Second Life: A Second Chance

Crying Out from the Tанцпол (I)

Broken glass shards are found scattered throughout atop the desk's sleek surface. The angry presence from a bitter CEO permeates the room in the form of a repeated ringing. A physical paper picture of the man who left me lays atop a mini trashcan lid at the right side of the desk's lower corner, burning slowly to a crisp while I struggle to compose myself and give a damn. As I force myself to no longer obsess and grieve over the loss of my first lover, my forehead continues to thump with pain as does my blood covered right hand.

In all my years of serving Sorelyn, never have I ever binge drinked myself to the point of sheer madness in order to cleanse my body of all the overwhelming frustration and sadness that has accumulated inside me throughout the years. Although it has been almost two decades since he had left me, I still somehow manage to find myself remembering his face from time to time, as loving him had left me completely broken, a consequence caused as a result of devoting my short adolescence to him. I only wish he had not been my first, the first to whom I lowered my defenses to, the first to whom I had sex with, the first to whom I shared all my deepest darkest secrets with.

"What in the cojeda are you doing? Answer me Verofe de perra!" yells from the blue lit cube Erika Cruz, head of the Goozon Icon Valle owned MSI (Mentallics Simulations Incorporated). 

With an angered look on my face, I grudgingly press the button to allow the call's transmission to come into view. From the transmission's appearance onto my desk, do I begin to lightly observe the woman, watching with caution as she annoyingly speaks.

"Mercedes," Cruz 'orders.'

"What?!" I moan back. 

"You know damn well what. Our sources have confirmed a technical break-in at one of our department of monitoring intelligence buildings inside your capital city. Three simulation responders glitched and crashed, allowing a virus to penetrate and cause four of our twenty servers to fail. The ramifications caused by the break-in could have been a lot worse had there not been back up servers in place to replace the old servers that had just failed. We are not going to take this situation lightly. WE permitted you to borrow our system to run your damn simulations and this is how you repay us?! By destroying four of our servers?! Do you have any idea how much a single server costs to maintain and keep it from killing off the user population?!  You could have killed off half of the Goozon citizen population count had the virus become more volatile and infiltrated more servers. You are lucky no lives were lost as a result, especially in regard to your so called 'Second Lifer Trainees.'"

"I can explain-"

"No! You have spoken enough. Have you no idea the gravity of this situation?" 

"I do, and I am deeply sorry for the trouble I have caused you," I respond falsely before continuing on. 

"I will do my best so that this situation never occurs again. We will look into the matter immediately," I say, reaffirming but not justifying, her anger.

"You better investigate and have whoever is the cause of the manipulation indicted because if you choose not to, we will be forced to take legal and financial action. Our affiliated lawyers are at our disposal and we will not stand for this petty irresponsible bullshit!" 

Upon a short deep breath of air, I reaffirm my position within the attempted squabble. 

"Remember who you are speaking to. I am not Brenda Paqwin, head of the technological national security. I am the sole leader of my sovereign Nation and I have the ability to declare war in order to rid myself of whatever I deem unimportant, such as the small pathetic piece of land you call a country. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of my sight," I sharply announce, before Cruz interjects and ends the transmission.

"I WILL FIND A WAY TO ELIMINATE YOU ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. I PROMISE!"

"Toodles!" I mockingly say, before the hologram ends.

Upon ending the conversation, do I put my hands on my forehead and yell to the top of my lungs. How many more times can I threaten them with war before they begin to realize I cannot ever win a war against them even if they ask for help from a foreign country behind my back? 

"AAAURGH!" I yell loudly before switching my attention over to the reflection of myself given off by the tiny circular mirror attached to the desk that stands in front of me. 

Looking into the small mirror, past the glass shards, do I begin noticing all my unattractive and plain qualities. I look at my head, starting from my scalp. A short black wig with brown highlighted strands of hair sit atop my bulb of desolate charred emptiness. Looking downwards from below my wider than average forehead, I begin immediately noticing how saggy my eyes are from the day's activities. Shifting my focus onto my lips, I note how red my lips are today. In contrast to the rest of my face, my lips are sort of pleasant to look at today, ignoring their cracked appearance that is. 

Oh how quickly has my youth diminished within the decade!

Looking straight into my eyeballs, I note the tar black shading that make up my irises. Upon closer inspection, I notice that my irises are not merely black, but appear to be as dark as the most intimate parts of my soul, empty and filled with dread, all in thanks to the struggle I have carried within myself from my youth. Nothing I feel, could ever help me detract from the amount of dread I surpress within the skin of my aging face. 

However, knowing this, I must not stop what I am doing. I cannot upset Sorelyn nor must I do anything that will end up upsetting my only son, the only child whom I had ever bore, with my ex lover no less. Still staring at the mirror, I glance forward to my cheeks. They are of a bright flesh color as one would have on their cheeks, only slightly elongated and saggy due to the worn down toughness of their elasticity.

Shifting my attention to my clothing. I find myself vested in a black dress jacket with a red tie underneath atop a white blouse. Knowing what I am wearing up top, I immediately look down to my lower wear. My slacks are black and my shoes are of bright red hue. Following a quick glance at my shoes and my slacks, I look back up to the small mirror. I slowly begin identifying a disturbing quality I have rarely had the time to acknowledge or even notice over the past few years: I might be going mad.

Suddenly, an important idea dawns on me as I discover my declining sanity. My son. I reach underneath my jacket and search for an opening within the neck area of my white blouse. Grasping the pendant tightly, I gently tug the item away from me, before pulling the pendant completely off me and placing it atop my desk.

Looking at the pendant, I note its defining characteristics. The item is composed of a rusted gold chain with a silver locket attached, holding a small picture attached inside the sole compartment of the locket. I immediately grab open the locket and press the image towards my face. I look straight into the image held within the locket and stare lovingly at it. Ai'nala only knows how worse off my life would have been had he never existed. Now he is being punished for being my only child. My poor sweet baby. 

"I will see you again," I whisper to the locket, before shifting my attention over to the brief knocking at the door. Someone has interrupted my time alone yet again.

"Madame. Pardon my interruption. The weekly secretary of state meeting will take place shortly." 

"Thank you for the reminder," I politely say, before shoving the pendant into the first drawer of my desk. 

"Yes ma'am," the woman says, before leaving me to my thoughts once more. 

Following the woman's brief appearance, a short, fat, ugly blue jumpsuit wearing man comes inside the room carrying a sealed cardboard box. As he slowly approaches my desk, I begin to scowl at him. Making eye contact within a matter of seconds, the jumpsuit wearing man hurries himself to my desk, before dropping off the package in front of my desk.  

"M'apologies," the man stutters and bows, followed by a quick scurrying movement away from I and out the door.

Following the departure of the buffoon who nervously dropped the package onto the ground, I rise up from my chair and head over to the box. 

Bending down slightly towards the front of the box, I proceed to open it with my sharp nails,. With the cardboard box opened, I grab the box from the interior of the package and carry it away with me to the desk, before placing it atop the desk's surface. As the cube is turned on and loads, I await patiently for the daily transmission of Sorelyn.