52stories

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Soft gong tones rang out and all nine took their seats around the large table. One seat remained empty. There were no windows, the mood of the room much like a library. Everyone sipped water, and smiled too much.

Gabe, spokesman of the three on his side of the rectangular table, moved to the podium. He stumbled on the way, knocking pens from his pocket-protector. He picked them up and began “Maxxwell Enterprises is looking to expand into the hotel business. The three, well, two teams will now make your presentations. Would the representatives of Union Properties, please begin, then we will hear from Matrix Matters.”

“Thank you for this opportunity. U P is always looking up.” Alexander paused, waiting for any reaction to the pun. There was none from the three person panel from Maxxwell. Alexander cleared his throat. His large overweight frame was covered in a fine silk suit, although he was sweating just from the walk from his chair.

Each of that trio from Maxxwell simply took out pens, drew a line down the center of the page of their notes and made two headings, presumably ‘positive’ and ‘negative’. In white shirts, thin ties, and black pants they could have been clones of each other. Their pale skin had obviously not seen sunshine in years.

Alexander resumed, “Ah, yes, well, if I may show you some photos of our existing properties, here, you’ll see none of them less than one hundred stories tall, each with multiple water features, entertainment facilities, and restaurants. Essentially guests never have to leave, they spend their time, and of course money, all on site.”

BAM

The double doors to the suite burst open. A lone man staggered in, just as the doors bounced back into a closed position. He was shoeless, his pants tied high, his tee-shirt shredded, and a sombrero cocked unevenly on his head. “Sorry, gents. Almost seemed like someone was trying to keep people out.” As he spoke, and moved, sand fell from every crevice of him to the floor.

Gabe stood, breaking into the disturbance breaking into the presentation. “Just who are YOU?”

“Will Cubit. From Cubit Inc. I have an invitation!” Will began patting himself down, each touch and pat sending even more white sand to the floor.

“Take a seat. You’re late.” Gabe’s voice made it clear Will had just ‘lost points’.

“Oh.” Will looked at his bare wrist, all equally tanned to match the rest of his arm. He then walked to the indicated seat. This put him next to the female professional from Matrix Matters. He winked. She scoffed.

“Please continue.” Gabe gestured to Alexander once more.

“As I was saying, we at U P believe customer satisfaction and profits go hand in hand. We have over fifty properties on two dozen worlds, all profitable beginning in their first after construction was complete. Gambling, alcohol, companionship, all customizable to local ordinance and zoning. Our proposal is outlined in the blue folder. You’ll no doubt notice the double helix design, a challenging but eye-catching approach to modern architecture.”

Again Will interrupted the presentation, this time with a loud snore. Passed out and drooling, Will’s forehead rested on the solid desk, not supported or cushioned by anything except black marble.

“Mister Cubit.” Gabe resumed his role as chairman. Will only snored louder. “MISTER CUBIT!”

“Who’s duck?”, Will’s head shot up, and he slowly opened his eyes. “What?”

“Mister Cubit, perhaps you should make your presentation now.”

“But-!” Alexander began a protest, but Gabe’s upward raised hand, stopped him mid sentence.

“Once you’re done, you can then leave to take care of your… personal needs.”

“Okay, right.” Will stood up. He pulled from inside his shirt one old black and white photo. It showed the location he was trying to sell. The place screamed ‘run-down’ a single story establishment well past remembering it’s prime. It listed a restaurant and cocktails prominently on it’s signage, as if these were things to be proud of. “I’m sure these guys have shiny mirror like buildings to sell you, or blueprints that give the finger to gravity.” Will was walking around the room as he spoke. He looked at UP’s drawing. “Oh twisty, I like that.”

Cubit continued his walk around the room and got closer to the judging panel. The smell of the beach wafted from his clothes. His three days of stubble helped cover the sunburn but not the smell of sun-tan lotion. However it was his tequila-breath that was the most noticeable scent. He placed the sombrero on the head of one of the judges. “My place, is nothing like that. You can get sterile, family fun anywhere. What you can’t get is an experience like Mexi Casa. Sure she makes money hand over-fist, selling booze, and looking the other way for other carnal pursuits. But let me tell you straight laces something. I just came from there, and a Wednesday party. Fluids were exchanged, my DNA was re-spliced, and I think I preformed a wedding. Or got married, I’m not sure, it was a language I didn’t speak. If you think you can buy that kind of fun from these cookie-cutters, take their offer. If you want to own something special, here is my card.” Will reached into a pocked, and pulled out not a card, but a lacy bra. “Oops, um, can I…” Cubit took a card from Alexander’s pile and crossed out the name side, and wrote on the back his name and galaxy e-address. “Now I’ve got to go find some anti-venom.” With that, Will left the room, humming a lively salsa tune.

“Do any of you have properties akin to Mister Cubit?”, a second Maxxwell panelist asked.

“Of course not.” Alexander replied.

The other firm, as yet unspoken for, expressed similar distain.

“Very well, we’re going to go with Cubit’s offer.”

“He didn’t even give you one!”, Alexander shouted, his voice going up a few octaves.

“Whatever the price, it’s worth it. If that’s what happens on a Wednesday, I want to be there on a Saturday night. Thank you gentlemen. That will be all.”