|
Fog wafts across the waterfront as a huddled figure hurries towards an unmarked door, pushing it open this anonymous everyman walks into a dimly lit, cramped office. The man behind the table gestures for the visitor to sit, locking his ice blue eyes on the newcomer, judging him in just a glance.
So, I hear through the grapevine that you finally got the authorization to start your own family. Congratulations, I know you've worked hard for this opportunity. Starting a family, however, is hard work. It takes time, and effort, and you need to be ready. Most importantly, however, you need to figure out what type of leader... what type of *person* you want to be.
There have been far too many people to count that have gotten this same opportunity you're now getting. Great men and women who brought prosperity and stability to all those around them. Terrible tyrants who created nothing but pain and suffering. The utterly forgettable, who far too often are given power they simply do not deserve.
Who am I to judge? A nobody, now. Sadly one never knows what kind of leader they are until your end scene, when your life flashes before your eyes. Then, and only then, does the final curtain drop, and you are posthumously delivered to the jury to have your legacy, and immortality, decided.
Many have come before, many are still yet to come, but the same themes abound in every reign. No matter what the individual in the bold suit presents him - or her - self to be.
The man reaches underneath the table, pulling out a ragged deck of cards, each with a crudely drawn picture on its face.
Let us see what the cards hold in store for you, shall we?
The first card is flipped over and laid upon the table.
Ahh... the Diplomat. The man who is friends with everyone, regardless of who they are, regardless of what those friendships cost them in the end. Is this to be your fate?
Some say the Diplomat is smart, forming lasting alliances and trust.
Some say the Diplomat cowardly, bending is spine in all directions, agreeing with everyone else yet having nothing to stand on for himself.
The man looks up, looking curiously at the guest, before silently shaking his head and turning over another card.
Perhaps the Politician is more your style? Someone who prefers wordplay over gunplay, who avoids action at all costs until, inevitably, action finds them.
Is it wiser to value the pen over the sword? Perhaps. But in this life, it is the sword that has the final say.
He shakes his head again and flips over the third card.
No, I see that words are not your style. Perhaps, then, the way of the Outlaw. Diametrically opposite the Diplomat, your weapons are the gun and the knife. Words are for the weak, but you're not weak, are you?
The strong thrive in this world, and WHO could be stronger than you? Take what you want! Damn the consequences! These are the rules we live by!
That is, of course, until the final confrontation at the OK Corral... The life of an Outlaw is exciting, to be sure, but it is often said that the flame that burns brightest burns shortest.
The man glances up, smirking at the nervous stranger, sweat glistening on his furrowed brow.
Excitement and an early death isn't the path you crave? Fear not, for there are still cards to be played, and destinies to forge.
The stranger lets out a deep sigh and watches as the man flips over the fourth card.
Ahh yes, the Monarch. If excitement is the antithesis to what you crave, you could do well as a Monarch. Perched atop your throne in your ivory tower, nary a trace of excitement to be seen.
You are a born ruler, commanding the respect and obedience of others as your birthright. To be waited on hand and foot, revered as a King (or Queen) is what you were BORN for.
But people do not enjoy being ruled. They wish commonality and camaraderie with their leaders, not be forced to bow and scrape before them. And a tower made of ivory can be brought down and crumble beneath you in but the blink of an eye.
The man shakes his head, giving the stranger a familial smile as he turns over the fifth card.
Most true leaders, fortunately, are bred through hard work, not born into it with a silver spoon in their mouth. If you care for your family, work with them, let them know they can come to you when needed, then perhaps the mantle of the Family Man is what you seek.
Even criminals need father figures, someone they can come to when they have problems, for guidance, someone to teach them the ways of our life. Your office door is always open for family.
Unfortunately, those not in your family don't see this side of you. They see you as a mute, always too busy... too uncaring to get involved in the ways of the world. Of course, they're mistaken. If they only knew the REAL you, they would never think such things.
But... even in the mafia, mistakes happen. And once a thing is done... sometimes, it cannot be undone.
The man stands up from the table, getting ready to escort the stranger back out into the night before realizing there is still one card left to be played. Sneering at the remaining card, he tosses it contemptuously onto the table.
The Sloth. Sometimes, when you are called uncaring, when you are accused of doing nothing for this world... it is NOT a mistake. The Sloth sits in his office, staring at the walls, while the rest of the world passes him by. Apathetic and wasteful, ignoring the cries from his family, the questions from the community, he sits and stares. Until inevitably, inexorably, he is killed. Leaving no legacy and being forgotten even as his killer steps over the still-cooling body.
The man opens the office door, the first rays of the sun peeking out across the water, the stranger realizing he has lost track of time while inside this dust and smoke filled chamber.
There are, of course, other alternatives. Other paths you may take. These are but a few of the many options that lie ahead.
After all, we all strive to leave our mark on the world.
So, what mark will you leave?
The man closes the door, flicking the lock closed as the stranger walks across the docks, heading towards home - squinting his eyes against the bright sun as a new day dawns before him. |
