Thoughts On Xu

They spoke in hushed voices.

"He doesn't have to know yet," I managed to discern one of the voices. It was a distinctly male voice, and his urgent words came out in short, sharp, raspy barks. I could imagine a drill sergeant.

"Three people have died," the other voice - another male one - said, the significance of what he said straining a voice that was trying to keep itself down. "Countless more are still endangered. He needs to know!" This was the voice of a diplomat put into a very sticky situation.

One of them was turning on a tap. It squeaked before the torrent of water gushed through it. To human eyes, the water flow was ordinary.

Then, there was the sound of water, pouring out a tap, whose flow was interrupted by a pair of hands being washed.

"What if," said the diplomat-voiced one after awhile, "we tell Xu instead."

My heart nearly dropped. They know about Xu. These aren't your run-of-the-mill company executives.

"Yes, yes...That's a good idea." Previously-barking voice was now slowed, tentative - calmer.

From behind the door in the corner cubicle, I could not help but be impressed. Xu would contain the situation well. He wasn't the best frontman in their organization, but behind the scenes, he kept the well-oiled machine well-oiled. Sad thing was, nobody gave him more than a passing glance, let alone even know he exists.

It wasn't a surprise, anyway. Nobody gives a potted cactus more than a passing glance, let alone give them existentialist consideration.