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unforthWell, as I said in the previous posting, that was a story that I wrote last semester. I had a lot of trouble deciding at the time where the story should go from there, and had several starts at the next section, none of which I liked much. So I thought I'd try again, since it's a concept I liked a great deal. So here goes, another attempt at writing the next page. :)
After a few moments of consideration, the tall man found his stride again. "That will be all for tonight," he gave a dismissive glance at the minions. For a moment, none of them moved, and then one by one the filed out the door, a soft buzz of conversation encompassing them despite the masters usually strict enforcement of silence in the computer room.
Alexander Reynolds watched the scene in mild confusion, but thought better of requesting an explanation before everyone had left. The tall man watched them all leave, his face expressionless, his posture perfect, his shock of moments before already forgotten, or at least controlled.
When the last minion had left the room, the tall man walked to each of the exits from the room in turn, locking each one. "Excuse me," asked Mr. Reynolds when he realized what was being done. "Does that mean I'm a prisoner here?" But the tall man didn't answer. When he had finished, he approached the dais on which Alexander sat, and stepped up onto it, taking a seat beside him.
"What's going on, sir?" he asked.
"Oh, well, I was actually hoping you could tell me," Alexander smiled faintly. "Cause I must say, I don't have a clue."
The tall man nodded to himself, thinking. Nothing like this had happened in all the years that he had followed his master. Never had his master seemed so confused, never had he lost face infront of his minions like this, and never, ever, not even once in almost 30 years of service, had his master said his name. It was one of the rules he had always stuck too most stringently - no names. The tall man had never before heard his masters name, and the tall man had not said his name to his master since they first met. Wondering what it could all mean, he nodded again.
"What," he said slowly, "is the last thing you remember, sir?"
"What an excellant question!" Mr. Reynolds exclaimed. "Let me think..." There was a long, long pause before he spoke again. "I'm not really sure," he sounded very confused. "Until I started thinking about it, it hadn't even occured to me really, but now that you've asked, and I try to think about it, I find nothing. It's most disconcerting." Yet he didn't sound disconcerted. Confused, certainly, but he almost sounded fascinated by his lack of memory. "So, then, you seem to know me. What can you tell me about me?" His eagerness was almost as upsetting to the tall man as the entire situation. His master was not an easily excitable man, and when he was excited, he never acted in this almost bubbly fashion, but instead tended towards the slightly maniacal.
"I'm not sure where to begin," the tall man said. There was a long, long pause. Alexander Reynolds was still smiling at him eagerly, awaiting his explanation, and it occurred to the tall man that this man, so unlike his master, might not be pleased with the explanation that was available. "I am called Butler," he began, "and I first met you when you were a student in college." So hard to explain what happened so long ago, he thought to himself. "That was about 30 years ago now. We were both attending Oxford University. I was studying history, and you were studying engineering. The year was 1974. Even then, you were calling yourself Mastermind. Today is the very first time that I have ever heard your name. You told me a great deal about the things you planned to do, your goals for the future, and I decided to enter your service."
"Mr. Butler, why did I call myself Mastermind?" asked Reynolds.
Butler laughed incredulously. "Just Butler, sir. It is not my name, just as Mastermind was not your name. You..." he paused, trying to think how to explain, "...you always said 'no names,' a long time ago you told me that names were meaningless, they told you nothing about a person, they were deceptive and misleading. You felt that, just as in medieval times, a leader of men was called 'lord' and a serf was called 'serf,' the titles that were given to people meant a great deal more than their names. I remember explaining to you that the only reason that lords were lords was that they were born with the right name, but you countered, pointing out that great men could rise to the name of lord no matter their original standing by their actions. In the same way, you had plans to rise to the name of Mastermind, and you didn't wish in anyway to have those plans associated with your old name, and so you would never use that name again. Ever since then, the entire time I have known you, you have addressed those who serve you by their positions, and insisted that none use there name. Hence, I am Butler, for I am your manservant. Those who left the room earlier are collectively known as minions, and individually by their own given task. All accepted this willingly as the price of serving you, and I can't think of anyone who has violated it in all these years."
"I sound like a very strange person," said Mr. Reynolds, truly amazed.
After a few moments of consideration, the tall man found his stride again. "That will be all for tonight," he gave a dismissive glance at the minions. For a moment, none of them moved, and then one by one the filed out the door, a soft buzz of conversation encompassing them despite the masters usually strict enforcement of silence in the computer room.
Alexander Reynolds watched the scene in mild confusion, but thought better of requesting an explanation before everyone had left. The tall man watched them all leave, his face expressionless, his posture perfect, his shock of moments before already forgotten, or at least controlled.
When the last minion had left the room, the tall man walked to each of the exits from the room in turn, locking each one. "Excuse me," asked Mr. Reynolds when he realized what was being done. "Does that mean I'm a prisoner here?" But the tall man didn't answer. When he had finished, he approached the dais on which Alexander sat, and stepped up onto it, taking a seat beside him.
"What's going on, sir?" he asked.
"Oh, well, I was actually hoping you could tell me," Alexander smiled faintly. "Cause I must say, I don't have a clue."
The tall man nodded to himself, thinking. Nothing like this had happened in all the years that he had followed his master. Never had his master seemed so confused, never had he lost face infront of his minions like this, and never, ever, not even once in almost 30 years of service, had his master said his name. It was one of the rules he had always stuck too most stringently - no names. The tall man had never before heard his masters name, and the tall man had not said his name to his master since they first met. Wondering what it could all mean, he nodded again.
"What," he said slowly, "is the last thing you remember, sir?"
"What an excellant question!" Mr. Reynolds exclaimed. "Let me think..." There was a long, long pause before he spoke again. "I'm not really sure," he sounded very confused. "Until I started thinking about it, it hadn't even occured to me really, but now that you've asked, and I try to think about it, I find nothing. It's most disconcerting." Yet he didn't sound disconcerted. Confused, certainly, but he almost sounded fascinated by his lack of memory. "So, then, you seem to know me. What can you tell me about me?" His eagerness was almost as upsetting to the tall man as the entire situation. His master was not an easily excitable man, and when he was excited, he never acted in this almost bubbly fashion, but instead tended towards the slightly maniacal.
"I'm not sure where to begin," the tall man said. There was a long, long pause. Alexander Reynolds was still smiling at him eagerly, awaiting his explanation, and it occurred to the tall man that this man, so unlike his master, might not be pleased with the explanation that was available. "I am called Butler," he began, "and I first met you when you were a student in college." So hard to explain what happened so long ago, he thought to himself. "That was about 30 years ago now. We were both attending Oxford University. I was studying history, and you were studying engineering. The year was 1974. Even then, you were calling yourself Mastermind. Today is the very first time that I have ever heard your name. You told me a great deal about the things you planned to do, your goals for the future, and I decided to enter your service."
"Mr. Butler, why did I call myself Mastermind?" asked Reynolds.
Butler laughed incredulously. "Just Butler, sir. It is not my name, just as Mastermind was not your name. You..." he paused, trying to think how to explain, "...you always said 'no names,' a long time ago you told me that names were meaningless, they told you nothing about a person, they were deceptive and misleading. You felt that, just as in medieval times, a leader of men was called 'lord' and a serf was called 'serf,' the titles that were given to people meant a great deal more than their names. I remember explaining to you that the only reason that lords were lords was that they were born with the right name, but you countered, pointing out that great men could rise to the name of lord no matter their original standing by their actions. In the same way, you had plans to rise to the name of Mastermind, and you didn't wish in anyway to have those plans associated with your old name, and so you would never use that name again. Ever since then, the entire time I have known you, you have addressed those who serve you by their positions, and insisted that none use there name. Hence, I am Butler, for I am your manservant. Those who left the room earlier are collectively known as minions, and individually by their own given task. All accepted this willingly as the price of serving you, and I can't think of anyone who has violated it in all these years."
"I sound like a very strange person," said Mr. Reynolds, truly amazed.
