The Missing Point

The Missing Point

If there are five of them, they can each be a point, have a role within the star-level, strategic-planning, section of the program. The problem, to state the obvious, surrounds itself around the table of four. They, somehow, fulfill each of this particular program’s position’s roster, and oddly enough, each member’s own social networks begins and ends with each person seated at the small, round table at which they currently confer. Silently, each eyes the others while taking an internal headcount to not only confirm that absence afflicts them not but also, to nonchalantly address the thing that they have all but only just recently realized. 

One speaks up, “Really? Not a single one among us knows anybody else outside of this room?” Two, Three and Four look at each other and One. Three pipes in, “Surely I must know someone, anyone else. Whoever that person is, however, eludes me now.” “I, too, believe that I must know at least one other person, but I cannot recall that person either,” Two admits in agreement. Silent, the group’s eyes fall upon Four, await comment. Four shrugs as the group huffs with flapping arms in disbelief. “What about a person we only loosely know?” Three suggests. “Why, sure, of course, anyone will do, agreed?” One mitigates. “Agreed,” Two and Three answer in unison. Again, the eyes of the group fall on Four. Four shrugs. “Agreed, then,” One confirms; “Who then knows someone who might be good or at least capable of holding the position?” The four look around and at each other, uncomfortable.

The air grows hot and thick and stale. Dry, the four begin to feel the pressure to come to a solution or a conclusion. A red light bulb directly above the center of the round table, hanging from the ceiling in exactly the center of the room, blinks once and then twice and then remains lit. Four gasps. “Not now!” Three yells at Four. The red light flicks off and then flicks back on as clear light. The group collectively sighs.

White, the solid walls entrap the group within a shape they do not understand. Four stands and paces around the room, runs a hand along each of the multiple walls. Three keeps an eye on Four. “We already did that,” Two states with impatience and frustration. One’s head falls heavy, “This is unbelievable.” “Believe it,” Three nearly whispers. “What are we going to do?” Two begs. Three’s patience has dwindled, “Just stop it! Come sit down and help us figure this out!”

Blue, the entire room fills with a calm. Four, frozen, stares at the now-blue light shining overhead, “New.” “Yea, we can all see that it’s a new color for that fucking light,” Two wafts. “No,” Four states, “New.” “What? New what?” Three mocks. “A new person,” Four clarifies. One stands up, “Impossible.” “What?” Three asks, confused; “What’s impossible?” “We couldn’t,” One continues looking now directly at Four. “Why not?” Four challenges. “No one does that anymore. It’s impossible,” One retorts. “Yea, that’s kind of the point,” Four insists. Standing now, Three nearly punches a hole through the top of the table, “What the fuck are the two of you talking about?” “We’ve got to meet someone new,” Two explains, sounding defeated. “That’s impossible!” Three pontificates. The other three eye Three. “Sorry,” Three apologizes; “I get it.”

The light flickers and then leaves the group in darkness. “Shit. What’s happening now?” Three wonders aloud for all of them. “Your guess is as good as ours,” Two responds. “We’re traveling again,” One decides. Collectively, the group sighs again. “Where?” Two asks. “Somewhere we can meet people,” One theorizes. “But that’s crazy!” Three exclaims now in hysterics. “Seriously?” Two agrees albeit with a calm and rational voice; “How the fuck do people meet other people?” “Your guess is as good as any one of ours,” One dismisses.