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The next few days were spent in a drunken stupor for Miser, who was still in shock. Waking up one Friday morning, hung-over, Miser descended the grand staircase to be greeted as ever by his faithful servant for breakfast.
‘For a second I thought it was all a dream, Banks. A horrible nightmare.’
‘Indeed, Sir, it is true’. Miser, sober for the first time in days, detected an air of awkwardness in Banks’ response.
‘What was wrong with the old way though? People complain about poor people, wars, all of that stuff; yet that’s what gave this world dynamism! That’s what kept this place interesting! The rich, the poor, every bastard in between - we all had our place on the ride. And what now? Everyone is so godamn kind to each other. It’s so boring. Where’s the variety? Pretty soon everyone is going to be wearing the same clothes, walking down the same streets, doing the same things. That’s what I’m really scared of Banks.’
At the end of one of Miser’s rants his servant would usually respond with ‘Indeed, Sir.’ This time, Banks was silent. Miser noticed. He was silent himself for a few seconds, slowly brewing with rage and confusion, until he realised something.
‘Hold on Banks’, turning with glaring eyes towards his servant. ‘It’s Friday - payday. What am I supposed to do now? Do I pay you? Or do you not want any money either?!’
‘That is correct Sir. You do not have to pay me any more’. A great surge of energy rushed through Banks, as he knew he was finally going to stand up to his master. Miser, meanwhile, was dumbfounded.
‘Well, what the hell are you doing here then?! You may as well go home!’
‘With respect Sir, I have continued to fulfill the duties my role requires because I want to, not because I need to.’
A long silence followed in the vast, cavernous mansion. Miser was momentarily speechless before finding his voice again.
‘Ridiculous! You need me. I pay your wages. I own you!’
Banks replied calmly, gaining confidence.
‘I respectfully beg to differ, Sir. I have routinely had offers of work elsewhere, but I stayed here because I simply felt sorry for you. You were, and are, a rich and lonely man and I could not bear to leave you here alone. I hoped that through many years of service I could tone down the less desirable aspects of your crooked character. I fear that I may have given up on that mission a long time ago. The question of wages does not, and never did, affect my decision-making. ’
Miser was about to launch a tirade of abuse against his loyal servant, but hesitated. He had barely opened his mouth before realising a great truth was beginning to descend upon him - that Banks was right. Banks, simultaneously, sensed a weakening in his master’s resolve. He sensed that his mission to mould a good man out of a bad one may not be quite over.
‘Go on then. Tell me more about your mission.’ Miser spat the words with contempt but it was clear he was a little bit curious.
‘Throughout many years of service I have never questioned or criticized you, however offensive I have found your behavior. My efforts to hone a good man out of a bad one were subtle indeed. However, in light of recent events I cannot remain a silent observer any longer. Yours has been a life lived wretchedly, and I believe your wretched ways have the power to drag society back to the dark days, and nobody wants to see those days again.’
‘You’re my servant, not a life coach! How dare you speak to me like that!’ This sort of rhetoric was unheard of from Banks. Miser was on the defensive, but the great truth began to smother him further.
‘With respect Sir, despite my time here I am not totally insulated from the outside world. Where in the old world was the dynamism and variety that you speak of? Every high street looked the same, people wore clothes and footwear with the same old brands, they listened to the same music, and everyone talked about the latest celebrity ‘meltdown’ or viral sensation.’
Miser of course had no idea what the word ‘viral’ meant, or the word ‘T-shirt’ for that matter, but he understood the message.
‘So - what’s the point of this outburst Banks? Are you quitting? Is that it?’
A long pause followed, as Banks took a deep breath.
‘I don’t know why, but you, Miser, are seemingly the only person who seems rooted in the past. You have failed to reconcile a sense of self with a sense of community: you are totally self-involved, delighting in the misery of others. Now though, your recently archaic ideas are dangerous. The forces of evil can indeed overcome the forces of good, so I am simply asking you outright to forget your previous yourself and join us all in the new world, rather than destroy it.’
‘How rich and powerful do you think I am, Banks? I couldn’t reinstate the old world on my own!’
‘Unfortunately Miser, I think you can. Nobody really knows how this new world came about, but only a belief in it will keep it alive. Your wicked beliefs, your monstrous ego, however, can spread like a cancer. I am telling you this because I want to be honest with you. It is your choice alone. You either join us, or destroy us.’
Banks had exhausted himself. Nothing was left for him to do other than to wait for Miser’s reaction. Looking into the crooked man’s eyes, Banks detected an unholy yearning for power, knowing he could wrench the new world of its foundations and send it plummeting back into darkness. Looking longer, Banks noted a sense of regret over past actions, and an even greater yearning to be included in the new world - to be happy and to choose love. Miser himself was silent for a minute, before he spoke softly and quietly.
‘I’ve made my decision, Banks.’
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Thanks for reading! If you have some time please write a review! Otherwise, please wait patiently for my next publication. . .
Cheers, David.
About David Bond
Follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/D_James_Bond
Subscribe to my blog: dbond34.wordpress.com
Other books by David Bond
Life and Death on the Tracks: A dark short story that won second prize in the Darker Times Fiction Competition
The Sim Diary: A comedic short story, that won an honorary mention in the Five Stop Story fiction competition. The influence for the story is difficult to pinpoint, although a childhood spent playing a certain computer game may have something to do with it
A Sweet Blitz: A short but sweet wartime fable that sees a young girl driven to madness in the pursuit of forbidden chocolate. . .
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