Volume One: The Road Out
Chapter One
Verse Four: Allons-Y and High Achievers
Marion arrived at Allons-Y Books on foot, having missed every bus between his apartment and work. He was sweating a line of moisture down his spine and breathing through an open mouth. The sweat of the run had finally defeated his unruly hair, which now sat limp and wet against his skull. A mist of steam rose from his shoulders. Marion would have stopped and quietly died in an alleyway if he was not terrified that he might lose his job for this infraction. And he was definitely infracting at the moment, it was already well past six, closing on half past.
He was Late for work. But he know he still has a chance. The managers may not have seen him, but they didn't know that Marion wasn't there. People started and stopped their shifts at staggered irregular times, Mr. Wheately might only see Marion once or twice in a day- if it was a good day. So, Mr. Wheately might have already confirmed that Marion was late; but far more likely, Mr. Wheately didn't even realize Marion was late. Marion just had to look normal. At a quarter to eight the staff would convene for the Team Huddle where Mr. Wheately would make a vague buzzword laden speech that was apparently intended to inspire the employees to work hard for no extra reward to improve profits for the shareholders. He just has to be visible in the Team huddle, and avoid being seen arriving, and he might have a chance.
Marion knew he couldn't walk in through the front door. He would need to slip in through the loading doors and appear to have been busy in the warehouse, sorting books and Oprah bait. The problem of course was that Mr. Wheately was not the only person at Allons-Y Books who didn't like Marion. Leo Hopper, the Warehouse Manager didn't like Marion either. Marion blamed the inflatable Moose, but that didn't help the fact that Leo would not let Marion get away with sneaking in tardy if the stock manager could prove that Marion had just that. So stealth was the name of the game.
The back door was locked and normally a person would need to press the buzzer to be let in. Marion had no intention of pressing the buzzer. Instead Marion slipped in the back, squeezing in through the opening left between the truck currently in the loading dock and the edge of the loading gate. There was just enough space to get in; and once inside, Marion immediately picked up a box from the loading bay and carried it further in, setting it down as though he had been there all along. Marion cautiously glanced around to see if he had been spotted and saw the heavy bulldog face of Leo Hopper staring at him.
Leo definitely saw Marion, but the question was when Leo had spotted him. If Leo had seen Marion enter through the loading door, Marion was doomed. Marion was confident that Leo could put two and two together and realize why Marion had been sneaking in through the shipping entrance.
Marion's plan had been to shuffle around the back, trying to clear space for the next shipment, and act like he had been in the back the whole time. But Leo had seen him and now that was at risk. If he had slipped in cleanly, the worst he would have been in trouble for was not helping set up the Mother's Day displays, but that would just be a lecture on prioritizing, not disciplinary action for being late. Now, he risked getting fired for being both late and trying to avoid getting caught. So the stakes were much higher now that Leo had seen him. But maybe Marion was lucky, and Leo hadn't realized that he had seen Marion attempting to avoid being caught arriving late.
"Please let me be lucky," Marion breathed his breath.
Leo was talking the the driver of the currently docked delivery truck, and Marion felt he had little choice but to continue with his plan. He began looking through the boxes, and sorting the good publishers into a pile where he could easily stock it to the shelves later. Marion knew from experience that if the book wasn't on a certain celebrity reading list or from the latest teen best selling series then it stood little chance of being shelves with any care or attention.
Marion took periodic looks at Leo while he worked, Leo remained busy with the driver- doing what Marion couldn't fathom. They seemed to be talking an awful lot for a simple pick up, but Leo never did seem to value the company beyond what it could give him. Marion understood that, he didn't value the company much either, but he did value the people who came to him looking for good books. Leo remained in conversation with the driver while Marion sequestered the boxes that had arrived from good publishers. But although Leo never approached Marion, the warehouse manager through several more unpleasant glares at Marion.
Finally there was a buzz on the intercom and a tin metallic voice said, "Alright high achievers, let's meet by the front displays for a team huddle." Marion recognized Mr. Wheately's voice and knew this was the moment of truth.
He turned to go, but as he moved to head down stairs he heard Leo say, "Oh I can't answer that, ask Marion he's the only guy who knows the Literature section well enough to give you an answer to that."
Marion turned back around to see the driver walking over. He was an older man dressed better than Marion would have expected a deliver driver to be dressed, in brown corduroy pants with a red shirt and a brown tweed jacket. The man's hair was an aged pale blond and hung long tied back into a ponytail. He offered a hand to Marion which Marion shook.
"Hi, Leo told me that you could help me tell where something belongs."
Marion nodded and then quickly shook his head, "Yes, I mean no. I don't mean to be rude, but that intercom announcement was for us. I need to swing down and get to that meeting."
The man kept smiling, "This will just take a moment."
"I'm sorry," Marion said, "Who are you?"
"I'm just somebody interesting in storytelling, like you." The man kept shaking Marion's hand, who suddenly had the feeling that the man wouldn't give Marion back his hand until Marion had agreed to help.
"What can I do for you?"
"I have this book that's not really a kids book, but reads like a fable or a fairy tale. It's big in scope, but keeps things simple. Think Jonathon Livingstone Seagull. The copy on the covers calls it a children's book, but if we put it in the children's section no adults are going to read it, and it's often scarier than little kids might be ready to handle."
"Kids can handle more than you think. And adults will totally read stuff in the kids section. Harry Potter is in both sections now, but the books didn't start there. The publisher went back and put out adult additions when they realized the market existed. But if you want a easy place to stuff the books so that both groups feel like they are allowed to read them and also will let parents feel like you didn't trick them into reading nightmare fuel to their precious little kids, then probably the Teen section. What is this book, you haven't even told me the title."
"The last princess. Have you read this story? It isn't new. It's about a princess who realizes that the presence of her kingdom live a much worse life than she does. You know, kind of like Buddha. But instead of just meditating or leaving like Buddha, she decides she has to fix things. The problem is at the abilities wealth comes from the workers working harder and harder every year. And if they stop the whole kingdom will fall apart. She looks and looks for a solution, and she can't find one. Just one that looks like everything is lost a pair of storytellers bring her a story of a new way to live. two story tellers, one cold like the void, one bright like fire. And they show her the way through the darkness. What do you think?"
Marion shook his head, "Maybe I just read too much, but I'm sorry. It sounds like I've heard the story a thousand times before. Kind of lame."
"It's not lame, it's an archetype. Timeless."
"Okay, archetype. But that still doesn't mean the story is that well constructed. Where do the storytellers come from? And what are: they? Stephen King teaming up with Obi-Won Kenobi to teach her how to be a Jedi? Why are they in the story? It sounds like bad writing if somebody has to sweep in at the last moment to save her?"
"They're there from the beginning. But I guess it depends on whose story it is. And as for why; everyone has to choose what kind of story they want to join."
"Okay, I have no idea what you're talking about now."
"Marion. Everyone is living out a story. Everyone is writing their own story and participating in other people's stories. Years from now, some of those stories will be remembered and some will be forgotten. Who decides which ones? Centuries from now, some stories will still be around from this era. They will by myths and legends. People may be worshiping the great provider god who brings the harvest and appears as a clown under a sacred archway made of gold. How do you know what makes a story survive? Merlin as a character is older than the King Arthur story and grafted on to that mythology. Maid Marion was not part of the original Robin Hood legend. We tell stories about Gilgamesh and Noah, but if they were ever real people were they individuals or did the stories of a dozen different kings merge in the telling of the story through the centuries to give us the character of Gilgamesh?"
Marion widened his eyes, "Now see that is really interesting. Is that part of the book?"
"It's part of your book. Are you familiar with the Hero's Journey, the Joseph Campbell theory?"
"Yeah, it's the monomyth. The idea that most or all stories, at least a good number of the stories, I don't know how many, but a bunch of the old stories- plus everything that George Lucas seems to write- all follow the same structure."
"And it starts with the hero receiving a call. And sometimes the hero tries to refuse the call, and when that happens there are consequences. The hero suffers until they answer the call to adventure. This happens again and again. Do you know why? Because stories are circular. The hero goes out into the world but always returns home to share his story. When he does this he inspires a new generation of heroes. You stories don't die permanently. The are resurrected with each retelling. Stories are like the phoenix."
"Wait. What?"
"Stories are a firebird lighting the darkness for people without light. They are meaning in the void."
"Okay, back up. Back up. Who are you and what are you talking about?"
"Day! I should have known I'd find you back here!" Marion turned to see the obscenely tall and thin form of Percy Wheately walking like a determined paper cut towards them, "You missed the morning huddle. All of my true high achievers were out there. Where were you? You were hiding in the warehouse. It's almost seven, you know we open early on Mother's Day."
"Sorry Mr. Wheately. This rep, I'm sorry I didn't get your name, wanted help determining where to file their new book."
Mr. Wheately Shook his head, "Not only can't you prioritize, you can't do what you spend your time actually doing. You should have been out front facing and building the displays, instead you hid back here with your little hipster niche market books and your specialty publishers who don't bring in the revenue, and then you can't even stock the back room correctly."
"I haven't been stocking the back room, Mr. Wheately. I've been assisting a publisher's representative."
"I am getting tired of your antics Day. Get out on the floor. Don't you dare neglect your section. You may sell books, but that won't protect the rest of your short comings. I am out of patience and that means you have run out of second chances."
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