Frustration.
“Nothing is working as well anymore.”
They, six of them in total, are sitting around a table. In front them are coffee cups full of anything but coffee, as well as empty candy wrappers, these finished off long ago. The conversation has been going on for a few hours. Solutions are suggested but none give off the feeling of certain success.
A reply.
“We’ve still got our indulgers, but the holdouts are increasing.”
More frustration.
The room this conversation is taking place in not only has the appearance of indulgence itself, with its candy and its lattes of soy and oat and almond, but it also has a stench. Like the masking of body odor with copious amounts of deodorant spray. They know the smell is there but at the same time they don’t. It’s a comfort. They like it. The aroma of a beach or a forest brings discomfort.
“Can we use their latest win to our advantage?”
“That’s the thing. I can think of multiple ways to exploit their win and turn it into a potential loss.”
Frustration again, now directed at this latest speaker.
“You should’ve spoken up sooner. Tell us what you got.”
He gets up to write on the whiteboard. As he does, he brushes crumbles off his pants, bringing attention to a stain. The others look at him in disgust. They hate when mirrors reflect themselves with a different face. Outside this room, their faces aren’t known, but the stains they beget have turned apathy into antipathy.
Urgency. Tell us what you got!
“It’s like this.” He begins to write. “If we exploit in this way,” Red words, then a line. “We lose power over here.” More words, on the other side of the line, still red.
A new smell enters the room, overpowering the deodorized masquerade. Iron. They like this smell too. But they’re immune to its effect.
loose it or gain it ? mask or raid ?