Akurtni Kornl

Up In Hell
It happened on a late day of August. Joao's always accurate watch beeped, indicating that ten mitutes later he was to sit in his office. He entered the grocery in the bottom of the building to buy a small bar of chockolate. He could have bought it from the vending machine inside, but that would be four cents more. He never afforded this kind of luxury. He wiped his slightly worn shoes in the daily changed welcome doormat of the building's huge hall. On of his colleagues showed up in the elevator, grabbing the door and welcoming him well in advance. - Good morning Joao! he always pronounced Joao a bit weird under his precisely cut black mustache. - Good morning! Joao panted smiling as he entered the elevator. He gave polite platitudes about the weather to Inigo whilst searching for a handkerchief in his trousers. The office he worked in was on the seventh floor of the twenty-story building. He always arrived first in the morning and while he was alone, he opened all the windows to make the stuck air get into motion, so they could survive the coming heat of the day. With a light smile he held his face into the smooth breeze. Another beep from the watch. He sat down to his place and ate the chockolate with inimitable minuteness, then he started his computer, printed the list of daily roles and noted to himself that it's gonna be another terrible day. By the time his watch beeped third time, both of his colleagues and his immediate superior took their places in the office.

Shortly after six Marques', the boss' telephone rang. - Yes? he answered in his hoarse voice Here. Right. after putting down the phone he said over his shoulders: - The director wants to see you in ten minutes Joao and Inigo looked at each other, they did not know who was it for and why. Joao! - Certainly. Stepping out the corridor he thought of Isabel, the director's secretary. He loved going to the director, because then he could see those golden wisps of hair hanging gracefully. He stepped into the elevator and tightened himself demurely in the corner. Young blue-suit managers guffawed on some blue joke next to him. Eighth floor: cleaning staff store. Ninth floor: conference rooms. Tenth floor: lounges, rest rooms, mental health check-up. From the eleventh floor to the thirteenth: call centre. Fourteenth floor: personnel management. Fifteenth floor: he never knew what's in here. The big shot managers got out here. Sixteenth and seventeenth floor: small bosses. Eighteenth floor: big bosses. Nineteenth floor: directorate. He never got up to the twentieth. There were three men standing in the waiting room. He addressed an uncertain smile to Isabel, whose thoughts were evidently somewhere else. Bowed headed grey jackets went in and came out of the office one after another. So many familiar faces, yet so unknown. By the time his turn came they were already about two dozens. He gently pushed the half-open door. Inside there sat a row of grim-eyed predators, hidden in elegant suits. A couple of big bosses, a few from human resources staff and the director at the head of the table. Someone from the

personnel managament brusquely offered him a seat and started her well drilled blurb: - You have probably already heard heard that because of the the global economic crisis, downsizings are... - the whole world started spinning around his head. All this liquid dollop suddenly surrounded him like scorching air, turning the polished parquet under his feet into live coals. His palms dampened his slightly long tailored sleeve, which he obsessively pinched. She put a paper and pen in front of him. He raised the pen towards the printed paper with his trembling hands, but stopped halfway absently in the air. - But... - after clearing his throat he tried again with a bit of relief: - But it's not my name on this. The woman took back the paper and checked up the name shown: Inigo Moraes. - Excuse me she said and left the table. Tearing up the paper she stepped to a terminal and the printer spit out new page. With his name this time. He looked at all the top dogs around the table. As if all of them took on a dim devilish smile and a tiny smudge would lash from behind their immaculately bleached, closed teeth with every breath. - Sign here pointed the woman at the bottom of the page. He was standing felled in the elevator, he could hardly think. An elderly secretary got in beside him on the eighteenth floor. Her job is surely not in danger. She'd retire from here. She might not have much left. Then she'll just be knitting at home, baking pies for her grandchildren

and carelessly sitting on the porch in the evenings, waiting for the sunset. She got out on the fifteenth floor. Of a sudden idea, Joao caught the closing door in the last moment and stepped out into the corridor. - Excuse me! What section is this? - he asked a man passing by next to him. - I'm sorry, I don't know. He looked around the corridor. Usual doors right, usual doors left, yet something peculiar. This corridor was lighter. At the left end of it at the place of the window a whole part of the wall was missing, sealed with a single red stripe. He stepped closer. Pleasant, sweetly licking wind slapped his sweaty body. He stepped further out into the edge to looked down at the whirl of cars and busy people. Meaningless, routine lives. He pitched out his renunciation into the yawning emptiness in front of him. The wind began waving his pants legs. He felt free like never before. The rising sun started its hide and seek with the shadows. And the day was just begining.