Executive Decision

"Well?  Speak up, Henson!"

Clifford Henson, Executive Second Class, Real Estate Division of Global Enmities, Inc., coughed against the dry lump in his throat, "It's no go, J.B.  The Ubraccii won't sell."

Henson winced at the silence.  He stared at his Smart Memo, avoiding eye contact with the fifty-four virtual reality images of Directors, CEO's and shareholders or the twelve realtime superiors, sitting around the mahogany table.

"What was that? Sounded like a "no," but I couldn't have heard it, could I?  WE DON'T BELIEVE IN THE WORD!"

Henson removed the PC link from his ear.  His head was going to ring for a month. "Sector 54, J, planet number three belongs to the Ubraccii.  The planet's religious significance —"

"DON'T GET TECHNICAL!"

"It's their birthplace."

"Henson, I'll let it go because of your Newbie status, first position after graduating, right?"

"Yes."

"Henson, we need planet three of Sector 54 or we don't have a MONOPOLY.  Without a MONOPOLY we can't control the Sector and we lose MEGA CREDITS."

Henson nodded.  He looked up, the real and virtual faces looming over him making him nauseous. Throwing up wouldn't help, nothing would.  He thought he'd be able to make them understand, but it just wasn't in them.

He straightened his shoulders and stared directly into the gimlet gaze of J.B., who controlled fifty-one percent of Global Enmities, Inc., "The Ubraccii asked me to deliver a message."

"YES?"

"You can't always get what you want, you get what you need."

"Today is March twentieth."

"Your birthday." Ronda smiled as she assisted Mrs. Wraith into the chair beside the bed. "One hundred and four years old!"

Mrs. Wraith nodded, tears pooling in her cataract dimmed eyes. "Used to be the first day of spring.  No one remembers."

There weren't many who remembered life on the surface, before increasing UV rays, DDT toxins and other poisons made earth's surface too hazardous for man.

"I believe Environment Grotto 154 is dedicated to Southern Ontario flora and fauna.  I could arrange a visit."

"It wouldn't be the same."  Mrs. Wraith dabbed at her weeping eyes with a tissue.

"Mrs. Wraith, I wish you'd agree.  I think you'd be pleasantly surprised."

Mrs. Wraith nodded, doubtfully.

Ronda watched in delight as Mrs. Wraith gazed about.

"It's beautiful! Why!  It's just like being in the woods!"  Mrs. Wraith sat down upon a rocky outcropping, staring about the underground forest glade.

With her dim eye sight she could imagine a blue sky.  She breathed deeply of the moist, warm smell of the forest's loamy floor.  The sweet scent of Dog-Tooth Violets, May Flowers and Blood Root filling the air.  Her wispy remains of white hair were teased by a light, cool breeze.  She touched a fern frond gently, reverently.

"A lot has changed.  The Environmentalists are in power.  They say, in another two hundred years we'll live above."

"Thank you.  Spring is a time of hope.  You, my dear, have given spring back to me."