Man Who Ceased to Be. 5: The Bum

The Bum

The next day, a whistling Miller, corporative salesman and suburban denizen, commuted from his Suburban Paradise to the Business District. He noticed everybody around him, from his suburban neighbors to the people in the city bus, and then in the Corporate Plaza his corporate building was located at; everybody then, was just like him; sharply dressed in rather dark two-pieces suit with a tie for the men and high heels for the women, and below a choke of hair, faceless. None bore any facial feature on the perfectly smooth oval of their face. He felt comforted; he felt reassurance in his life’s prospects. At least, he had this feeling of belonging, something he had missed since that first day he was pushing the ooze out of his acne in front of a mirror. Even the model announcing a new brand of shampoo, on the giant advertising poster on the top of a building next to his, was faceless.

Miller was called in for his monthly review, and this time, he walked with confidence past the desks of his featureless colleagues, in his boss office.

This time the curtains were drawn up, the whole office bathed in the morning sunlight. As soon as he saw him walk in and sit, his boss beamed at him. As much as a featureless, perfectly smooth oval of a face can beam.

‘Miller, I have taken a close look at your progress those past few weeks. I want to command your dedication to address those issues. Your results show an outstanding effort, and I can tell, looking at you, to what length you were willing to go in order to blend perfectly in our corporation. I see a reborn Miller here, one who has understood being incorporated is not only a matter of waiting for the paycheck, but also to reflect himself the corporation. I am waiting for the deal you’re working on now to bring results pretty soon. But be assured that I am looking forward to request for a pay increase. I will also help you on your career’s progress, Miller, and thank you for all your efforts.’

When he left his boss office, Miller made a silent prayer his career path would not involve more than the cancelation of his facial features, but no, he had not noticed his boss had needed to lose any limbs to reach his corporate status. And as far as he was concerned, he had never seen or heard of a legless CEO or armless Chairman-of-the-Board.

As he walked out of the building, to join the crowd of faceless incorporated employees going back to their suburban homes, Miller could not help but see a character that brought a sensation of disgust. It was a bum that had set his working slot (as much as begging can be considered an occupation) next to the bus stop.

The bum was dirty, his clothes only tattered rags. He retained all his features; blood-shot eyes, broken nose, fat lips, beard. He was also smelly. On his chest he displayed a placard he had written himself in all caps:

WHY CAN’T YOU SEE ME?

Miller, corporate salesman and suburban denizen, never knew what happened to him. Instead of tossing some coins in the bum’s can, he just snapped, walked up to the bum, then started to punch methodically the man’s face. When the faceless cops came to pick a faceless Miller and finally dispatched him to the mental hospital, the bum was covered in blood, all his facial features smashed in, some of his teeth and shard of his bones on the knuckles of Miller.