He came running up the stairs. First day as an intern and he was late. Late! How could he not have woken up on time? That couldn’t possibly be because of the excitement of starting out his career or the fact that he was celebrating with Mr. Daniels the night before and that Mr. Daniels eventually landed up being flushed down the toilet? *Sigh* Just another day in the life of Derek Quill.
Up he went the stairs huffing and puffing. “I…huff…just …huff…gotalittlelatesir…huff huff”. Mr. Reed looked up from his book, and managed to growl and sigh all at the same time. (A little like Derek’s dad actually- he always tried doing that, you know- growl and sigh at the same time- but it like, never had the same effect) "First day of the job Mr. Quill and you are late. I hope this doesn’t turn into a habit.” “No Sir- not at all sir”, gasped Derek, with his breathing coming around, and his heartbeat resuming its regular pounding.
“You do realize the importance of the job you have here – don’t you?” Continued Mr. Reed, getting up from his rather comfy chair. “After all the Claustrum Syndicate is THE oldest and most reverent Syndicate in the Order of the Quills that ever existed and we take our jobs very very seriously.” “Indeed”
“And trust me- you weren’t the only applicant for this internship-“
“I do understand Mr. Reed and am extremely grateful for this opportunity”
“Good. Now let’s proceed to the job at hand.” Mr Reed replied, heading into a long winding tunnel- a rather dark tunnel at that with little neon arrows (like the ones they have in airplanes) guiding the way. Throughout the tunnel, Derek could spot vents- little vents, big vents, vents the size of a rabbit, vents the size of a hobbit- all in all, he figured, it was an extremely airy tunnel.
“The Claustrum Syndicate is the oldest of the Order of the Quills, the order founded by the great Petrache Poenaru. As you know, the Order is a sum of multiple syndicates- At Claustrum, we deal with exigencies of the highest order and we have to ensure that our missions are accomplished at all costs!” Derek audibly gulped.
“There are no ground rules- we have to retrieve the tools anyhow. You must understand. The ancient Indians were the first to use the pen. All their Vedas, puranas- there was too much knowledge- too much to be written down- to be saved for posterity. Even at that time, we recognized the power of the written word- the power of a pen! Why do you think that “the Pentagon” was named what it was? A pen has turned the tide of many a wars. Voltaire once remarked” To hold a pen is to be at war”. And our intent is clear- There should be NO WAR!”
“So we just retrieve the pens? Without anyone knowing about it?”
“No- we knock them on the shoulder and politely ask them to hand it over to us.”
“uh-um”
“OFCOURSE YOU DUFUS!” Reed turned around on Derek- and quicker than you could say Jack Daniels, had him against the wall-“We retrieve the tools with the stealth of a neenja, as quiet as a tiiiger advancing towards its prey, leaving nooo traces behind. You got it?”
“Y- yes” he stammered.
“We have our systems in place all over the world- these tunnels link to a series of vents to everywhere possible- the UN, the CIA, White House and even….Oprah’s Office.” *Gasp*
“Our team of highly specialized professionals operates under a cover of secrecy and with great danger to their lives to retrieve these pens. People all over the world have, at some point of the time or the other, have lost their pens”, he said, now resuming the walk down the tunnel-“they seem to loose it all the time. One minute it was right here- and another, it’s gone. Keeps happening all the time- fountain pens, ball pens, gel pens, roller pens, markers- any kind of quill you could think of- goes missing.”
“But what purpose would it serve?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You think they said “The pen is mightier than the sword” without meaning it? We were the ones who took away the pen from Hitler when he was about to sign off the Nine Power Treaty and had we not taken away the pen at the appropriate time from Rowling, your dear Harry Potter would’ve been born a year prior- with a broom still- but as a school janitor!”
“B- but- these were important pens- why the others?”
“Use your brains m’boy. How long would it have taken it for them to figure out about us? Pens going missing from right under important noses”
“Of course- so you randomly siphon off others’ pens to make it look like a perfectly random occurrence”
“Exactly! Till date people have been blaming random, imaginary entities for the loss of their writing instruments- where do they go, who uses them- all these questions are but trifle. In fact, I have never seen more pens lost than in the year 1999, when in anticipation of the Y2K bug almost everybody was in the haste to write down the critical information rather than loosing it to their computer hard drives. Information that SHOULD NOT and MUST NOT ever be written down. I believe our sister concern – BIC- turned in a healthy profit that year”
“That’s great”, Derek remarked, as they entered into a room full of stacks and stacks of boxes.
“But what do we do with all these pens?” “What can we do? We recycle them. And the more important ones, of course, go to our museum. Anyways, now that we are here…”
Mr. Reed’s discourse was brutally interrupted by the sounds of blaring sirens- the room and the tunnels suddenly lit up with an eerie red light. “It’s an emergency”, he yelled over the din of sirens, as he tried to grab a passing young lad in a uniform. “Where is the Retrieval Squad off to?” “MTV is signing up Jersey Shore for another season today!! A travesty that MUST be stopped!! We must gather the relevant information immediately”.
“So Mr. Quill”, Mr. Reed said, turning towards Derek, “What are you waiting for?”
“Oh Boy! This is going to be fun!” thought Derek, as he mingled into the pandemonium around him.
