Metamorphosis

1. Father

The room was rather spacious, although, of course, his office was much more expansive. But now he had no choice since he decided to intertwine his life with these experiments.

Through the tall windows framed with heavy curtains, a grey cloud-covered sky could be seen. Bookcases lined the walls, an ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, and in the centre, on a wide woven carpet, a massive oak table stood.

A huge monitor, taking up almost half the workspace, was turned off. Next to it was a neatly stacked pile of blank paper sheets, an untouched set of pens, a flag on a thin pole and several bottles of water.

Behind the table, leaning back in a leather chair and clasping hands on his lap, sat an elderly man, immersed in anxious thoughts, known worldwide as George Erraticus, the ruler of Codor.

His age was reflected in his wrinkled face, rounded belly, short silver hair and grey, thoughtful gaze.

The ruler had been sitting in the same pose for a long time.

Suddenly, with a start, he pulled his phone out from his trouser pocket and, making sure that there were no notifications, put it back. Then he glanced at his watch and, leaning back in his chair again, turned his gaze to the window.

'And yet, why should I be here,' Erraticus continued to ponder, 'in this dull, dreary room? working with outdated equipment? playing this role? Wouldn't it be better to stay at home, with her, and continue to invent?..'

But of course he realised that it was impossible.

A multitude of research needed to be conducted before completing the project, requiring certain sacrifices.

Besides, he couldn't say he disliked his current image. He enjoyed ruling people, making empty laws and unnecessary decisions, while being respected and revered.

Nevertheless...

He was already too old for this.

The ruler felt his end was near. He was tired, excessively tired from work.

And it would be great to finish the project right now... But it must be taken to the end anyway.

Or maybe just pass it on to someone else?

Erraticus sighed and rubbed his eyes.

No, leaving Ols unattended is not an option.

And he had no one else.

Will Ols have an heir?

Is it really possible that everything they have built through backbreaking work cease to progress?

All his discoveries — phenomenal, great — faded in the distant past...

And now everything fell silent.

The inventions show no special results.

Perhaps, with time...

Someone knocked on the office door.

Erraticus chuckled.

The door swung open and a tall, thin, middle-aged man entered the room. His black suit was perfectly pressed, and a constant faint smile reigned on his narrow face with a pointed chin.

'Quite impressive, Ols,' Erraticus pursed his lips. 'But I wish you'd come as usual.'

Ols's smile widened.

'Now that we are involved in this matter,' he said, 'our behaviour must be thought out to every detail. By the way, I heard you are holding a meeting?' He pulled cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket.