Exorbitance

I stopped just before the door at the end of the hallway, taking a deep breath and calming myself. I had spent years in preparation for this. Years of intense, grueling training and practice, readying myself for this moment. All of my careful preparation would soon pay off. It would be the most glorious achievement of my life. Nothing could stop me from reaching my goal.

I exhaled, anxious to finish my task. I tried to open the door. I extended a hand towards the doorknob, but pulled away at the last second.

Too many variables… such a large margin for error! I… I'm not ready. I can't do it, not with my current level of skill. I… I'll fail. I should turn back, at least save my dignity…

I turned away from the door, releasing a wistful sigh. I would need to keep practicing, continue training myself until I could accomplish the task with no chance of error. I…

…No. I can't turn back now. Not after all I've gone through, all I've sacrificed to have this opportunity, only to give up without a fight. I can do it. This is what I've been training for. I have to keep going.

I glanced at the door. It was still closed, but I saw light seeping into the dark hallway from beneath the door.

If I turn back, I'll only damn myself to a life of stagnation. I have to continue.

I shut my eyes. Images, grim fantasies of what challenges could lie ahead, raced through my mind. Enough. I've wasted enough time as it is. I rotated the doorknob and pushed gently, freeing the door from its two latches. The light escaping the next room was almost blinding. I kicked the door, opening it fully. My arrival was met with the screams and cheers of a jubilant crowd.

I confidently marched forward, knowing exactly what I needed to get and what I needed to do. The room was tidy, with all of its tools and materials organized into separate cabinets. The counter was spotless. I quickly set up my workspace, grabbing a round ceramic disk and a few small metal tools from nearby drawers.

I reached into an upper cabinet, so familiar with the room that I did not even need to look at what I was retrieving. Yet my hand encountered nothing but the base of the cabinet.

Bewildered, I glanced upwards. It wasn't there! The only necessary component of my product was not in its usual place! Where could it be?! Who had moved it from its customary place!? Why-

Ah. It was in the cabinet to the right. The last user had not placed things back in their usual places. I chastised myself for panicking so easily, forgetting all of my training in a single moment of fear.

I walked over to the largest cabinet, the one sitting on the floor and incorporating a thermal cooling device. I opened it, and was greeted with a blast of chilled air. Ignoring the moisture around my legs that had begun to form into frost, I quickly grabbed what I needed from the large cabinet. Two plastic boxes, one jar and two bottles. I stepped back and kicked the cabinet door shut, dislodging the remnants of frost. The crowds cheered again, as if urging me to hurry and finish my task.

I brought the plastic boxes to the counter, setting the other containers aside and grabbing a thick wooden plank from a rack. Opening the box, I unceremonially dumped its contents, a single slab of material, onto the plank and began my work using a large, sharp blade. The more controversial aspects of my training paid off, as fine and uniform brown slices fell away from my blade. I dissected a quarter of the slab and placed the remainder in the box. I would not need any more than that.

The next plastic box was opened. It contained another slab, this time of an opaque, deep yellow material. A corner had been ripped off, and the edges showed signs of dessication. My mentors had warned me about this. The dried edges would remain functional, but would be undesirable.

I carefully extricated the block, gently setting it on the wooden plank. Now, how do I …

Oh, no… I was never taught how to do this properly! There… there isn't any way I can do this with the precision I need…

I hesitated. The crowds gasped and fell silent, as if in shock. I began to panic, barely managing to calm myself. I… I suppose precision will have to be sacrificed, then…

I carefully cut off a slice using the widest blade I could find. Good. It didn't crumble. I laid the slice flat on the board, cut it into uniform rectangles, and returned the rest of the slab to its box.

Halfway done! I prepared the core component, retrieving two pieces of it from the bag I had found in the upper cabinets, and set them flat on the ceramic disk. I opened the jar, which had been filled with a murky brown liquid, streaked with white. Pouring a small amount on both pieces of the key component, then pouring some of the contents of both bottles on top, I quickly began spreading the mix of fluids.

No… noooo! The crowds jeered, mocking the error that had caused a small spill of fluids on the ceramic disk. Staring sadly at the brown-red blemish on the faint blue disk, I decided to continue working. I would need to deal with the mess later. I assembled the product, carefully placing the brown and yellow slices atop the core component.

There was one more thing to prepare. Returning the plastic boxes, jar and bottles to the frigid cabinet, I moved to the small rack to the side of my workspace. It was filled with a myriad of bottles, each filled with vibrant particles. The labels, almost completely faded, were almost impossible to read, but I had studied these substances in the past. I did not need labels to identify the bottles' contents.

I chose three bottles from the rack: one containing coarse black and yellow grains, another containing a fiery red powder, and a third with a more mellow yellow powder. This step would be a simple task, yet the potential for catastrophe would be immense. The cap of each bottle had a section that could be partially opened, allowing the contents to be spread evenly, but even with this measure there was still a possibility of error.

I opened the small bottles, sprinkling a quantity of the contents of each onto the assembly. Perfect. Evenly spread, and the correct quantity. It was done. I reverently placed the bottles back onto the rack, in their original places. They would be used again, at a later date.

At last, I came to the final step. The assembly was cold, and unfit for use except in the most dire of emergencies. That would need to be rectified. To that end, my mentors had taught me of a mysterious device present in the room. It had a large receptacle, large enough to house nearly anything it could be used for. An arcane device resided on a side panel, allowing control of the machine. It could restore the assembly to a state fit for use.

I realized how well I was performing. Despite the setback of a minor spill, the assembly had been constructed almost flawlessly. Soon I would be finished, and I would be able to continue with my life, undisturbed.

I glanced at the strange device. It sat on the opposite counter, with a single appendage trailing off the other side. I carefully took the ceramic disk and placed it on the bottom of the device's receptacle, which slid shut after I withdrew my hands. Anxiously, I moved to the side panel and dialed a sequence of buttons, beginning the process of reinvigoration.

The machine began to emit a low humming sound. The receptacle lit up, the ceramic disk visible through the translucent cover. I was unsure of what to do. Do I just wait until it stops? How will I know? Why did my mentors never show me how it was used?!

Suddenly, I heard a loud bang from within the machine! Something had exploded! I had been taught that explosions were not very common, but fire was a very real threat. I knew what I had to do. I bolted out of the room, moving towards the extinguisher mounted on the hallway wall. I grabbed it, primed the nozzle, and cautiously reentered the room.

It had become eerily quiet when I entered. The machine had stopped, and the receptacle was dark once more. I warily advanced towards the machine, ready to fire the extinguisher at a moment's notice. There was nothing.

I pressed a button on the machine's side panel, opening the receptacle. I turned towards the dark opening, certain the assembly would have been ruined in that explosion…

…The assembly remained on the ceramic disk, in the same position, pristine and warm. The crowds cheered, their adulation sending shivers down my spine.

I let out a sigh of relief, and put down the extinguisher. The explosion had only affected the unbound fluid spill, throwing most of it safely onto the assembly.

Finally… it is done.

I grabbed the ceramic disk and carried it to the next room. The crowds cheered again as an image on the average-sized screen showed a successful goal by the eastern team's key offensive player. Grabbing the remote, I quickly changed channels. Stupid sports television, I grumbled. I sat down, leaned back, and began to enjoy my sandwich.

This was done on the, uh, suggestion, of someone very dear to me. 🙂 The purpose was to dramatize the simple task of making a sandwich, and here's the product of about an hour's work. Hope you liked it, even if you see glaring flaws in the text.

Hmmmmmmmm I should probably write an actual blog as well, since I've been here for months and still haven't done that…

naaaaahhh