New Reflections (Burnsmithers)

Part Three, Section One: Has anything changed?

Part Three is going to be split into two parts since it is longer. I hope you like it.

Apparently, the Burns of the past had been entirely erased from everyone's minds (excluding those of Burns himself and Waylon). To the general populace of Springfield, Burns had always been the young billionaire who ran the nuclear plant, as Waylon had discovered that day by gauging employees' non-existent reactions when Burns was present.

Waylon had to wonder what force in the universe had worked to grant Burns his wish of youth and assimilate the concept into everyone else's minds literally overnight. He had never believed in 'magic' or anything, hadn't reason to, but something out of the ordinary had happened here.
But what could explain it? Simply an act of wish-magic, like in fairy tales? Waylon rolled his eyes. It sounded ridiculous. But then, if someone had said Burns would suddenly turn sixty or seventy years younger overnight, he'd have had the same reaction of incredulity. And he didn't know what to think yet about the involvement of last night's photograph.
A knock on his office door startled him. Waylon tried to compose himself. He was still at work. The door opened and a woman entered, looking about the room until her eyes landed on Waylon.
"Can I help you?"
The woman nodded, her blond curls shaking. "Yes, hello, I was looking for Mr Burns' office? I'm Eloise Fleming."
"Do you have an appointment, Ms Fleming?"
"Yes."
Waylon's computer screen showed a spreadsheet with appointments booked, which he meticulously kept. "Ah, yes," he said, "you are here. Mr Burns' office is down the hall to your left. The double doors, you can't miss it."
"Thanks."

She left, and Waylon didn't think much of it. Just another meeting. Maybe Ms Fleming wanted to apply for a position, but wouldn't she have said so? Maybe not.
He moved on with his work for the day, until the phone rang not long after. "Smithers, come to my office, post-haste."
"Yes, sir."
Waylon ended the call and rose from his desk. He slipped into Burns' office. Eloise Fleming stood in front of Burns' desk, one manicured hand on her waist. Her fingers tapped the lacquered wooden surface of his desk, her body leaning towards Burns.
And Burns leaned towards her in return, his head tilted, expression attentive, hands under his chin. Attentive was incorrect, or not strong enough of a word. Burns was staring up at her, a strange, entranced smile on his face; he twisted his fingers. He laughed suddenly at something she said.
Waylon didn't move. His body felt leaden, his stomach sank. Of course this would happen. Burns had already found someone to swoon over. He shouldn't have expected anything else. Who was he kidding? Burns would never want to be with him. He was just the assistant, even in this new world.
"Smithers! Come here." Burns waved him over, and then both he and Eloise were looking at Waylon. He forced himself to walk over, hating every second, but trying to withhold his turmoil. It didn't matter.
"This is Eloise Fleming," Burns continued, gesturing with one hand.
"We actually met some minutes ago, sir."
"Splendid!" Burns looked between them. "Eloise is a reporter for the online journal The Springfield Times, here to interview me about the plant and myself." He glanced at her, eyes lidded, smiling. Waylon wanted to leave. First name basis already? Not-subtle flirting?
"Should we do the interview here?" Eloise asked.
"Yes, yes, sit down. Smithers."
Waylon brought a chair over for Eloise, striving to keep his countenance neutral. "Do you want me here for the interview, sir?"
Burns regarded him. "If you wish. Is there anything you'd like to ask him, Eloise?"
"Well..." Eloise slid a notebook and pen out of her leather satchel. "I wasn't planning on it."
"That's fine," Waylon said. He didn't want to be interviewed. Eloise turned to Burns in the proffered chair, crossing her legs. "So, Mr Burns-"
"Monty," Burns corrected.
Waylon groaned.
"Okay, let's treat this like a normal conversation. What would you say has been your experience running the plant, the source of power for the entire town?"
Burns would not stop staring at her. "Oh... yes, I am in an important position, to say the least. I own the plant, I do not only run it, and I think doing so is rewarding. I take issue with the incompetence of most of the workers, but overall we run a tight ship. Otherwise... you recall the infamous nuclear accidents of past? Hm."
"Your plant has had some near accidents in the past as well. If it is due to the incompetence of your workers, why not hire qualified engineers, technicians, to avoid anything else?"
"They are qualified. I only believe they could perform better. They are lacklustre, yes, but I do not keep them on without reason. They are... enough. I have no need for outside hires."
Eloise scribbled on her notepad. "Do you think the same of all of your employees?"
Burns blinked, flustered. "I was under the impression this interview was about me." Avoiding the question, Waylon noted.
"Oh, it is. Let's move on. Would you say you have a strong work ethic? You seem very devoted to your position."
Burns nodded. "I take my occupation seriously."
Eloise continued to ask him questions about the plant and a few about himself. By now it had been about forty-five minutes. Eventually Eloise packed away her supplies. Waylon hoped she would leave. But instead, Burns intercepted her, his hand on her shoulder. Waylon felt no reason to remain, and Burns didn't seem to notice when he left. Through the crack in the door, Burns leaned towards Eloise, gesturing with his hands animatedly. Waylon sighed. Slouching slightly, he returned to his office. At least there he was alone.