Volume
One: The Road Out
Chapter One
Verse Four: Allons-Y and High
Achievers
Marion arrived at Allons-Y Books on
foot, having missed every bus between his apartment and work. He was
sweating a line of moisture down his spine and breathing through an
open mouth. The sweat of the run had finally defeated his unruly
hair, which now sat limp and wet against his skull. A mist of steam
rose from his shoulders. Marion would have stopped and quietly died
in an alleyway if he was not terrified that he might lose his job for
this infraction. And he was definitely infracting at the moment, it
was already well past six, closing on half past.
He was Late for work. But he know he
still has a chance. The managers may not have seen him, but they
didn't know that Marion wasn't there. People started and stopped
their shifts at staggered irregular times, Mr. Wheately might only
see Marion once or twice in a day- if it was a good day. So, Mr.
Wheately might have already confirmed that Marion was late; but far
more likely, Mr. Wheately didn't even realize Marion was late. Marion
just had to look normal. At a quarter to eight the staff would
convene for the Team Huddle where Mr. Wheately would make a vague
buzzword laden speech that was apparently intended to inspire the
employees to work hard for no extra reward to improve profits for the
shareholders. He just has to be visible in the Team huddle, and avoid
being seen arriving, and he might have a chance.
Marion knew he couldn't walk in through
the front door. He would need to slip in through the loading doors
and appear to have been busy in the warehouse, sorting books and
Oprah bait. The problem of course was that Mr. Wheately was not the
only person at Allons-Y Books who didn't like Marion. Leo Hopper, the
Warehouse Manager didn't like Marion either. Marion blamed the
inflatable Moose, but that didn't help the fact that Leo would not
let Marion get away with sneaking in tardy if the stock manager could
prove that Marion had just that. So stealth was the name of the game.
The back door was locked and normally a
person would need to press the buzzer to be let in. Marion had no
intention of pressing the buzzer. Instead Marion slipped in the back,
squeezing in through the opening left between the truck currently in
the loading dock and the edge of the loading gate. There was just
enough space to get in; and once inside, Marion immediately picked up
a box from the loading bay and carried it further in, setting it down
as though he had been there all along. Marion cautiously glanced
around to see if he had been spotted and saw the heavy bulldog face
of Leo Hopper staring at him.
Leo definitely saw Marion, but the
question was when Leo had spotted him. If Leo had seen Marion enter
through the loading door, Marion was doomed. Marion was confident
that Leo could put two and two together and realize why Marion had
been sneaking in through the shipping entrance.
Marion's plan had been to shuffle
around the back, trying to clear space for the next shipment, and act
like he had been in the back the whole time. But Leo had seen him and
now that was at risk. If he had slipped in cleanly, the worst he
would have been in trouble for was not helping set up the Mother's
Day displays, but that would just be a lecture on prioritizing, not
disciplinary action for being late. Now, he risked getting fired for
being both late and trying to avoid getting caught. So the stakes
were much higher now that Leo had seen him. But maybe Marion was
lucky, and Leo hadn't realized that he had seen Marion attempting to
avoid being caught arriving late.
"Please let me be lucky,"
Marion breathed his breath.
Leo was talking the the driver of the
currently docked delivery truck, and Marion felt he had little choice
but to continue with his plan. He began looking through the boxes,
and sorting the good publishers into a pile where he could easily
stock it to the shelves later. Marion knew from experience that if
the book wasn't on a certain celebrity reading list or from the
latest teen best selling series then it stood little chance of being
shelves with any care or attention.
Marion took periodic looks at Leo while
he worked, Leo remained busy with the driver- doing what Marion
couldn't fathom. They seemed to be talking an awful lot for a simple
pick up, but Leo never did seem to value the company beyond what it
could give him. Marion understood that, he didn't value the company
much either, but he did value the people who came to him looking for
good books. Leo remained in conversation with the driver while Marion
sequestered the boxes that had arrived from good publishers. But
although Leo never approached Marion, the warehouse manager through
several more unpleasant glares at Marion.
Finally there was a buzz on the
intercom and a tin metallic voice said, "Alright high achievers,
let's meet by the front displays for a team huddle." Marion
recognized Mr. Wheately's voice and knew this was the moment of
truth.
He turned to go, but as he moved to
head down stairs he heard Leo say, "Oh I can't answer that, ask
Marion he's the only guy who knows the Literature section well enough
to give you an answer to that."
Marion turned back around to see the
driver walking over. He was an older man dressed better than Marion
would have expected a deliver driver to be dressed, in brown corduroy
pants with a red shirt and a brown tweed jacket. The man's hair was
an aged pale blond and hung long tied back into a ponytail. He
offered a hand to Marion which Marion shook.
"Hi, Leo told me that you could
help me tell where something belongs."
Marion nodded and then quickly shook
his head, "Yes, I mean no. I don't mean to be rude, but that
intercom announcement was for us. I need to swing down and get to
that meeting."
The man kept smiling, "This will
just take a moment."
"I'm sorry," Marion said,
"Who are you?"
"I'm just somebody interesting in
storytelling, like you." The man kept shaking Marion's hand, who
suddenly had the feeling that the man wouldn't give Marion back his
hand until Marion had agreed to help.
"What can I do for you?"
"I have this book that's not
really a kids book, but reads like a fable or a fairy tale. It's big
in scope, but keeps things simple. Think Jonathon Livingstone
Seagull. The copy on the covers calls it a children's book, but if we
put it in the children's section no adults are going to read it, and
it's often scarier than little kids might be ready to handle."
"Kids can handle more than you
think. And adults will totally read stuff in the kids section. Harry
Potter is in both sections now, but the books didn't start there. The
publisher went back and put out adult additions when they realized
the market existed. But if you want a easy place to stuff the books
so that both groups feel like they are allowed to read them and also
will let parents feel like you didn't trick them into reading
nightmare fuel to their precious little kids, then probably the Teen
section. What is this book, you haven't even told me the title."
"The last princess. Have you read
this story? It isn't new. It's about a princess who realizes that the
presence of her kingdom live a much worse life than she does. You
know, kind of like Buddha. But instead of just meditating or leaving
like Buddha, she decides she has to fix things. The problem is at the
abilities wealth comes from the workers working harder and harder
every year. And if they stop the whole kingdom will fall apart. She
looks and looks for a solution, and she can't find one. Just one that
looks like everything is lost a pair of storytellers bring her a
story of a new way to live. two story tellers, one cold like the
void, one bright like fire. And they show her the way through the
darkness. What do you think?"
Marion shook his head, "Maybe I
just read too much, but I'm sorry. It sounds like I've heard the
story a thousand times before. Kind of lame."
"It's not lame, it's an archetype.
Timeless."
"Okay, archetype. But that still
doesn't mean the story is that well constructed. Where do the
storytellers come from? And what are: they? Stephen King teaming up
with Obi-Won Kenobi to teach her how to be a Jedi? Why are they in
the story? It sounds like bad writing if somebody has to sweep in at
the last moment to save her?"
"They're there from the beginning.
But I guess it depends on whose story it is. And as for why; everyone
has to choose what kind of story they want to join."
"Okay, I have no idea what you're
talking about now."
"Marion. Everyone is living out a
story. Everyone is writing their own story and participating in other
people's stories. Years from now, some of those stories will be
remembered and some will be forgotten. Who decides which ones?
Centuries from now, some stories will still be around from this era.
They will by myths and legends. People may be worshiping the great
provider god who brings the harvest and appears as a clown under a
sacred archway made of gold. How do you know what makes a story
survive? Merlin as a character is older than the King Arthur story
and grafted on to that mythology. Maid Marion was not part of the
original Robin Hood legend. We tell stories about Gilgamesh and Noah,
but if they were ever real people were they individuals or did the
stories of a dozen different kings merge in the telling of the story
through the centuries to give us the character of Gilgamesh?"
Marion widened his eyes, "Now see
that is really interesting. Is that part of the book?"
"It's part of your book. Are you
familiar with the Hero's Journey, the Joseph Campbell theory?"
"Yeah, it's the monomyth. The idea
that most or all stories, at least a good number of the stories, I
don't know how many, but a bunch of the old stories- plus everything
that George Lucas seems to write- all follow the same structure."
"And it starts with the hero
receiving a call. And sometimes the hero tries to refuse the call,
and when that happens there are consequences. The hero suffers until
they answer the call to adventure. This happens again and again. Do
you know why? Because stories are circular. The hero goes out into
the world but always returns home to share his story. When he does
this he inspires a new generation of heroes. You stories don't die
permanently. The are resurrected with each retelling. Stories are
like the phoenix."
"Wait. What?"
"Stories are a firebird lighting
the darkness for people without light. They are meaning in the void."
"Okay, back up. Back up. Who are
you and what are you talking about?"
"Day! I should have known I'd find
you back here!" Marion turned to see the obscenely tall and thin
form of Percy Wheately walking like a determined paper cut towards
them, "You missed the morning huddle. All of my true high
achievers were out there. Where were you? You were hiding in the
warehouse. It's almost seven, you know we open early on Mother's
Day."
"Sorry Mr. Wheately. This rep, I'm
sorry I didn't get your name, wanted help determining where to file
their new book."
Mr. Wheately Shook his head, "Not
only can't you prioritize, you can't do what you spend your time
actually doing. You should have been out front facing and building
the displays, instead you hid back here with your little hipster
niche market books and your specialty publishers who don't bring in
the revenue, and then you can't even stock the back room correctly."
"I haven't been stocking the back
room, Mr. Wheately. I've been assisting a publisher's
representative."
"I am getting tired of your antics
Day. Get out on the floor. Don't you dare neglect your section. You
may sell books, but that won't protect the rest of your short
comings. I am out of patience and that means you have run out of
second chances."
