The debacle of yesterday's meeting had left each member of the Board of Directors anxious about the impending moment of their final decision: to participate in the conspiracy or lose everything.
Usually, they would gather in the room with a great clamor of discussions and laughter, but on this day, the atmosphere was so somber that one could have thought one of them had just died.
Woodford entered the room, his footsteps heavy, and his gaze stern. His all-black suit matched a tie of the same color, creating such a contrast with the ambiance that John was convinced he had done it deliberately to add pressure to the minds of the board members.
Meanwhile, Mikhail kept his distance and didn't even glance at his best friend, which John found very strange. Nevertheless, he preferred to focus on the gravity of the moment, the high stakes of this extraordinary meeting.
The CEO took his place and placed his touchscreen tablet on the table, announcing with a hoarse and rather unpleasant voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, I declare the session of the Board of Directors open. Today, we have only one item on the agenda for discussion, which concerns the participation of each person seated at this table in the grand project. In agreement with Mr. William Katika, no debate will take place, as all essential details of this plan were already discussed yesterday, and each one of us has had ample time to reflect on their decision since then. However, you will have the opportunity to explain your choice if you wish to do so, and for a duration not exceeding 2 minutes. The significance of this project for the company implies that anyone refusing to take part must submit their imperative resignation from the Board of Directors after this session. We cannot tolerate any dissenting person continuing their role as a board member and thereby obstructing our grand project. Without further ado, those who declare themselves open to participating, please raise your hand!"
John felt a tremor from head to toe: the moment had arrived. It happened in a fraction of a second, and unsurprisingly, 17 out of the 18 members of the Board of Directors declared themselves ready to participate in this plot, including Davies and Mikhail (which left John astonished).
Equally stunned by John's refusal, the CEO opened and closed his mouth like a toad. Even his complexion, now delicate green, gave him the appearance of being sickly, which added to his demeanor.
With trembling hands and a piercing gaze, Woodford struggled to maintain what little composure he had left.
"Let those who abstain or refuse also raise their hand," he managed to utter. John raised his hand, feeling a surge of blood pressure that caused him intense pain.
"And may we know your exact position?" the CEO asked, his lips tightly pressed together.
"I abstain," John replied instantly. It was the only way to limit the forthcoming damage caused by his decision.
When the voting moment came, an odd purifying cold spread throughout his body, immediately followed by an electric shock he had never experienced before.
The purification, a true electric shock, washed over him. It was as if he had awakened from a long coma, and all the horrors he had committed in the past month became vivid in his memory, stirring something in his heart that he hadn't felt in what seemed like a century—remorse, shame.
The weight of the situation bore down on his brain. Perhaps regaining any sense of honor in society was now impossible, but a crucial realization remained in his mind, one where he had misjudged its significance, its true purpose: responsibility.
He felt the responsibility to fight with all his might against this sinister plot. The responsibility to try and reason with Woodford and his father.
But was it achievable? Was it even conceivable?
Faced with the enormity of the task ahead, with the entire burden resting on his shoulders, he felt like Atlas carrying the celestial vault.
The lives of millions of human beings were at stake. He had the mission to advocate for preserving the lives of millions of his fellow humans.
Even the greatest poets of ancient Greece couldn't have imagined such a situation in their most fantastic, improbable, and wildest writings. Suddenly, he felt like a different man, with a distinct existence and a different destiny.
He was the only one who didn't align with the participants in this ignominy. Therefore, his first task would be to explain succinctly, with insight and restraint, playing the game of indecision with finesse.
"John", said Woodford, "do you wish to clarify your position?"
"Yes", replied John, "first of all, know that my vote is that of neutrality. For now, I wish to abstain and take the time to evaluate the arguments for and against this program. To be entirely honest, I believe that Katika's glory lies in its present and future actions to restore the noble reputation of the pharmaceutical science we work for. What benefits will we gain from provoking a pandemic and trying to portray ourselves as heroes? Short-term profits, but what about the long-term? What future are we promising to this society? Conspiracy theorists are what they are, and they will always exist, whether we like it or not. Suspicions will swarm against us like a cloud of locusts. Trying to extinguish conspiracy theories is like trying to catch smoke. To reduce them, we must act with integrity. On the other hand... I naturally have trust in our CEO, and my instinct pushes me to trust him. I am torn, and time will tell me what to do, and then you will know my final decision."
He paused; those were his last words in his hypocritically veiled plea of doubt. In reality, he wanted to remain with Katika but advocate for a contrary stance to thwart the project by force of circumstance.
In each member of the Board's gaze, the shame of being associated with this criminal conspiracy could be seen in their vacant and fixed eyes. They seemed to ponder the words of the young COO.
Davies broke the silence and declared:
"I wish to speak".
Woodford nodded in agreement.
"In my heart and conscience", declared Davies, "I want to say that I made my decision under duress. I have a wife, children, and a family to protect. Losing them would be the death of my soul before the death of my body, and I would sink into the abyss of eternal despair. It's a risk I cannot bear, a fear I cannot fight. I hope that everyone, and by everyone, I mean all members of this Board of Directors without any exception, realize the madness of this plan. We will live, at least some of us, with the guilt of having participated in this crime. Eternal shame will be our burden in the prison of regret. Thus, our farewell to this life will be the wailing of our agony in which we will beg God for forgiveness for our sins. Let the management know that they have won my participation, not my conviction. May we go back in time before it's too late..."
Added to John's speech, Davies' words further weighed on the hearts of the members of the Board of Directors, except for Woodford. The latter made a deliberate choice not to let silence invade the room any longer and to immerse the occupants in planning to occupy their minds.
"The Board of Directors takes note of the voting result," he announced, "and does not request the resignation of Mr. John Katika, Chief Operating Officer, given that he merely abstained. This abstention is considered as skepticism, not opposition. The person in question has one week from today to make a final decision. Meanwhile, I declare the meeting adjourned."
With the sound of chairs scraping against the floor, the members of the Board got up to leave the meeting. But John knew from experience that Woodford probably wouldn't leave it at that.
"John, I would like to talk to you for a few moments," the CEO requested.
He was right—an encounter alone with his boss—and it did not bode well.
The last time, Woodford had been disappointed with John's humanistic and sentimental behavior and had delivered a few words of conversion to the path of evil.
Today, he felt betrayed. John knew that Woodford cared for him like a son, having known him since childhood, and he had believed that his will to corrupt him into becoming a "good leader," according to his criteria, had finally succeeded.
It was like a stab in the back for the CEO, and his affection for John would not diminish the immense pain of having lost the satisfaction he had felt with the young COO's transformation.
He had never suspected that John would never have the courage to work towards the deaths of millions of men and women. For him, massive layoffs were synonymous with immense evil capabilities.
In that sense, it was a common point he shared with John because the latter had socially assassinated Katika's former employees, and that act alone had made him a devil's servant, at least for an entire month.
The heaviness of the air was oppressive, and the unbearable anticipation weighed on the young COO: what would Woodford say?
The CEO stood facing John, motionless, with clenched fists, and his intense gaze expressed disgust.
In the distance, the church's bell tower chimed, as if spirituality was eager to penetrate the satanic lair that was the Katika Tower, completely corrupted by the thirst for gain and cowardice.
A mosquito intruded through a window and darted rapidly in all directions. This tiny Dracula seemed so similar to Woodford: oblivious and satisfying its desires with the blood of men.
Without further ado, John asked, "Miles, what do you want to tell me?"
But the CEO remained silent, perfectly still, with erratic breaths.
"Miles...?" John repeated.
However, his boss did not give him time to finish his question. Woodford raised his right fist to shoulder height and let out a savage exclamation, committing an unworthy act, betraying his attachment to John.
He struck him violently on the temple and watched him collapse to the floor.