Workers in revolt

It was a dark and stormy morning. It was so dark that the street lights were still on at half past eight. Outside it was as cold as a Mother-in-law's kiss and as bleak as the prospect of a two State solution between Palestine and Israel. The sky was cloudy, the rain was wet, the wind was blowing drops of water and leaves and twigs and insects into Mr Argall's face and all Mr Argall could do about it was put one foot in front of the other and hope he would reach the bank soon. The assorted weather and debris that were being blown into his face seemed to be conspiring against him to create such poor visibility that Mr Argall started to wonder if he hadn't walked straight past the bank without realising it. Mercifully, this was not the case. When he got within a stone's throw of the bank he was able to see the beacons of light emanating from the Otto Wagner style building and its surrounding street lights. God bless the city's Mayor for insisting on using such high voltage lights. He really must remember to send that man a thank you card and a ham of some sort.

         Although thoroughly drenched by the rain and covered in assorted bits of nature, Mr Argall was glad to have finally reached his place of business. He pushed open the solid double doors and briskly stepped inside hoping to take shelter from the rain. Unfortunately for him, the rain had other plans. Mr Argall looked around the gold leaf embellished marble foyer and blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. Perhaps he had a few remnants of twigs stuck in his eyes or maybe a few pieces of insect caught in his eye lashes. No, his eyes were not deceiving him- he really was looking at his colleagues wading knee deep in rainwater and assorted natural and manmade debris in the foyer of the Cherdestat National Bank. He slowly looked around trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The high ceiling which had once been a creamy colour was now a water stained yellow colour. It was also heavily water stained. The marble walls had been turned into an indoor water feature as the rain that seeped in through the ceiling liberally traced its way down them and to the floor- or at least to where the floor used to be. A closer inspection of the wet feeling around his shoes and trousers told him that he was now standing in an impromptu indoor swimming pool.

         Why was the building taking on so much water? It had just passed its fade inspection not three months ago. Surely it couldn't have sustained so much damage in the last three months that it was now almost dryer outside than it was inside the bank. Mr Argall knew that some of the bank's revenue went towards its upkeep and that staff were strongly encouraged to donate biannually to the Fund for the General Upkeep of the Bank. Not to mention the government grants that the bank was entitled to in order to protect its heritage listed exterior. How could the bank be in such a state of disrepair given how much money was allocated to keeping it in working order?
         "Ah, Mr Argall! So glad you could join us. Be a good chap and open that door would you? That's the way, thank you" said Mr Ernest Iferus the senior clerk as he waded his way towards the also flooded reception area.

Mr Argall watched as a gush of water eagerly flowed out the newly opened door. All around him, Mr Argall saw his colleagues either scooping up soggy papers, rolling their trousers up in a vain attempt not to get them wet or doing their best to heard the excess water to the open door and onto the street where it would become someone else's problem.

"Well don't' just stand there, man! Do something to help us!" cried Mr Iferus, rousing Mr Argall from his observations.
"Er... yes, alright. What should I do?"

"Either grab a broom or mop and push this water out the door, or grab as many papers as you can and pile them up in a dry place if you can find one. I've sent Gina 'round to the hair dressers across the road to see if they can help us out with some hair dryers and triple plugs." Upon seeing Mr Argall's confused expression Mr Iferus thought it was necessary to explain his last sentence. "Once we stop the flooding we're going to need help drying all the papers that have been soaked and I firmly believe in thinking outside the box."

"You certainly do, Mr Iferus. I'll grab a broom" affirmed Mr Argall as he scurried away to find a broom or possibly a mop.

The foyer, reception area and customer consultation offices were all on the ground floor. These were the areas of the bank that the customers saw. They were dominated by three colours; gold to represent what was deposited into the bank, cream to represent the perversion of truth and integrity that went on in the bank, and black to represent the intentions of the bank's management. Of course this information was never made public. The symbolism of the colour scheme had been discussed between the bank's Board and the building's architect, Miss Arkenery but it had never been explained to any of the bank's lowly staff members or to the general public.

They were told that black and cream was a conservative and formal colour combination and that it mirrored the conservative investments of the bank and the professional nature of its customer service. The gold still represented the wealth that was deposited into the bank. It never occurred to the lowly employees or general public that this was all a lie. They liked the symbolism. They agreed with it and thought that it represented the transparent nature of the bank's actions. They trusted the bank with their valuables and looked at it as a secure employment prospect. No one ever thought to question why the bank's procedures were as opaque as its black marble floor and the day they would pay for this blind faith was now upon them.

As the water had most likely short circuited the lifts, Mr Argall took one of the bank's many spiral stair cases down to the basement where the vault was. He had taken the stairs many times before but had never stopped to take in the fine details between the bars of the railings. Owls, the moon, daturas, and scarlet auriculas- all these things represented secrecy, deception and avarice, but Mr Argall didn't know that. It never occurred to him or to any other of the bank's lowly employees to question why a conservative bank needed to display such opulence at all, let alone underground where only the employees ever went. Above and below the ground floor which the customers saw, the bank was awash with the highest quality wall paper, exquisite tapestries, rich velvet furniture and an excess of gold leaf detailing. Of course Mr Argall and his fellow employees had never questioned this layout. They had been carefully screened during their interview process to make sure they would never question such details or think too deeply about matters that didn't concern them. They were mild mannered and unassuming and these were exactly the qualities that the Board looked for in its lowly employees.
As Mr Argall reached the bottom of the staircase, he turned left and headed for the storage cupboard.

"Ah Mr Argall, over here! We could use a hand" called Mr Amik Sadik from Accounts. Mr Argall dutifully walked over.

"Grab what you can and take it out. I think the cafeteria's still dry. Try to keep things in order if you can because the last thing we need now are angry customers demanding to know where the contents of their safety deposit boxes have gone" instructed Mr Sadik as he turned on this heel and headed towards the cafeteria with an oblong sack in his hands.

Not needing to be told twice, Mr Argall headed to the direction Mr Sadik had come from and rolled up his sleeves. Inside the vault, more of his fellow employees had formed a line and were passing each other all manner of boxes, folders, papers and assorted paraphernalia all of which were affected by various degrees of water damage. The employees were waist deep in water. They were doing their best to salvage what they could from the top shelves because there wasn't much they could do for the things that were stored on the bottom shelves.

This was bad. This was very bad. The vault had flooded. All of the bank's deposits and reserves were in there and so were the safety deposit boxes. A lot of thoughts rushed through Mr Argall's mind in that moment. Not very many of them were good thoughts. The ingots of gold were okay- they were waterproof and their weight assured that they wouldn't be washed away, but the paper currency and safety deposit box contents were a different story. Some things like jewellery would be alright (even if their cases weren't) but other items like artworks and un-laminated certificates would be damaged beyond repair. This was a complete nightmare. It was incomprehensible. How had such a sturdy building with such ongoing maintenance been so badly affected by the downpour? Mr Argall had no time to think about it. He had just spotted a floating gramophone and he was determined to save it.

***

         At the very top of the Cherdestat National Bank sits the Board Room. It is a large rectangular room where the Board members meet and it is a monument of opulence. The walls are lined with statues, tapestries and gold framed paintings, the largest of which is a portrait of Overlord Neferium, the bank's founder. There are also two gothic cabinets of such breathtaking craftsmanship they could put churches to shame. Near the door there is a drink trolley so large it looks like a small carriage. It is to exquisitely embellished that it makes Cinderella's carriage look like a pumpkin. The contents of this drink trolley cost more than what some of the bank's employees earn in a year. Not the ones who attend meetings in the Board Room of course, but some others who are further down the bank's ladder and floor plan. Underfoot, there is a thick red and black carpet decorated with gold symbols. It looks like alchemy and maybe it is.
In the centre of the room sits a most spectacular table. It is made of dark wood and it is the epitome of rococo style. Its legs have been carved to look like kapok trees with buttress roots that spread around the base of each tree like tentacles. The branches of the trees reach upwards and form a canopy that becomes the table face. The table face is also of dark wood and has a wonderfully captivating motif of leaves and branches carved onto it. Around the table there are 11 high backed chairs. They are narrow and angular and decorated with studs which are just a little bit too pointed and edges which are just a little bit too sharp. They are simultaneously frightening and tantalising to look at.

Along the walls, the displays of art and symbolism are periodically broken up by large ornate windows. Through these windows, the gargoyles which are perched atop the bank's roof can be seen. It is said that gargoyles act as guardians of property and that they keep evil out. Officially, the gargoyles are said to have been mounted as a sign of the seriousness with which the bank guards the people's wealth housed inside. This, of course, is another lie. The twisted, contemptuous faces of the gargoyles represent the disdain that the Board Members feel for the common people and the lowly bank employees. The gargoyles do not keep the evil out, they represent the evil within.

The Chairman of the Board, Mr Arkerius Miseroll, stood at one of the Board Room's windows looking out at the gargoyles. He was not listening to the troubled conversations that had broken out behind him- he was busy thinking. He watched the gargoyles spout water out of their mouths as they were meant to do but it wasn't enough to stem the tide of the torrential downpour. It was not nearly enough. The Board has finally gone too far this time. Behind him, the other Board members were discussing the situation.

"How bad is it?"

"Very bad. I hear that you can swim in the vault."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"That is bad. And damage? What damage is there to the contents of the vault or the rest of the bank for that matter?"

"Jane's gone down to get a full report but I hear that for all intents and purposes it's raining inside the bank. Lord help you if you had any important documents stored on the lower floors."

"Jane can't be trusted" Mr Miseroll said by way of entering into the conversation. "We send her downstairs to bring us information but for all we know she actually goes downstairs to pass on information about us and our plans. I know we've tried to avoid this as much as possible but we now have no other choice but to go downstairs and interact with the lowly employees personally."

This last statement was greeted with disbelief and muttering from across the Board Room. Mr Miseroll raised a hand to silence it before continuing his address to the Board. "We must admit that we have been careless. It brings me no pleasure to say this, but we must leave the comfort of our higher levels and venture down to where the riff raff is. We must find out how much they know about the extent of our schemes. How much has Jane told them and how much of our corner cutting has the flooding revealed? Who volunteers for this necessary although not prestigious task?"

None of the Board members made eye contact with Mr Miseroll "Oh come now, surely one of you must want to act in the interest of our wealth and wellbeing. Who's it to be?"

"How about you, Arkerius?"

"What?" Mr Miseroll had to do a double take because he couldn't believe what he had just heard. The rest of the Board were now staring at Mr Sami Lightenberg who'd made the suggestion. "Lead by example. Act in the interest of the Board and uphold the bank's ideals. The real ones, not the ones we tell the general public" he continued.

A Board Room full of expectant eyes turned on Mr Miseroll who answered thusly "I'm a greedy business man you silly sod, not an army general. I won't be leading anything by example unless it's the race to become the richest man on the continent. No, I know what we'll do- we'll draw straws." More disbelieving muttering broke out but Mr Miseroll merely raised his voice. "Sami, bring the drinks trolley over here. Everyone else, gather 'round. Come on all of you, up up up! This is important bank business."

With even more muttering the Board members stood up and gathered around the drinks trolley which was wheeled over to Mr Miseroll.
"Alright gentlemen, with this letter opener, I shall cut the straws into diminishing lengths. I will then mix them up and hold them in my hand, obscuring their lengths form view. We shall then each pull a straw out and whoever draws the short straw must act as liaison officer to the lower classes."

"You're cutting the straws, with your letter opener and placing them in your hand? I don't like those odds, sir. I don't trust that you won't cheat" said Mr Lichtenberg.

"What? How dare you talk to me like that? I am your boss!"

"That doesn't change the fact that I don't trust you not to cheat, sir. If anything, it suggests that you're better at cheating than others because you managed to become the boss and they didn't. I know what I had to do to become the National Marketing Manager of this bank so I can only imagine what you had to do to become the boss." Mr Lichtenberg's observation was met with a "here here" from his fellow employees. All of them undoubtedly familiar with cheating and under-the-table dealing- they were practically in their job descriptions.

"I have a better idea" Mr Lichtenberg continued "How about we use my cane here? We'll each place one hand around it starting from the base and working our way up. Whoever finds no more room on the cane to place their hand is the loser."

"I'm not using you cane, Sami. It's your cane and therefore no doubt rigged in your favour. We'll use my cane" called Mr Gjuvan Albatross as he brandished his cane in the air.

"How can my cane possibly rigged, Gjhuvan?"

"You practice the dark art of Marketing, Sami. I am sure that a little sleight of hand would be nothing more than mere child's play to you."
"Well I'm not using your cane. You work in the Public Relations Department, peasant. "

"Enough of this bickering" called Mr Miseroll as he waved his hands in the air impatiently. "We'll flip a coin. This one here" he said as he pulled a coin from his picket. "Heads I win, tails you lose. Ready?"

"Again, no one trusts you not to cheat, sir. We'll use one of the ingots from our private vault."

"Oh Sami, you know the ingots are all stamped with heads on both sides to represent how the bank wins every time."

"I know that, yes" Mr Lichtenberg replied audibly, and then muttered "I was just hoping you didn't."

The bickering over whom would represent the Board in its liaising with the lowly bank employees continued all morning and well into the afternoon. Meanwhile, after many hours of applied manpower, all of the vault's contents had been removed and stored according to their states of dryness in the cafeteria and along numerous upper level corridors. The water had been pushed and scooped and sucked out of the whole bank and then unceremoniously dumped onto the street outside. The sheer volume of the water had created generous puddles on the road outside and many a pedestrian was now being splashed by passing motorists. This didn't concern the bank's employees who were all so cold and wet at this point that they were impervious to the water's touch. And besides, since when had the bank ever acted in the interests of the general population? This was a capitalist institution; it's only concern was generating profits for its stakeholders. Other people only existed to be exploited in order to generate said profits.

         At lunch time, Mr Fixit from Mr Fixit's Handyman Services arrived at the bank to evaluate the damage caused by the flooding. He was a thin man of average height with thick rimmed glasses and sharply cut moustache. He exuded no-nonsense professionalism. The bank employees parted for him as if he was Moses and they were the Red Sea. Everyone was keen to get out of his way and let him inspect the damage.

         Mr Fixit slowly made his way around the bank. His gaze travelled over everything and the calculating look in his eyes intensified with every sight he saw. Occasionally, he would prod or poke a soggy piece of bank and grunt to himself comprehendingly. The bank employees clustered in small groups muttering to each other and looking where Mr Fixit looked. It was as if they thought once Mr Fixit's gaze touched something they too would be able to determine the extent of the damage and what had to be done about it. Although all of them had been waist deep in rainwater and trouble since that morning, it was only now that the entire vault's soggy contents had been removed and sorted according to degrees of saturation that Mr Argall and his colleagues took stock of the damage done.

The metal floor beneath them was so thoroughly soaked that it squelched when stepped on. Surely that couldn't be right. Since when were metal floors porous? Mr Argall bent down for a closer inspection. He pressed a hand into the grimy metal floor and felt water rise up to greet it. He ran his hand over the metal floor and sent drops of water flying in all directions. This couldn't be right. This was impossible. As he tried to dig his fingers into the floor he was surprised to find that he was able to do so. This wasn't metal- it was carpet that looked like metal.

"Amik, what is this?"

"What's what?"

"Look at this. It's carpet" said Mr Argall as he pulled up a section of the metal carpet and handed it to Mr Sadik to inspect.

"What in God's name?" said Mr Amik Sadik as he put his glasses on to inspect the soggy parquetry before him. "Well I never! Will wonders never cease? It's metal carpet. Who ever heard of such an invention? Well I just can't believe how advanced we are to have invented a malleable metal carpet. What a triumph of ingenuity."

"You think so?"

"Well of course man, just look at this" said Mr Sadik as he shook the soggy carpet in front of Mr Argall. "Think of how much easier it must be to cut out metal by the meter as you want it, roll it up and deliver it to your customer's specifications. What ingenuity! This is a Fund for the General Upkeep of the Bank at work right here!"

"Yes. Yes I suppose it is. Still, it's flooded."

"What?"

"The vault, for all its ingenuity, is flooded."

"Yes" conceded Mr Sadik as he and the others look in the state of the Cherdestat National Bank's vault.

         Impregnable doors had come off hinges. Electric locks had been short circuited. A hole in the far wall revealed the underground car park on the other side. Just outside the vault, a slightly askew door mat revealed a key beneath it. The 'metal floor' squelched as Mr Fixit walked over it to deliver his damage report.

"Gentlemen, there's nothing for it, you'll have to re-vault. There is not one part of the bank's vault that is salvageable and quite frankly I have no idea what the architect was thinking when they designed it because the whole thing is little more than reinforced cardboard sitting on top of carpet. I mean, carpet for God's sake! Where they going for style over security? I don't know. Anyway, the vault is damaged beyond repair. My men can be here with supplies within the hour and begin working. The vault we build you may not be as pretty has this one used to be, but I promise it will be much safer. "

"I see. And you're absolutely certain that you can't fix this one?" asked Mr Sadik.

"Sir, look around you- what's to fix? I'm surprised that what's left of the vault- if you can even call it that- hasn't collapsed in on itself."
Mr Sadik took a deep breath before answering "Yes alright. Please call your men and tell them to begin the re-vaulting and I shall authorise payment. Mr Argall, please go upstairs and inform the big wigs that we are re-vaulting."

***

Mr Argall was a mild mannered man and never one to upset the peace. The flooding of the vault was an unfortunate occurrence but it was done now and the only course of action was to calmly speak to his superiors and explain the situation to them. As he walked up some more for the elaborately decorated stairs to the Board Room, he straightened his tie and thought of what he was going to say. He decided that the direct approach would be best course of action. The bosses were busy people and they had no doubt heard by now that the bank had flooded, so there was no need to waste time filling them in about every little detail. The fact was that the whole thing was beyond repair and the only course of action was a re-vault.

As Mr Argall reached the top of the stairs he heard a commotion up ahead. As he reached the top step and turned left for the Board Room, he noticed the commotion growing louder and louder. It was coming from the Board Boom and it was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It sounded excited and emotional- two words that he wouldn't usually associate with his superiors. Every time he saw them they were reserved and professional. Still, there was no denying that he recognised the voices coming from up ahead. Intrigued, he walked up to the Board Room and knocked. When it became clear that his knocking would not be heard over the commotion, he slowly opened the door and peered in.

"Alright gentlemen" roared Mr Miseroll, his face red and his outfit dishevelled "on this board, I have drawn up the matches for the Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament. This is a traditional tournament where opponents square off one-on-one and the winner of each match advances to the next round."

"This setup leaves too much too chance! I won't have such a serious outcome left to chance. I say our rock, paper, scissors technique be judged by a panel. Points will be given for aggression, skill and finesse."

"Here here!" half the room shouted.

Mr Miseroll pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking. "And who would make up this panel, hhmm? Do you really think anyone in this room would score anyone else in this room fairly given what happens to the loser?"

"Call the northern office and have them set up a video link- they'll be the panel."

"Oh yes, the northern office where you brother works. "

"Excuse me, gentlemen" Mr Argall called waving his hands in the air to get the Board's attention. They saw him and abruptly froze. Mr Miseroll flipped his tournament board over like it was top secret.

"Sorry to interrupt. Mr Miseroll, a word in your ear? It's about the flooding downstairs."

Mr Miseroll's eyes widened and all around him shoulders sagged and breaths were expelled. It was no longer necessary for any of them to venture downstairs to where the lowly employees worked. One, and only one of them had come upstairs and it was requesting an audience with Chairman of the Board thereby limiting the rest of the Board's exposure to its inferiors.

"Yes, please step into my office" said Mr Miseroll as he led the way. Once in his office, Mr Miseroll shut his office door and gestured for Mr Argall to sit.

"Now, Mr Argall what's going on downstairs?"

"Mr Miseroll, I'm afraid have no choice but to re-vault."

"To revolt? Why surely it hasn't come to this. There must be something we can do before resorting to such drastic measures."
"I'm afraid there is nothing else we can do, sir. I have spoken to the other workers and we're all of the opinion that there is no other option but to re-vault, so dire is the situation, sir."

"I see, I see... well, I must say you're conducting yourself in a most calm manner, Mr Argall. I always thought that a revolt would involve screaming and shouting and a certain amount of rough housing. You're presenting yourself and your case for this revolt in a very professional manner, I must say."

"Thank you, sir but there is no need for screams or shouts. This is just a matter of doing what needs to be done. I'm sure a reasonable man like you understands that. It's nothing personal. Sometimes a situation gets out of hand, it goes too far and the powers that be push you to breaking point. It comes to a point where you cannot continue on in that state, sir. You have to do something about your predicament."

"Er, yes, quite right quite right I understand you perfectly. I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll have a word with the other Board members and see if I can talk them into making some sort of changes around here that will suit everyone. You and the other workers have been so reasonable about this whole revolting business so far and I would hate for things to go sour from this point on. Let me speak to the other Board members and see what they think. Who knows, we might even think of a way to avoid this revolt altogether."

"I don't think so, sir. The other workers are pretty sure that the re-vault needs to take place. But you go ahead and have your meeting. In the meantime, the rest of us workers will continue to make preparations for the re-vault because quite frankly sir, we think that it is inevitable."

"Alright. Thank you, Mr Argall I'll speak to the rest of the Board and we'll be in touch."

"Thank you, sir."

Mr Miseroll sat bewildered as Mr Argall exited his office. The Board finally had gone too far he thought to himself as he sat all alone in his office. He had always suspected that the workers would grow dissatisfied with the cost of working at the bank and the little they received in return but he never thought it would lead to a revolt. Some grumbling, maybe. A few less smiles perhaps, but never a revolution. He had been blinded by his own greed and now he had been blindsided by the impending revolution. Mr Argall had been certain that it had to happen but Mr Miseroll was determined to squash it before it ever got started. He needed to convene with the Board immediately.
"Gentlemen gather back around please, we have a situation on our hands."

"What's going on? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"It's worse than that I'm afraid. I've seen a revolutionary."

"A what?"

"A revolutionary. As you all know, we have been fleecing the workers for some time now. We have been charging them 12 for an 8 lunch, asking them to pay inflated union fees due to our clandestine agreement with the union, and we've been collecting our end-of-year bonus money in the guise of building maintenance funds to name but a few of our schemes. But it seems that we have finally gone too far. We let our avarice consume us to the point where we have thought of nothing else. We have not had our finger on the pulse and as a result we had no idea that the workers were planning a revolt. Had we been a little less careless perhaps we would have seen signs of the pending revolution before it were upon us. Alas, we were careless and we now pay the price.

"I have just spoken to Mr Argall of the Customer Relations Department and leader of the revolution. He informed me in no uncertain terms that the lowly bank employees are planning a revolt. They have finally cottoned on to our penny pinching and they seem to have had enough. I have only spoken to Mr Argall but so far I must say that he has been remarkably civilised about the whole thing although he is resolute that the revolution is inevitable. Gentlemen, what do we do?"

"How many workers are there?"

"One thousand eight hundred and fifty two."

"And how many of us are there?"

"Eleven."

"Oh dear."

Mr Miseroll leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers as a pensive expression settled across his face. "Gentlemen, they outnumber us by one hundred sixty eight and a third to one. We'll never be able to fight our way through all of them. And seeing as Miss Arkenery in her infinite wisdom designed this building to resemble the social order, that is, with the workers at the bottom and us well-to-do types with our offices and Board Room up top, all our exits have been effectively cut off. Unless any of you think jumping out the window of a seven story building is a good idea."

"Desperate people have been known to render desperate deeds" someone was heard to mutter.

"Yes, well I for one do not look forward to my insides decorating the pavement outside either by my own doing or someone else's. The barbarians are at the gates but so far they have been civilised."

"Is it really correct to call them barbarians then?"

Mr Miseroll glowered in the direction of Mr Lichtenberg and Mr Lichtenberg promptly shut up.

"As I was saying, until now we have avoided a full scale revolution but the enemy has us trapped and outnumbered. When engaging in a battle, Sun Tzu says 'Numbers are not an issue. It is a question of not attacking too aggressively. Concentrate your strength, assess your enemy and win the confidence of your men. That is enough.' Well I say Sun Tzu has never faced an army of angry peasants who have just discovered that they've been paying 2 for a 1 carton of milk and that home loans don't cost more through banks, they just costs more through this bank! Gentlemen-"

"What's this? What's going on?"

" Something's happening" called Mr Albatross as he looked out the window.

Outside the Cherdestat National Bank, a truck with 'Mr Fixit's Handymen' written on the side had pulled up. From it emerged six labourers and they opened up the truck to remove sheets of metal and wood and all manner of tradesman's tools. As the Board stared uncomprehendingly at the sight below them, another truck labelled 'Some more of Mr Fixit's Handymen' also parked in front of the bank.
"Who are all these chaps?"

"Mr Fixit's handymen, apparently" answered Mr Lichtenberg, clearly reading the side of the trucks.

"They're ruffians by the looks of them."

"What's this one over here holding?"

They all leaned further out the window to get a closer look.

"Reinforcements. Look at those sheets of metal- and what's this? A mallet. They're going to build a blockade to make sure that we have nowhere to run and then they're going to attack us."

"Aye, look over here!" called Mr Memento Mori from a corner window.

A small brigade of pink uniformed people with impeccably quaffed hair came running towards the bank. Most of them seemed to be holding what looked like an oversized gun with a cord hanging out of it and a few were wheeling some kind of large spotlight looking thing in front of them. A sympathy strike.

"It's a sympathy strike! Word has spread."

" We have to end this now. We'll offer them anything, everything. We'll offer them so many things they'll forget all about this silly revolt."
"I'm afraid offering will be no good this time, we will have to give them these things, and quickly."

"Arkerius, you can't be serious."

"Look outside, man! What choice have we got? Memento, organise the following wire transfers immediately; a million boutans to each worker. And holidays- allocate them each twenty thousand boutans on the bank's holiday credit card. What else, what else? Ah, I know- medical benefits! Everyone know gets Board member level medical benefits. Got all that, Memento? "

"Yes, Sir. I'll organise all of that right now."

"A million boutans each? It took my five whole years to earn a million boutans and that's on a Board member's salary. What you've just done is outrageous" cried Mr Albatross.

Mr Miseroll collapsed into his chair, exhausted. He poured himself a generous drink from the drink's carriage. "What I've done is damage control. They are clearly incensed right now, having just learned the extent of our fraud and worker exploitation. If I dazzle them each with such a generous handout, they will forget their rage and focus on their greed. It is our only chance to make it out of here alive.


"Of course, from now on there will have to be changes in the bank's operations. For a little while at least, everything will have to be above board. We of course have shadow bookkeeping to show the auditors whose decent upon us is imminent. We will have to use reserves from our private vault to make sure that neither they or any reporters who may have caught wind of what happened here today make any of it public knowledge. After that, we will return to our scams but on a smaller scale. We must be prudent with our criminal behaviour from now on." As he finished his speech, Mr Miseroll reclined in his chair and let out a deep breath. It was as if he had breathed out his mood because a sombre silence settled over the Board Room.

As early evening descended upon Cherdestat, the street lights once again came on. Inside the bank too, lights also came on. In the lower levels, the lowly bank employees and Mr Fixit's handymen all admired the new vault that had been installed and smiles spread across faces. The vault was a sturdy construction of a sunny gold colour. The lamplight that bounced off it made it look as if it was glowing and the audience gazed at it and made sounds of wonder. The audience staring at the vault resembled sunflowers basking in the warm glow of the sun. They were as yet unaware that a moon, flanked by the night sky and storm clouds, had just made its appearance. Mr Miseroll cleared his throat by way of introduction.

"Ah, Mr Miseroll" beamed Mr Argall "we're finished with the re-vaulting."

"Hello gentlemen. Gather 'round, gather 'round. I'd like to have a word with you all if I may. As you all know, today due to unforeseen circumstances, the bank flooded. This flooding has brought certain... mistakes... on behalf of Management to light. I admit that the Board has made some misguided decisions in the past when it came to spending our various building funds and it is the discovery of these mistakes that has led to the situation before us. Now, wait- you've what?"

"We've finished re-vaulting" Mr Argall beamed happily.

Mr Miseroll was caught off guard. They had what? But there had been no fighting, no bloodshed, no begging for mercy. The revolt was over before it had ever started, which was good... but confusing.

"Yes, you see Mr Fixit and his handymen did a wonderful job. Look at this new vault, sir. They said it might not be as pretty as the old one but I think it looks great, don't you agree, sir? And it's sturdy too- much sturdier than the other one. Mr Fixit says this one could withstand an army attacking it, sir while the old one could barely withstand a stiff breeze."

"Re-vaulting? Re-vaulting as in installing a new vault?"

"Yes sir, that's what we've just done because the old one had flooded. It was damaged beyond repair so we needed a new one. Is something wrong, sir? If you want, I can get Mr Sadik for you, sir. He authorised the purchase."

Mr Miseroll couldn't believe what he was hearing. There had never been a threat of a revolution. The lowly bank employees had never cottoned on to the Board's scheming and scamming. They had no idea the flooding was due to the Board's misappropriation of funds- they honestly thought it was just bad luck. And what good luck that was for the Board because it meant that they had narrowly escaped judgement and punishment for their greed. What good, good luck indeed. Unfortunately, they had already given the lowly bank employees their millions of boutans and holidays and medical befits but can one put a price on safety? Mr Miseroll breathed out a deep, nervous breath and composed himself. He and his men had weathered the storm both figuratively and literally and that, he decided, merited a bonus in the form of higher interest rates.