The Etiquette Seminar
The overhead light flickered on, shaking Smiley from what he might laughably call sleep on one of his more optimistic days. He stared at the concrete ceiling, blinking blearily and wondering in a vague sort of way if UFP paid to install the cracks in the exact likeness of a moose, and if that buzzing in the light fixture cost extra. “Probably have a catalog for the higher ups. Authentic cold war looks…for less!” He smiled faintly despite himself, his cracked lips splitting all over again and a sluggish trickle of blood oozing from one corner and sliding down his cheek.
His thoughts were cut short as the heavy metal door clanged loudly open, causing him to start, despite the fact he promised himself he wouldn’t today. The figures in the doorway, one tall and hulking, the other short, thin, and crooked, paused to examine the scene before them. Smiley tried very hard to lay still, and fight the urge to raise his head to look around. After a long tense moment, the crooked man spoke. “Good morning, Smiley.”
Smiley swallowed and responded. “Good morning, sir. Did you sleep well?” The crooked man smiles and enters the room. the hulking man steps in after him, surprisingly nimbly, and moves over to the bare table in the corner, and placing his heavy briefcase on it.
”I did indeed, Smiley. You are very kind for asking. Might I inquire as to your accomodations?” The crooked man spoke with a lilting, mocking tone to his voice, pacing around the pallet where Smiley lay, still staring at the ceiling. “I slept like an angel, sir, on a bed of clouds. Your hospitality rivals that of Emperors and Popes.” Smiley was very proud of the way he managed to keep his voice even and polite, even when the hulking man suddenly yanked the restraints on the pallets viciously from sleep length to proper seminar tightness. The crooked man raised an eyebrow at Smiley’s response and gestured to the larger man to crank Smiley upright and turn him to face the wall screen. Smiley blinked repeatedly, fighting desperately against his stomach to avoid loosing what little sustenance he had earned yesterday because of the disorienting sensations. Realizing the crooked man had already begun speaking, Smiley desperately forced aside his physical discomfort and focused on the screen as it slowly flickered to life, revealing a silent film of a fancy, though slightly outdated, cocktail party.
The crooked man rambled on “Now, to pick up where we left off yesterday, Smiley….oh dear Jerome, he’s gone and drifted on us again. Perhaps a bit of encouragement?” The hulking man nodded silently and turned towards Smiley’s upright pallet, twisting the knobs that allowed the electricity to flow through him in short, unpredictable bursts. “Ah, thank you Jerome. Also, would you mind terribly getting us some coffee? I believe you know how I take mine, and I think Smiley shall try his with two sugars and light cream today. There’s a dear, thank you Jerome.”
The crooked man patted the hulking man on the arm as he stepped past and turned back to the screen, picking up his monotone lecturing “Now, as I was saying….The cocktail party is a common situation the modern etiquette warrior will find himself in. It’s virtues are extolled by members of all three corps, and by several other shard’s as the premiere diplomatic environment. A careful mix of polite society and business must be attained at these events, otherwise catastrophe might ensue! Now, when one is offered a drink at a cocktail party hosted by someone of a similar position to ones own, but from a different company, what would be the acceptable orders? Additional points shall be given for brand names of alcohol, of course…”
Smiley’s ragged voice responds, and then the crooked man’s monotone picked up again. It turned out to be many hours before Smiley was able to drink that coffee…