warning.
Some day indeed they would all be dead, and until then he would
remain isolated from the sloppy dalliances of the human heart. Until
then he would pursue only the tidy and measurable quanta of power,
counting out his life in the coffee spoons of customers.
Morris turned to the schedule his secretary printed out for him.
There were all sorts of meetings with distributors and suppliers and
managers and other subdivisions of his Great Chain of Bean. New
competitors were opening up, striving to nibble away at his market
share, hoping to piggyback on the success of his ideas. Pirates, all of
them. Nobodies. Crushing them was easy, but hardly necessary: his
name was already synonymous with premium coffeehouses, and this
was something that could not easily be taken away. Fame stoked its
own fires. Once born, it begot itself. Like coffee, notoriety was a self-
pollinator. What was in a name? Everything. All Bidden had to do
was stand back and watch as the virus spread and laid its eggs in the
brains of good people all over the planet. Though sterile, he was the
greatest of patriarchs, a proud father for millions.
His secretary buzzed him. “Morris, you’ve got a meeting with The
Coffee Vinein five minutes. Do you want me to groom you?”
Bidden laughed. “Sure, come on in.”
His secretary was a rare treasure. She made sure he was happy
and comfortable, took pains to soothe him, alleviate his burdens. Her
affection was better than a drug in combating the endless string of
daily annoyances.
After his last secretary unexpectedly quit, Morris worried that he
would not be able to find a suitable replacement. She had been a
former centerfold, after all. When he demanded to know why she was
leaving she cited only vague personal reasons, something about
“fate” and it being “in the stars.” When he screamed at her for a
reasonable answer she broke into tears and said that she was afraid
for her karma. Karma! Something to the effect that working for a big
evil corporation would have a negative effect on her soul. She was in
danger, she claimed, and corroborated this by showing him a
squiggle some idiot had discovered in the lines of her palm.
He threw her unceremoniously out of his office. Furious, Morris
resolved never again to hire a secretary based on her looks, especially
new-age nitwits. But it all worked out for the best in the end: To make
up for her sudden departure she recommended a replacement: an
ABYSSINIA
250
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