Awareness

How well can we listen? How well can we focus? How well can we realize when it truly matters?

The soft candlelight provided the subtle ambience to make the special dinner satisfying to the guests. The sumptuous meal was consumed, friendly banter gave way to a very relaxed atmosphere. 

"My utmost compliments to your chef, Mrs. Hopkins," the young black man seated at the opposite end of the table raised his glass to the host. 

"Here, here," chimed in a young blonde woman as she too raised her glass. 

The second blonde woman likewise raised her glass and said, "oh, yes. Johan is an absolute maestro when he prepares meals. Every time I've eaten here at Mrs. Hopkins, I'm never disappointed." 

She then took a drink from her glass. 

The others who sought to compliment Mrs. Hopkins and her chef sensed the definite jab that, while it may be their first time dining at the company CEO's residence, others there had been a guest frequent times before. 

"Mrs. Hopkins," the young black woman spoke, "if I may inquire as to why we are here." 

"Shouldn't be so impulsive," the elderly white man quietly stated. 

"Nonsense, Stanley," Mrs. Hopkins commented. "I'm sure you are all interested to learn why I have called you here." 

The white man reacted in a defeated manner. The older blonde woman looked at him cunningly. Business as usual, the entire evening was nothing but sly cutdowns with attempts to impress their boss.  And Mrs. Hopkins was well aware of this. 

"As you all know," she began speaking, "we have had profit gains in the past year along remarkable margins, and the six people most responsible for those profits are seated here at the table with me." 

Each in his or her own way, the guests gave with a satisfying smile. 

The elderly Japanese woman turned to the first man, the older white man. 

"Stanley, you have seen a definite increase in telecommunications department." 

Stanley smiled again as if his being named first was significant.

Mrs. Hopkins turned to the older blonde woman. 

"Barbara, your time here has been nothing but progress in marketing." 

Barbara gave quite a snide hint of an arrogant smile. 

"Joseph, you have overseen considerable improvements in resources." 

The thin young fair-haired man gave with a nervous acknowledging expression. 

Mrs. Hopkins turned to the young blonde woman. 

"Ann, in the minimal amount of time you have been here, we have seen abundant gains with each advancement you receive."

Ann sheepishly smiled at the compliment. 

"And Jessica," Mrs. Hopkins spoke to the young black woman, "you have truly excelled public relations to unbelievable levels." 

Then Mrs. Hopkins turned to the remaining person, the young black man. 

"But you, Deardrelle," she started, "you have been the most outstanding of all, with your cost-cutting efficiency and programming in Finances." 

Deardrelle mouthed a slight, near muffled, "thank you." 

The grey-haired woman now addressed all six of them. 

"I suppose it is safe to say our hiring practices are truly impeccable, based on those of you sitting before me now," she stated, with slight bemusement and chuckles delivered from one or two of the people, "but procedures for examining decisions employees and future employees have made over the course of their lives are much easier to discover, . . . especially with the internet." 

At that moment, in the back of the room, a familiar servant entered, carrying an open tray. As he drew near and stood on the side of Mrs. Hopkins, he lowered the tray to the table, enabling many of them to spy what seemed to be a miniature case of sorts. What else could it be? 

"Whether certain actions should have been discovered upon hiring or not isn't up for debate. The fact of the matter is questionable conduct and actions have been revealed, events that if over the course of the future of this company, could be quite detrimental to the operations of our industry, operations which the six of you have excelled at establishing."

Silent once more, Mrs. Hopkins reached over and opened the small object on the tray, rather like a book. She turned back to her workers. 

"Upon randomly scrutinizing the history of one individual under our employ, it was discovered this person had commited a heinour murder." 

"What?" Barbara gasped. 

"No," cried Joseph. 

Deardrelle sat, unmoving and unblinking. 

Mrs. Hopkins raised her hand to silence the low murmurs. 

"The person-in-question," she said calmly, "was lower level and has been dealt with accordingly, and was never a concern for any of you, but of course, this revelation resulted in further examination of employee past conduct outside the business and how it could affect our financial margins." 

Silence. 

"It was discovered," Mrs. Hopkins began again, "that seventeen employees here became associated with questionable organizations described as societal hate groups." 

This time, only Joseph reacted. Deardrelle sat quietly observing him. 

"Those people need to be fired immediately," Joseph said, rather flustered. 

"Absolutely," added Jessica. 

"Can we please let her finish," Deardrelle insisted. 

Ann looked at him, but said nothing. 

"Thank you, Deardrelle," Mrs. Hopkins said, "now I must ask that no more commentary from anyone be uttered at all, for any reason. Is that understood?" 

Somewhat sheepishly, but all silently, the six persons quietly nodded in various manners. 

"Fourteen of those persons are employed at other branches, subcontract workers, possibly in another country. They are being dealt with accordingly. Any function," Mrs. Hopkins continued, "no matter if it is social, religious, political or of any faction, that believes in physical violence toward others, no matter what, has no place in the business of earnings." 

She looked at them casually as they all sat transfixed on her. 

"The remaining three workers are seated at this table before me. Three of you have worked here all this time and excelled at your performance. The last of you hired was eleven years ago. Since the three of you-in-question have been working here, there appears to have been minimal or no further association with these franchises. In fact, it's safe to say such affiliations ceased many years before you made any impression unto this company." 

Silence once more. In fact, there was barely any detectable movement. 

Mrs. Hopkins continued yet again. 

"However, depending on whether these actions should ever be discovered, whether membership dues, attending meetings or a simple inquiry, of course the effects on the company would be in potential jeopardy." 

Pause.

"Still, I am a person of business, and as I have said, the productivity each of you have displayed will be weighed against potential past indiscretions. As noted, the last of you was hired eleven years ago, that being you, dear Ann, with the next person hired before you being Joseph, employed for sixteen years, then Deardrelle for nineteen years.

"When it was discovered about the homicide by a worker here, there was the immediate exploration of the entire staff and the discovery of these hate group affiliations. Without viewing those personal names and only taking note of when the affiliations occurred, we managed to wipe those circumstances clean off those people, with no detection of them being in those groups capable of being discovered by common or even scrutinous observation. Those names were then entered here." 

With that, Mrs. Hopkins reached once more to the tray to retrieve the small, phone-looking device. She held it up for the others to see. All that was really detectable was six small squares, arranged three in a row. 

"This device," she began, "had the information of the hate groups entered into it before your records were erased. This is the only source of records on those questionable events in the lives of half of you. Yet, once again, you have succeeded in working here and advancing without detection. To your credit, your job performance is exceptional, but that the decisions you made in your existence would have never been learned had this crime committed by another employee not been discovered, you would still be working here in all your anonymity." 

At this moment, Mrs. Hopkins began rising to her feet as the young man who brought the tray, still present in the room at her side, moved to assist her in moving the chair back from her. The three men stood from their seats as well. 

"Please, remain seated," she said, as the men promptly sat once more. She picked up the odd little contraption. 

"With this device, each of you is represented by a button. The three of you who had no such group encounters will decide which three of you were in these groups, for however long is irrelevant, and you will press the three buttons for those people. If you had membership with these controversial organizations and none of the other three guess it was you, then you have shown yet again, you are capable of burying a history that needs to stay buried, but if the three of you who are removed from such events are able to guess those of you who are, then the ones with exceptional perception in this matter will receive the promotions."

The six people sat quietly, virtually unmoving; just staring at the object Mrs. Hopkins held in her hand. 

"Mrs. Hopkins, may I inquire why you feel it is necessary to do this exploration in this manner?" Barbara quietly asked. 

Mrs. Hopkins examined the mechanism in her hands, then spoke. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "we have more than entered a different world from the world of old. We must examine human issues in a different manner from what has all gone before and the conclusions from those decisions. This is business. This is industry. If we simply dismissed the three persons for these past indiscretions with these hate groups, those people can easily venture off and find more productive, successful work elsewhere, guaranteeing our competition. If that is what it is to be, then three of you will make those decisions." 

Mrs. Hopkins placed the devise on the table before her. 

"Stanley, . . . " she said. He interrupted her. 

"There's no need to continue on scrutinizing my personal integrity," Stanley said. 

"I will most definitely be straightforward and tell you I was one of the pesons we seek here, having looked into so-called white equality organizations just after I started working here. I had doubts and misgivings about the decisions being made in this country and was curious as to what all exactly could be done about potential events that could occur." 

He turned and looked at the others. 

"I wanted to know all details on all possible matters," he all but said boastfully.

The elderly woman offered up the most faint hint of a smile. 

"Stanley, . . . " she repeated, much quieter, "I was going to instruct you to be responsible for the voting process and turning it over to me when we have concluded this meeting here." 

Stanley gave with a rather startled gaze.

"But since you have taken it upon yourself to begin the venture, I will ask Deardrelle to be responsible for the votes." 

The young Deardrelle offered a somewhat surprised look as Mrs. Hopkins' young assistant brought the tablet to him. Deardrelle stood to receive the object, as the youth gave with his custom's polite bow then returned once more to Mrs. Hopkins. 

"With that," she said to the group, "you will have one hour or unless you decide to vote sooner and conclude this debate." 

The youth turned to her, held out his arm, and she in turn took it. Her assistant slowly led her out of the room and Mrs. Hopkins turned to face the six people once more. 

Then the young aide reached in and quietly brought the doors closed. 

 

"Well," Deardrelle began, staring down at the device, "where shall we begin?" 

It was Joseph who softly spoke first, to Jessica, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Well, if Stanley has confessed to joining a hate group, then we know who the three people are." 

Jessica simply watched him, as did Deardrelle.

"Stanley," Deardrelle said to the older gent, "I guess since you have admitted to this association, we should rely upon you to clarify the history that brought you to such a decision." 

Stanley's eyes were wide as tho he were being convicted without a jury. 

"It seemed," he started with Deardrelle, then made his way around the table to everyone else," to really be the way of the company, from what I could detect." 

"How white people were behaving?"

"I didn't say white, but I guess it was. I don't see how I had any position to explore how African-Americans were feeling." 

"Did you think to ask any?" Jessica inquired. 

"No," Stanley said, allowing himself to daydream, "I suppose not." 

"So maybe you should hand in your resignation now," Joseph proclaimed, "and spare Mrs. Hopkins and the rest of us any embarrassment." 

Stanley looked at him, somewhat surprised. 

"No, I don't think I should do any such thing. It was a very long time ago and was fairly common behavior." 

"But you must have been thinking . . . ." 

"Joseph!" Deardrelle interrupted him. Deardrelle stood to his feet, leaving the voting device on the table. He stood at the end of the table as if he was lecturing them.

"It's not about who joined the hate groups," Deardrelle stated. "If Mrs. Hopkins wanted to dismiss those three people, she would have simply done so, end of discussion, but she sees that we have been much more productive toward the company than any amount of hate organizations.She wants us to be acutely aware of who these people are." 

"But he's already admitted he was in the group," Joseph stammered. 

"Has he?" Deardrelle asked. "Has he, Joseph?"

Deardrelle slowly, calmly walked around to Joseph and leaned in close to him.

"Or maybe he did so to appear in a grandiose manner," Deardrelle said, casting his eyes to Stanley. Joseph now turned to look upon him as well. 

"Why would he do that?" Joseph asked. 

"To appear unafraid of admitting any wrong decision he may have made," Jessica said, likewise turning to Stanley.

"And to muddy up the works about who the actual guilty parties might be," Joseph said, still looking at Stanley, then he changed directions. 

"But that can't be," Joseph said rather exasperated. "For it to be three people here, he has to be one of them." 

"Does he?" Deardrelle said from behind Joseph. Joseph remained fixated on Stanley. 

Barbara gave with a light chuckle. 

"Well, played, Deardrelle. Why should Stanley fret at his age about being found out. All he'd have to do is take an early retirement." 

"As would you, my dear," Stanley said, raising his glass. Barbara likewise raised her glass as well and smiled. 

"Touche," she said, smiling. 

"All in the name of business," Deardrelle said, all but repeating Mrs. Hopkins observation. He rounded the table back to the device, but remained standing. 

"All he would have to do is truthfully tell if he is not the member of a group, submit his three guesses, and at best, he would be the only one correct about his not being associated with such an organization, . . . . if he is one of the three who isn't." 

"Then the rest of us would vote him as a bigot, but we would all be wrong," Joseph said, wide-eyed. 

Barbara laughed once more. 

"Oh, this is delicious," she said. 

"Well, Deardrelle, it seems I must thank you for this intervention on my behalf to make me less of a suspect," Stanley said, "for whatever reason you have chosen to do this, but there really is no point in my denying it. It was all a long time ago>" 

"Maybe it was not about you denying it," Deardrelle stated, "but about your admitting it." 

"We are playing a stealthful hand of poker, aren't we?" Barbara said, very amused. 

Joseph was about to propose who was next, when Ann spoke up.

"I think this is all disgusting," she said, as she stood. 

"It's horrible to try to make people admit to such behavior." 

"No one is trying to make anyone admit, . . . " Barbara started. Ann cut her off. 

"This is terrible to try to make us confess to being bigots," she said, her voice quavering. 

"Nobody is saying we were guards at a Jewish concentration camp, child," Stanley noted. 

"It doesn't matter," Ann choked back. "I'm not going to be labeled a racist bigot like this," and with that she headed to the door to leave. Deardrelle called to her. 

"But Ann, if you leave, then you will be disqualified and won't be able to vote you aren't a bigot and someone else may take your spot and say they aren't the bigot, making you a bigot by guilt of association." 

Ann stood at the door, her back to the rest of them. Then she turned to look at them, tears streaming down her face. 

"I don't want to do this," she said, crying more. "I'm not a racist." 

Jessica stood as well, but likewise Barbara was also up nd moving toward the young woman. 

"Of course you aren't, Ann, and the remote device in Deardrelle's possession will signify such," Barbara said, handing a cloth napkin to Ann.

"Unless you are one of the three," Jessica said calmly. 

Almost on cue, Ann screamed back, "I'm not a racist!" 

"Well, no one is saying you are, child," Stanley said, "only that you may have once agreed with a controversial group." 

Ann cried more. 

"Oh, Ann," Barbara said, wrapping her arm around the young girl, "come, dear. Come sit back down." 

Slowly Ann made her way back to the table and sat, still crying. Barbara stood alongside her, almost protective. 

"So," Dearrelle started, "I guess we have more of an idea where we stand with our . . . investigation." 

Ann hung her head down and sobbed. 

"Oh, Deardrelle, can't you see she's hurting?" Barbara said calmly, but sharply, "I'm beginning to agree with her, and truthfully I didn't really disagree with her. I think this whole game is nothing more than a farce." 

"Why are you getting upset with me, Barbara?" Deardrelle said, slightly chuckling. "I'm not the one who made the rules." 

"I'm not mad," she replied back. "This is all just an unnecessary persecution of past events in our lives for the rest of you to jeer at, like we've been naughty children." 

"I'm not laughing at anyone, Barbara," Deardrelle said, then realized he was indeed smiling. 

"Barbara, does this mean you are the third person?" Jessica asked. 

"Third person," Barbara said, looking at her. "Do you mean the third racial supremacist? The third racist? The third bigot? Is that what you mean, Jessica?"

Barbara stood barely six inches away from Deardrelle. She turned to look back at him. 

"Here's your racist bigot," she said to Deardrelle and before he could react, she had grabbed his cheeks in her hands and pulled him to her, Holding his face before her as she passionately kissed the young man on the mouth, her eyes closed, but his wide open. He waved his hands out as she held firmly to his jawline, not giving him any opportunity to get away from her. The air emerging from her nostrils to blow in his face caused him to begin closing his eyes, unable to resist any further. He likewise was struggling to breathe. He brought his hands slowly to hers, to steady himself as they gave way to faint gasps between their moving lips, allowing oxygen to progress through the lips as they moved and seperated. 

Now they parted. Now she moved away. 

Jessica stood. 

Deardrelle opened his eyes to see Barbara's sparkling blue irises looking back at him from her slowly raising eyelids. 

"Now, Deardrelle<" she said to him in a velvety tone, "is that your racist bigot?" 

Barbara released his face and lowered her hands as she backed away. 

"Is it?" she asked again. 

"Deardrelle," said Jessica. 

Deardrelle held up his hand to Jessica as if not wanting to take his eyes off Barbara. 

Stanley chuckled quietly.

"Well, Deardrelle," Barbara asked again,"Am I a bigot?"

"I'll tell you what you are," Jessica snapped. 

"Not necessary," Deardrelle replied, stepping away from Barbara. Barbara looked at him a moment more, then slowly returned to her seat. 

"Well," Deardrelle said, tugging his jacket and straightening his tie. "I think we have had enough of that." 

"We seem to be somewhat narrowing down who is a racist along with me," Stanley said with a slight smile. 

"I don't see race," Ann stated amid her tears. "I never see race." 

Jessica rolled her eyes, "how can you say that?"

"I'm not a racist!" Ann yelled back. 

"But to not see race as you profess, and here we are trying to find out which three of us were in a hate group, it really should be more obvious that only four of us should even be under consideration for such allegations." 

"Meaning all we really have to do is figure out which one of you most would not be affiliated with a such a dire organization." 

Barbara looked at Jessica, then to Deardrelle.

"So you are concluding the two of you are automaticaly removed from suspicion?" she asked. 

"Barbara, why would Deardrelle or I ever look into any kind of membership with an Aryan group?" 

Stanley raised his head. 

"Mrs. Hopkins never said anything about it being a white supremacist group, only a racial supremacist group." 

"Well, what does that mean?" Deardrelle said. 

"What all emerged in the past couple of years, after the race riots?" 

"You mean protests?" Jessica said. 

"Burning buildings was a protest?" Barbara asked. 

"There was the Black Brotherhood movement," Stanley said.

"Black Brothers Advancements," Ann stated. 

"Gang attacks," Stanley mentioned. 

Joseph remained silent. 

"I suppose either of you could have contacted them, looked into what they have to offer," Barbara said slyly. 

"We did no such thing," Jessica said firmly. 

"Well, now, let's look at this from their perspective, Jess," Deardrelle said. 

She looked at him startled. 

"Deardrelle, are you saying, . . " 

Deardrelle looked at her, actually with a hint of disappointment. 

"No, I'm not saying or admitting to anything of the kind, but it does seem only logical that they would have to examine such possibilities as well." 

Deardrelle looked at Jessica. 

"Have you ever, . . ?" he started. 

She eyed him coldly. 

"I most certainly have not!" 

"How do we know?" Ann asked. 

Jessica gave her a straighforward look as well. 

"When would I have the time?"

"Well, when would any of us have the time?" Barbara stated. 

Deardrelle raised a hand to Barbara, then turned to Jessica. 

"So now," he started, "they seem to suspect us, but then you and I, aside from knowing each other from meetings or passing in the hallway, really don't know that much about each other, do we?"

Jessica stared at him, unblinking. 

"We always know who is and isn't affiliated with racial factions," she told him. 

"Why?" Stanley asked. "Because you're black." 

Jessica remained fixated on Deardrelle. 

"We always know," she repeated. 

"We can tell. We are aware of decisions made involving the black race, our race, what one wants and what one is willing to do, don't we, Deardrelle?" 

No one said anything. 

"Is that true, Deardrelle?" Joseph asked, standing up. 

Deardrelle remained staring at Jessica, but slowly he moved away from her. 

"Are you trying to tell us that because the two of you aren't white, you know what each other thinks and feels in regards to race?" Joseph asked, moving closer. 

"It's ah, . . . it's a . . . .historical thing," Deardrelle said, continuing to look at Jessica. 

"You two were involved once?" Ann inquired. 

"No," Jessica answered, breaking the gaze to turn to her. Deardrelle moved away a bit more from Jessica. 

"Well, what are you saying?" Stanley questioned. 

Jessica turned back to Deardrelle, who no longer observed her. 

"It's a . . . . heritage deal," Deardrelle sought to explain, "concerning our people." 

Stanley spoke quietly, "well, now I don't understand," he said to Barbara, "are Deardrelle and Jessica related?" 

Barbara shushed Stanley and turned back to Deardrelle and Jessica. 

"It's our racial history," Jessica said, continuing, "who we are and who our people, our ancestors were. We share the anger and the emtoion."

"And since we're white," Joseph began, "we can't relate? Right?" 

"How could you, Joseph, any of you?" Jessica asked.

"We may not understand or relate to alienation or hatred based on your genetic history," Joseph started, "but rest assured, Deardrelle, I am telling the truth when I have never judged anyone by skin color."

Upon hearing such cliched words, Deardrelle barely got out an eyeroll in Jessica's direction when he saw her expression take of a rather startled look. 

Before he knew it, in a split-second, caught totally unaware, Deardrelle felt a pair of hands placed once again on his cheeks, running along his jawline, pulling him closer to the soft, youthful coutenance of Joseph's open mouth. Before Deardrelle could act, Joseph had him firmly caught in another passionate kiss, excuding pressure Deardrelle could not break from. He reached up to grab Joseph's wrists, but the little fellow held tight. Deardrelle looked at Joseph up close to see his eyelids, his head turning with each motion of the kiss. Deardrelle literally seemed to be having the air drawn from his lungs. The force of Joseph's tongue in his mouth seemed to prevent Deardrelle from even thinking what he should try to do next. Joseph still hadn't opened his eyes and Deardrelle felt himself beginning to close his. 

"Joseph!" Jessica yelled. 

Someone laughed. It may have been Stanley. 

As the lips parted, hot breath came out of both mouths. Joseph slowly opened his eyes. In unison, as Joseph moved his hands from Deardrelle's face, Deardrelle released his wrists. 

They parted. 

Joseph looked at Deardrelle, straight in his eyes. 

"I am not a racist," Joseph said quietly. 

"No one said you are," Deardrelle said to him, holding his gaze. 

"No one called you a racist," Jessica said more forcibly. 

"This has certainly turned into quite an interesting evening, I must say," Stanley said with a slight chuckle. 

"Are you allright, Deardrelle?" Jessica asked as DEardrelle continued observing Joseph. 

"Of course," he responded, finally moving away, "I'm fine." 

Deardrelle made his way to the small tabulating device still nestled in it's case. He exhaled. 

"I think we are ready to vote," he told the others. 

Deardrelle examined the six buttons, each under their respective names, and upon establishing what was needed, he pressed three buttons, then handed the device out to Joseph. 

Jessica reached across and took hold of it. 

"I'll go next," she said. She looked at the panel. 

"How do we . . . " she started, then said, "okay, I got it." 

After she pressed three buttons, she coldly held it out to Joseph. Joseph followed suit, then handed it to Jessica. 

"That was easy," Joseph said. 

Deardrelle had moved down to the other side of the table, near Stanley. 

Barbara was next, making her entries on the observations they had all engaged in that evening. She handed it over to Ann. 

"I don't want to do it." 

"Ann, don't be ridiculous," Barbara scolded. 

"Just press three buttons or however the setup may be," Stanley suggested. 

Ann looked at the surface, made three hasty pucnhes, then discarded the device in Stanley's direction, as if it might contaminate her. 

And the last entries were made. 

With that, Deardrelle took the tabulator, observed it for a moment, then turned to the door where Mrs. Hopkins had departed earlier, to see her return once more with her assistant. Deardrelle picked up the case and opened it to put the remote in it once more. 

"The deductions have been made," Mrs. Hopkins inquired. Deardrelle closed the narrow case. 

"They have," he replied. 

Mrs. Hopkins observed him. 

"Shall we then, see who were perceptive to the potential bigots in our midsts? See who got htem right, or did the bigots manage to trick the other three?" 

Deardrelle held the solf velvet case before him, just below his chest as he now looked at Mrs. Hopkins. 

"I think it is obvious what we must do," he began, gazing at her as he had Joseph after the kiss. Mrs. Hopkins looked back at him. 

"As you stated, we are here on business," Deardrelle said, "and the six of us here have more than excelled at our positions in this business, and the purpose of business is profit." 

No one else spoke. 

"We are persons in business, and in this business, as in any business, we are still persons. We must remain so," Deardrelle sid, unblinking.

In the merest of seconds, Mrs. Hopkins detected something was up. Deardrelle stood with his back to the others but they slowly came to various realizations. 

"What's that msell?" Barbara asked. 

Acrid black smoke began rising up from in front of Deardrelle. The smell of burning material became more noticeable. Then there was a faint sputter, a pop. 

Mrs. Hopkins took note of the velvet case Deardrelle still held before him, and now noticed he held it directly over the burning candle. There was another pop, a flash, deep flames encircling the case. 

The young aid sought to retrieve the case from Deardrelle, but he was not permitted. By turning the case sideways, this caused the flames to spread even more to the other side of the case. 

"What on earth?" Barbara said. 

Mrs. Hopkins appeared shocked. Her young aide hurried to retrieve a fire extinguisher from the nearby wall. As he retrieved it and approached Deardrelle, the fiery object was repleased and dropped to the table, where it was quickly extinguished by the ideal device. 

By now, everyone stood. Even Stanley. 

As the white smoke cleared, Mrs. Hopkins remained looking at Deardrelle. 

"Why did you do that?" she asked. 

Joseph approached and looked at the voting tablet. The case was melted and burned within the mechanics of the unique item, now visible as wires and small consoles. 

"What's wrong with yuu, Deardrelle?" Joseph asked, rather exasperated. 

Deardrelle didnt acknowledge Joseph and simply continued looking at Mrs. Hopkins. 

"Well?" she asked, her aide taking up her side once more. 

"Business," Deardrelle simply said. He wrapped a paper towel around the smoldering black ash and proceeded to wrap it all up together in as neat a bundle as possible.  

Mrs. Hopkins expression lightened, and she all but gave a nodding comprehension. 

"Of course," she said. 

"Then how are we going to decide who gets the bonuses, the promotions, for detecting the bigots?" Joseph flustered. 

Deardrelle turned and looked at the man for only a split-second, then back to Mrs. Hopkins and replied, "the three who made the highest profits get the promotions." 

The room remained silent. 

Finally, Mrs. Hopkins spoke, "as you wish, Deardrelle. At least, that information is still available for contemplation." 

With that, Mrs. Hopkins turned to leave, but stopped and looked back at the six people once more. 

"Thank you, everyone," she said, "but I must now retire to my chambers. The servants can show you the way out," and with that she turned to depart, the young aide following behind her, as she muttered, "a very trying day." 

The doors closed. 

It as Joseph who spoke next. 

"Why?" he asked accusingly. "Why did you do that?"

Deardrelle turned to him and said one word again, "business." 

"Don't give me that!" Joseph all but snarled. 

"You're going to leave three hateful bigots in the company with the liklihood of promotions?" 

"Look at them, Joseph," Deardrelle said, "do they look hateful?" 

Joseph stepped back, his face twisted with anger. 

"I won't look at them," he said. "I won't look at them or you ever again! I won't abide being around bigots!" 

With that Joseph looked at Deardrelle for one moment, then stormed out, a butler at the door waiting to show him out. 

Deardrelle turned to look at the quartet. 

"Why did you do that?" Stanley asked him. 

"As I said," Deardrelle answered, "business." 

"Same as Mrs. Hopkins said from the start. She could have fired the three of us and been done with it."

Stanley, Deardrelle and Jessica looked to Barbara. 

"So you were one of the three?" 

Barbara took a deep breath. 

"Process of elimination, I suppose," she said. She picked up her purse and continued. "It was never over race, or skin color or hurting anyone. I suppose it has always been business. Always been about advancing." 

"Thinking that being white would get you there," Jessica said. 

"Oh, what was white?" Barbara stated more than asked. 

"It was all about a naive young girl so infatuated with a handsome, blue-eyed young man, she'd follow him anywhere, including into some silly supremacist organization," she said, laughing at the end. "Supremacy," she said. "Look at what we have to offer in supremacy."

Her laughter stopped when she realized no one was joining her. 

"Maybe that was the lesson," she continued, "to realize what he wanted was not what she did and therefore, he wasn't what she wanted either."

Barbara looked at Deardrelle. "I was young," she said. "It happened long before I walked into this business looking for a job." 

"Was that about the same for you, Ann?" Deardrelle asked. 

The young girl looked up with a start. 

"How do you know I'm the third person," she asked. "It might be Joseph." 

Deardrelle sniffed and raised his head. 

"No," he stated, "it wasn't Joseph." 

"How do you know?" Ann repeated. 

"Right from the start, after Stanley admitted he had joined a hate group early on, Joseph said to Jessica that we know who all three of the persons are. Did you know Joseph was gay?" Deardrelle asked Jessica. 

"I had never met him before tonight," Jessica replied. "I hadly knew who any of you were.

"Joseph seemed to think it was obvious he was gay, as apparent as Jessica and I were black," Deardrelle explained. 

"I didn't know he was gay," Barbara said. 

"Neither did I," added Jessica. 

"I thought he was cute," Ann replied. 

"So you caught that early on," Stanley asked, "that Joseph regarded himself as not one with those of us who were white like him?"

"I think once he heard the issue, he had his suspicions," Deardrelle said. "He knew it wasn't him, but then, once again, when Stanley admitted to having joined a supremacist group once before, that pretty much confirmed it for him. He was with Jessica and me."

"So obviously you never joined a black brotherhood group?" Barbara inquired. 

Deardrelle shook his head. 

"No," he answered rather candidly, then proceeded, "and of course, once he kissed me, I knew he was gay." 

"You knew for a certainty?" Jessica asked. 

Deardrelle nodded. 

"Any particular way you knew for certain?" she asked. 

"I can attest to Deardrelle's kissing capabilities," Barbara said, looking back to Jessica, then forward once moer to Deardrelle. "If he said he knew from Joseph's kiss, he definitely knew." 

Stanley observed the butler at the door. 

"Well," he said to the others in his group, "I suppose if you were able to perceive all of this early on and really didn't need the contraption to confirm it for you, regardless of however well any of us have profitted at this company, you have definitely shown yourself to be acutely aware of another person's failures or potential." 

"Without a doubt," Barbara said, continuing, "we, ah, . . we do look forward to working with you. I think I can speak for my other two fellow misguided youthful deciders in our foolish past." 

"Absolutely," Stanley added, then carried on, "well, I believe we have completed this meeting. Ah, Deardrelle, if we are done, shall we call it an evening?" 

Deardrelle looked at Stanley and returned a rather sly smile. 

"Yes," he said, we're finished here, Stan. See you Monday." 

Stanley smiled back and proceeded to the exit. Barbara smiled rather knowingly, then she did likewise. 

Ann too gave a faint smile and seemed to whisper a very faint, "thank you" then made her way to the exit. 

This left only Deardrelle and Jessica in the room. 

"So," she said, "we're leaving." 

"Yes," he answered, "but not together." 

The pair strolled casually to the double door where stood the servant. Once they exited, he closed the door behind them. They then proceeded to the main door and departed the manor. The door was closed behind them. 

Off in the darkened distance, three forms of Stanley, Barbara and Ann could be seen approaching their vehicles and driving off into the night. 

Deardrelle walked with Jessica, but they said not a word. They reached her car and she turned to him. 

"We're not leaving together, are we?" she asked. 

"Oh, no," he responded. "I do have other matters to contend with at the moment." 

She smiled to him. He opened her door for her and she got in behind the steering wheel. Her window lowered as she said to him, "well, then, good night, and good luck with those other matters that need contending." 

And with that she drove away as well, leaving Deardrelle standing alone in the dark. He walked to his vehicle, opened the door and entered. He then cranked the vehicle. 

"I do have other matters to contend with," he said to himself, "such as getting a new phone to replace the one I lost tonight." With that, Deardrelle pulled the napkin containing the burned plastic device within from his pocket and set it on the car seat beside him. 

He then reached in his other pocket and retrieved the tabulating device for the three who joined the hate groups from his other pocket and momentarily examined it, before he returned it back to its concealment once more in his jacket. 

He then started the motor and left.