Chapter 3: The Manager

I turned around to see the face of the man who had spoken. His appearance was not one to cause alarm: he was a well-groomed, middle-aged man with a tight, thin smile, urgently beckoning me back down the passage. I followed him to the central cavern, as he seemed in a great hurry to leave the grotto where the exile was imprisoned.

When he reached the central cavern, he waited for me to catch up, then gestured toward a table. Pulling out a chair, he produced a crisp white handkerchief from his seersucker suit and overzealously scrubbed the seat before beckoning me to sit. He then pulled out his own chair, repeated the scrubbing ritual, and sat down with a heavy sigh, as if a great weight had fallen off his shoulders. He looked at me with palpable relief.

“I am so sorry you had to witness that terrible sight,” he said. “If I had noticed your arrival sooner, I would have turned your path away. But all is well now. The dark memories of your encounter will soon pass with time spent with the council here at our table.”

He pulled a bottle of wood polish from his pocket, poured a generous amount onto another clean handkerchief, and began polishing the table while humming an unfamiliar tune. I was momentarily hypnotized by his rhythmic movements as he rubbed the dark liquid methodically across the wood.

Finally, I spoke. “Why do you separate that mournful creature from the rest of your group, denying him the fraternity that could help alleviate his suffering?”

He froze instantly, staring at me as if I were a child who had just asked to borrow the car. I watched anxiety and fear flicker across his face. To calm himself, he pulled yet another handkerchief from his pocket alongside a small bottle of hand sanitizer. He scrubbed his hands so violently I thought he might draw blood. Once composed, he looked back at me calmly.

“It is not merely one creature, but many who spawn in the darkness,” he replied. “Through their own poor choices, they are rightfully suffering for their transgressions. We do not speak of the exiled ones among ourselves; we leave the watchers to protect the sanctuary we have built here. So please, refrain from speaking of them.”

“So I take it that forgiveness for their apparent transgressions is not on your agenda?”

He scoffed. “We do not have the luxury of forgiveness. Allowing those miscreants back risks infecting our entire community with their perfidious actions. It would unbalance all who stay long in their presence.”

Right on cue, he pulled out another starched, perfectly white kerchief and scrubbed the soles of his shoes until they shone with a mirror reflection. Satisfied, a self-complacent smile returned to his face.

After a few moments of silence, I pressed on. “Do you really believe the exiles would have such a disastrous influence? You can’t just ignore them. Your fear of facing them is far worse than reconciling the hidden parts we all have lurking in our minds—parts we could simply atone for.”

“We do not wish for atonement!” he snapped. “We wish for order! We seek to maintain the status quo, to keep our already dim light shining, and to preserve the peace—whatever the cost!”

“Peace for whom?” I countered. “Certainly not the exiles! Isn’t it worth the risk to face them instead of casting them into the dark? How long has this been going on?”

“Let me explain why we cannot release them,” he said, leaning in. “Many years ago, chaos reigned in our community. There was no order, no rules to structure our society. Terrible arguments and violent fights were common; tooth and nail brought us down to the level of animals. Factions formed and fought for dominance, each wanting to rule.

Finally, a council was formed from representatives of the different groups. We built the table you see before you. Thirteen contentious people sat here, unable to agree on a single course of action to halt our chaotic existence. Twelve angry men argued, but the thirteenth member sat silently in the shadows at the far end of the table, casting a dark pall over us all. He wasn’t a leader in the strict sense, but he was the embodiment of everything we feared: sorrow, shame, guilt, despair, rejection, grief, and hopelessness. His presence infected us. We knew the power those emotions held over us, and we resented the poison he brought.

That was the one thing we could finally agree on. We decided to cast those elements out into the darkest caves, setting watchers to ensure they never returned to bring chaos into our midst again. Once those we now call the exiles were gone, it was like a breath of fresh air. A fragile peace has held to this day. Those exiles who defied our authority were thrown into the Lake of Despair as a warning to the rest. We have survived by upholding our creed: ‘Darkness will flee and harmony will not be broken. Vigilance, vigilance! Prepare for battle, strengthen the barriers, build up the fortress, and drive the wicked parts deeper into consuming fire to purge us, bringing peace and happiness to all.’”

He finished with a satisfied sigh.

I pondered everything the manager had proclaimed before asking, “So why am I here? What purpose could my presence serve?”

“Rumors have been spread by the discontented, recounting dreams of a visitor who will bring change and lead us to the mountain tops above,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Silly thoughts. We know better than to trust fables of an upper world. As one of our past sages proclaimed: ‘Trust not those who say freedom is an upward journey. Be satisfied with the present, for destruction comes to those who chase the mists of freedom, searching for an exit to the fabled heights only to press against an impenetrable barrier.’ Now you understand our creed, recited at every gathering to preserve our unity. I strongly encourage you not to upset the balance as a visitor here.”

“Let me speak to the group,” I urged. “I can tell them I come from the heights above—where there is bright light and warmth. It isn’t a fable.”

“And where is this exit leading upward?” he scoffed. “I have been here for many years and have found no such path.”

“Isn’t my very presence proof enough to convince you? I don’t belong here, and I need to leave.”

He looked at me as if I had asked him how to extract my own brain. “Out of here to where? We have always been here, and never there. You are us, and we are you.”

Desperation and frustration boiled over within me. “Well, if you can’t or won’t help me, take me to whoever is in charge!”

He pulled a comb from his pocket and furiously combed his hair until he had composed his reply. “We do not have a ‘first among equals’ at this table.”

“Then what is your role? What is your purpose?”

The question cheered him up considerably. “I have several responsibilities! Keeping the peace, maintaining order, ensuring everyone follows the rules, and reprimanding those who do not.”

I looked around the empty cavern. “So where are the others?”

“We have scheduled a special meeting for tomorrow to discuss your arrival and how to manage any issues that may arise from your presence. Now, I must leave to rest, and I suggest you do the same. I bid you goodnight until morning. Do not bring your disturbing ideas to the council—they are not conducive to the harmony and trust we have developed over decades.”

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and quickly walked down one of the tunnels, disappearing into the shadow.

I stared down the dark passageway where he had vanished. I considered following him, but my body refused to move. Overwhelmed by the fatigue of the day’s events, I felt my eyes heavy and closing against my will. I longed to rest, harboring a quiet hope that I might awaken in my own bed and discover this was all just a bad dream.

Not wanting to lie exposed to the unknown elements of this chaotic place, I crawled under the table and instantly fell into a deep sleep.