Tabula Rasa

While flattering, two things struck me as strange about this invitation. Firstly, I only ever see the ambassador on the final business day of the month, each and every month. Falling outside of this cadence seems at odds with our long-standing arrangement. I was hired by the State as an Accountant, thirty seven years ago, and since my very first day the ambassador has always liked to run through the month-end reporting. Crunch the numbers, and all that. It’s pleasant in the business sense but has never been anything more. Not once a hint at pleasantries outside of those office walls. Secondly, I have never seen him eat. His entire trunk ribbed like a topographical map, a xylophonic vertebrae that rolls out a haunting tune each time he painstakingly unravels his spine to meet the eyes of anyone sitting across from him. I felt certain that his diet consisted entirely of dusty paperwork and jet black coffee, and couldn’t imagine what a dinner invitation might look like. Colour me intrigued. January 11th and I could hardly sit still, overflowing with excitement and raging curiosity. All day I expected an apology letter to land on my doorstep - a clerical error, so sorry. This invitation was intended for the other, more ambitious Accountant, biggest apologies. My nerves could hardly take it. I buried myself in mid-month reports but by the end of the working day, my invitation had still not been rescinded. It must be a genuine, intentional offer. Then, as happens with the standard chronology of time, January 12th was upon me. The day itself was unremarkable, a Saturday spent as usual - crossword, brisk walk to keep the heart rate up, a hearty lunch for fear of the evening’s potential starvation. Circa 4:47pm I slowly dressed and drove myself over to the address on the invitation. Driving felt sensible, assuming no alcoholic beverages would be imbibed, and it allowed me a slow lap of the perimeter before driving up the gargantuan driveway. Clearly it paid well to be an Ambassador of the State - I noted at least three fountains on the lawn, several many hedges perfectly coiffed into a rainforest of exotic creatures. I parked to the left of the front door, nose pointing homeward, noting with somewhat interest the seven other cars that were already stationed outside. My finger was barely at the bell when it opened. My hand barely at my racing heart when I noticed the banner, the balloons, the cacophonous explosion of party poppers. “SURPRISE!” The chorus rang loud and clear. I looked to the banner once more. “HAPPY RETIREMENT!” At the foot of the stairs, our host, the creaky gremlin himself. A strange glint in his typically lifeless eyes. My mind raced over the past few months, the reports we had gone over together, the numbers we had crunched. My findings had become more and more peculiar. I had asked something about the value of a lie, the price one pays for truth.