Guilt of Planet Metz

[DeleteMe]

The executive cafeteria is a small but cozy place for the executives aboard the ConEx headquarters in Magellan. Bill does not like to separate the higher ups, or the “brass”, from the lower level workers of his business. He wants the common worker to know the faces of their leadership. They must be approachable for the company to truly grow and develop.

But the lounge is a place for the executives to talk about things that the common worker may not find interesting or requires a level of secrecy. The food and drink are no better. It’s a place for higher level conversation and discussion to take place.

Bill fills his light blue “Constellation Express” coffee mug with coffee. Once filled, he clanks the pot back into the holder. The aroma of the coffee draws him into the mug. But as he stares into the coffee mug, thoughts of Planet Metz rushes into his head. The people there… skinny, hungry. There is no warm lounge and hot mugs of coffee there. What Bill and so many others have often joked about, their need for the black liquid to function in the morning is something that Bill has stopped joking about. Necessity and want have become so much clearer to him.

“Good morning, Bill!”, Rachel Snyder quips, her long, blonde hair brushing her back as she hurriedly prepares a cup of coffee herself.

“Ah, yes. Miss. Snyder, how are you?” , Bill asks.

“Well. But you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”, Rachel asks, her lips remaining parted slightly with focus and legitimacy of her question. It’s no secret that Bill has just been… different. At least since that contract.

The gears are turning in Bill’s head. His way with words always prevailing in moments like these. But nothing generates. No partial truth, no way of smoothing over the situation. He’s confronted with a cold hard truth. He is simply not okay.
He takes his mug and sits down at the table, his eyes lowering with sadness and distress. Rachel is quick to his side, taking a seat next to him. She caringly rubs his back. Bill’s eyes filling with tears.

“I am not, Rachel… simply, not. How…”, Bill shakes his head.
Rachel tilts her head with an elevated look of concern. Bill is not well at all.

“How can I enjoy nights like last night, when we host delegates from other houses or potential business partners while eating and wasting so much food and drink… while the people of Metz continue to struggle to remain alive. Food and water are things fought over… power and utilities are luxuries. How, Rachel?”, Bill asks, his voice shaking from emotion.

Rachel strokes his back with concern. Bill struggles to hold back his tears. Rachel allows him a moment to regain or lose control. Bill slowly regains control.

“Perhaps, there is more that we can do? We can reach out to Monsieur Boucher and see if we can continue shipments? We still have contacts on Planet Los Angeles, we can pull some strings if we have to”, Rachel replies.

Bill nods softly. “I think you are right, Rachel. I… I will reach out to him personally. See what more we can do. For the people of Planet Metz… and for my conscience”.

Bill finishes his coffee and eats a partial breakfast before sitting down at his terminal. He sifts through his notable contacts and sees Lionel Boucher. He selects his name, but hesitates. He does not that further assistance to the FLG may push ConEx into hostilities with other Gallic organizations.

Bill shakes his head. “No, now is not the time for games. People are dieing… if we can help, we must!”.

Mr. Wagner begins to type…

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