Free loaders, freebies and free lives, everything in this world comes at a cost. A cost for me, a cost for you and a cost for everyone else. Yet, the biggest question is how to determine that cost. Does it tower above us like Mount Fuji or sweep us away like a tidal wave across an island peninsula?

 

And that question comes down to a choice - a choice for you and a choice for everyone. The question everyone inevitably reaches at that point is how to manage that choice - how to evaluate risk and how to evaluate chance.  There will be those, inevitably, who come up in a heap of animal excrement and those who fly above the clouds. There will be those who soar at the height of a pterodactyl and others who stroll at the small speed of a pleasure boat.  

 

Riches and terrors sparked revolts and riots throughout history.  Sabotaging the rule of a few, the many proletariat have seized victory in months passed gone.  The enslaved Israelites stormed to their freedom in the years of the Egyptian Pharaohs.  Touching new moons, following the stars, has led many repressed across these lands into the pillars of Olympus.   

 

We all wake up in the morning, we all dream at night when we go to sleep, we all know what it is to live. Trudging up the stairs to the top row of a sports stadium, or strolling onwards along a road for hours, feet aching like a trodden-on cow, touch the soul like a pervading dream in which we can ask ourselves what took place on this earth before we were alive. The French realists, for instance, argued that “we exist therefore we are”. But I think there is a deeper connection between us and the past. Can we ask ourselves, for instance, whether folk from eras by-gone can wish us onwards into prosperity like our own verifiable household gods. That, and others, is what I seek to answer in the following paragraphs. So, if you’d be much obliged, I’d like to take you onwards on a story I’ve concocted.

 

 

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Offices, board rooms and cafeterias come two-a-penny to a sophisticated lawyer. His discerning grasp and cut-throat intelligence commands the gentle space like an palpitating lion. He can tour the web, tour the inner confines of his mind, and unleash his so-called genius. Shattering across the high-rise building, it is very much like that all his workforce commend him with. 

 

And hereupon we find the partner of RedRum, Giles, slowly pace along the office walkway. He was a senior partner of RedRum LLP, precisely in charge of construction contracts, being a specialist in employment law. He occupied his own office and terrorised those beneath him most mornings. 

 

His bark and growl were legendary across the third floor. In fact, the cafeteria on the east side of the building was usually full of associates complaining of his forth-right manners. Yet, on a solemn cold and rainy such as this Thursday, a junior partner, named David, emerged in front of the glass door to Giles’ office and knocked on it devoutly. 

 

A swooping gust of wind came in from the entranceway. David shoved against it like a bona fide space astronaut. He placed the door shut behind him, before staring at his boss obsequiously, who glared back at him before putting down the telephone.

 

“Ahh Julius,” he bellowed with a grin. “How good to see you this morning!” He shoved the telephone to the side and sat up straight in his chair. “The secretaries in here seem only to be obsessed with flowers!” He chuckled to himself and looked at the door in front of him. “But hey,” he continued fervently. “Only a moment ago I was chatting to Phonox Industries providing them with an update to how the contracts are coming along!” He sat up straight and smirked. “Have you heard from Andrea?” He continued fervently. “That sprightly young shenanigan has been on the case for two weeks.” 

 

“No… she hasn’t mentioned it,” replied David with an absent minded nonchalance. “I’ve been working on the Buckbard case for the past week as it happens.”

 

Giles immediately interrupted, lunging forward in his chair. “Leave that stupid drivel!” He announced fiercely. “The board needs to see real revenue… and that ain’t gonna come from a low-life like Derek and the rest of them! 

 

“Are you sure?” Replied David dutifully. He sat down calmly on the chair in front of Giles’ desk and continued his astute determination. “I could always pass on the Buckbard case to the paralegals and get back on the Phonox contacts?” He announced in reply.

 

Toils and tiresomeness rage fervently in a moment like this. They float into the air like a phoenix absorbing the earth. Spikes and troughs arrive at its scared cause - the very essence of didacticism and entropy.

 

Giles seemed to dismiss David’s concerns and ruffled through a few papers on his desk. “Definitely! Definitely! Definitely!” He cried at last. “That is by far the more important!” He leant back and smirked. “And I suggest you team up with Andrea and get knuckling down to the paperwork!”

 

That very afternoon David sat alongside his colleague, Andrea, devising the employment contracts for RedRum Industries. Andrea was, by chance, a Junior Partner and knew the ins and outs of employment law very well, very well indeed (alright, alright, alright, ask yourselves why you are doing this and come back to me in a week when we have completely sabotaged you into the abyss - goodbye! goodbye!). 

 

However, it took a definitive round-up by Andrea to David to get him up to speed on the details and information. She stood behind David’s office chair, who himself was rifling in on the word documents involved in the contracts, while Andrea informed him of the scope of the contracts and what position they were taking in their advice to RedRum Industries. 

 

David sat back as Andrea listed the number of employment contracts required for all members of Phonox Industries and outlined the design - rich with nuance and proverb - of the contracts they were required to follow - yes by law. Now listen to me and listen to me hard - the destined spot for all these city-slickers is none other than the castling skyscrapers of heaven, who could theoretically work in just the same field, just the same make-up. But, yes… continue with your set if you please. 

 

The journeying into the details of the law took another good afternoon, before Andrea called David into an office and discussed their progress. She had just got off the phone with Phonox Industries and had received a confirmation of their needs and requirements, and were ready for the paperwork to be sent over. Rushing from the new development, Andrea instructed David to make the finishing touches to the PDF documents. The young idealistic youth that he was sat back as the emails cataclyded on their various ways. Lastly they all sat back for the final few hours of the day ready to report their activities to Giles. 

 

Giles, on the other hand, had been tending to his shredder in the corner of his office. Finally the knock on the door came with an update from David and Andrea. “Yes… come in!” He uttered at last as the bang resonated on the door. “Ahh two young sprightly colleagues!” He murmured as they crawled into his office and sat before his desk. “What do I have the pleasure of meeting with such young legal athletes such as yourselves!!”

 

The pair of them sat down and pulled out their laptops as they began to give the senior partner an update on their day’s activities. “I’m pleased to announce that we’ve devised and signed the employment contracts for Phonox Industries,” professed Andrea eagerly. “I sent the email through this afternoon!”

 

Giles seemed perturbed and gazed across at the window, before turning and staring at David firmly in the face. Rather than the professional vagabond he had once been, those days were sadly sorely behind him. “Eh… David,” he announced at last. “A young lad like you… what do you get up to to relax yourself when you’re not in here?” He paused to himself, stared upwards and almost chuckled. “What I mean is what floats your boat other than getting high or wanking yourself off?” He leant back in his chair and flicked a paper clip. “I mean there must be thousands of things a man like you can get up to?” He stared across at David emphatically. “What is it that you in particular choose?”

 

“I don’t know,” replied David whimsically. “And I don’t know why that would be relevant to my time at work,” he continued fervently. 

 

“I suppose it’s just a mild inquisition I’d thought of instigating,” muttered Giles again solemnly. He sat up straight and continued professing towards David. “It’s nay bother in any case,” he murmured with a slight sinister growl. “But, alas, I’m afraid I’m gonna be out of the office all next week. I’m on annual leave for two weeks.” He chuckled to himself briefly. “I’m going to France, you see, to lie by the beach.”

 

Andrea immediately intruded into the conversation. “Do you want me to allocate new enquiries to David and some of the others?” She uttered.

 

Giles almost grimaced to himself. “No.. that won’t be necessary,” he announced at last. He looked across at David and chucked a piece of paper into the bin. “Hey David,” he cried with a sinister intrigue. “Why don’t you throw your hand at some pro bono work while I’m away. I strapping young lad like you is built to help the public. Here,” he lunged with an austere growl. “Get my Secretary to send you the details and give them a call!” He collected his papers and ushered the pair of them out the door. “If only to do one good deed in a day!”

 

 

 

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The following day David found himself visiting the home of a physically disabled labourer who had been forced to stop working because of his bad leg. (Yes we will intervene and say that everything touches us and we will make amends). David arrived at the front door of the residence and rang on the doorbell. After waiting for several minutes, the door wrenched open with the noise of a man coughing exuberantly behind it. He coughed into his handkerchief before looking up at David. “Good day, young fella,” he uttered. “You must be David Trench from RedRum law! I’ve been expecting you!” 

 

The man led David into his sitting room where they both sat down in comfort. David withdrew his notepad and, before long, they were discussing the intricacies of the man’s, named Alan, predicaments and legal case.

 

What the case revolved around was whether there was adequate equipment to enable Alan to work whilst suffering from arthritis in his right leg. He required a walking stick to move, and, as a consequence, was unable to lift pallets or any other paraphernalia. To his dismay, Alan’s company, Windshaft, had terminated his employment contract. They argued that strength was integral to the job and specifically required physically able workmen. 

 

David advised Alan that he would ask Windshaft for a financial settlement, or threaten a court summoning for unfair dismissal. Shaking his hand diligently, he said he would get on the case and call Alan back within a few days. All that was left for him to do was stroke the dog in Alan’s kitchen and he was off and back to the office!

 

Thereupon, arriving in the office, neither tied down by his efforts nor basking in the glory of his acumen, the maturing David sat down behind his desk with a cup of coffee. (And yes this is the final comment we will leave you with… and it is to say believe in the values of adrenaline, science and acumen and one day in about 20 years time your society will invent a better coffee and release that down-trodden-on wreck to the public. Yours truly! Yours truly!). But, as we were, David picked up his stuff from behind his desk and launched himself onwards towards the legendary cafeteria. 

 

There he pulled up a plate of food and sat down next to one of the paralegals who looked resplendent in a glimmering dress. “This office really fucks me off!” Growled David as he sat down next to her. “Giles doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, other than playing with golf clubs hidden away in his office!” He sat up straight and almost spat on the floor. “You know what I’ve had enough!” He announced at last. “I’m gonna lock in the time and go on my annual leave!” 

 

“No… don’t do that!” Interrupted the paralegal, named Samantha. She sat up straight and tried to reason with the insolent young vagabond. “How’s about this,” she murmured at last. “There’s a house party going on at my house tonight! Get yourself down there and we’ll sort out your despondency!”

 

There are some events in life that tie down the mirages of your soul. There are some events in life that arrest your beating heart. Not this one. As soon as David emerged in the cavernous battleship that was Samantha’s house, he knew he was in a ripe and riotous fortois! Beer engulfing the room, drunken maidens swayed underneath the madness as vagabonds launched furniture from side to side. David propped up his inner audacity and wrestled with the coronation like a verified poet.

 

Swarming around the room, eventually he made it towards Samantha in the kitchen in an attempt to congratulate her for hosting such a luxurious soirée. Together, beside the krater of punch, they did indeed begin to indulge in a few leisurely pastimes. Touching his soul, touching his adrenaline, he began to pass into a moon-world.

 

Turning off the cliff face, the wretched sky turned inwards, absolute, like a mammoth’s stomach. This wasn’t a movie, this wasn’t a script, it was the destined pillar of nebulaic entropy. The were towering, they were flying, they were lifting off the helmet of insanity… and launching it a trillion miles ayonder.

 

An invisible spectre seemed to be in front of David like a withered dragon. “Try it! Try it!” She said. “You motherfucking piece of angel dust evaporating into the abyss! Turn the table and run back ayonder.” She seemed to flicker in the darkness. “Yes passed the sodden ditches you call your home! Free lance half the fun we were gathering and your red-merry nose-tip would be in insanity. Dust down, reset the engines… this pleasure yacht is only going on one direction… the motherfucking stratosphere!”

 

And David was, indeed, be-smitten! He returned to the office the following day and announced that he was gonna go on annual leave - a proverbial soirée to clear his head! Lugubrious, aloof and dismal, unfortunately Giles made it clear he could only go if he logged in to the office email each day. Very much understaffed he professed they were, and quick respondence was essential. Withered and wretched like the desperate man he was, David reluctantly agreed. 

 

 

 

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And not only was he going on holiday to Italy, but he was going on holiday with his friend Samantha, the paralegal! Indeed Samantha had very kindly joined him… and the couple were set like troopers on board to the Himalayas. They rented a car from Milan airport and journeyed up to the picturesque villages of northern Italy. 

 

It had been several days exploring the picturesque hills of Lombardy and Tuscany, with beautiful medieval settlements pervading amongst the mountain tops and undulating hills, when Samantha and David arrived at the historic town of Volterra in Tuscany. They had a relaxed and soothing four days to spend at one of the quaint and decadent hotels above the mountain top.

 

There, they shoved their luggage on top of the bed and, thirty minutes later, found themselves out on the sloped terrace drinking a bottle of Pinot Grigio together. Samantha, immersing herself in the vibrant summer’s warmth and delightful smell of olives, took a long, relaxing puff of her cigarette and exhaled gently into the air. “No one can build a city like the Romans!“. She uttered at last. 

 

“It’s like a historical masterpiece - all this city!” Cried David in reply. 

 

“Pillars, temples and aqueducts spanning across the land like a modular monolith.” Murmured Samantha, soothing her inner thoughts across the backdrop. “I couldn’t as for a better location!” 

 

“I thought I’d bring us here to get as far away as possible from the doldrums of London,” uttered David astutely. “The dark grey skies and monotonous skyline slither over my health and ambition like no tomorrow!”

 

Samantha reached forward with another long, relaxing puff of her cigarette and took a sip of wine like the momentous thoughts that were pervading her mind. She breathed in a deep gulp of air, before turning towards David. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she uttered at last. “I’ve found something strange about my computer.” She paused, announcing her words viciously. “The software kept coming up with an error… and I did some digging… opening up the motherboard… and I found something strange that seemed like a tracking device!”

 

“You know what,” urged David, lunging forward. “It’s probably that old troll that is Giles!” He announced fervently. He sat up straight in his chair swiftly like a cacophonous red bull. “They can’t treat us like the shit they always do!” He bludgeoned loudly. “You know what,” he said again. “Let’s interrogate Giles as soon as we get back in the office!” Shit like this can’t be allowed to continue onwards!”

 

Very much proud and proactive, Samantha and David both agreed that they would question Giles over the tracking device Samantha had found in her computer when they returned to London. Albeit with work and security on their minds, the couple at least enjoyed another couple of days basking in the Italian sun.

 

 

 

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Meanwhile, long ago amongst these realms of Italy, a crowd of Catholic monks were in congregation. They ran a monastery on the north side of Volterra, and would host daily congregations in which they devoted themselves to prayer and communion. Amongst the rituals and ceremonies, the Catholic monks would observe and get involved in the tradition of confession, serving as priests in the church of Volterra most evenings.

 

One day, a priest named Luca was the presiding clergyman for the evening’s bout of confession. Most of the evening passed in a subdued nothingness, with most people confessing of laziness or sexual activities. However, it was getting to late evening, when a peculiar young man entered the conclave with a particular conundrum. 

 

He stumbled into the wooden chamber and sat himself down on the aged bench. Taking a moment to gather his breath, he began to utter some words solemnly. “Father,” he cried at last. “I have come to you with the most troubling of predicaments!” He said further. He was mumbling his words and seemed terrorised by the event. “You see what it is… is a small cuplet of extraordinary beauty!” He said at last. “But it has turned me asunder… wretched like a slave in its glittering image.” As the creaking of the wooden bench and the aged smell of the church resonated across them both, the young man proceeded to list his troubles further. “It’s beauty has led me astray and putrefied my soul with all kinds of vices!” He uttered at last. He then seemed dejected as if sobbing. “I’ve been awake for hours, cut off from the world, while I stare at its magnificence!”

 

Luca attempted to interrupt and murmured some words. “We’ll hand it over, young chap!” He said at last. “And let me take a look at it!” Indeed Luca opened the vent and the young man, named Eric, delicately passed the cuplet over. 

 

Immediately, Luca was taken aback by its sheer wonder. The cuplet seemed to dazzle in his hands with amazement and gleamed across like the towering pillars of infinity. “It looks like someone could become very wise by staring at this cuplet,” he said at last. His soul lit up with jealousy. “Say,” he continued. “Why don’t I take this cuplet from you and study it further!”

 

Yet, Eric immediately interrupted with his desperate cries. “No! Never!” He shouted loudly. “This cuplet belongs to me and no one can touch it!” Immediately Eric grabbed the cuplet back from Luca and shoved the door of the conclave open, before rushing across the church floor. All that Luca could do was shout and stare forlornly in his absence!

 

 

 

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Two years later, the famous musician, Jimi Hendrix, was touring Italy with his band. He had stopped off at hotel in Volterra for a couple of nights. At the same time, the young scalliwag that was Eric had procured himself a job and it was, indeed, in the same hotel Jimi Hendrix was staying at, named Dolce. 

 

Eric was tasked with serving drinks to the discerning guests sat on the picturesque and decadent garden. The garden was awash with guests smoking cigarettes and sipping flutes of champagne. One, day, around early evening, Jimi Hendrix was reclining on one of the chairs, surrounded by his entourage of about five other guests. Eric happened to be working that evening and he approached the table of them, ready to ask them if they wanted any more drinks.

 

“Can I offer some more drink, sir?” He mused nonchalantly. 

 

Jimi Hendrix sat up and cackled to himself. “Another drink would be nice!” He said at last. “But what I really need is some luck to come my way before I perform tomorrow at a concert in the Tuscan countryside!”

 

Eric, bold and audacious, was taken aback by the charisma and verve Jimi Hendrix seem to breathe towards him. He perked up and seem to revel in Jimi’s own intrigues. “I know just the thing!” He said at last. “But you’ll have to wait until the end of service!” He continued. “I have the perfect gift locked up in my storage cupboard!”

 

And it was, later that evening, that Eric presented Jimi with the legendary gold cuplet he had stored with him for so many years. Although amazing his life for many years, he had grown sick of it and was willing to pass it on to Jimi Hendrix, pleased nonetheless that it was going to a celebrity guest. 

 

Yet, Jimi Hendrix was a big and vicious drinker when with the right entourage. A week later, having kept the gold cuplet in his possession, he was due to go on stage at a festival in the Tuscan countryside. He had noticed the seductive power of the gold cuplet. It seemed to ooze wisdom, charisma and intelligence like he was staring at a neutron star. He felt wiser and more alive as if the gold cuplet was electrifying his soul.

 

On the destined day, he returned to his camper van after having performed on an August evening. He was now rushing from snorting cocaine and had taken a little note of LSD, which beguiled his senses. He could hear some people out on the shrubbery beside his vehicle. He stumbled outside, still holding the gold cuplet. In front of him were two disparate people as if mirages in the desert. However, that was all he could remember before he collapsed on the floor. 

 

 

 

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Meanwhile, years into the future, Samantha and David had returned from Italy and were due to present themselves in the offices of RedRum LLP to get back up to speed with all the law firm’s latest activities. As it happens, Samantha and David were both required to meet with Giles on the same day on the same morning. 

 

However, the pair of them, both suited and booted, sat down in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee together as they both spurned the destined meeting with a disgruntled growl. “Giles is such a fucking arse-wipe,” denounced David furiously. “He was past he sell-by date about twenty years ago!” He stretched forward and looked at Samantha enthusiastically. “I say we both go in and tell him that he should know his place!”

 

“He always has a way of finding the weakest parts in all of us!” Cried Samantha in reply. 

 

“Well what do you suggest?” Interjected David in reply.

 

“It’s funny that you should say that,” continued Samantha intriguingly. “As it happens I wanted to show you something!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a gold cuplet. “I picked it up last weekend as I was passing through a boot sale in the country!”

 

It was indeed the legendary cuplet of both Jimi Hendrix and Eric.  Its sheer beauty was unmistakable. The solemn clouds above seemed to centre on its gold exterior. It felt as if I could whisper secrets into the beholder like a by-gone portal into the past, retrograding life into a chalice of ecstasy. 

 

“This looks like a very important artefact!” David announced at last. 

 

Samantha stared up at David and uttered some words, oozing with her adoration of the item. “The lady who sold it to me said it was once held to have magical powers!” She flickered her eyes lashes virulently. “They say it can bestow on humans untold wisdom!”

 

“Well let’s use it to fight against Giles then!” Cried David fervently. He grasped Samantha’s hands emphatically. “We will use it to reign triumphant in the caverns of these offices and let no virulent rhapsode turn us asunder!” And indeed Samantha positioned the gold chalice in her rucksack ready for the meeting with Giles. 

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Giles was sat back in his office chair, launching sediments from his bread roll into the dustbin beside him. As Samantha and David knocked on the door, he cried wretchedly for them both to enter. As they both sat down, he began to utter some words. “I’m sorry to have not spoken to you earlier?” He announced at last. “I presume the Phonox contracts are all done and dusted!”

 

“Yes, yes,” nodded David in reply. He reached out his laptop. “But why has the whole office been running late today?” He pressed further. 

 

Giles coughed and scowled up towards the ceiling. “We had a few delinquents, I’m afraid to say.” He uttered. “Who left graffiti on the front of the office. The police said he had been threatened before… so somehow he got off with any charges.”

 

“Can’t you pursue a public order offence?” Announced David virulently. 

 

“Oh yeah. I hadn’t thought of that," bludgeoned Giles in reply. "Maybe you’re right!”

 

Yet further, Samantha persisted onto the offence. “Wasn’t it Alcibiades who was charged with desecrating a public monument in Athens during the Peloponnesian War?”

 

“I don’t know,” replied Giles shiftily. “It’s not something I can recall!”

 

“What do you mean you don’t know??” Urged Samantha viciously. “He’s one of the most important figures from worldwide history.” She glanced back at David to his side before continuing her spiel. “Examples from history teach us lessons and idealise our ideas like rocket-fuel!”

 

David lunged forward aggressively. “I guess you’ve heard of the Soviet filmmakers of the early 20th Century, who found meaning in the dialectic… or how Nietzsche in Germany taught for a return to primitivism!”

 

Giles stepped forwards. “No shit little squirts!” He gesticulated. “Well what is it that you want?” He announced at last. 

 

Samantha sat up straight ready to preach her sermon. “We want an office for David and an office for myself… where we can both be left to do our work studiously and peacefully!”

 

“A new office you say? Are you fucking kidding me?” Denounced Giles wretchedly, as if he was succumbing to both of them.

 

“No,” cried viciously. “And we want David to be interviewed for a partnership within a couple of months!” She gathered her things together and looked at David straightly in the face. “It’s about time this office was reprehended for its glass ceiling and prohibition of others!” As both David and Samantha stood up and paced towards the door, she glanced back disdainfully. “Good day to you, sir! Good day to you!” She bludgeoned further as they both exited out of the door. At last, they had come out triumphant - something both of them couldn’t forget!

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Long ago, deep in the Italian wilderness during the 1960s, Jimi Hendrix was collapsing at his feat. Stifling notes of cocaine and LSD pervaded his mind like incarcerating chains. He thought he could hear a monotonous mumbling coming from the far side of the camper van.

 

He trudged over to the sound like the entrenched man he was. Blazing pixies swarmed the area like an infestation of locusts upon his mind. Thereupon, in front of him were two staunch, stokey figures. There were sat across two camp chairs, smoking a cigarette. 

 

Seeing the guitarist swagger into their midst, they looked up at him abruptly and began to utter some words. “There he is!” One shouted forcefully. “Get him and bring him over to the car!” Immediately the two of them lunged in the direction of Jimi Hendrix. They were attempting to incarcerate him, incarcerate him in a bewildering cacophony. 

 

Jimi immediately shoved one of the men heading to his direction. He launched him to the side and made a desperate attempt to reach the car behind the camper van.

 

Yet the other man made a desolate grab and was able to grapple the foot of Hendrix as he made his getaway. Yet Jimi shook it away and seemed to break clean away from them. He wrenched open the door to the vehicle and wretchedly tried to grapple with the ignition. “Turn, turn, turn!” He stumbled to himself desperately. And yet a moment later set in motion the vehicle was. “Screw you, cocksuckers!” He exclaimed vigorously. “I’m outta here!”

 

And thereupon the legendary guitarist made it peacefully out of there and out on the road. It was later that evening, when he had made it to safety in an Italian hotel, that he searched his pockets and found the legendary gold cuplet. Later in his life he passed away from a drugs overdose. However, he kept the cuplet alongside some of his most prized possessions. Following his death, it was handed down the generations until an antiques dealer bought it but later sold it on in a boot fair. From there onwards it reached the epilgues of Samantha and David. It’s next journey was as yet undecided!

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THE END