Chapter 1
Mankind has always wanted to get higher. The thrill of being above all others is more than empowering. There is a certain rush of being up high in a building, and it is not just the cliché “I can see my house from here feeling”. If there was no glass, it would make a person feel as if their life is in danger; but it is not. The glass allows him to see all that he was never meant to see. No matter how much he leans to get a better view, it is impossible for him to be in any danger. In that it gives the said person a feeling of security, and superiority. Certainly, someone in a higher spot must be more dominating those below him. Why else would kings and emperors demand huge thrones and balconies, so they may act as an omnipotent force to their lower class subjects.
With greater technology, we would have made emperors marvel at the accomplishment. From the average modern businessman’s viewpoint, people look like mere moving dots of matter, their purpose inferior to his. Entire shops and plazas are nothing more than a curious point of interest, as if its only point of appreciation was from aerial view. Entire majestic landmarks, places that are beautiful and awe-inspiring from the ground look like insignificant background images in a painting from his superior view. His tower of steel and glass sticks out of the landscape and looms over the rest.
Even one, stuck in a medium sized office crammed with furniture, papers flowing from cabinets and desktops, cannot stop themselves from feeling as if they got somewhere in life, as if they have not spent years in a classroom, unable to truly focus without finding another point of interest, and then spending nights studying to make up for their lack of consciousness, all in vain. As if deciding not to join the discussion in the corner between the other people and instead finishing his literature essay got him to his position, whereas the others where condemned to eternity in hardship, punished for their lack of responsibility. No. That man, the medium height blue-eyed professional, has gotten somewhere through his studies. He has accomplished the common goal that Caesar Augustus himself couldn’t even dream of making.
His name is James Parell. As he looks out the window of his 61st floor office he hears a knock on the door. It is his secretary, coming to remind him of his 2:00 appointment with one of his clients. As he turns around, he notices the many papers he scattered untidily in an effort to save time. He realized that he must distance himself further from the images of glory and awe and acknowledge the reality of his relative insignificance. On this floor there are about 10 people with my same view, not to mention the 20 something floors above me.
Glancing at his, sorry, my computer’s clock I see that it is 1:30. For the rest of the day I will have the deal with the kind of mental strain that the emperors never needed to put up with. As I sit back into my chair, barely able to distance it between the back radiator of my room and my desk, I decide to spend 5 minutes looking up album reviews and contemplate buying them instead of using the time to do the work I hoped I would do. If only the emperors and kings knew how overrated being up high was.
Chapter 2
My name is James Parral. I am 5’ 10”, 160 pounds, and 27 years old. I have brown hair, blue eyes, glasses and stubby fingers. As a kid, some said I look like Harry Potter. Hell, what kid with glasses WASN’T told he looked like Harry Potter?
Right now I am in the office of my product liability lawsuit firm, and let me tell you it is a mess. I have been in Harvard Law School for 4 years, and have been freshly picked to work, after a year internship of course. I was the best of my debate team, I achieved a pretty high GPA, and I wasn’t too bad with my musical “career”, yet the one thing I just could not do was keep a neat workstation. And a year later, I just didn’t find the reward in continually taking time to keep things in order when I was just going to mess it up again. Because of this, I could not have found out that I had a client today.
As a lawyer, I don’t always have to agree that my client is right. Sometimes I have to defend someone else’s case even though I know it’s not right. Like this one guy. He had a stove that “blew up”. Well, what he told me was that he accidentally had an open tank of methane next to the stove the entire time. He wasn’t too bright, and he of course needed the money from damages to do whatever the hell he wants to do.
That’s a stupid move. If your case is BS, don’t tell me. It is much better if I can’t show any traces of lying if I really don’t think I’m lying. His case would have been really easy too; it could have been a faulty gas pipe or burner. Of course I won the case. I connected the fact that the stove manufacturer had been in trouble for a case like this before to that of my client.
Today’s client, however, was much different. Instead of some guy who blew up his own stove, or an elderly woman who wanted to suit whoever makes those dishwasher soap disks for “staining her dishes” even though she actually didn’t close it properly. This man actually has something to complain about.
He came into my office right on time. He wore some sort of mask, but I was quick to realize why. It was actually for protection. He explained his case for me. 4 months ago, Mr. Price was a rich fellow who used to drive a Smart Car, like one of those little cars one could see around Europe. I guess he was very much trying to be environmentally friendly. Well, Mr. Price didn’t count on was him getting into an accident. It was a frontal collision on a busy city road. Another car made a u-turn from the lane opposite of him and crashed directly into his front. This would have been no problem if he had chosen to drive an American car, or at least a foreign-car that wasn’t obnoxiously small. However, since the car engine was located near the dashboard, the collision caused it to lunge forward and break open, spraying hot oil all over his face. He is covered with third-degree burns for the rest of his life and, as a result, his face is disfigured. He was released from his hospital 2 weeks after the incident, and underwent months of isolation to heal his scars.
“So is this a case Mr. Parral?” asked Mr. Price.
“I believe so yes,” I replied. This case seemed very easy. We had proof there were damages, pain, suffering, plus he lost a car.
“So what is your estimate?” I asked.
“16.8 million.”
Reasonable number, I guess. He probably already asked an insurance agent how much his damages were worth, and of course bloated the number. If the company thought it was too high, it would be simple to bargain with them.
After a small bit of discussion I looked at the clock. It was now 3:30, and his time was up. After a quick goodbye, Mr. Price was well on his way. He was a very different client, and was pretty much a shoe-in for success, without even a trial. I could not help but feel very sorry for the fellow but, I am a lawyer and I dwell on sad stories. As long as I get paid.
Chapter 3
After filling out various paperwork and procrastinating on Wikipedia, I
decided it was time to go home. It was, after all, about 7:00. I wanted to stay late so that I would have more time to do my paperwork, which I did not finish. So I decided to bring some of my paperwork home so that I could contemplate doing it later, which I probably would not.
Because it was so late I was pretty much the last one to leave, except for the receptionist. I nodded at her, since I was too distant from her to do anything more personal, and made my way to the rectangular, plain looking and high-ceilinged room were all of the elevators were kept.
Looking at the elevator room, where I shared a single elevator with everyone on the floor, I saw that it was empty. I was strangely full of relief. There is probably nothing more awkward than going down 61 floors with a random stranger, which is amplified by the fact that I am an awkward person. I just feel like I should say something, but I never have anything to say. However, I have realized that going down an elevator alone is pretty fun. It is pretty much an entirely isolated space, and is a great place to think.
The situation would also be a lot better if the elevator where to stop. Think of how awful it would be if you had to calm down a panicking person in a stopped elevator! But anyway, if you were alone, you would just have to press the contact button and you would be on your way to rescue.
As I eventually got to the 1st floor, I made my way through the faux-marble lobby and went to the smaller elevator room, which made its way to the parking garage. After arriving at the floor at which I park my car, I made my way to the place where I usually park the thing. Since it was an empty lot, it wasn’t hard for me to find it. I then took out my key and unlocked the doors of my car, subtly flashing the garage red with the car’s backlights.
Now, what kind of car would a person with a job like mine drive? A Ferrari? A Mercedes? A Porsche? Some obscure German sports car? Well, I actually drive a Toyota Camry. I was never that interested in cars, not even at the age of 16, when most teenagers eager to start driving would dream of inheriting something other than a beat-up sedan that their parents saved to avoid having their kid scratch up and dent a new or useful car. I didn’t really care that much whether or not I could drive. In fact, I was somewhat scared. My Father would only let me use his 10 year old Kia SUV for driving, so I didn’t really care so much for “the wind on my face.” So I decided to keep it safe with a Camry. It’s still fully upgraded though.
I arrived at my house at around 8:00. There was no one home, except for my dog, a golden retriever named Gold. I am not a very creative person.
My townhome is located in a pretty good location. It is near the city in the yuppie part of town, and it has a pretty good view of the lake, if you enjoy climbing roofs.
Even though I am a lawyer I am still inexperienced. Therefore I did not expect the lavish furnishings of a normal lawyer. Instead, I have pretty good furniture, a queen-sized bed, and some splurges. Like an eight core Mac Pro to feed my obsessions along with a 30-inch High Definition wall-mounted monitor. I also own a 72-inch LED TV, which I use for all purposes, besides video games, which I quit as soon as I left college. However I am a film buff, and possess a large amount of movies from Horror to Comedy.
I find film a more relatable art than even books. For books, one would need a huge story that involves multiple sittings. Unless the reader was really hardcore about reading comprehension, chances are that they would lose valuable information from a large story. A movie, however, is designed to entertain the viewer in one sitting, and provide a more realistic experience through the help of music, camera angles, and tone. Ever since I started my job I haven’t really watched TV much, which is disappointing, because I just don’t watch at the right times or I’m too lazy to use the DVR.
I can’t truly concentrate on work, and usually stay up past midnight doing unrelated stuff. And with that comes absolute fatigue.
With fatigue comes confusion. The brain cannot think properly; everything requires more thought because it feels like someone jammed a wall through your brain and your train of thought cannot get through.
Only for me it means I cannot talk correctly. When I am tired, I am much more concerned with entertaining myself
BOOOMMMMMMM
With whatever pops into my head than with trying to communicate with
FRAAAAAAZZZZZZSDSASEW
other people.
This is even worse when riding an elevator. Hell, it’s even worse when your job involves constant speech.
FZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZDWAH
As I went to bed, I noticed that it was 1:00. Sighing at the thought of having to force myself out of bed again the next day, I crawled into my bed. Ever since I was 12 I had got into the habit of sleeping face down, which although isn’t the healthiest position, it is very comfortable. I sometimes, if I am very tired, I try to sleep face up, but I usually end up promptly going face down and drifting off to sleep.
Chapter 4
It has been about 2 months since I last met with Mr. Price, and it turns out that the case has to go to trial. The company that made his car would not give such a large amount of money for compensation, as they did not think the amount of money was reasonable, so they rejected his offer. This is understandable enough, because 16.8 million dollars isn’t a very practical number to sue someone, unless one wanted to dwell on “mental health” as a form of damage. What I didn’t expect was for Mr. Price not to negotiate, but for him to stick to that number. So now I have to go to court in order to argue that sue substantial damage to one’s facial features has a profound effect on one’s psyche, and is impossible to deny as immense. We’ll probably get at least a large settlement.
Believe it or not, I always get nervous before a case. No matter how hard I try, I always feel butterflies in my stomach right before I have to talk, which, as you can imagine, really damages a lawyer’s credibility. However my former law teacher has given me an indisputably helpful word of advice: Think about trains.
This is surprisingly helpful for multiple reasons. Trains, never stop moving and go at a constant speed, therefore they do not pause. It is also an allusion to the train of thought, which is another thing. And third, trains are cool.
The trial is in a month.
