Commentaries by Cynthia

*Note* Just a little creative expression or storytelling.

“What is this place?" Summer wondered, looking around in sad awe at the numerous rows of people hooked into machines known as telephones. She shuddered, feeling a chill in the air. “Have I been transported into a real-life version of the Matrix or the Twilight Zone?” In a dreamlike state, she weaved through the labyrinth of cubicles and sat at a desk with a computer. Reaching out, she touched the keyboard hesitantly.

On the screen appeared the face of a man in his thirties with sandy brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “Welcome,” he said in a flat, monotone voice. “You are in my world now.” His smile turned into a smirk. “I own you - all of you. In fact, you don’t even exist anymore.”

Summer gazed at the screen into his steely eyes and felt a tremor run through her. “Who are you?” she typed on the keyboard.

“You can call me The Wizard,” he answered with stern arrogance. “This is my kingdom, and you are in for the ride of your life. You will be told many lies during your stay here. But to make things interesting, you will also be told the truth from time to time. It will be up to you to decide whom to believe and whom to disbelieve. If you make the wrong decision, the consequences will be grave.”

“I don’t think I want to be here,” Summer typed back, glancing around in trepidation.

“Ah, poor thing,” The Wizard mocked. “My crew has been trained to smell fear on people like you.” He laughed condescendingly. “They will be most pleased to have you as their new toy.”

Summer reached out to type another question when the screen went blank.

“He’s right, you know,” sounded a pleasant male voice. Turning, Summer saw a dark-haired man dressed in gleaming tin from head to toe. He was leaning casually against the cubicle wall, looking at her with an open smile on his metallic face. “It’s all going to seem very real. But it’s nothing more than a game to us.”

For the first time, Summer felt a flicker of hope. “I know who you are,” she smiled, rising to her feet. “You’re the tin man. And you’re a good guy. I have watched The Wizard of Oz countless times. This is where I am, isn’t it? Oz, I mean. I’m in Oz.”

“Are you?” he asked, the smile never leaving his lips. “Or could you be trapped in your own bad dream?”

Confused, she frowned. ‘Why won’t anyone give me a straight answer?”

The Tin Man laughed. “Silly, girl. That’s not the way it works around here.” A sudden twinkle appeared in his clear-blue eyes and he seemed to elude kindness. “You have to remember the real reason why you’re here.”

Summer felt herself becoming more confused. “I don’t know how I even got here. It must have been by default. I really don’t think I would have chosen this place for myself.”

“You chose it,” he said with self-assurance. “Unless, of course, you didn’t.”

Recalling the wizard’s warning, Summer looked at him closely. “Now you’re just playing games with me.”

“But I’m the Tin Man,” he said, bending his armored arm and placing a hand over his chest. “I’m one of the good guys, remember? You said so yourself.”

Summer signed wearily. “I wish I could wake up. This is a terrible dream.”

“Now is that any kind of attitude to have?” he said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Making comments like that will not help you get through this maze you have conveniently decided to call Oz.”

‘I don’t understand.” Summer stumbled back into her seat and looked up at him. “Nothing is what it seems to be.”

“Bingo,” the Tin Man said, giving her a gentlemanly bow before turning to walk down the long corridor of cubicles. Curious, Summer pushed her chair forward and leaned to see him heading straight for a set of large double doors that said: The Wizard of Just Cause.

***********************************************************

At this point, there were only two options for Summer: lay her head on her desk and pray that she would wake up from this bizarre place in Astral Land, or get up and start asking questions about her new environment. She peered over the wall into the cubicle behind her and blinked twice at the sight she saw. Sitting at a desk and typing away was a winged monkey dressed in a hunter’s camouflaged jumpsuit. There was something hard and masculine in the unsmiling face, but a bridal portrait on the cubicle wall behind the monkey indicated that this creature had once wore a wedding gown, so the androgynous figure had to be female.

“Hello,” Summer said, hoping to sound friendly. “Could you tell me where I am, how I got here, and how I can get out of here?”

The monkey looked up briefly, then grunted impatiently and pointed a short, stocky finger at the cubicle to her left. Summer’s gaze followed the pointing finger, and her mouth fell open. In the middle of another cubicle stood the Wicked Witch with her envy-green complexion and pointed nose. But the figure was not frail and thin; she was all of three-hundred pounds and appeared to be some weird concoction of the Jolly Green Giant, the Incredible Hulk, and the Wicked Witch all rolled into one entity. The black eyes that stared back at Summer were small, beady and hawk-like.

“What are you looking at?” the witch snapped. “I don’t look like what you thought I should? Wake up and take a long, hard look at yourself. You are not exactly Dorothy, either.”

For the first time, Summer looked at herself and noticed she was dressed in a white flowing dress with large draping sleeves. Around her neck hung a necklace of beaded crystals and on her feet were a pair of white canvas espadrilles. “I’m - I’m a... hippie?”

The witch laughed unkindly and the whole building seemed to vibrate with her husky discord. “Don’t say that too loudly. I hate pretty, peace-loving liberals. Been known to eat them for lunch.”

“I can see that,” Summer replied, mirroring back the witch’s disgust.

At that moment, the monkey jumped to her feet and began hopping up and down while grunting in angry protest. Picking up a handful of paperclips and rubber bands, the creature slung them over the cubicle wall at Summer who stepped aside and allowed the objects to sail past her.

“It’s okay, my little pet,” the witch said soothingly to the monkey. “She will not get the best of me or you. That’s a promise.’

The monkey mumbled begrudgingly and sat back down to resume typing.

It was a longshot, but Summer thought it was worth a try. “Look, I realize we’ve gotten off to a bad start,” she said, glancing at them both. “But can’t we can look past our differences and be friendly with each other? For whatever reason, we’re stuck in this maze with each other, so can’t we make the best of it?”

“Why don’t you go smoke some pine cones?” the witch said with huffy indignation. “I don’t take orders from hippies like you. And for Christ’s sake - take that stupid flower out of your hair!”

“What seems to be the problem here?” sounded a deep voice. Turning, Summer saw what looked like a normal man walking down the aisle toward them. He was dressed in kaki’s and a stripped button-down shirt. It was only as he drew closer that Summer noticed the tufts of straw sticking out above his collar and around his sleeves. There was also a faint crackling, rustling noise that sounded with each step that he took. This was the Scarecrow, and to Summer’s relief, he wore a kind expression on his pudgy, boy scout face. “Well, would someone care to enlighten me?” he asked, smiling and coming to a standstill between the warring cubicles.

“It’s Summer,” the witch said, jutting a finger across the aisle. ‘She started it. I told her that all she had to do was be still at her desk, keep her mouth shut, and answer the Wizard’s e-mails, but she got mad and screamed at me.”

“Hey,” Summer said, shaking her head. “That’s not true.”
The monkey, leaping to her feet again, began nodding excitedly, as if to confirm the witch’s account.

“Is that so?” the Scarecrow asked, looking at the monkey, which grunted affirmatively. “Well, Summer,” he sighed in disappointment. “They are saying that it’s true so it must be true.”

“Scarecrow,” Summer said, reaching out and touching his sleeve. ‘Please listen to me - I didn’t mean to say or do anything wrong. I’ve had a hard day. Then they started teaming up on me, and really, I was only defending myself. I would like to be friendly with them. I even told them so.”

The monkey grinned, showing discolored teeth, then picked a nit from her hairy hand and ate it. Summer looked at the creature briefly in disbelief. “Come on, Scarecrow,” she implored, shifting her attention back to the man in the group. “Think about it. I’m the character most like Dorothy. Are you going to believe me or the green-with-envy witch and her little ape friend who threw paperclips and rubber bands at me?”

The Scarecrow scratched his head in confusion before appearing to become slightly offended. ‘Are you implying that I’m stupid - that I am somehow not capable of figuring this out on my own?”

“No, no,” Summer said wearily. “I’m just saying - people” -she glanced at the witch who had a gleeful expression on her face - “and things” - she glanced at the monkey- “are not always as they seem to be.”

“At this point,” the Scarecrow said with slow deliberation, “I don’t care who said or did what. I just want the work done. Don’t make me call in The Tin Man, because he carries an ax and he’s not afraid to use it. Does everyone understand?”

There was an exchange of glances between all the parties followed by a reluctant nod. It was only after the Scarecrow had walked away that a hiss came from the witch’s cubicle. “Great going, Summer. Getting us in trouble like that. This is all your fault.”

“What?” Summer said, raising her arms in a gesture of hopelessness. “If you’d be nice to me, I’d be nice to you. Then neither one of us would get into trouble.”

The witch stared back coldly. “I don’t do nice - not where frail little liberals are concerned.”

“You know what I think?” Summer said, holding the witch’s gaze. “I think you’re upset because you’re morbidly obese and very unattractive and you are just taking your ugliness out on me.”

“Oh, that’s going to cost you,” the witch said, pushing herself out of her chair.

An alarm sounded - beep, beep, beep - as the witch slowly approached Summer’s cubicle with a look of pure hatred in her beady eyes. Summer took off running as the beeping sound intensified, mingling with the witch’s evil laughter.

“Leave me alone!” Summer cried, waking up from her deep slumber. Then with a restless hand, she turned off the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was time to get up and go to work. “Damn,” she sighed heavily. “I’d give anything if I could find another job.”

- to be continued, or not -