient officer in his branch to be sacrificed to this merciless job. No R&R, no recovery and replacement mission would be sent the miles to such a desolated place only for my person!
So perhaps in the meantime, I am spared…
Diatribe to (His Most Honorable) Commissioner
It could be imagined right now: the meticulous work prepared at his desk, the stacks of incoming and vacancy of outgoing, the trails of exhaust and the cautious hum of takeoff. His anguish I assume would order the brandy and he would order my resignation. The grimace on his face masking his strong bone structure as his assistant’s attendant's secretary, brave and desperate as she may be for work, would walked upon the tips of her high heels towards the desk, my physical file in her hand. The red ink pen and stamp being his weapons, he would demark it, denounce it, my field and character, and label me nothing more than an outlier in rank.
I’d have to presume only for the worse! What if he decides it fit for me to be convened! Oh the degradation I would have to face at the eyes of those various senior officials, who seek nothing more than to amuse themselves. Their inattentive expressions displayed upon those wide screens, surrounding my person and leaving me nowhere to hide. Their dazed eyes would stop, only for an instance, to glare viciously and become alive when viewing such a file as mine. I could rely possibly upon my diligent civil service of nearly six years, and 16,000 reports upright, but could it stand in defense? As a mere mortal how would I protect myself from a pack of wolves, allured by the scent of meat, analyzing every report and line-action since the dawn of my career with upmost scrutiny?
No! No! Not yet! He wouldn’t terminate me, yet! My worries, of course, are premature, I am confident my letter accurately explains my dilemma! Actions were beyond my restraint and control. Even with my discretion, I could do little; I am only conducting my duty, and the objectives given to me by those higher. The Commissioner even with his ferocity is a man of similar needs and wants. I even had that dinner with him, once? Think about it, it all really pans out: he will read my report about my late transmissions and be assured that it was entirely an accident. That I was heeding his orders, and implementing the policies as preprogrammed and debriefed. Hell, look solely at my location, this horrible place. Would I really come to this scenario by my own designation? In that sense, I still have a purpose to pursue: a madness to retrieve and return to him. For that intention alone, the Commissioner would not risk another colleague of such merits to persist, regardless of what the files may say! I would, even in all of my so-called recent “wrong doings” and misdemeanors, be the only sufficient officer in his branch to be sacrificed to this merciless job. No R&R, no recovery and replacement mission would be sent the miles to such a desolated place only for my person!
So perhaps in the meantime, I am spared…
ops:
