Michael's Texas Embrace

The main elevator stops at the lobby; all points below ground are accessed through Admissions.

I made my way across the quiet, cavernous lobby of KWC toward the Admission Department. The receptionist was an ogre of a woman hunched over a gossip magazine like a hyena over a carcass. I half expected her to snarl and snap at me with her teeth when I rang the bell on the counter. I made a mental note to use an actress for the commercial if I decided to film anything in the reception area.

The receptionist did not have anything identifying her name. I named her Donkey.

“Donkey, I am here to tour the facilities.”

“Sir, in this realm you are at my mercy. I beg you show some credentials ere you begin this journey.”

I slid her my ID badge with the laminate curling at the edges. She eyed it suspiciously, holding it to the light and warping it so that it gleamed at odd angles in the fluorescents. She slid it back across the counter warily. Her eyes flickered uneasily to the corners of the empty lobby. Somewhere above a camera whirred.

“Donkey, I trust my papers are not only in immaculate order, but satisfactory to your keen and judgmental eye. Now, I pray thee let me pass.”

“Nay, traveler. I must detain you but some while longer and inquire: to what purpose do you ply thyself? Take you me for some knave, to let you into my henhouse for naught but villainy? You come with honey to my door, but beware you risk drawing bees or bears.”

I nodded and held aloft my hands in surrender. “My intent runs not to villainy, noble guardian. My goals are scholarly alone. I am but a tourist seeking to learn that which I know not of thine land.”

Donkey’s eyes narrowed. “Thou wouldst not dare tempt me with learned words only to enter, fox you are, and slay my hens with a wanton and vicious nature, wouldst thou?”

“Nay, for your hens are old and decrepit. Their sight doth wane and they doth shake all the night, and surely they are not long for this world. I would not deign offend my tongue with such unworthy meat. Nor would I offend my sense of sport by hunting prey so ill-fitted to provide a stimulating chase. Twould be like hunting something already caught—an empty experience of no import or satisfaction.”

Donkey fell silent and considered my words. At length she fixed her dark gaze on me and spoke: “As if I were a treed cat with dogs about the trunk, baying and snarling for my end, I have little choice of action. I must let you pass, for I can find no further reason to detain thee.”

I bowed low. “I thank thee Donkey. A more just and fair guardian of Admissions than thee could not be dreamt on earth or in the turning spheres of the heavens.” I made to proceed through the doors beyond her station, but she raised a hand.

“Traveler, wait but a moment longer, for I have one last thing to impart to you, and it is this: You may proceed through my guarded gates, but beyond is the chamber of waiting. There you must remain for a spell till the Overseer of Admissions grants you entrance to see the workings of her realm.”

Donkey pressed a button and there came to my ears a gentle buzzes. The doors began to swing open in silence. “Traveler, I shall inform the Overseer that you await her arrival. Enter now, and sit and she shall come at length unto thee.”

I looked within and beheld a waiting room with many ancients accompanied by their low-eyed offspring. “Guardian Donkey, doest thou expect me to wait within amongst those weakened and most unwell elders? Might I not retire to some other place to wait?”

Donkey shook her head, with her eyebrows knitted upward in compassion. “Nay, traveler. There is naught but one place to wait.”

From within the chamber issued coughs, raspy murmurs, the spiky rants of the confused. I looked over my shoulder again at the vast, antiseptic, empty lobby, and entered the warm, crowded waiting room.