Full Circle

Earth

"Will he or won't he ??". I was thinking when I walked up to Dawson's room with my tablet in my hand. About to open the door, I just remembered the last time I entered his room without knocking and the next hour of reminding on professional ethics in door-knocking. The fact that his room didn't have a door to begin with didn't strike him somehow. That and the phrase. "May I come in ??", I somehow managed. "Yes", belched a voice.

"Hi Dawson", I started.
"Uh?? Me ??", said Dawson.
"Mr. Dawson, I mean.", I said correcting my self quickly. I am in no mood for his sermons on professional ethics in addressing people now.
"Better. Yes, what can I do for you Robert ??", said Dawson, least interested in what he can do for me. Always infinitely interested what I can do for him.
"Sir, its about the new project I had in mind."
"Ah, the potty you mean", said Dawson, popping a bunch of grapes into his mouth, making no effort to hide the sarcasm in his tone.
I bit my lower lip in anger. "Dont let your emotions blow. Job needs to be done", I told myself. "The Porty, sir. P-o-r-t-y".
"They sound just about the same you know ??", asked Dawson, leaning into his chair further. The Porty, My Porty was known to Dawson's circle as the potty, because they think that is where my invention is destined. I disagree. I disagree vehemently.
"Dawson, just give me one chance. Porty would put us on the global map forever", I said earnestly.
"Oh yes ?? And how are you so sure??", said Dawson, his voice going to that gravelly tone which he uses to browbeat people. Not good.
"Its because I see people are going to need it soon. Look at my analysis", I showed him my tablet. "See, this is the projection of increase in population over the next few years. This here is the growth of Porting market that I project. If we go into test production now, we should be onto full scale production within the next two months and should be out with the first Porty in 3 months and hit maximum production in 12 months. In two years, we would have recovered all our production costs and we get to make profits out of it", I could see Dawson shaking his head and I stopped.

"You know what Bert ?? This makes absolutely no business sense whatsoever", said Dawson looking at his well-manicured finger nails, rendered out of the expenses account offered by the company.
"What ?? But I just..."
"You gave me some numbers. That's all you did. Numbers that don't mean anything".
"But Mr. Dawson..."
"Listen Bert, How many years have you been in this industry ?? 4 ?? 5 ?? how old are you ?? 27 ?? 28 ?? Marginally less than my experience. I have seen numbers, Bert. I have seen them all my life. And you know what I have seen more often ?? Your kind. The one that comes up with nothing but ideas that burn a hole in everyone's pocket. Your idea is futile. That is all there is to it".
"Sir, This analysis is ...", I tried to drive my point about how painstakingly I had conducted a research out of my own free time to arrive at these numbers, talking to people, understanding their needs.
"Bert, let me ask you this. Is anyone using this potty of yours??"
"No, but ....", I started
"Ah see, There we have it. No one is using this and you expect me to fund it. Bah", Dawson went off before I could interrupt him and say that this was the precise point. That no one was using it because no one has invented it. Not yet. But Dawson was in no mood to give up. "And you say this makes business sense ?? I don't know what they teach you, but they teach you to imagine a lot. You think people want to port ?? Do you actually think they are going to leave what they are doing here and port off to some place ?? Are you out of your minds ?? Boy, how did you even land this job ??"
First, I hate it when he sounds patronising. Second, I hate it when he asks me how I landed this job when there are probably a hundred others who are curious to know how he landed his job. "Hold on to your tongue, Bert. This is not the first time", I told myself.
"Bert, you, and all your bretheren out there, think that you are doing the toughest job out there. Trying to make random things, Invent things. Do you have an iota of idea how hard it is to be in The Hot Seat ??".
I looked around his room. It was bigger than the one I had to share with three others. It had twice as many shelves and an ice-box. That didn't sound too hot to me.
"I just didn't join some skool and come out and get a job. I had my foundations in this business and I know how it is run. Do you know how many decisions I have to make each day which would affect thousands of people ??". I stopped and gave it a thought. Single shot espresso or double shot espresso was probably the only one and it seemed neither tough nor affecting thousands of people.

"By the way, you are in tools. Aren't you ??", asked Dawson, with the tone that sent out many loud and clear messages to me. "Yes sir, I am". "Have you finished your daily tool sharpening quota" would be the next question. "If you haven't done the job you were given, you should probably not try anything else" would come later. I understood where this was going. I would like to tell him he doesnt have to put me on the defensive reminding me that it is he who has to judge my work when the time comes. I would really love to tell him that "tools sharpening" is not where my interests lie. I would like to tell him to look at the idea as an idea and not as something that is going to rain money from day #1. Most of all, I would like to remind him that a tonne of his self-laudatory poetry is welcome if only he could show a bit of constructive work. But I cannot. I do not have the power to.

I walked back slowly to my workplace. I am sure Dawson and his friends would be having a private joke on Porty. I could see other eyes boring into me as I took my seat. Deep down inside, I knew Porty was going to work. Something tells me that there is someone who would badly need this invention. In the loneliness of my room, I picked up a mini-Porty that I had made in the hope that I would be allowed to give a demonstration. I touched my creation lovingly. All around it. I imagined a future where people would be able to port freely. I imagined a future where there would even be coaches fitted with Porties. I imagined a future where a life couldnt be lived withour Porties. I laughed at my own dreams. "Goodbye Porty, the road ends for you here", I said and broke it into pieces and got back to sharpening stones for the hunt later tonight. There were mammoths to be killed.



Heaven

"Dang !!!!", He screamed in anguish.
"Honey, what is wrong now ??", out came The Missus, clearly pertrubed.
"He did it again. He did it again", He was in a mad fit and it showed up as a serious cyclone in the calm waters of the dead sea.
"Honey, you should cool down. You could destroy a few countries with your temper", said the concerned Missus.
"I dont believe this, darling. I put them alongside happily grazing dinosaurs and you remember what he did ?? He asked them to file a report of their weekly kills. In triplicate. Bam. Out of the blue, one day they are all extinct. The coroner says severe stress. You know how this made Me the laughing stock in the Gods' Council. I put this species into evolution alongside Noah. What do we get ?? 90% of the animals Noah selected were rejected because they dozed off when he was giving a presentation on "An Incisive Look into the Learnings on How to Efficiently Board The Ark". Now, who wouldn't ?? I put him in the neolithic and what do I get ?? A blanket ban on creating fires because he so intelligently put his finger inside one, got burnt and decreed it dangerous to use fire in any form whatsoever. And now, guess what he did now ?? He rejected the idea of The Wheel saying it was not viable and didn't have a future".
"You dont say !!!", exclaimed the surprised Missus.
He was now looking distraught. "Now I have to redo the whole thing again. Right from Adam, Eve and The Apple. And this is not the first time. I hate doing this again and again. I am not a robot", He sounded unsurprisingly tired. "Honey, I dont know what to do with this species. They are in my charter. I need to put them somewhere, somehow. But I am wary of putting them anywhere", He sounded resigned.
"Honey, you shouldn't be losing your sleep over this. Just put them somewhere, where they could cause very less damage. Now, I got to get back to preparing lunch for you.
Why don't you just put them somewhere and join me in the kitchen in a minute ??. There are a few vessels to wash"
He walked to his drawing-board. He had decided enough is enough. He looked up at his giant chart of creation. On the x-axis he had the species written alphabetically. Amoeba, Blue Whales, Cats, Dogs, Hippopotamuss. He scanned the list looking for his entry and picked it up right beneath "Manaclers". He looked at the y-axis, containing ages. He gave it a good thought, sighed deeply and shoved it in the slot marked "The Second Dark Ages - 20th century and later" and pressed the "Restart Earth" button.

Epilogue

Epitaph for a Tag that originated in Ganja Turtle's blog.