It was over; he had definitively announced his departure from Katika and turned his back on Woodford and his father.
His sprint away from the headquarters mirrored the chaos he had experienced in his life during a month as the COO of that company.
Going deeper through the corridors, descending the floors, and finally deciding to take the elevator from the 80th floor, John gasped for air like a seal, as anxiety and distress had seized him at his deepest core, opening a wound he doubted could ever close.
This explosive cocktail of intense emotions surged up his throat, causing him to vomit his last meal.
Upon reaching the ground floor, he decided he would take a walk towards the Golden Gate, contemplating his situation and future prospects in a world threatened by a destructive pandemic.
His company car, he would have to return it the next day to Rebecca, along with all the materials related to his former job.
But beyond that, he would have to confront the fateful moment when he would explain to the young secretary the reasons for his departure and ask her to join him in this perilous adventure of relentless struggle against his father's company.
On the bridge, he wandered and gazed at the distant horizon: nothing seemed to be in its natural order.
Even the clouds appeared different to John: too vast, solid, and menacing, almost corrupted and aligned with evil.
The symphony of birds also had a deeper tone than usual in his mind, evoking a funereal aspect.
A requiem in his memory, him, blacklisted by a demonic firm.
"Beautiful view," a voice said from behind him.
John jumped; once again, he had felt alone and abandoned in his meditation filled with the most negative thoughts.
The voice belonged to Mikhail, who appeared relaxed, although his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.
"How did you find me?" John asked.
Letting out a deep sigh, his friend replied,
"I know you inside out: every time you faced a difficult situation, you came here to recharge and reflect."
He paused for a moment and continued,
"In fact, I waited for you on the ground floor, and you walked right past me without even noticing. You looked quite miserable, and I knew you would come here, so I got in my car and joined you."
John looked into his best friend's eyes and sensed something mysterious about him that needed clarification. Clearly, he hadn't come solely to provide emotional support.
"I don't know if you're aware," he said grumpily, "but I just announced my departure from the company to Miles and my father."
He emitted a rough grunt.
"I want nothing to do with their madness," he concluded.
Mikhail lowered his gaze for a moment and said,
"I expected as much, to be honest, when you abstained. I knew at that moment it would lead you towards your downfall."
His downfall? What was he exactly talking about?
"Huh?" John questioned.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Mikhail declared. "The world is changing, new opportunities are emerging, but significant sacrifices must be made for the sake of the victors. I thought about it in the elevator, and in the end, I believe that if we were to vote again, I would declare myself ready to cooperate with the conviction that what we'll do will be beneficial for us and perhaps even for the world. It will be a foundation for the birth of a new post-pandemic society, and an incredible opportunity for us."
The young former COO was in disbelief: he knew his friend had the fire of ambition, the drive to conquer, and a leader's insensitivity, but to the extent of collaborating in a plan to destroy part of humanity?
"I don't understand you, man," John said, "Did you come all the way here to try to talk me out of this? Stop beating around the bush and spit out what you really wanted to say."
Mikhail shook his head, exasperated by John's impulsive behavior.
"You'll never change," he replied, "Always imagining that there's something hidden in the picture. I have nothing else to tell you; I'm trying to save you from the torment that awaits you if you don't reverse your decision."
He extended his hand, inviting John to join him in this madness.
"Join us," he said, "I'm asking you as the brother you never had, the one who loves you more than anything in the world."
Despair crept into John's consciousness, bringing tears to his eyes: after his father and Miles, now he found himself forced to bid farewell to his lifelong friend.
The path of misfortune, that was the road he had taken since the first day he chose to pursue a career at Katika, solely for the purpose of making his father proud.
It was a foolish choice: he could have become a lawyer, a doctor, an actor, or a journalist, and never have to endure such a hell, where the flames of dilemmas and the betrayals of his loved ones tortured him in his deepest core.
"I've made a decision, Mikhail, and it's final," he announced, "If you participate in this plot, become Satan's favorite minion, I won't say I don't care because that would be a lie: I care about you. However, we'll have reached a crossroads if you align yourself with them."
"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" his friend asked.
"Not an ultimatum," John replied, "I'm asking you to make a mature adult choice beyond your passion for glory and importance: it's Katika or me."
Without hesitation, his friend replied:
"It's Katika, but you knew that from the beginning".
John turned away and gazed at the San Francisco Bay.
"I knew, indeed," he said, "but you were right in the end: I still believe there's something hidden in the picture."
He paused for a moment and said:
"Go away, man, just go away."
"Not happening," Mikhail replied, "Not before I tell you that if you try anything to sabotage our plans, I will personally involve myself in neutralizing you."
It was too much for John, who slumped onto the sidewalk and buried his head in his hands.
"You wouldn't kill me, I know," he said.
"If necessary, and with the greatest sorrow, it would haunt me until my death, of course, but I would do it," Mikhail responded.
"Traitor," John declared instantly, "you're threatening me with death after 17 years of friendship, of brotherhood, all for the sake of a corporation? Money? Fame? You're turning your back on me for guys who absolutely, unequivocally couldn't care less about you and wouldn't have hired you for your current position if you hadn't been my friend?"
"Go fuck yourself, John," Mikhail retorted, "You and I both know who's the better of the two of us, the smarter, the brighter: I earned that position and would have gotten it, with or without you in my life."
He took a step back and made a gesture of cessation with both arms:
"But you know what?" he continued, "I'm tired of constantly being diminished compared to you, who's wealthy and charming, while I'm the poor guy without a girlfriend. Go ahead and kill yourself if you want to come after us, but forget about me."
"No!" cried the former COO.
Helpless and alone, John got back on his feet and grabbed Mikhail's arm, who pulled away, delivering an elbow blow to John's chin, forceful enough to send him sprawling back onto the sidewalk.
"Don't ever touch me again, that's a piece of advice," Mikhail said, "and stay on the pavement with the other losers of your kind, at least you'll be in your element."
He turned back to his car and opened the door. Before getting in, he looked at his former friend one last time and said:
"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—"
"I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference," John concluded.
The two young men looked at each other for an interminable moment, almost cut off from natural temporality.
The fateful moment of farewell had arrived, and each of the now former friends was deeply moved, even though they tried to conceal it as best they could.
"Robert Frost," Mikhail said.
"Our favorite poet," John finished.
The complementarity they had always shared manifested so cruelly in a moment of separation; it was as if they were detaching Siamese twins.
Nodding his head up and down, Mikhail said,
"The less traveled path, that's the one I'm taking today."
"You're mistaken," John replied, "it's me: men are more lost in madness than you think, and the easiest and most unjust path is the one most followed."
A loudly roaring bus passed by at that moment, abruptly cutting through the timeless moment and bringing them back to reality in a space that some might consider vast, but which both of them felt was cramped in light of the difficulty they were facing together, perhaps for the last time.
"Destiny is sometimes cynical," Mikhail said, "I met you when I was nobody and you were already the son of a great man, and now we part ways when I'm an important man and you've become one of the common mortals."
"It's not the irony of fate, but the cruelty of decisions," John replied.
What were the lines that came before the ones they had just quoted? Ah yes, now he remembered.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both,
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
They had learned this poem in college and had turned it into their anthem of friendship, the foundation of their desire to conquer the world, to travel through space and time in pursuit of inspiring perspectives.
He had given up on that dream and followed his friend to gain the favor of his father.
Then came the divergence, and he couldn't walk two paths at once.
One day, he will turn his head and realize that Mikhail, on the other path, has bent his back so much under the bushes maintained by his father and Miles that the reunion might sound a new beginning: his friend would embark on an untrodden, winding path.
The path of justice, and both of them will lay themselves there and seek refuge in that place where no man had set foot.
And even if such a reunion never occurs, John could never go back.
The entire difference will lie in the memory they leave in this world, if there's still any humanity left after the pandemic.
"I will love you no matter what happens, my brother, I will pray for you," John said, his face drenched in tears.
Mikhail lowered his head and got into his vehicle.
"Don't waste your breath, I won't go back either," he replied.
He started the engine and left the bridge, heading to a destination known only to him, likely his home.
John remained on the Golden Gate for another hour until he finally decided to head home as well, his heart shattered and his hopes destroyed.