ERASURE - SYLVIA WOODHAM
We are being ushered into the War Room. This is a makeshift regional headquarters. We usually don’t have leadership operations set up so close to the asset, but at least we are out of blast radius.
“Paris is Burning” Alex jokes.
An attempt to lighten the mood?
Not appropriate when talking about Nuclear Reactors! I see Jessica in the corner. Usually, we try to avoid mixing business and pleasure, but she’s here with the Phoenix team. Crisis Management is mine. I usually don’t cross paths with my wife when her team’s assets are properly managed. I scowl at Alex. She tries to suppress a laugh. She noticed.
“Liz. You’ve been briefed?” Alex turns to me.
I hate being called Liz. Jessica makes a face. She knows.
“Yes, I read the case file on the flight from Missouri. You have outlined three prospective bypass procedures? I see one plan here to contain the leak?” I raise my eyebrows, glancing at him over my folder of schematics.
“Yes, I think that looks like our best chance of success to avoid a catastrophe.” He says.
Baby. He has missed the problems with that plan, but he is so sure of his inexperience having the solution. I let him continue before correcting him. I want him to follow that plan all the way down to the dead-end himself. He has to learn somehow.
He prattles on. I look at my watch. After fifteen minutes, Jessica finally saves us.
“Alex. Did you see the bypass in Section C? Without restoring heating and cooling controlling, any attempt to contain the leak is a band-aid.” She looks at me.
How long will it take for him to ask for my help?
He avoids it for another twenty minutes. The back and forth with Jessica is tedious. I should reward her tonight for her patience. Finally, a pause comes. He still can’t admit that he needs help, but he seems to have exhausted his gusto for problem-solving. Time to be diplomatic.
“Thank you Jessica for your points.” I take a sip of water from the glass in front of me. “What I hear you saying, Alex, is that you have to address simultaneously the leak and the root problem of temperature control that caused it? In your outline, you have half of each part of the solution described. I think if you focus on a combined approach, the reactor should stabilize in few hours, and we will all be able to sleep soundly tonight.” I slide my proposal across the table to him.
He doesn’t look happy that I have had the answer the whole time and played this charade. That’s not my job. My job is to alleviate the crisis, and egos fighting with me before they are exhausted get in the way of that. Plenty of experience learning that lesson the hard way. That’s why they call me in the worst-case scenarios, because they know I have the finesse to get the job done, no matter what personalities are involved.
He shares the report with Jessica. She nods with approval. “I think we can make this work, Alex. We shouldn’t waste any time. The clock is ticking.”
“If you have it under control, Jessica, put it in motion.” He says.
She breathes a sigh of relief, that comes with a knowing glance at me. Nerves are always frayed in this kind of situation, which is why I avoid confrontation when navigating the management.
“You were a saint today.” I shut the car door, glad to be able to drive directly home today. I look at her. Her hair falls over her eyes for a second before she turns her head, swinging it out of the way. She smiles appreciatively. She is beautiful even when she’s tired. Her delicate hands on the steering wheel displaying the ring I gave her.
“You weren’t so bad yourself.” She leans over and kisses me. “You really saved us today. I don’t know what happened. Our assets are usually well managed and maintained.”
“It happens. You didn’t do anything wrong. You know I work with all of the top teams when emergencies arise unexpectedly. It’s usually a conductor that is worn out and caused a chain reaction. A full audit will find the faulty part that will be easy to fix. I’ll make dinner.” I put my hand on her cheek as she leans into my hand. She presses the ignition button of our Tesla, and pulls out onto the street, heading toward the freeway. “I will look forward to when we can move away from Uranium to a more stable compound.” I muse idly as we head home.
The alarm buzzes loudly. I slap it a few times until it stops. I rollover. Jessica is awake and shuffling toward the bathroom. I stretch, get out of bed and do some pushups. Then I head to the kitchen where the coffee is ready. I pour two cups, prepare hers with one sugar and a dollop of heavy cream, the way she likes, and hand her the mug as she rounds the corner into the kitchen.
She pulls out a bowl and fixes herself a bowl of Special K. “Alex did a great job yesterday, didn’t he?”
I whip my head to look at her. What was that question? Was she having an affair? “I thought you sprung into action once we had the plan and executed it brilliantly. Saved the day.”
“Well, hopefully, no problems today. I think Alex said we’ll do the audit today and find any worn parts that need replacement,” she answers.
I love her, so I bite my tongue instead of correcting her, shaking my head, puzzled. “Going to grab a shower, then I have to get into the office and submit my report from yesterday. You were a rockstar!”
“Ok, honey. Love you.” She says before biting down on a spoonful of cereal.
I swipe my id card and press the top floor in the elevator. “Hi, Bob,” I say to Bob from Accounting. He glows that one of the executive management team knows his name. He starts chattering nervously.
“Did you hear about that reactor crisis in Akron last week? The regional manager really saved the day. The chatter is all over the intranet. I’m sure you are relieved you have such competent regional team leaders, Ms. Raines?”
“Thanks, Bob. I do everything I can to empower our regional teams.” I’m glad when he gets off on the fifth floor.
I hope I don’t have to respond to any more crises today. “Good morning, J.C.,” I say to my assistant as I pick up my messages.
“Glad to see you, Ms. Raines. I hear Sacramento was sticky. Thank goodness Brandon got things under control,” they answer.
“Here, I got this wine from Napa for you and Harper.” I pull out a bottle of wine. “Thanks for doing such a great job. I know things have been hectic lately.”
“They will love this! Pinio is their favorite.” J.C. looks at the vintage with pride.
I push open the door to my office; the nameplate reads Elizabeth Raines. I power on my computer and start my report, ignoring all of the intraoffice DMs about Alex’s save yesterday.
The intercom buzzes. “Ms. Raines, the CEO says that there is another reactor crisis in the Southeastern region,” J.C. reports.
Another long day ahead. I send my report from yesterday. “Ok, prepare the jet. I will be on my way in a moment.” I text Jessica that I have to be on-site again today, and I might have to spend the night since it’s not local.
This time I take more of my team with me; I bring my three VPs. They all take the briefings on the long flight from Pheonix and write up proposals for each of the different systems. Tennessee is welcoming, and we check into the hotel before reporting to the center in Nashville. I orchestrate the personality issues while they present the different facets of the solution action plan, following my lead.
Two days later, I wake up and give Jessica her coffee, talk about our vacation planned for next month, and head back to the office. I am relieved to see Kairi on the elevator today, headed to the executive floor also.
“How have operations been going?” I ask her.
“Seems like we have had a lot of assets nearing the end of their lifespan, needing refurbishment, all at the same time. It seems like we’ve kept your department busy.” She says. “If you want to meet with our team, maybe we can do some troubleshooting.”
She ushers me into the conference room. I see several of the regional managers as well as my team members. I do not recall seeing this meeting on my agenda. They proceed to praise all of the efforts of the executive team, minus me, in saving these reactors all nearing the end of their lifespan. Do they realize what’s at stake? Do they know what happens if we fail when all of these problems threaten a meltdown?
I feel sick. I want to go home and see Jessica. When I get to my office, J.C. hands me a newspaper. The headlines read about how the near catastrophe was averted. I scan the article where it refers to the efforts of Synogen. I see the names of a lot of other people in the company, but not mine. I look at J.C., who does not blink.
“Ms. Raines, the CEO’s office called down that the Board wants to meet with you.” J.C. reports as I try to escape into my office.
“Elizabeth.” I am ushered into the boardroom. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The President of the Boar addresses me. “We have been reviewing your performance, and well, to be blunt, it seems like everyone else is picking up the slack. We don’t see your efforts contributing to the performance of the company. You understand these are difficult times, with all of the refurbishments many of our assets are requiring.”
I start to object, but he interrupts.
“I’m afraid we are going to have to let you go.” He motions as some men standing along the wall take my arms and remove me from the room.
What. Just. Happened.
I go to my office where security is waiting to escort me from the building. They watch as I retrieve my personal belongings. The picture of myself and Jessica at Niagra five years ago. That was where I proposed.
I go home. Jessica is not there. She must be at work. I check my phone but there is no text from her. I’m not sure this is the kind of situation I tell her about over text.
“I got a promotion” a notification vibrates on my phone with her message.
What am I supposed to say? I change out of my suit. There is a flier on the kitchen counter for a medium. Is this who Jessica has been seeing? My paranoia spikes. I look at the clock. 2 pm. She will not be home for hours. I pick up the flier, wanting answers, grab my keys, and leave.
“Mystic Pisin” The neon sign outside flickered. I opened the door reluctantly and was hit by a wave of patchouli.
“Welcome. I have been expecting you.”
I squint through the musky room, and part a beaded partition to see a person sitting at a table. I cannot tell what gender, or what ethnicity. They gesture to the seat, so I sit.
“Do you know my wife, Jessica?” I ask.
“Don’t worry. She has not been unfaithful.” They say.
“But what about her manager?” There is nothing on the table. No tarot cards or crystal ball. Are they going to read my hand? How does this work? I try to scrutinize their straight dark hair which appears to be predominantly streaked with grey. In contrast, their skin is smooth and unwrinkled, pulled taut like the skin of a drum.
“I believe you have encountered collective amnesia? Is that correct?” They make no gesture of invitation.
“Have you been following me?” I ask.
“I want you to see for yourself, but you will need to trust me.” They retrieve a wooden box with a glass cover. I can see compartments with different objects, which look organic. They place it on the table. “I want you to see what they see.”
I watch her extract a few items from the compartments. They do not look that scary. I believe I can recognize all of them - they look like a collection of chives, rosemary and sage to me. They crush them with a mortar and pestle.
“Are you making that into tea?” I ask.
“Oh no.” They laugh. “Why would you ask that? Have you been to some Eastern or Creole practitioners?” They take a dropper and add a few drops of what smells like citrus. Then they stand up and shuffle around the table. “Stick out your tongue.”
I comply.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as I am told. I feel pressure and moisture covering my eyelids, and the bitter substance placed on my tongue. They even go so far as to encrust my ears with the stuff. I can’t ask what I am supposed to do with my tongue extended. Do I chew or swallow this stuff? The taste is bitter, but I don’t taste it long before numbness spreads down my tongue into my throat.
“Don’t move.” They say.
Oh great. My mouth already feels dry. I can’t see what they are doing around me. I only hear shuffling. I smell some new scents, but they could just be them replacing the incense. I hear a faint whine, but it sounds far off. I can’t imagine they can be responsible for producing this sound.
I do not know how much time has passed. There is not any light penetrating my eyelids, but I do not feel like I can hold my tongue out like this forever. Swallowing has become incredibly uncomfortable. I wish I could think of something else. When I picture Jessica, the paranoia returns. I try to replay the scenarios at work. I just had a performance review last month with the board that confirmed my demonstrable results.
The whine sounded closer. I didn’t hear the medium anywhere in the room. I felt like I was alone. I didn’t feel any body heat, and the incense seemed to have died out a while ago.
A blinding light seemed to burst through the darkness of my closed eyes. I saw my coworkers around me. No, it wasn’t their bodies. It was their minds. I couldn’t see their faces, but somehow I knew the identities of all of them. I drew closer to the first, cautiously. We did not use words to communicate. I sensed the thoughts. I think it was J.C. They were content, drifting off to think about Harper. Young love. Oh, I did not know that was how they had met. I do not sense any relevant information or details. The next seems to be Khairi. Hard work and ambition is what I sense there, and the family generations surrounding Khairi. I am such an individualist, that is a strange sensation.
I go on to the next, and the next: HR, Accounting, Crisis Management, Regional Managers, The CEO, Board members. There is something missing. None of them have any memories of me. I probe all of their minds, and there is not any thought about me, positive or negative. I start rushing through them, searching for something familiar. Finally, I find someone whose warmth feels like home. It must be Jessica. She must have memories of me. I see her thoughts about her parents, her brother and sister, and her niece and nephew. She wasn’t having an affair. Mystic Pisin was right. She doesn’t have any thoughts of attraction toward Alex, or anyone else, or me either. Wait. Did Mystic Pisin wipe her memory? What was going on here?
I can feel the compound dissolving on my tongue and the moisture returning. My eyes don’t feel any weight from the sticky substance anymore. I open my eyes. I am sitting on a bench by the river. A mother and son pass by, and he runs up and offers me half of his sandwich. I look down and my clothes are dirty and worn. How long have I been here? Where is my phone? Some small particles of ash float on the breeze and stick to my sweatshirt.
“Do you have the news?” I ask. What time is it?
She pulls him closer to her and hustles away.
“Here you go.” A homeless man approaches me. “Sorry, it’s not the most current.” He holds out a newspaper. It is dated a week after the day I left the office. So what day is it now?! “You must be one of the lucky ones?” He says.
I try to smooth out the front page. There is a picture of the Synogen board, and all of the contributions they have made to the reactor second-life refurbishment project. What they needed to do was transition away from Uranium. I do not see any mention of that. I see parts of my reports attributed to different members, with no mention of me, or any comprehensive understanding that I always bring together. So they all thought they were responsible for the solutions? But it looked like incomplete algebra equations, where one half was missing. I flipped the page over, but the article continuation was not there. “Do you have the rest?” I ask the homeless man. I look up, but he is nowhere to be seen. The skyline looks dark and ominous, even though it is midday. I start walking toward town, out of the park. I seem to be near the zoo. Maybe they have some news.
There are not many people around. There are no attendants at the gate of the zoo. None of the lights are on at the ticket counter. I find a shop which is closed up, but there are some papers strewn on the ground. These are dated after the other one I saw.
Oh.
No.
I scramble for another one to see if there are subsequent dates. I sink to the ground. This is what happened when they decided to stop listening to me?
“Miss, are you ok?” An elderly man approaches. He has what looks like most of a uniform from some of the zoo staff. It looks like it is in a similar condition to my clothes.
“Did this really happen?” I ask, holding up a newspaper?
“Were you in the explosion? Is that why you don’t remember?” He asked. “My daughter was within range. I was on the phone with her moments before it happened, and then the line went dead.” He looked down, forlorn.
“Oh. I am so sorry.” What about Jessica? My mind raced. I had to get home. Did Mystic Pisin do this? Was it in other countries too, or just here? Could I get on the phone with anyone overseas?
Hours later I trudged up to my house. It was still standing. We didn’t live within the blast radius, of course. I don’t have any keys, but I find the spare that we hide. I don’t hear Jessica anywhere. I also don’t see any pictures of us that were on display. I go to the bedroom, look in the closet, and do not see any of my clothes. How fast did Jessica move on? Surely, there were easier ways to break up if that’s what she wanted. Please, let me at least find my phone somewhere here. Jessica is smaller than I am, so I cannot borrow any of her clothes to change. The shower still feels good. I should burn those sweats. They smell like some kind of funk.
I look behind the bedside tables, behind the armoire, under the bed to see if my phone has fallen anywhere, to no avail. Finally, I sit at the computer. At least Jessica’s login hasn’t changed. I look up some of the global association members I met at the Conference in Japan and open Skype. I enter the number in Copenhagen and hold my breath as it rings.
“Hello. This is Sven at Orsted.” I hear an answer.
“Hi, Sven, this is Elizabeth Raines from Synogen. We met in Japan. I was on the Crisis Management panel with you.”
Please remember me.
There is a pause.
“It is so nice to hear from you, but what horrible things have happened over there? I am glad you are safe!” He says.
How can he remember me when no one else does?
“Yes, Sven, I was actually on a retreat.” I lied. “I have not been able to reach anyone to find out the cause. Have you heard anything?”
“No. Only what we have on the news. We have not seen any press releases or anything. Only reports from the Board that the rejuvenation process was extending their end of life dates another fifty years. But you know, we are already retrofitting all of our reactors away from Uranium, so maybe that is why ours did not combust like that. In my opinion, they should have been listening to your strategic analysis. You are the most senior engineer on the team there.”
I wasn’t crazy.
Sylvia lives in Germany with her dog. In addition to submitting her first short stories for publication, she is revising her first novel after a long hiatus from creative writing. When not writing, she is an international business professional working across several continents and time zones.
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