The Wealth And The Wasteland
A Short Story by Cory Kutschker
I met a Traveler from an antique land,
Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings."
Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley
Among the facts and observations that I have taken note of, this one has remained salient within this story. Sand holds no mercy. Of the many grains of facts shifting in the wind and forming grand dunes, this is one that defines the wasteland. And from this fact the prompt researcher and common sensical man may recall that sand holds a large number of functions or operations in the world. But for my purposes I shall only recount three.
The first and most industrious of these functions is the production of glass. And while this function be exceptionally boring to myself, the writer recounting this story, and you the reader, the end result is a most poignant purpose for the introspection of man, or more erroneously the self loving of man (for now this may not seem erroneous, but this will be elucidated for your benefit in a short while). The product that I speak of here is the household mirror. Of course there are more portable options to him who requires it.
The second function or operation is in relationship with glass (and if ever I urged you to be wise and regard my words here of good instruction, it is now). It has been a function of tracking time spent or passed. Here, of course, I refer to the hourglass. And while this is perhaps the second oldest of the human functions in its operation. I may suggest it may be the most ironic and disturbing to the wise or foolish. Here, I say ironic to the wise as of course the wise man knows well how to operate and treat its implications. The foolish man will either be in terror or in complete jovial waste of its measurements and does not bother to accept any idea of change but holds on to the objects mirrored in the bottom chamber being drowned in sand
The last of these functions is within the tales that may be told of the vicious sand storms that bear down on the Arabian desert in the summer. Flying grains that would halt the breath and destroy the vision of a man who took it in unheeding of his own safety. This I shall say is the opposing spectrum as all the desert sand knows is destruction. While you ask, "how does this apply?" I would beg of you patience. For there is a further detail to be illustrated. I have only given one of the operations of this function. Destruction in that place is a slow death of memory. In the deep desert, memory fades away. It is either buried or eroded by the creep of the many coarse grains of sand. Unless the traveling man exhumes the ruins, they remain there soon to be completely forgotten and any semblance of that which was is then to be bare and no more, simply existing and burning in the hot sun.
It is thus now that I drift over to the character of Percy Ozymandias. And it is frequent, I should suppose, of narrators to give some sort of physical description. But then herein, I would beg you not attempt at such a suggestion. Rather, if you are a person who maintains a hardened grasp on funds or find extreme charm in several objects of value then possibly dare to place his name upon your face. For while this story does recount the story of particular people with particular experiences, you may may find that the events herein told may warn you of holding a monetary grasp.
Percy, or his less familiar and more business associative name, Mr. Ozymandias, as described by his relations and few acquaintances, was an astute and prudent man of business. However, in as much as his business bloomed, his personal relation did precisely the opposite. To his employees his attitude was quite atrocious, his comments caustic and his responses were more like retorts. What else shall be said of the prickly demeanor of the late Mr. Ozymandias? Ah yes, There is yet the matter of his estate and the different relations therein. Percy's estate consists of two well known locations and one that Percy himself was privately aware. But here I shall mention only the two that are of importance to the story.
The first location was that of his business. It was a single foreboding column that rose to dizzying heights in the centre of the city's business district. It was so tall in fact that it dwarfed the others. And many have stated that upon entering the city that it seemed as though the other buildings bowed down in homage and worshipped to it. There it stood, the Mandias building, the glassy column that dared ascend and attempt the heavens. It was at the top floor that Mr. Ozymandias held his office.
In my research I have come to the understanding that every employee shuddered at the thought of being required to hit the 121st button in the elevator. And from many of the sources that have described the atmosphere of the chairman's office there have been many words used to describe it. Some who took in the floor's onyx black tile described it as ominous. Others who took in the large bay windows that encompassed the majority of the office (through which, Mr. Ozymandias enjoyed gazing through at the extent of his empire) and the general polished shine of the surroundings described it as glassy. And still others who took it in their interest to look up at the dropped ceiling would describe it as crushing. But there is yet one word that all shared as they saw the many mirrors that adorned the walls and approached his desk and that word is, narcissistic. For just behind him above his desk hung a life-size portrait of the man himself. And it made the skin of any observer crawl with disgust as the gaudy colors and stark appearance all grotesquely complimented the man's bold frame and bony fingers. But the most unsettling of all the features was his young gaunt face for on it there were his two lurid eyes set just over two high and sharp cheekbones. The eyes held the observer transfixed as they would curl the lip at the long sharp nose leading to the two sneering thin lips of his mouth. It was upon this cruel visage of the horrid apparition that the observer was held in disgust and tremulous foreboding as they were finally held to attention by the man in the flesh. There is yet one detail that should be mentioned of Mr. Ozymandias' office and that is his desk. It was not a small piece of furniture by any stretch of the imagination, for it measured 12 feet in length, 5 feet in height and approximately four feet in width. It was made of solid oak (which had required it to be assembled in his office). It was marvelously ornate. The legs were hand crafted and closely resembled the legs and paws of a lion. It held ten drawers, five on either side of the alcove for where he sat on his executive leather chair. And it was in one of these drawers that Mr. Ozymandias held one personally cherished item, a handheld mirror. If he was not managing his business or scrutinizing an employee he was busy in pompous admiration of himself in its reflective surface. There was only one man who was allowed access to this floor and this was his general caretaker, John Ptochos.
It was by this man that all Percy's estate was cared for. Of course there were various other workers under employment by the wealthy businessman, but much was overseen by John. And it is at this point that I must draw your attention to Percy's personal estate. Percy possessed a grand mansion out on the countryside. The estate measured 30 acres and had several amenities and was the location for which many lavish parties were held. Percy held a similar affinity for reflective surfaces within his personal estate. And so various rooms were outfitted with ornately framed mirrors and just so, required them to be rigorously maintained. So then it was mandatory for Percy to have twenty workers maintaining the mansion and its grounds. And that crew being the responsibility of John Ptochos.
At this point I would expect that you would read this and have a profound distaste for the man whom John served and regularly it would be so with many who would encounter Mr. Ozymandias in life.In fact it would be duly common for any individual to find a spiteful response to such a man. But to this difficulty there is the fine point raised that such a man is suffered by those who find him in the midst of merriment within the aforementioned parties. And if I may be so bold, you perhaps, (if not so informed of his snakelike alter ego) would even find him dashing and considerably charming. But John and his associates knew better than to be convinced by such a sway of character. And it was to this man that John was employed and to this man to whom he was so curiously gracious. My sources say that his life suffered a great deal not merely the cruelty dealt by his master but also that from a disease that he took great measure to conceal. From what I am told very few knew of it as it had been prayed for a great deal and still it persisted and was coming to its final stages. However, John just persevered. I am told that those in his fellowship greatly admired his graciousness and the prudence he took in his workplace. And in his work John excelled. But not only did he excel but took pleasure in the act of cleaning. For often while cleaning it has been observed that he let out a small bit of glee at the faint tinkling sound as dirt would travel up the metal tube of the vacuum. So often was he teased of being slightly odd in his mannerisms while cleaning. But John paid no attention for his Joy and affections were for his heavenly father and not the praise or opinions of his fellow workers. And from the grand source I have been told that he pursued the kingdom with great vigor. In secret he often prayed for his fellow employees but most especially prayed for his master, the man he was employed under. There is also the matter of his financial affairs for he, as his name suggests, was possibly the most furthest from wealth but would not raise fuss on this regard. In fact, by the information given to me in confidence, any financial gain all went to several different beneficiaries around the world (and I am told that they were in great need). Whatever else that remained was given to his family for enjoyment.
At this instance I could well imagine that you, sir or madam, may very well consider yourself remarkably righteous first given the rapacious nature of the first man and the benevolence of the second. You may indeed consider the actions of charity that you have taken grant you some token of thankfulness, or better described, praise from the heavenly realm. But sir, madam, you would be wrong. It is not so cheap an action that would grant some worthiness. No, it is quite contrary. For even that first man, Mr. Ozymandias has shown some charity from the company and his great riches. The second man, John Ptochos, did it out of a humility (acted in secret) and delight for a greater master and Lord, the true one. And that is the distinction. So then John here, is the one who has truly understood. Now you may better understand what made him so appreciated.
So then, it was truly a difficult day for those who appreciated him when John was found dead one morning in his personal chambers on what would usually be considered an ordinary day in any other respect, to a stranger of the town, or someone just on the other side of the globe. The employees were grieved of his passing and also those who were within his same fellowship. It is here that I am told that he came to rest appropriately, and that just for the sake of this telling, that his reward was/is coming. What happened next was truly disheartening, for when the employees got the call from Mr. Ozymandias’ estate they sent up a single voted employee to question him as to how to manage the affair and perhaps assuage him to grant a sum of money to manage the funeral. As his office was on the hundred and tenth floor it was not as long to make the large distance to the chairman’s floor and if you can imagine, dear reader, the tension was insurmountable and compounded with every floor passed. And so up he went.
111… The employee tested his breath
112…
113… He coughed and cleared his voice
114… He looked in the mirror behind him to straighten his tie
115… an anxious look upwards to the dial counting floors
116…
117… He nervously checked his watch
118…
119…
120…
and finally 121.
The doors divided and he stepped forward and the tension could not have been any greater as the soles of his shoes clacked loudly on the floor and competed with the pulsing of his heart reverberating in his head as he made his progress on the black road to Mr. Ozymandias' desk. And then there he stood, every muscle tensed and was wringing his hands vigorously. Mr. Ozymandias sat hunched over his desk, his eyes playing over the text on his screen.
"Um... um sir?"
"Yes?" a cold retort.
"Sir... um... I am here to tell you that John Ptochos passed away this morning."
A semblance of humanity came across the CEO’s face and then vanished.
"And WHAT am I to do with this information?"
"Well we... we... um... we, and I mean the employees, were hoping that you could arrange for a fund to manage his funeral arrangements."
He rose slowly and for a moment was transfigured into the grotesque form of the figure in the portrait.
"Well then.." His eyes flitted to a clock in the room.
"300"
"What?"
"300 dollars, that is your budget."
"But that's not even..."
"Not even what?" He cut in.
silence.
And it was with this silence that the demoralized employee sauntered back to the elevator. And it was that moment that marked the final attitude of Percy Ozymandias. It was not a terribly difficult deduction, dear reader, to know that what happened next was not the least offensive, or better said, mournful to the employees of the Mandias building. For as the rich man stood gazing out one of the large bay windows, he dug for a particularly small object in his object, a breath mint. With some small deft movements, a small breath mint was mindlessly projected into his mouth proceeding past his tongue and into his esophagus. This was followed by a few moments of wheezing and silent but wild gesticulations made as an equally mindless panic overrode his reason to page or even dial for an ambulance. But of course none of this would have been of any use as death came swiftly to the CEO's body. For in the time required to have removed the obstruction in his throat he still, nonetheless, would have still died. And so, by the small obstruction of a breath mint, Percy Ozymandias was dead.
Now of course this was not the end of the events being told. If so, this story would have ended at that page and you would not have this next portion to read. But here of course I quibble. The story continues with Percy Ozymandias to a location or state (really it is quite difficult to define). However, the difference here is that the location (or state) is neither one that maybe you would understand, nor is it found on your map. It is quite hidden you see, but not a secret, albeit a knowledge greatly ignored by many for the sake of bliss. It was indeed strange circumstances that brought me to have knowledge and experience the somewhat brief turn of events in such a hidden place. And I would regard it as a privilege and responsibility to be bestowed with this sight. For it is not often bestowed on many individuals, as I have been informed by the fellowship that John was a part of. And as for the cause or rather the reason I am equally in mystery. But perhaps I was allowed for just the sake of a wish, or better said, will, that this be written down for the betterment, no, edification and challenge or warning to those who may not yet be instructed in such issues. And so for describing how it came to be and what it was like observing such an event will be met with great difficulty. If I should start somewhere (even though I struggle greatly with using this metaphor) it was much like being admitted backstage after a theatre production. As though the veil or curtain was torn aside and I am given sudden understanding of the devices. So much was it like being admitted to such a realm as I witnessed a great tragedy and disappointment of the ending from the one who must suffer such a realm for what may seem an eternity until the final judgement. And it was such a place that Percy Ozymandias was to suffer.
Percy found himself laying face down in a great dune of sand. His lips were greatly chapped and his eyes burned and watered by the glare of the sun and a stark absence of moisture in the air, which was as sand paper blowing across his already burned skin. A great sense of bewilderment came across his face as he glanced around his surroundings. And almost completely made a full gaze of the horizon until his eyes were met with a disastrous scene, the remains of his empire. He broke into a sprint, wildly sprawling out his arms as he made haste for the not so distant location. It was not long until he came to the foot of the building. It had been subject to a sudden blast and great destruction for great portions of the building were bare and were showing beams that composed its internal structure. Both time and the sand had done fair damage to the rest of the structure and many of the letters at the top, which identified it as his building, were either gone or hanging by a hinge at an angle giving more of a picture of its dilapidated state. And the last thing that caught his eye was an oblong shape sticking out of the sand at his feet. Giving a great heave he managed to pull the thing out of its half burial. He then beheld his portrait, the lips giving a sneer of cold command. It was at this moment that reality struck. But being a stubborn man, he reached quickly into his sports jacket producing his mobile phone and just as quickly dialed a number he knew well, his own private pilot.
We're sorry the number cannot be completed as dialed please look where you are and don't try again.
After numerous attempts and many different phone numbers, despair set in. He fell to his knees and then into a fetal position and started weeping loudly. It was amidst these loud wails of despair that something broke through his whining, wailing and the howling of the wind that seized his attention. A single long drawn beep issued from his mobile phone alerting him of a text message.
IAM: Hello
Percy: Hi, you have to rescue me from this awful place!
IAM: I am sorry but you cannot be rescued from this place. You are in the bowels of death.
Percy: Then at least send some water so that my thirst may be quenched!
IAM: Unfortunately you are past the grace of mercy so that will not happen.
Percy: How might I have grace in this hour?
IAM: There is no way for you are past the period of life that I gave to you.
IAM: And also I sent news to you by means of my servant John Ptochos.
Percy: John? What did he mention that would have given me salvation from this place?
IAM: Jesus Christ is my son, and he died for your sins, but you denied him.
Percy: Send word then to my brother in the next town! Send John! Surely then my brother may be saved from a misery such as this!
IAM: If he has not listened thus far, then certainly he shall not listen even if I should send a dead man.
IAM: Goodbye
Not a great deal occurred after this, but a finalized despair fell upon Percy's face. He soon trudged up upon a great dune and looked into the horizon, there facing a dark cloud of sand bearing upon his location. It is there that he began a long and endless trek across the vast wasteland disappearing into the oncoming sand bearing storm. And for a brief second, to a bystander, it would almost seem there was nothing but two trunkless legs of stone standing in the desert.
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