Chapter III - The Wheel of Fortune

Despite there being a rather warm atmosphere today, Maxim experienced a sense of chill running through his body. He reconsidered for a moment and thought about just not answering at all. But he mustered his courage, and as he wiped out the sweat on his forehead, he brought the phone to his left ear.

"Good morning." His voice was faint.

"Mornin'. Mr. Ban, may you know why I called you?" No alterations were sensed, like his words were devoid of emotion.

"... About my absence. I am very much aware, sir. You see –" But he was interrupted.

"Yes, yes. I am glad we're on the same page. You see, Mr. Ban, it is not the first deviation from the rules on your account, from my recollection. You've already faced a bunch of write-ups thanks to your 'questionable', let's say, behavior with other colleagues. Yet we've always looked away, owing to your indisputable results in your field of work." All this was uttered in a tedious, almost routine tone.

"Yes, my results, yes." Maxim hurried to reaffirm his boss' words.

"In spite of that...'' and the boss made a slight pause, "Not only do your results as of lately leave much to be desired, but you are missing today out of all days, when the image of our company relies on your performance... Furthermore, going unnoticed, without even alerting us beforehand of your, your... unprofessional outbursts of ignorance". He slightly raised his voice as he was speaking, but calmed down quickly.

The authoritative man let out a sigh and cleared his throat. He continued. "I am obliged to take measures."

Maxim protested, regaining some of his will. "But, sir. All of it can and will be explained. Today was a day of unfortunate circumstances. Nothing but regrettable turns of events prevented me from performing as always. Allow us to meet and clear the confusion at once!"

The discussion was taking place as Maxim dashed through the streets. His condition was put under stress, visible in his grave breathing.

"I fear not, Mr. Ban. In fact, I was more than willing to turn a blind eye once again to your misconduct, even telling Jean, the secretary, to take my place in the office until I resolved the issue with you. And oh, I troubled her for naught, sir. For your dear underling, Ryan, caught you entering a cafe not long after your so-called appointment time. It was his day off, but he made sure to call me in an instant."

Hearing the aforementioned, Maxim's heart skipped a beat. His pace subconsciously slowed, and he remained still for a moment, his unfocused gaze pointing at the ground.

"He must be dreaming! He could never stand my success; that must be it!" At once, he rashed at the phone, as if stirring his anger at an inanimate object would solve his current predicament.

The boss sensed that he had awakened something in him, to which he replied with even more monotony. "I ask of you to keep your composure, Mr. As if his witness wasn't enough of a fact, an old employee also happened to inform me that you did, in fact, waste your morning in her cafe. I believe her name was Karla? Probably so... She still has my number because... ahem, we are good acquaintances..."

An unnatural change of speed in his talking occurred. "Karla brought up your 'idealistic', rather childish, way of thinking and the way you so blatantly defy us, defy me. For crying out loud, you didn't use to be like this!"

Without exception, every muscle in Maxim's face contorted at once, so that his mouth evoked a sound like gasping for air or a groan. 'How did that bitch do it? It had to happen while I was waiting for my coffee. Jesus Christ, I can't believe my ears!!' went through his mind at the moment. But he resumed his steps.

A robotic voice followed. "Are cups of coffee of more importance than your career, Mr. Ban? Should I take your previous actions as a personal insult?"

With an attitude that still inspired hope, he objected. "No! But of course not, sir! Because I-I..."

But sounds wouldn't spring from his mouth. His mind was blank. There was nothing in the world that would redeem him from the internal turmoil he was going through. His thoughts immediately wandered left and right, seeking a way out of it—out of this call. He was so fed up with facing his boss, yet there was seemingly no escaping the inevitable outcome that would follow. He took into account apologizing for his idiocy, begging him to turn another blind eye, like always. Simultaneously, he considered posing as firm and assertive, only to try and convince him with his steadiness and measured words.

However, he never got the chance to pursue a charade, as the boss concluded at last. "Mr. Maxim Ban, I am regrettably forced to fire you. This month's salary as well as your belongings will be handed over at your address. I hope this marks our last encounter, sir. I wish you all the good luck in life."

And he closed. Rhythmic beeps would constantly break the inconvenient silence that came.

As Maxim didn't cease his steps until the call closed, by the end of it, he stood in front of the advertising agency office. Even so, his trip was now meaningless. He couldn't enter it, nor did he have any plans to.

Breathless, annoyed, slightly wet, and with his clothes ruined, a tear full of hatred fell over his face. And another followed. His was not a cry of defeat; rather, in it lied all the fury and angst that had remained dormant for so long. Grinding his teeth and letting out almost animalistic groans, beyond such a breakdown, he felt an obscure sense of relief. Passers-by would throw looks at him, finding the sight humorous, although he didn't care.

...

In front of the large, imposing building across the street, Maxim wiped away his tears and regained his spirit. After a while, he opened his phone again and was ready to make a call. Unlike the first call he received today, he wore a stern look and a fixed attitude now. The phone rang, and finally the receiver picked up.

Maxim took a long breath and exhaled. He began.

"Listen, you pile of bums. I'll be frank with you, because I can't stand neither you nor the shitty superior allure you disclose. Honestly speaking, you are not something to frighten around. In fact, all you do is sit on a reclining chair while giving unreasonable orders and deadlines and eating a bunch of shit. What's worse is that you became a director just because of your irrelevant but rich parents, who supported your finances from the beginning, as well as kissing every ass in the agency until your stinky mouth couldn't keep it up anymore.

I admit that I am a horrible, egotistical person. And a narcissist! I distance myself from people, and even more, I think myself better than they are. My arrogance puts anyone off and, with the evidence of today, makes them despise and work against me. With this being said, even I, even I pale in comparison with your wretched self. I doubt there is anybody more full of themselves, while alternatively being a hollow shell of a person, than your holy excellence!

I've seen you steal, lie, hinder, and toy with people as long as it benefits that fat belly of a pig of yours. You bring nothing of value to the world, and in the grand scheme of things, you will have nothing of positive consequence to be reminded of. I bet the epitaph on your grave will read, 'The ugliest and most corrupt tycoon of them all. His entire life, manipulating his environment as he saw fit. He made women cry. He made men lose their purpose. He made children orphans. He and his vile investments made Earth a worse place than it already is. The true Black Plague of the 21st Century: All Hail the King of Bullshit! May he reign for eternity in the deepest pit of Hell!'

That's all you and your stupid advertising amount to, fool. That's what you really are—a fool. I can't find a glimpse of virtue in what you do. Fooling poor souls into spending money on overpriced, low-quality products they don't even need in the first place. Nothing but a fool who dares to fool other people. Your shadow over our world pollutes all that is beautiful, all that is life, and all that is art.

And so I got to the reason for my absence today. I want absolutely nothing to do with all of that—with all of who you are and what you do! I cannot deny the fact that I have my own list of deeds I have to repent for. Yet I won't be content with myself otherwise; I won't bear the sight of my face in the mirror if not for this pact.

I met a kind person today. An actual kind-natured person who doesn't act just for the world to perceive him as good He is nothing like me... I treated him with repulsion, yet he offered his gentle hand to me and picked me up as I was falling. He showed legitimate worries about my well-being and was empathetic enough to show concern for details about myself and what I have to say. That person asked me about my age. When was the last time you asked about my age? Or anything that has to do with me? I've known you for more than a decade, but that kind fellow who I've never once met in my life treated me with more compassion than you ever have in all those years. Not because of some ulterior motive, but because of the simple, unconditional human spirit. You and all of your fortunes aren't worth even his thumb.

And so, I'm not sure what path I ought to follow or if there is even redemption for someone like me. Even less for what awaits me in my remaining life. I was never apt to decide for myself. All I know is that what I fancy myself to be as a human is to be just a little more like him. And, in the process... as little as possible like you."

For the first time in minutes, Maxim had the opportunity to breathe. He fixed his already hoarse voice one last time and said, "I wish you a delightful day! Pig."

There was silence on the packed street once more. The curious folk that had stopped to observe the peculiar specimen that was having a tantrum were by now all on their way. And reality felt like it had stopped its natural course. And what was there to be said? Maxim has already said everything. Who knows towards whom or what his passion has been channeled? Certainly, now was too late for feelings of regret and remorse.

Nobody knew how much time had passed before the same robotic, emotionless voice that fired Maxim some mere minutes ago eventually spoke. "Understood." – No more, no less. And he hung up the phone.

In an effort to reclaim his energy, Maxim crouched down and struggled to breathe. After another couple of minutes, standing up vis-à-vis the building that once comprised his entire life, he puffed his cheeks with air and cried out a loud scream.

"YOU ALL CAN GO TO HELL!!!"

And in a split second, he left the street.

...

Throughout the rest of the day, Maxim spent time in clubs across the city and indulged himself with women of all sorts. This hedonistic lifestyle ceased when he became too intoxicated with alcohol, which forced him to leave. The thought of getting a taxi as a last resort crossed his mind, but he soon faced the cruel reality that his wallet was almost empty. In the end, after hours of staggering, he somehow arrived at the apartment he was so fond of and knew inside and out.

His expression suddenly turned grim when he made a realization.

"I can't afford to have a roof over my head without a job."

...

That night, Maxim slept like he hadn't slept in forever. And emanated beast-like snores in the process. The next morning, he was awakened by the noise of a delivery car. His belongings from the office were brought to his door in cardboard boxes wrapped in tape. For a moment, he thought the preceding day was nothing but a fever dream, leaving him perplexed. Being in the process of sobering up didn't help either. However, all prior skepticism was cleared with this incident. Later that morning, he prepared breakfast with whatever could be found in the fridge and left as soon as the rain stopped, still dizzy from the influence of alcohol.

The thought of fixing the flat tire that prevented him from traveling as he desired was prominent in his mind, but matters of more relevance had to be addressed first. How was he to maintain his current lifestyle without a source of income? What was he to do now? Perhaps he'd find an underpaid job until he sorted out his convictions and focused on a new path. But by the time he were to start getting comfortable and establish stability in a change of careers, he would be homeless. Something has to be done soon!

'I have wasted more than thirty-five years, feeding on sweet words and foreign fantasies. Just by acting as others preferred me to and reveling in my vanity, I could only get this far. Who knows if I'll get by with another thirty-five years? I doubt it. Perhaps while walking from here on out, I could shift my gaze towards what lies ahead of me and how I want to be perceived, not how they actually perceive me. Perhaps I could find joy in the meantime. I will consider something that could wipe out all the bad deeds I am guilty of. Something I could be remembered by. I'm not quite sure yet, but it has to be something worthy. Don't we all want to be remembered as virtuous? After all, everybody who has stepped on this Earth, no matter how young or old, rich or poor, including me, wanted to be seen—to be looked at...

'Yes. I'd like that.'