“Gaze Not At The Boundless Sky”A Novel

By Henry Lee

Henry Lee

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“Gaze Not At The Boundless Sky”

Whether we are aware or not, Greek mythology is a major part of our modern society, particularly in the realm of entertainment. The tales that unfold in a fair amount of famous literature and film are actually based upon Greek myths. For example, we are all familiar with Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, however, most do not know that Shakespeare’s play is a recreation of the Greek myth, Pyramus and Thisbe, as presented in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Nor are many aware that the myth Pygmalion, similarly documented in the Metamorphoses, is the same story expressed in the play by G.B Shaw, and the film My Fair Lady. Other examples in modern film would be the similarities between the 2009 film Avatar, and the story of Pocahontas. Ask yourself whether these similarities are a coincidence. I believe the answer is no. The answer lies within a concept known as the “Collective Unconscious”. Carl Jung the founder of analytical psychology coined this term. The “Collective Unconscious” is a form of the unconscious mind that stores and gathers experience. It is believed that the “Collective Unconscious” is comprised of certain archetypal forms. These forms can also be thought of as myths, therefore, explaining the consistent tradition of recreating these archetypal stories throughout history. It is through the creation of this story, that I have become a part of this tradition.

Henry Lee

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1

Steam poured out from under the bathroom door in apartment one hundred

twelve. It was a quaint apartment, organized to perfection. Each bookcase was filed

alphabetically, with every book fitting perfectly beside the other. The cases were

piled high with famous novels and short stories. The walls were bare, with the

exception of these bookcases and the occasional newspaper clipping from a recent

article. Carefully held up by a single thumbtack, each article, all equally important,

told a different story. One would not learn much about the owner from his home

besides the fact that he was probably a voracious reader. One wouldn’t realize his

deep fondness for writing if it weren’t for the small laptop sitting by itself on the

uncluttered desk or the tiny signature printed at the bottom of each article hanging

on the wall.

The shower was quickly shut off and the curtain swept aside. The man

emerging from the steam grabbed the newly washed towel hanging on the rack a

few feet in front of him. The towel rack was the newest addition to his apartment.

He rarely bought anything for himself; he felt it was unnecessary to have a surplus

of possessions. This was a characteristic his father would not have approved of. His

father had never actually been to his apartment; the man thought this, in itself,

showed a lot about his father. He knew his father would not approve of his austerity,

let alone understand the reasoning behind it. This was because there simply was no

particular reason. This is just the way the man preferred things.

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The towel was soft against his face. He dried himself completely before

stepping off the soft bath mat and onto the cold tile floor. His morning shower was

something he could not go without.

Icarus was a quiet man, with good intentions. Something that could not be

said about everyone he knew, especially his father. He wiped the foggy mirror in

front of him. Icarus stared deeply into his reflection. He saw a relatively tall man

with faded blue eyes. Icarus was handsome, yet shy and contained. It was only on a

rare occasion that one might see him outside of his work place. It was his primary

concern.

Icarus struggled as an author, and pressure from his overbearing father did

not make his life much easier. Icarus worked long hours. He had a deadline to meet.

He knew his novel would not write itself; yet he was drained of any creativity.

“Write about what you love. Write about your experiences,” he would think to

himself on occasion. However, what was it he truly loved? What was meaningful in

his life? These were the questions Icarus could not answer. His father had given him

everything; Icarus had earned very little for himself. He thought frequently about

writing the story of a man who simply left his previous life, a man who flew away

from his problems. Yet, he could not bring himself to do so. Icarus knew too well the

desire to leave; however, as much as he despised it, he was nothing without his

father. He was a man of portentous image. Respected universally, Icarus’ father had

earned everything for himself, something Icarus never had the opportunity to do.

With a slight squeak, the doors pulled back to reveal Icarus’ perfectly

organized closet. A group of suits hung neatly on his closet rack. Naturally, it was his

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father who had supplied Icarus with this array of fine clothing. Each of his suits was

the same, neatly pressed and hanging perfectly. To any onlooker, his suits were

incredible, each made of rare fabric and other fine imported material. What they

were not able to see was the interior of these suits. The inner seams were ripped

and fraying, creating a hectic mess, not to mention the pockets were truncated due

to a manufacturing error.

Icarus reached for the gray one, a suit that looked much greater than its

actual worth. His father was parsimonious when it came to money. It was their

secret.

Now dressed, Icarus rolled back his shirt cuff exposing his blue Timex watch,

another substandard gift from his father. It read 7:55. “Shit,” Icarus exclaimed. He

scurried down the stairs and out the door. He was meeting his father for coffee in

five minutes; his father had no patience for tardiness.

…

A man with sleek white hair, dressed in a blue pinstripe wool suit stepped

carefully out of his polished white Corvette convertible. The color of the car matched

his hair; one could not help but notice. He shut the door firmly before stepping over

the curb and onto the sidewalk. This man was clearly an impressive person. With an

air of self-importance he strode into the café. His steps were bold and crisp, each

filled with purpose. “Hello Darling,” he said approaching the counter. “I’ll have the

usual, and a ‘Times’,” he announced giving the woman a big toothy grin. His teeth

gleamed with a smile of polished arrogance. The man took a seat outside the café at

a small red table. He unfolded the latest edition of the New York Times. On the cover

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was a handsome, proud man, sporting a pompous look. It was as if he was looking in

the mirror. An amused chuckle escaped from Daedalus’ mouth, “There I am again.”

Hurried footsteps slapping against the pavement drew Daedalus away from

his own face. Sweating and breathing heavily, Icarus came to a stop, bent over in

front of the man. “I’m here Dad,” he exclaimed. With a look of disdain, Daedalus

responded, “Yes, and you’re late.”

…

Icarus’ knuckles turned gradually whiter as he gripped his briefcase. He was

sitting in the passenger seat of his father’s Corvette as they raced down Park

Avenue. Daedalus drove with pride and passion. Each shift in gear brought that grin

to his face. Daedalus loved to drive fast. This was something Icarus was never fond

of. Like most things, he and his father did not share much in common. For Icarus, it

was either his father’s way or “the highway”, and Icarus was not brave enough to

take the latter.

Daedalus performed exceptionally, never accepting less from himself, or

from his son, for that matter. Daedalus lived for perfection. He was the chairman and

CEO of his own publishing company.

This inclination began at an early age, as he realized he was quite intelligent.

Well above average, he rose quickly to the top. Graduating first in his class, he

eventually went on to study at Yale. Regarding himself as superior to his fellow

students, he decided to strike out on his own and dropped out after his second year.

From this point forward, he worked tirelessly to build his company. In time, he was

at the top once again having created an empire.

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His rising fame brought a few enemies but his millions of fans worldwide far

outnumbered them. Daedalus was a publishing powerhouse.

The engine roared as Daedalus sped down cross streets. It was not until he

was forced to stop at a red light that he turned to his son. “So, Icarus,” he said in a

mildly mocking tone, “what are you driving these days?”

“The Schwinn you gave me for my 19th birthday,” Icarus replied meekly.

Daedalus burst into laughter at this remark. However, the animation soon faded

from his face.

“You’re serious?” replied Daedalus disbelievingly.

“Yes, what were you expecting? I don’t have the money for a car.” Daedalus’

face became austere. Icarus shifted uncomfortably on the fine leather passenger seat

as he prepared for his father’s rant.

“My boy,” he began. “You ought to be more like me.” This was the opener to

many discussions he had with his father.

“When I was your age,” he continued, “It became apparent to me what was

truly important in life; how to succeed. This life is a grind, and the only way up is to

commit to being the best. How else could I have reached such heights? You’re my

son; success is in your blood. You better start acting like it.”

Icarus knew he was nothing like his father. As they drove through the city he

looked straight ahead. However, it was impossible to avoid his father. As Icarus

gazed out onto the sidewalks, he was met with those same cool gray eyes and

astonishing white hair. His father’s pompous smile was everywhere, covering

placards and billboards across the city.

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“Now, Icarus, first of all, you must be more outgoing. No one is going to know

your name if you don’t put it out there. Public opinion is what is truly important. If

they love you, you will be famous, just like me”, said Daedalus with pride.

“For example,” he continued. “You have the look; I bought you the suits. Who

cares if they’re cheap? They don’t know that. It is not what they know that is

important; it is what they think they know. When they see me cruising down the

streets in this white convertible, what do you think goes through their minds? There

is Daedalus. He is rich, successful and most importantly, he’s got style. They don’t

know I am renting the car for the day, and that’s good; it makes me look better. Take

a lesson from me, Son. I know what people want, and I know just how to give it to

them.”

The Corvette pulled into the corporate parking garage. Two valet men

wearing plain blue uniforms opened the doors. Daedalus stepped out of the car,

tossed the keys to one of them and started off towards the entrance.

“Have it ready for me at six, Jonathan,” he called back to the older of the two

men.

“Tip him, Icarus.” Icarus pulled two dollars from his wallet and handed it to

the man.

“Thank you, Icarus, tell Daedalus his car will be waiting at six,” replied

Jonathan.

Icarus scurried out of the parking garage entering the basement entrance of

the corporate building. To his surprise, his father was in the elevator holding the

door for him. This simple act of courtesy was unlike his father. As Icarus entered the

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elevator, he soon realized the reason for his father’s rare kindness. A young woman

stood to the left of Daedalus with her arms wrapped around a boy. He must have

been seven or eight years old, with sandy blonde hair and sparkling green eyes.

Icarus watched as his father transformed into a different person.

“Here for a visit?” Daedalus said sporting a friendly smile.

“Yes, we are visiting my husband who works on the fourteenth floor,” the

young woman replied.

“Ah, I see,” said Daedalus. “My office is actually on that floor as well. I own the

building,” he added with a wide grin extending across his face.

Icarus watched in sheer amazement as his father offered the woman a tour of

the building himself. In no time, they were speaking to each other as if they were old

acquaintances. When they got to the office, he offered the young boy a lollipop.

Daedalus, Icarus knew, had an innate gift for impressing people. Only Icarus knew it

was an act. His father cared nothing for this woman; all he cared about was his

image.

Icarus took a seat at his cubicle, which was situated near the east window of

the building. Being the owner’s son, he had the space of his choosing. There were

some benefits after all. His desk was perfectly organized, much like the one back at

his apartment. After placing all his items in their correct position, Icarus got up to

make himself a cup of coffee. He wasn’t able to get any at the café. His father would

not have waited for him.

The coffee had already been made for the morning, probably by one of the

early birds on the floor. The fourteenth floor was home to the majority of the

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company’s writers. His father hired only the best in the country, even stealing some

away from rival enterprises. Icarus had been hired by his father about a year and a

half ago. Since then, his writing for the company had improved dramatically. Icarus

had been working hard for the magazine; this is partly the reason for his absence

from working on his own novel.

As Icarus was pouring his cup of coffee, Talus rushed into the room.

“Morning, Icarus,” he said quickly. He was panting.

“In a hurry?” Icarus replied fairly amused. Talus was his father’s personal

assistant, as well as, Icarus’ cousin and colleague.

“Your father wants his morning coffee. You know how he is,” gasped Talus.

“He already had a cup on the way over this morning,” replied Icarus.

“Really,” he responded. Talus was clearly confused.

“You better still bring it for him,” Icarus said. “You don’t want to make him

angry.” Talus nodded abruptly and raced out of the room as soon as the coffee was

poured.

As Icarus strolled into his father’s office, he found Daedalus with his feet up

on his desk speaking on the phone, “Yes, Edward, the magazine will be published on

schedule. What? Of course, it is going to be our best edition of the year. Icarus has

written the top story. Yes, it is brilliant. I have read it myself. He is my son, isn’t he?”

Daedalus chuckled. “Only greatness comes from this family, Edward. You have

nothing to worry about. Yes, Goodbye.” Daedalus placed the phone in its holster and

Icarus’ heart skipped a beat.

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“Well, you heard me, go write something incredible. Don’t let me down, Son. I

need to keep my reputation,” Daedalus commanded.

From the corner of the room, Talus chimed in, “I could do it!”

“No, Talus, this is Icarus’ story,” Daedalus responded quickly. The brief look

of excitement immediately vanished from Talus’ face.

Icarus felt sorry for Talus. His father was frequently bossing him around,

forcing him to do simple tasks around the office. Talus was a brilliant writer;

however, Daedalus never used his work for the magazine. Icarus believed this was

because Daedalus didn’t want the spotlight to shift to Talus. However, this was just

conjecture.

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2

Talus awoke that morning to the tantalizing smell of bacon, wafting from the

kitchen stove, drifting slowly down the hall of his beautifully appointed house. It

was decorated with fine art from all periods and beautiful statuettes, which were

placed thoughtfully around the house. It smelled of mahogany and on this particular

morning, bacon. His mortgage was well above his salary and many visitors

wondered how he could possibly afford such a house. Few people knew of his first

novel. Talus, like his cousin, was a novelist. Unlike Icarus, however, Talus was a

great success. He was a child prodigy. At sixteen, Talus published his first novel. It

told the tale of a young boy orphaned during his teenage years, and his eventual rise

to complete success in society. After the release of his book, Talus had been on the

cover of numerous magazines and newspapers.

He was a star. “The next great writer of our time”, was the opinion of many

critics. In a sense, Talus’ book told the story of his life. Orphaned at fourteen, Talus

went to live with his uncle and cousin. When the book hit the shelves, it became an

instant best seller. The trend was fueled by an interview on Good Morning America

set up for Talus, of course by his uncle, Daedalus.

After the interview aired, everyone knew who Talus was. He had risen to

great success, much like the character of his novel. Daedalus had endorsed his

writing and, when it sold well, he claimed immediate responsibility for its success.

Talus had gained so much popularity that a new headline began appearing

throughout the publishing world. It read, “Talus, the new star of the family?” This, as

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you might have guessed, did not sit very well with the one and only star of the

family.

Talus remembered that day all too well. He was nineteen, three years after

the release of his novel. At the time, he was still living with Daedalus; it was the day

the headline first appeared in the New York Post. He feared Daedalus would have

something to say about the matter when he arrived home, and he was correct. Talus

slowly entered the garage in his car fearful that he might nick the sidewall. His

hands were now shaking and he was overcome with anxiety. Upon entering the

apartment, seeing only a large figure in front of him, Talus was heaved into the wall

behind him. He opened his eyes to see his uncle, breathing heavily in his face.

Daedalus looked almost maniacal as he stared at Talus. Talus felt numb all over; he

did not know what to do. He was truly terrified; he had never encountered his uncle

looking this way before.

“You disrespectful son of a bitch, I do all that work for you, making your book

a huge success and that’s how you repay me? What the hell is wrong with you?” he

screamed.

Daedalus frequently had bouts of rage, punching things and injuring himself

in the process. However this time was different.

Talus had never seen his uncle like this with pure hatred in his eyes.

Daedalus had seemingly taken no account that this was merely a headline. Although

clouded with fury, Daedalus probably knew somewhere in his mind that Talus had

not deliberately said, “I guess I am the most successful family member now.”

However, Daedalus did not seem to care to admit this. Talus knew why Daedalus

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was enraged, that the spotlight had shifted away from him. There was no stopping

Daedalus. Talus just wanted to make it out of the apartment alive.

Following this frightful event, Talus walked away a changed man. Reflecting

upon that moment when the two men had locked eyes, Talus knew that Daedalus

was capable of killing him. It reminded him of Kafka’s letter to his father. The two

young writers had encountered something many are lucky enough never to

experience, the look in a father’s eyes as he contemplates the death of his own son.

Talus was not literally Daedalus’ son, like Kafka and his father, but Daedalus was the

closest thing he had to a father. Talus was now indebted to Daedalus and it was this

knowledge that held him under his abusive grasp.

…

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As that flavorful aroma wafted down the corridor and gently tickled his nose,

Talus awoke. He slid out from under the covers and into the shower. The hot water

caressed his skin and woke him from his soporific state. The rhythmic patting of the

water against the floor of the tub soothed him. Talus quickly shut off the water.

Stepping out of the shower, he snatched up the towel and began to dry himself. He

began with his hair in an attempt to stop the water droplets from trickling down his

body.

Completely dry, Talus walked back into his bedroom. The enveloping

softness of his white shag carpet welcomed his toes. It was by far his favorite

addition to the bedroom. Now dressed, he strolled down the corridor and into the

kitchen. At the stove tending to the bacon that had awakened his senses was a

beautiful woman dressed in a nightgown. She was graceful and elegant. He often

wondered how it was that he had captured her love; that she had become his wife.

As he entered the kitchen, she turned with a smile. They greeted each other

with a tender embrace and a soft kiss on the cheek. Breakfast was almost ready.

The two sat down to eat before Talus had to leave for work. “Are you

working on anything special for the next issue?” his wife asked in between bites of

her breakfast.

“No,” Talus replied calmly, “Icarus is writing the main article for this issue.

Perhaps, I’ll be next.”

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His wife gave him a stark look, deeply disappointed. “When is that man going

to give you an opportunity? You write brilliantly! I don’t think he has even

considered giving you a chance,” she insisted.

“My chance will come soon,” he replied glumly. He knew in his heart that this

might never be the case; however, he would never have the courage to ask his uncle

if he could write.

“Promise me,” she said, “that you will ask him to write the next big article.”

“Yes, I will try,” Talus replied. Having finished breakfast, Talus left the house

with a feeling of uneasiness. He did not know if he had the courage to keep his

promise to his wife. He recalled the events of his encounter with Daedalus in the

foyer of the apartment he spent much of his adolescence in. Talus knew he would

never be allowed to become “The next great writer of the time”. He had seen a side

of his uncle that he never wished to encounter again.

As the garage doors opened slowly, Talus emerged in the silver Audi station

wagon he shared with his wife and pulled out of the driveway into the street. He

took his first right, following the large street signs in the direction of the highway.

Talus lived on the outskirts of the city in Weehawken, New Jersey. His house was

situated in a small neighborhood on the side of the town closest to the city, making

his daily commute more manageable.

Talus switched on the radio to the morning talk radio program he frequently

listened to. This morning was a piece on the “King” of the publishing world,

Daedalus. To many, the story may have seemed quite interesting, even inspiring.

However, to Talus, the conversation on the radio brought him nothing but nausea.

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Each and every word reminded him of the man whom had simultaneously spared

his life and ruined it as well. Talus could have been great; he was well aware of this

fact. His uncle’s jealousy had made it impossible for him though. As he drove

through the Lincoln Tunnel, the radio program continued. He knew what it was that

bothered him so much. Somewhere in the city that man, his uncle, who had

destroyed so much of what he had once lived for, was listening to this and smiling.

The silver Audi rolled into the corporate parking garage taking its place in

the back of the lot. Talus parked in the same space every day. He did not care much

about the walk across the lot to the staff elevator. He had no desire for the valet. It

was something he imagined his uncle would use. He wanted no part of it.

Talus prided himself on his sense of independence. However, this was ironic.

He did not need anyone to do anything for him, but he was far from independent.

Talus took nothing for granted and achieved everything on his own, but he was

lucky if he ever left his uncle’s side. He needed no one, especially Daedalus, yet he

lacked the self-confidence to break away. He was similar to his cousin in this regard.

Talus considered Icarus to be his brother, not by blood, but Icarus was the only

person in the world who could relate to Talus’ struggle. Icarus, however, was on the

other side of the spectrum. Icarus took everything his father had to offer. They were

both suppressed by the prodigious ego of Daedalus and, in this way, they were

united.

The bell rang and the doors slid open to reveal an empty elevator. Upon

entering, Talus pushed the button marked fourteen. It lit up immediately and the

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elevator began to move. Talus was alone, isolated in his own solitude. This image

described so much of his life. He found it quite depressing.

The doors opened to a bustling crowd on the fourteenth floor. Daedalus’

office was located near the back looking out over the entire city. This was where

Talus spent the majority of his day. He had a small cubicle of his own situated in the

middle of the floor; however, he rarely spent time there. Talus was now Daedalus’

“Personal Executive”, as his uncle liked to call it. To Talus, it was a hollow job title

because, in actuality, he was merely an assistant, a secretary, and a slave.

Talus emerged from his solitude making his way through the hectic

commotion to his desk. There was no time to sit down. He dropped his coat on his

chair, flung his briefcase roughly on his desk and raced off to Daedalus’ office.

He found Daedalus sitting comfortably in his chair admiring the city skyline

on this beautiful spring morning. The familiar pit in Talus’ stomach slowly began to

form at the site of his uncle; the man who had created him and, so quickly, destroyed

him.

“Good morning, Uncle. How are you?” Talus said, with the most enthusiasm

he could muster.

“How many times must I tell you, Talus,” Daedalus snapped. “When we are in

the office, I am not your uncle. Here you call me “Sir” just like everyone else.”

“Ok,” said Talus hesitantly. “But why must I call you “Sir” when Icarus can call

you whatever he pleases? We are all related. I’m sorry but I just don’t see the

reasoning behind it.”

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“I said it. That’s reason enough to stop your questions,” said Daedalus, “I

would like my coffee.”

Talus walked out of the room, defeated by his uncle once again. He had

become accustomed to the feeling. However, this was an improvement. Talus had

not questioned Daedalus in months, possibly years. He felt stronger, though Talus

knew it would take years for him to gather the courage to challenge his uncle

legitimately.

Talus was not the only one to notice his own change in demeanor. Daedalus

was well aware of his nephew’s growing confidence. Daedalus knew that Talus was

greatly talented, and this posed a singular threat to Daedalus’ success. Icarus was

content in life, or this is how it appeared to any onlooker. He got what he needed

from his father; Icarus had no reason to upset the status quo. In addition, Icarus did

not have the innate talent that his cousin possessed. Daedalus was not worried

about Icarus; he did, however, need to do something about Talus. Simply making

him read papers and fetch him coffee all his life was no longer enough to keep him at

bay. Daedalus needed to do something. He had a growing sense of uneasiness but

had not yet figured out his next move. He would soon. Daedalus knew that much.

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3

“Now boarding, flight 117 to Denver,” came over the loud speaker

throughout the airport. Ariadne sat in a row of cushioned chairs waiting for her

flight to be announced. She had been in California on business. Ariadne was

Managing Editor for the New Yorker. The magazine had sent her to hire a new

cartoonist living on the west coast.

Ariadne was a beautiful woman with long slender legs and dark brown hair,

which she often wore stylishly pulled back. Fashionable black-rimmed glasses

magnified her deep green eyes.

The previous week, Ariadne’s boss had told her to hire Thomas Russell, a

well-known illustrator and comic designer. The New Yorker was rapidly losing its

readership to the growing Daedalus enterprise. Declining in popularity, everyone at

The New Yorker knew it needed a boost. Naturally, the beautiful Ariadne was the

one for the job. Reflecting on her efforts, she saw her trip as a waste of time. Ariadne

had meticulously planned her meeting and had executed it perfectly. The only flaw

was that Daedalus had arrived first.

The meeting was to take place at a popular restaurant in downtown San

Francisco. Ariadne arrived, striding confidently through the front door, wearing a

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black silk skirt that clung provocatively to her slim figure. Her prey sat at the far end

of the bar; he had no clue what was coming. Ariadne took a seat at the bar next to

Russell, who was clearly in awe of her beauty.

“Hello, I assume you are Mr. Russell,” she said extending an elegantly

manicured hand.

“Yes that’s me,” his eyes lighting up, “can I buy you a drink?”

“Pathetic,” Ariadne thought, “he’s hitting on me already.” However she was

not displeased. It was all part of her plan. “Yes, you may, that is very kind of you,”

giving the man a cunning smile.

“Excuse me,” he called out. However, the bartender did not hear him.

Thomas Russell was unused to attracting attention. He was a cartoonist,

singularly focused on his work. He continued to call for the bartender, this time

waving his hands in an attempt to catch the man’s attention but he had no such luck.

Ariadne snapped her fingers loudly and the bartender turned around. “Yes,

darling, what can I get you?” the man asked.

“I’ll have a dry martini,” she said coolly, “and my friend here will have a…” Ariadne

paused, turning to Russell.

“I’ll have a beer,” he said, clearly embarrassed. He felt humiliated and

somewhat intimidated by this woman’s directness. Ariadne had made him feel

foolish. All was going according to plan; the bartender was a friend of hers. Few

people knew that Ariadne was so devious. Russell, like many before him who had

fallen into her trap, was clueless to Ariadne’s malevolence.

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As the two sipped on their cocktails, Ariadne began the conversation. “So,

Thomas, it’s alright if I call you Thomas?” not waiting for him to respond. “Right, so

anyway, Thomas, you are a cartoonist. Are you not?”

“Yes,” Russell began. “I am a cartoonist for the LA Times. I’m proud to say

that I have been for the past six years.”

“Wow,” Ariadne said fluttering her eyelashes seductively, “that really is

impressive.” A smile of sublime evil crept across her face.

Russell did not know what to make of the woman sitting next to him. Her

beauty took him in, yet he had a vague sensation that she was not what she seemed.

He couldn’t put his finger on it. This was surely like no other business meeting he

had ever attended.

“Thomas,” Ariadne prodded. Russell awoke from his daydream. “Thought I

had lost you for a second,” she said.

“Oh, I was just thinking about something. Sorry, where were we?”

“You were explaining to me about your magnificent job at the LA Times,” she

replied. “Your job is quite inspiring,” she said leading him on as she shifted

deliberately on the barstool. Ariadne’s skirt inched farther up her thigh, exposing

more of her leg

“Well, yes,” Russell continued, trying not to notice her bare thigh. “I have a

wonderful job; I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“That sounds lovely, Thomas. I am truly happy for you,” said Ariadne. When

she spoke his name a chill ran through Russell’s core. She knew she was dismantling

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him, piece by piece and she loved it. “Thomas, my dear, I have a proposition for you.

This is an offer you can’t refuse,” she said.

Saying no to this woman was something he could not imagine, petrifying to

even consider.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t we go back to your apartment, and we’ll talk

more business there,” said Ariadne.

“I actually have a lot of work in the morning so I shouldn’t be up too late,”

responded Russell haltingly.

He might as well have been quaking right there in front of her.

“Don’t be such a wet blanket. I’ll be waiting outside; don’t be too long,” she

said. With a smile, she turned and walked out the door. Russell was left paralyzed at

the counter not knowing what to do next. Resigned, he dropped a twenty on the bar

and followed this captivating woman out the door.

“It’s about time,” she said as he joined her. “Now, call a cab.”

The cab was speeding along; shifting lanes on it’s way back to Russell’s

apartment on the water. Ariadne had told the driver to step on it. Russell, although

uncomfortable with the rush, did not want to cross this woman. So, he simply sat

there waiting for further instruction. As Ariadne settled into the seat next to him,

she noticed the tense expression on Russell’s face. She shifted her legs a bit closer to

his. Russell slid away from her leaning closer to the door.

She turned to face him. He kept looking straight ahead not wanting to catch

her gaze. “Thomas, what’s wrong? You seem tense. Have I scared you?” she said as if

talking to a child. “Are you alright?” she continued, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

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“Yes, I’m quite fine,” responded Russell ill at ease, “what do you propose we

do back at my apartment?”

“Well,” she said with a wide grin on her face, “I have a few ideas.”

“Oh, well, ok, I suppose that’s fine,” he said faintly. “What exactly do you have

in mind?”

Ariadne unfastened her seat belt. Russell watched as the strap slid slowly

across her body and back into its holster. She pressed her body into him. Although

conflicted and trying to ignore this advance, Russell was sure she was the most

beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She raised her hand to the side of his face,

playing tenderly with a single lock of his curly hair.

“I had not noticed until now, Thomas, how handsome you are,” she

whispered alluringly. The words rolling off of her tongue like honey. He found this

hard to resist.

“Really?” said Russell, succumbing to her charm.

“Of course,” she continued, spinning her web of seduction. ”I find you very

appealing indeed.”

She wooed him with such equivocation. Taken in by her words, Russell began

to unwind lying helplessly before her. Russell was now hers for the taking.

Leaning closer still, Ariadne brought her lips just beside his ear so that he

could feel her breath. Russell’s eyes grew wide. She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

At this, he suddenly moved away from her.

“I am sorry, Ariadne, but this is just too much!” he said, his voice quavering.

“You are a lovely woman, but I don’t even know you!”

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“Thomas,” she whispered gently, “it’s alright, this is natural, just let it be.” His

breathe caught as she placed her palm gently on his left thigh. He knew there was

no stopping her. Russell slowly let himself succumb to her beauty; powerless now,

caught in Ariadne’s deception.

The cab came suddenly to a halt in front of Russell’s apartment. Ariadne got

out first. After paying the fare, Russell joined her at the front stoop. Pulling the keys

out of his pocket, Russell unlocked the door. The apartment was dark. He flicked on

the lights and standing before him once again, was Ariadne. She removed her coat,

placing it on the arm of his sofa. He followed her into his bedroom and gently closed

the door.

It was still dark when Ariadne opened her eyes and consciousness came

flooding back to her. She immediately recognized her surroundings and slipped

silently. Russell was still asleep on the other side of the bed. She tiptoed around the

room maneuvering in the faded light. After dressing, she made her way to the foot of

the bed. Lying on the ground were Russell’s pants. As expected, she found a think

brown wallet in the back pocket of Russell’s pants. She first examined the wallet,

trying intently to keep quiet. She went through his credit cards, finding receipts and

old movie tickets. Ariadne was surprised, however, when she pulled out the small

white business card with a large D printed across the front in bold type. In a smaller

font, running across the bottom of the page was “Daedalus Publishing Corporation”.

Anger surged through her. She fought to restrain herself from throwing the wallet at

Russell, sleeping soundly in bed.

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In her fury, after snatching all the cash in the wallet, she replaced it in the

back pocket of Russell’s pants where she had found it.

Ariadne arrived at the airport an hour later. She sat waiting for her flight

back to New York. Ariadne had to return to work the next morning with bad news.

She knew her boss would not be happy. Although Ariadne did not care much herself,

she had done her job. Thomas Russell was not a good fit for the New Yorker. She

was sure he had the talent; however, he was not the right person for the job. It was

on this adventure that Ariadne had come to realize the strain the company was

under. Daedalus Publishing was eroding their business. The New Yorker would soon

vanish from the publishing world. Ariadne knew she could do something about it.

She was ready to take on Daedalus Publishing Corporation.

“Flight 213 to La Guardia”, rang out from the intercom. Ariadne got up and

approached gate B16. She handed over her boarding pass, walking through the gate

and down the boarding ramp. She had a six-hour flight ahead of her to devise her

next plan. Ariadne thought fleetingly about Thomas Russell. He would soon wake to

the knowledge that he had become another of Ariadne’s prey. By that time, she was

absorbed in planning her new plot to destroy the Daedalus Publishing Corporation.

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4

That next morning, Icarus awoke with a feeling of nausea. He was consumed

with anxiety.

His eyes popped open, but his body wanted nothing but sleep. His father was

consistently overworking him at the office, and in addition he had the upcoming

deadline of his novel. As he lay in his bed, he tried to muster the energy to greet the

new day.

Icarus slipped out of bed and walked slowly to the shower. He undressed as

he went, leaving a trail of clothing across his floor. Now naked, Icarus stepped into

the shower and turned the shower dial. A sudden stream of hot water came pouring

out, immersing his body. Standing in the steaming warmth of the shower, Icarus

forgot about all of his problems. However his pleasure was only temporary. The

uneasiness quickly returned and Icarus was back where he had started.

Now showered and dressed, Icarus began to focus on his latest assignment.

The twentieth anniversary of the company was approaching and the day before,

Daedalus had asked Icarus to write the lead article for the largest edition of the year.

Icarus wondered why his father had chosen him. There were many writers far

superior to him at the magazine. His own cousin, Talus, was an excellent writer. In

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fact, he was the most talented writer Icarus knew. “Why had it not been Talus?” he

thought. These questions rattled around in Icarus’ head.

It finally became clear to Icarus. His father had assigned the article to him

because it was always all about power and an image of success with Daedalus. The

closer Daedalus kept the big stories to himself, the more likely the success would be

viewed as his own. Icarus, being his only son, was the closest anyone could get.

Now, the article was Icarus’ burden.

Icarus made his way to his desk deciding to spend the day working at home.

Sitting down in the small wooden chair, he gingerly opened his laptop. It was a Mac

Book Pro, a birthday present from his father. Icarus grazed his index finger across

the track pad, moving the mouse quickly across the screen until it reached the

bottom. He scrolled over the large Microsoft Word icon and clicked it. A blank page

opened on the screen. The cursor blinked, waiting for Icarus to type, waiting for the

contents of his mind to run freely across the pages of the document.

Icarus hit the tab button and the cursor jumped a few spaces to the right.

That would be the farthest he would get for the day. Icarus was aware that he

needed to begin the article soon. However, he was experiencing writer’s block. He

felt the same way while staring at the other blank document saved on his desktop,

labeled “Novel”. He now had two similarly empty files stored on his laptop. Icarus

felt nothing as he stared at these two files sitting next to one another on his

computer screen.

…

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It was now two o’clock; Icarus had wasted almost the entire day doing

nothing to advance either his novel or his latest article. His mind drifted away from

his work. The only thing Icarus could think about was his dry throat and his

increasing thirst.

Icarus left his apartment. Out onto the bustling streets of New York, he

turned right at the closest intersection and began to walk. He kept walking until his

feet felt heavy beneath him. It was only then that he decided to call a cab. Standing

on the curb, Icarus raised his hand. The first cab he saw pulled over and he quickly

jumped in. It was his lucky day.

The cab pulled out into traffic. If he had been paying attention, Icarus might

have seen the black sedan pull away from the curb a couple feet behind him.

However, he didn’t. Driving the sedan, Ariadne pulled close behind Icarus’ cab. Two

days ago, she had returned from her business trip and reported to her boss that

Thomas Russell would not be joining the company. She explained that he had taken

a job at The Daedalus Publishing Corporation.

When Ariadne gave her boss the news, he seemed almost indifferent. “We

will get the next one”, he muttered before going back to work. This lack of concern

incensed her. There was a reason The New Yorker was falling steadily behind in the

ratings. She felt that the company’s executives were to blame, her boss, in particular.

However, Ariadne was taking care of it. Her boss did not come to work this

morning, which left her in charge. Why he had not come in was a mystery to

everyone, everyone but Ariadne. So, as she assumed power in his absence, she

decided she would get to know her competition.

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Icarus arrived at the bar. Sitting down, he called the bartender over. “I’ll take

a Heineken, and could I have some chips as well,” he asked politely.

“Coming right up,” the bartender replied. Meanwhile out on the street

Ariadne had parked her car. She looked in the rearview mirror, fixing her hair

before applying her lipstick. When she felt it was time, she stepped out of the car.

Deep within her, Ariadne began to feel something utterly different, something she

had never experienced before. Ariadne was nervous. However, she did not pay

attention to this. She stepped up onto the curb and walked quickly to the door of the

bar. The sign above the door read “King M’s Tavern”. “The name’s curious,” she

thought.

As the door opened, Icarus turned and, for a brief moment the two made eye

contact. Ariadne’s heart skipped a beat. Icarus turned back to his drink and began to

ponder his hectic life once more. Ariadne took a seat at the other end of the bar, far

away from Icarus, as she did not want to meet him, not yet. Icarus had not even

noticed her; he was too busy drinking his second Heineken and munching on his

basket of chips. When Icarus was anxious, he tended to eat a lot. He felt stressed by

the amount of work he was undertaking at the moment as well as his apparent

inertia.

Countless minutes later, Ariadne finally felt comfortable with her plan. The

man at the other end of the bar seemed sensitive and distraught. Ariadne knew once

they began to speak, her plan would unfold quickly. As soon as she began, there was

no turning back; so she proceeded with caution.

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It was not long until Icarus caught a glimpse of the woman. He called the

barman over, directing him to give her a drink.

“Ask her what she’ll be drinking tonight. It’s on me,” said Icarus. He looked in

her direction, giving her a warm smile.

He stole another look at her as the bartender was giving her the drink.

“What is this?” Ariadne asked giving the bartender a quizzical look.

“Courtesy of that man over there,” he responded nodding in Icarus’ direction.

Icarus looked away quickly. He was ultimately a very shy person and had never

done anything like this before.

He made sure not to look at the woman again; he would not have known

what to do if she came over. Icarus eventually drifted back into his solitude. His

article now floated back into his mind. Icarus still had no idea what he would write

about. He could write a news piece, but that seemed rather boring. “A gossip page

might be fun,” he thought. Icarus had never done anything of that nature before and

he soon erased the idea from his head. Icarus simply did not have the courage; he

would leave those types of things to his father.

Icarus slipped into a daydream, pondering what to write about. It was the

largest edition of the year and he was to write the lead article. Icarus began to think

of this as a new opportunity rather than a burden. This put him more at ease. A light

tap on his shoulder woke him from his reverie.

He turned quickly to meet the eyes of the most beautiful woman he had ever

seen. Ariadne stood in front of him, “May I sit down with you?” she asked kindly.

“Yes, of course,” Icarus stammered. He was taken aback by her.

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“Thank you for the drink, that was very sweet of you,” she said sitting down

on the stool next to him.

Icarus managed to smile despite feeling so unsure of himself. He was

immediately regretting his decision to buy her a drink. Thinking back, Icarus could

not remember the last time he had a serious conversation with a woman outside of

work. The thought worried him.

“You’re welcome,” he said pulling himself together. “It was my pleasure. You

seemed lonely over there. I couldn’t help myself. “

“Well, yes, that’s why I decided to wander over here. You seemed lonely too,”

she said innocently.

“I am Icarus,” he said extending his hand.

“Jane,” she lied. “My name is Jane,” she repeated accepting his handshake. “It

is a pleasure to meet you, Icarus,” she said.

“Likewise,” he responded.

Icarus slowly began feeling more comfortable. She was beautiful, he thought to

himself. He could not, for the life of him, understand why she was talking to him.

“So, Icarus, what is it that you do?” she asked.

“I am a writer,” he responded.

“Oh, what have you written?” Ariadne continued.

“Well, I am currently working on my first novel but I am a writer for the

Daedalus Publishing Company as well,” he said.

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“Really?” she replied excitedly jumping slightly in her seat. “I love D

Magazine. I have read every issue,” she exclaimed. This was another lie, of course.

Ariadne hated Daedalus’ magazine. Icarus had no idea.

“You have?” he asked. “I have worked there for the past year and a half.”

“That’s great! You are a very lucky man to have a job like that,” she said.

“Between that and your novel, you must be keeping yourself pretty busy.”

Ariadne already knew how busy he really was. She had spent the last couple

of days researching everything there was to know about Icarus, his name and

number, where he lived and most importantly, the overwhelming disdain he had for

his father. Ariadne planned to get it all out of him. All he needed was someone to

confide in. Ariadne was going to be that person. She knew it would be easy to turn

him against his father.

“I suppose you are right. I do keep myself busy but…” Icarus paused.

“Is there something wrong, Icarus?” she said putting her hand gently on his

back.

“Truthfully, yes,” he said. “I am an unhappy person at this point in my life. I

am trapped within the confines of my father’s company. I simply do what I am told.”

“Why is that?” Ariadne asked, sliding her hand across his back, slowly

comforting him.

“I suppose it is because I have no say in what I do,” he said. “I play the role of

his perfect son.”

“If I may,” she interjected, “Who exactly is your father?”

“Did I not tell you?” he asked. “My father is Daedalus, he owns the company.”

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“He treats you this way?” she asked. “He always seems so kind and generous

from what I have seen on TV,” she said.

This was exactly what made Icarus so angry when it came to his father.

Icarus couldn’t help himself. He began to rant.

“No, you are wrong. Everyone is wrong about him. All they see is this great

guy but, in reality, he is a liar. He has managed to fool the public into thinking that he

is somehow magnificent. I am one of the few that knows what Daedalus truly is,” he

said.

“What is he really like?” she asked taken in.

“An asshole,” Icarus replied sharply.”

“So, why don’t you just stand up to him?” she said.

“I can’t. It’s just not possible,” he admitted.

“No,” she said, “it’s quite possible. All you have to do is broadcast it to the

world.”

“And how exactly do you propose I do that, Jane? How can I reach everyone?

I would need something…” Icarus stopped short. He now knew exactly what he was

going to write about. It was perfect. Icarus finally had the opportunity to tell the

world how he truly felt about his father.

Ariadne watched as Icarus came to this realization. She knew her job was

done. She had planted the seed and now would watch it grow.

“I actually have to go now,” Ariadne said apologetically.

“Me to,” Icarus replied. “I have to get home and start writing. You gave me a

great idea for my next article,” Icarus said enthusiastically.

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“I did?” Ariadne asked. “Well, I am glad to have helped. I really enjoyed

meeting you,” she said. “Do you have a number where I could reach you? We should

do this again sometime.” Icarus was startled by her suggestion.

“Yea, here’s my card. I had a really good time too,” he replied. Ariadne gave

him a radiant smile.

“Goodnight, Icarus,” she said leaning in slowly to give him a soft kiss on the

cheek. Ariadne smiled again and turned to go. She had executed her plan to

perfection. “I’ll call him soon,” she thought.

Icarus stood alone at the bar, stunned by what had just taken place. He did

not stay there long. Icarus rushed out seconds later; he had a story to write.

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5

The twenty-minute cab ride felt like forever. Icarus had finally figured out

something to write about. He never thought he would enjoy the prospect of writing

this article. Icarus had not felt such inspiration for a long time.

He needed to get home as quickly as possible, to sit down at his desk and

begin writing. This woman he had met at the bar was a miracle, almost too good to

be true.

Icarus checked his watch. It was only six o’clock. He knew that once he

arrived home he would not leave his desk until the article was finished, even if he

wrote all night. Icarus was going to tell the story of his life; the hard fought struggle

to find purpose living in the shadow of his overbearing father. Icarus planned to tell

the world how difficult it really was to be Daedalus’ son. It would ruin his father.

Icarus did not think of the consequences after the article was published. All he could

think about was the look of sheer terror on his father’s face when the magazine hit

the newsstands. Icarus imagined him telling Edward, his Managing Editor, that he

had already read it. Daedalus was a liar and everyone was going to know it. The only

thing that Daedalus had been truthful about was that the article would be great.

Icarus thought greatness was an understatement. For Icarus, it would be

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extraordinary. The world would finally see Daedalus for what he truly was,

despicable.

“Here”, Icarus yelped suddenly as he realized the cab was passing his

apartment. The brakes screeched and the cab came to a sudden halt. “Here’s twenty

bucks; thanks for the ride,” Icarus said tossing the money at the man before rushing

out of the cab.

“Wait,” yelled the driver, “you gave me too much!” So intent on getting into

his apartment, Icarus did not even hear the man. By the time the cab driver had

finished calling out, Icarus was already up the stairs and bursting through the

apartment door. It was strangely quiet except for the patter of raindrops across the

front windows. Icarus had not even noticed that it was raining on his ride home.

Throwing his wallet and keys on the couch, he scurried over to his desk. His

Mac Book was open and the green light was glowing; his laptop was fully charged

and ready to go. His heart was beating faster than ever as he stared at the blank

document. It was time for the words to flow out onto the page, it had remained

blank long enough.

Icarus laid his hands across the keyboard. The keys felt natural under his

fingertips. He was ready to tell his story. Icarus began to write, “So, you think you

know my father…”

Ten blocks south of where Icarus sat at his desk, Daedalus was finishing up

his work on the new anniversary edition. He sat comfortably with his legs up on his

desk on the fourteenth floor of the Daedalus Publishing Corporation building. The

desk was beautiful. It appeared to be quite expensive. However, Daedalus had

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instructed Talus to buy it at IKEA. He knew Talus would never tell. Daedalus knew

his nephew was absolutely terrified of him. It had to be that way. Talus had real

talent. It was hard to reconcile wasting such literary genius. Daedalus knew that,

given the opportunity, Talus would achieve phenomenal success far beyond that of

Daedalus. Daedalus was determined to prevent this from happening.

Daedalus had first discovered Talus’ gift when he moved in with them after

the death of his parents. It was a sad time for them all, especially for Talus. Daedalus

found a box of poems Talus had written shortly thereafter stashed away in his

dresser. They were the most beautiful, well written pieces Daedalus had ever read.

As the owner of a magazine a lot came across his desk, but Talus’ poetry was

exceptional, making a huge impression on Daedalus. This was an enormous

compliment that he would never share with Talus. If Talus knew the respect he had

for his work, this would weaken Daedalus’ position. He had his image to maintain.

Daedalus was cool and calculating. Warm and collegial was not his style.

Lately, Daedalus sensed trouble. It had started with that blasphemous

heading, “Talus, the new star of the family.” Daedalus found this to be ridiculous. It

had not only publically insulted him, but it questioned his success as well. The latter

making him most upset. Daedalus recalled how natural and organic his anger had

been that day when he stared into Talus’ eyes. He knew he could have killed him.

Talus knew this as well. It was Daedalus’ way of controlling Talus and it had

worked, until now.

Recently there was a certain air of rebelliousness about Talus. He was not

listening to Daedalus and questioning his authority. Daedalus was prepared to deal

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with this quickly if it became an increasing problem. He was thinking of something

along the lines of plagiarism, and how it can destroy a career. This was a drastic

measure to be held in reserve until Talus posed a serious threat. Talus was his

nephew; he did have some feelings for the boy. He could relate to him, more so than

his own son.

Staring out his window at the fading light, Daedalus could not stop thinking

about Talus. “This boy could be the end of me,” he thought to himself. If there was

one thing he cared about it was his reputation and he would not let Talus ruin it.

He was thankful that he did not have to worry about his own son. Icarus was

no threat at all. Daedalus was quite sure that Icarus was content with his lot in life.

Daedalus had always given Icarus what he needed and in exchange, he never had to

worry much about him.

Daedalus, however, was very wrong. At the moment, Icarus was in the middle

of writing the most consequential article of his career, the article that would ruin

exactly what it was that Daedalus was so concerned about. Since he began writing

two hours ago, Icarus had not left his desk. He had now completed two pages and

wasn’t even close to finishing. Icarus squeezed everything he could imagine into this

article. After it was published, there would be nothing left of Daedalus. He would be

reduced to ruin.

Talus, on the other hand, was sitting in his car at the moment, staring out

over the New York Harbor. He had arrived about ten minutes ago. Talus had not

gone home after work. Soon, his wife would begin to worry. Talus did not care. He

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loved his wife. She was also his best friend. However, at the moment, he needed to

be alone after an exhausting day at work.

Daedalus had finally let him leave the office around six thirty, an hour and a

half later than expected. Daedalus did this frequently having no apparent

consideration for Talus’ home life. Talus had grown accustomed to this. Finally able

to leave, Talus made his way down to his car. He sat there for about an hour before

leaving the parking garage. Talus would have remained there the entire night if it

were not for Jonathan, the garage manager. Jonathan was a kind and pleasant man,

with a warm smile and an air of consideration. He had noticed the solemn, solitary

look on Talus’ face and had quickly asked him if everything was all right.

Talus, of course, had lied. As much as he enjoyed and appreciated Jonathan’s

kindness, he was not the right person for a conversation about what was on his

mind.

“Yes, Jonathan, I am fine. Thank you. I have just had a long day,” he had told

him.

“I’m glad that you are doing well, Talus,” he replied. Jonathan might have

been a garage manager, but he sure was not stupid. Technically, he worked for

Daedalus too. Dealing with Daedalus on a daily basis, Jonathan knew exactly how

Talus felt, but he did not pry for information. Talus would speak when he felt

comfortable, and this was fine with Jonathan.

Feeling ready to leave, Talus put the keys in the ignition. The engine of the

silver Audi sprang to life. Pulling out of the garage, he stopped briefly at the

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entrance booth. Talus rolled down his window to give Jonathan a final “thank you”

and “goodbye” for the day.

“If you ever need anything, or anyone to talk to, Talus, you can call me,” he

said empathetically. This restored Talus’ faith in humanity.

“Thank you, Jonathan,” Talus replied, “I really appreciate it.”

Jonathan raised the gate and Talus pulled away. Back in the booth, Jonathan

was worried about Talus. He was becoming increasingly distant. Jonathan sensed

only bad events to come.

Talus pulled out into city traffic. Cars sped by him as he drove towards the

harbor. This was where Talus had gone frequently after the death of his parents

around the time he had moved in with Daedalus and Icarus. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Talus sat watching the boats in the harbor for hours. He stared intently at the

glassy water whose stillness was mesmerizing. The occasional boat going by broke

the peaceful surface of the water. Gazing at the water put Talus at ease. He reached

into the glove compartment for his roast beef sandwich, the treat he had saved for

himself at lunch. As he unwrapped the tightly bound plastic, he never took his eyes

off the water. He did not want to lose the feeling of complete relaxation the water

gave him. He had not felt this good in weeks.

He took a bite of the sandwich, still not letting his eyes drift from the water. It

was not until his phone rang, the noise vibrating throughout the car, that he was

awakened from his soporific state. He jumped, startled by the sounds that had

pierced the silence.

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Talus tossed his sandwich onto the passenger seat and reached for his

blackberry, vibrating against all of the loose change in the seat divider. Talus

checked the caller ID. He figured it would be Daedalus asking him to do another

useless task, or bring him something superfluous to work tomorrow. However, it

was not Daedalus, as he had expected, it was his wife.

“Shit,” he cursed. He checked his watch. It was nine o’clock. Talus had been

sitting there for an hour and a half and had completely forgotten about his wife.

“Hello,” he said trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Where are you?” Talus’ wife clearly sounded worried, perhaps even angry.

“Hi, Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I am coming home right now. I was at the harbor,”

he replied. Talus did not want his wife angry with him.

“What have you been doing?” she asked calming down.

“I will tell you when I get home,” he said. “I’ll be there soon,” he finished,

hanging up. Talus turned on the ignition and pulled away. Looking back in his

rearview mirror, he took one last glimpse of the calm harbor water.

…

Talus pulled the Audi into the garage and raced into the house. His wife was

waiting for him on the other side of the door. He gave her a big hug; he could tell she

had been terribly worried.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I am fine. I have had a long day.” This seemed to put

her at ease, but she could always tell when something was bothering her husband.

He was quieter than usual.

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Taking off his coat and shoes, his wife instructed Talus to sit down at the

dinner table. She went into the kitchen and returned carrying a large plate filled

with chicken, potatoes and an assortment of steamed vegetables. Talus wolfed it

down. The roast beef sandwich had not even touched his appetite.

Worried about him, his wife had not stopped looking at him since he began

eating.

“Talus,” she said, “you must quit your job.”

“I can’t,” he responded simply. His wife looked at him quizzically. She could

not figure out why it was that he put up with what Daedalus made him endure on a

daily basis. It was a mystery to her. Talus had never told her about that distant day,

long in the past. He did not want to scare her.

“He is my uncle, I am tied to him,” Talus told her.

“Just because he is your uncle does not mean you are forced to be his slave

for the rest of your life,” she said, insistently. “What is it then?” she continued, “What

could he have possibly done to you to make you feel such loyalty? I don’t understand

it.”

Talus now faced the decision he had hoped he would never have to make. He

had accepted the solitude his uncle had forced him into long ago. He did not want to

tell anyone about that day. “I must tell her,” he thought. Talus figured it was the only

way; perhaps it would make him feel better knowing he was not completely alone in

this terrible knowledge.

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He gazed deeply into his wife’s eyes, hoping that she would understand. Once

he felt comfortable, he began. “Ten years ago, before I met you, my novel was

published.”

“Yes”, she replied.

“Well, after it was published, a review came out suggesting that my novel was

better than any of my uncle’s work,” he explained. Talus could see that she was

slowly beginning to understand. “So, you know my uncle. You can only imagine what

he was like. However, this time was different. I had never seen him like that before.

His anger overwhelmed him. I looked into his eyes and, right then, I knew. If he had

truly wanted to, he would have killed me.”

“However, he chose not to,” Talus continued. “From that day forward, I felt an

obligation to my uncle. I knew that if I ever angered him again, or posed a threat to

him, he would squash me, my novel and my reputation like a bug.”

His wife was aghast. “Why don’t you just simply quit?” she suggested, “This

would not be challenging him in any way.” Talus knew the answer was not that

simple.

“I can’t leave. If I leave he can’t control me and, in that, I pose a threat to him,”

he said. Talus’ wife did not say anything more; she was deep in thought, searching

for an answer to her husband’s problem.

“I don’t mind the job,” he said. “I enjoy working at the company. I just wish

that I was able to write more, like Icarus.” Talus’ wife’s eyes shot up quickly at his

comment.

“Tell him you are going to quit”, she said.

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“What? No, I just said that is not an option,” Talus said flatly.

“No,” she said. “Tell him that you are going to quit unless you can write at

least one article every edition.” Talus worked the idea over in his head for a minute.

“He obviously won’t let you out of his reach, so he’ll be forced to keep you. You will

be able to write this way, it is the perfect plan,” she finished. Talus suddenly realized

that she was right; Daedalus would have no choice.

“Darling, you are a genius! That’s exactly what I am going to do,” he said

walking over to the phone.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Calling my uncle, this can’t wait,” he said.

Talus walked into the other room to make the call. His wife’s presence would

only make him nervous. Talus knew he had not thought this decision through, but,

logically, it would work.

The phone rang four times before the crisp and eloquent voice of his uncle

answered. “This is Daedalus,” he said coolly.

“Uncle, I need to discuss something with you,” Talus said, beginning to pace

nervously about the room.

“I’m listening,” Daedalus replied.

“Uncle, I have decided to quit the company,” Talus said, “unless,” he

continued, “you let me write my own articles.”

“Deal,” replied Daedalus, “is that all?”

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Amazed and slightly confused at the ease of this, Talus excitedly replied, “Yes, thank

you!” Hanging up, Talus raced into the other room to his wife. His smile was enough.

His wife knew everything would be ok.

Still sitting in his chair, Daedalus had gotten the phone call from his nephew

only moments before. Any hint of anger would have worried Talus, so Daedalus had

simply agreed. By acting normally, Talus suspected nothing. Daedalus knew that this

was coming. He had felt it building. He could no longer have Talus around. Even his

small demand to write a few articles was too much for Daedalus. If any of Talus’

writing were published again, it would put Daedalus’ reputation in jeopardy.

Daedalus had a simple solution to this problem. At this moment, he was

staring at the statement on his computer, which he would be sending out

momentarily. It stated that first and foremost, Talus was no longer employed at the

Daedalus Publishing Corporation. In addition to this, attached was essentially a

blacklisting to every major publishing company in the United States. It declared

Talus to be a liability to any publishing firm and requested that he never be hired

again in the industry. Daedalus stared at the document and then hit “send”. A feeling

of relief engulfed him. Talus was no longer a threat; he might as well have been

dead. Daedalus knew his problems were over. However, this was only a false hope

and similar to the feeling Talus was experiencing at the moment.

Still seated at his desk, Icarus had just ended the final paragraph of his

article. A smile spread across his face extending from ear to ear. Daedalus was

surely finished.

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6

That next morning, an email would be waiting in the inbox of every

publishing company across the United States. The president of each company would

read the email. Daedalus had accomplished what he felt was necessary. Talus would

have stolen the spotlight and this was the only way out. Daedalus had successfully

ruined Talus’ literary career forever in a single email. A slight feeling of remorse

crept into Daedalus; however, it was short lived.

Daedalus stood up from behind his desk; it was the first time he had gotten

up all day. He walked to the door and picked up his coat on the rack beside the door.

Before switching off the lights, he looked back at his computer, wondering if what he

had done was the right thing. Dismissing the thought; he flipped the light switch and

the room went dark. Locking the door behind him, he made his way through the

darkness of the office to the elevator.

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Jonathan had Daedalus’ car waiting out in front, as always. Daedalus liked

Jonathan, everyone did. Daedalus left the garage saying “goodnight” to Jonathan. The

drive home was quick and uneventful. In the car, he listened to a tape of his NMA

speech. The NMA’S were the National Magazine Awards. They were held every year

and Daedalus had won best Magazine for four years running. When Daedalus was

disturbed he would listen to his speech from the previous year. His own voice

soothed him, putting him at ease. Daedalus always kept the tape in his car.

When he got home, Daedalus dropped his things on the coffee table and

headed straight to his bedroom. He did not bother to change into his comfortable

silk pajamas. Tonight, Daedalus stripped down to his boxers, crawled into bed, and

drifted off to sleep.

…

Having gone back to work after her encounter with Icarus, Ariadne was still

at the office. It had been a productive first day as Executive Editor of the New

Yorker. As a major figure at the firm, just beneath her boss, Ariadne was offered his

position upon his mysterious death. She graciously accepted.

At the moment, she was on her computer looking at the current ratings of all

the top grossing magazines. Daedalus Publishing Corporation was first on the list as

it always seemed to be, followed by The New Yorker. This did not make Ariadne

happy; however, it would soon change. She had set in motion the precipitous

downfall of Daedalus. In fact, she knew she ought to call Icarus soon and make

arrangements to see him again.

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Only by chance, Ariadne checked her email before shutting down the

computer for the night. Just then, her inbox showed she had one new message. “It

must have just been sent out,” she thought. She read the email very closely, shocked

by its contents. Daedalus was clearly losing his mind. She knew he had no reason to

fire his nephew. He was a brilliant writer; she had actually read his novel. This was

good news for Ariadne. It had revealed that Daedalus was clearly vulnerable.

Ariadne saw a golden opportunity. It was now one in the morning. No one

besides her would see this email until tomorrow, especially Icarus. She would

arrange to meet Icarus in the morning and tell him the news. He would be clearly

confused, maybe even angry. To Ariadne’s delight, It would only cause more chaos.

…

Icarus woke suddenly that morning to the loud vibrations of his iPhone. Still

groggy, he rolled over to face his bedside table. The sound of his phone’s vibrations

was unbearable for Icarus this early in the morning. Lifting the phone, he squinted

at it through sleepy eyes; the caller ID read “Jane”. “Jane,” he thought, “Who the hell

is Jane?” Then it hit him, “Jane was the girl at the bar. How could I have forgotten,”

he thought. Icarus slid the arrow key across the touch screen of his phone,

answering the call. Suddenly he felt much more awake.

“Hello?” he said hastily.

“Hi, Icarus,” Ariadne chirped. The woman’s voice sounded bright and

cheerful, so early in the morning.

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“Jane?” said Icarus hesitantly. Ariadne was startled for a second, angry that

he had not remembered her name. Then she remembered she had not used her real

name when they met. She cursed at herself for forgetting.

“Yes, its Jane. Are you busy this morning? I would love to meet up again,” she

said.

Having worked on his article practically all night and only gone to sleep a few

hours ago, he struggled to remember their encounter.

“Of course, I would love to meet up,” he responded.

“How about Starbucks?” she offered. “Do you like coffee?”

“Love it,” he said, bending the truth. He did not love coffee. He drank it only

occasionally. Icarus experienced a rare sense of confidence when he spoke to this

woman and realized he enjoyed the feeling.

“I will meet you there in thirty minutes,” she said. “Does that work for you?”

“Yea, that sounds great,” Icarus replied. “See you there in thirty.” Icarus

clicked off the phone and hopped out of bed, rushing to get into the shower. He

jumped in so fast; the hot water had not even begun to flow. “I have to hurry,” he

thought.

Ariadne, conversely, did not have to rush. She was already dressed and

ready. In fact, Ariadne had not even gone to sleep that night. She was still at the

office, having never left. Ariadne had spent the night on the Internet, trying to find

out as much as possible. She needed to tell Icarus exactly what had happened and

why. “Hopefully, this would be the catalyst that would inspire him to confront

Daedalus,” she thought. So far, all was going smoothly according to plan. She knew

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she had captivated Icarus and felt confident that his article would be just what she

hoped for.

Ariadne did not leave the office for another twenty-five minutes; she figured

she would let Icarus wait a few minutes. It would only heighten his anticipation.

When it came to men, Ariadne knew exactly what she was doing.

…

It was a beautiful day; Ariadne admired the clear blue sky as she walked

across 45th Street before turning right onto Broadway. The weather had not been

this nice for at least a month, and Ariadne wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Once

crossing Broadway, she knew she did not have much farther to walk. From a block

away, she looked for Icarus. What she saw standing there in front of Starbucks was a

man who appeared completely different to her than the night before.

Icarus had not taken out his usual gray suit that was fraying horribly about

the edges. Instead, Icarus had decided to wear a suit he had bought himself just a

few days ago with his own money. His new purchase made him look more

sophisticated, prouder and more confident. Icarus was standing outside Starbucks

waiting for Ariadne. He recognized the crisp high-heeled footsteps clicking on the

pavement he had heard last night as Jane left the bar. Icarus turned to see her

walking towards him. From a few feet away, she was captivating.

“Well,” she said. “Don’t you look nice.”

“Why, thank you,” Icarus responded. “I feel like a new man. I believe I have

you to thank for it.”

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“It was my pleasure,” she said giving him a friendly smile. “It seems as if you

have found exactly what you were looking for. You seem happier now,” she said.

“Well, I am,” said Icarus, “I can’t thank you enough. Without you, I don’t know

where I would be,” Icarus went on. “It’s amazing. Before I met you, I was lost. I didn’t

know where I was going. But now, I know exactly what I want. You have changed me

forever, I am in your debt,” he said.

“Well, in that case,” Ariadne said warmly, “you can buy me a cup of coffee.”

“I would be delighted,” Icarus responded holding the door for her into the

crowded Starbucks.

Inside, the line was long. The space was filled with a bustling crowd. Icarus

could barely hear what she was saying not to mention what he was thinking. After

ten minutes, the two finally made it up to the counter.

“May I help you?” asked the short woman behind the register. She wore

rectangular eyeglasses and a black Starbucks cap that was ever so slightly too tight

for her.

“Yes,” replied Icarus. “I’ll take a tall café mocha and she’ll have a…” he said

turning to Ariadne.

“I will have a grande bold,” she replied.

“Would you like room for milk?” the short woman asked.

“Yes, please,” Ariadne, said quickly. “Thank you,” she said before turning to

Icarus and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. Icarus’ face went scarlet. Ariadne

chuckled at his expression and turned, walking over to the bar to wait for her coffee.

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With drinks in hand, the couple found two empty stools along the window, looking

out onto the street. Ariadne turned to Icarus.

“Has your father told you yet?” she asked calmly.

“What do you mean?” replied Icarus, now paying close attention.

“I can see what you mean now,” she said. “He truly must be a dreadful man

after what he did to your poor cousin.”

“What?” Icarus replied. “I don’t follow. What happened? What did he do to

Talus?”

Ariadne pretended to be surprised that he had not already heard the news.

She waited, giving him a quizzical look until he burst out once again.

“What! What did he do to Talus?” he said, his voice rising slightly.

“I am surprised you did not hear already. He fired him,” she said. “Talus no

longer works for the magazine.” Icarus was so confused he didn’t take the time to

ask her where she had found out.

“I have to go,” was all he said before jumping off the stool and racing out of

Starbucks. Ariadne watched as he ran into the street waving his arms and screaming

for a cab. When one finally stopped, Icarus jumped in, pointed straight ahead and

quickly vanished as the driver pulled away.

Ariadne knew she would not be hearing from him for a while. He was now so

entangled in his family conflict that he wouldn’t even think of her. She didn’t care as

this was what she was hoping for. The fact that Daedalus had fired his own nephew

would be enough to make Icarus release the article.

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Icarus raced into the corporate parking garage. He had called the booth

minutes before to tell Jonathan he would be arriving shortly. The gate was raised as

soon as Icarus turned the corner.

Icarus pulled into his usual parking spot. He grabbed his briefcase, which was

lying on the passenger seat and double-checked to make sure the article was still in

the side pocket. Icarus wanted to conceal it. He did not want anyone except his

editor to see the article before it hit the newsstands tomorrow morning.

Satisfied that it was still there, Icarus stepped swiftly out of the car. Shutting

the door, he made his way briskly to the elevator. Icarus knew his father had a

meeting at eleven o’clock. It was now ten thirty. He wanted to speak to his father

about Talus before the meeting. Icarus was thoroughly confused by the news. He

had a feeling there was something he didn’t know.

Luckily, the elevator was there waiting for him. The doors opened with that

familiar “ding” and Icarus stepped in. He pushed number fourteen and the elevator

began to move. Icarus tapped his foot nervously on the ride up. Doubts began to

creep in and he started to question his courage.

The doors opened suddenly and stepping out, the new emboldened Icarus

returned. He was going to confront his father. This marked a beginning. He was no

longer going to live in the shadow of his father.

Icarus strolled proudly through the office. His colleagues watched as he

walked by, noticing something different about him. Icarus felt the change; he was a

dominant presence in the room. This was new and Icarus was enjoying himself.

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“This is what my father must feel like every day,” Icarus thought to himself. “No

wonder he loves his life.”

Having made his way across the floor, Icarus approached Daedalus’ office. He

could now see his father through the glass wall dividing Daedalus’ office from the

rest of the floor. His feet were up on the desk as usual looking relaxed and in

command. Icarus was going to change this forever.

“Father, we need to talk,” Icarus said as he stormed through the glass doors.

“Tell me what you did to Talus.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Icarus,” replied Daedalus caustically. “I do

not have the faintest idea of what you are talking about, my boy,” Daedalus

continued.

“Bullshit,” Icarus snapped. “You fired Talus. I know you did and all I want to

know now is why,” he continued. “He is a great writer. You know you can use him

here. Why did you do it?” Icarus demanded.

“Well, if you must know,” Daedalus said, “Talus no longer held any purpose

here at the company. I figured it would be cheaper to get my own coffee,” Daedalus

said dryly.

“You’re sick,” he spat at his father. “He is more than that. He is a writer. What

you did isn’t fair,” Icarus said, raising his voice.

“Fair?” Daedalus said incredulously. His feet were now off his desk and he sat

upright in his chair. Daedalus struggled to bridle his temper with his naïve son.

“Grow up, Icarus. You’re not a schoolboy anymore. It’s not about what’s fair. It’s

about what is necessary,” Daedalus said.

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“I still don’t see why you fired him! There was no need, unless…” Icarus

stopped short.

“Unless what,” Daedalus responded.

“Unless you’re scared of him,” Icarus went on challenging his father.

“Scared of Talus?” Daedalus responded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Why, my boy, would I ever be scared of Talus?” Icarus was aware of the shift in his

father’s tone.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said. “You are scared he’s better than you!”

Daedalus was growing impatient. He could not deal with this conversation

much longer.

“Icarus, don’t be daft,” he said calmly. “The simple reason is this. Talus,

however talented he may be, was being paid to bring me coffee. I no longer wanted

the company to lose money paying for something I could simply do myself.” Icarus

did not believe him. He no longer had anything to say to his father. Icarus felt

defeated by the conversation but then remembered the article. His frustration soon

disappeared.

“That sounds fair enough, Dad,” Icarus said, “I am sorry I questioned your

judgment. I am going to get to work. Just call if you need me.” With that Icarus

walked back towards the door.

Before he could leave his father called out, “Icarus, have you finished your

article? The deadline is in two days.”

“Yes, I finished it last night,” Icarus responded. “I’m going to give it to editing

later and I’ll tell them to put it in the anniversary edition.”

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“That’s my boy,” Daedalus said proudly. Icarus gave his father a smile and

walked out of the room. He sat down at his desk waiting. Icarus looked back into his

father’s office and saw he was now on the phone. With that, Icarus got up quickly

and headed back to the elevator. Once the door had closed, he pushed twelve. He

needed to get to Editing.

Icarus had a close friend in editing. He had called him last night to let him

know that he would be coming by around noon. “I need you to do something for me,

discreetly,” is what Icarus had said. The doors opened and Icarus walked out onto

the floor. It was filled with huge stacks of unedited papers and machinery used for

revising. The editors were at their desks, most on their computers. Icarus walked

through the chaotic mess and down the back hallway to the very last door on the

left. He knocked and was greeted with a deep voice, “Come in”. Icarus opened the

door and found his friend sitting comfortably in his chair behind a large black desk.

The office looked out over the city.

“Quite a view you have there,” Icarus said smiling. The man stood up giving

Icarus a big smile in return.

“How are you doing, Icarus?” he said.

“I’m doing pretty well actually,” Icarus responded.

“You look like it,” the man said. “You seem different.”

“That’s what people have been telling me,” Icarus said, “I’m not complaining. I

feel good.”

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“That’s great to hear, man. So, what can I do for you?” his friend continued.

“Well,” Icarus said, “I need you to edit a paper for me. It’s the main article for

the anniversary edition tomorrow.”

“Ok,” he said. “That’s not a problem.”

“Thanks,” Icarus responded, handing him the paper. The man turned over the

paper in his hand and began to read the first page. The smile immediately

disappeared from his face. It was replaced by a look of confusion.

“Are you serious?” he asked, “You’re actually going to publish this? Does your

father know?”

“Yea, he knows,” Icarus said passively. “Just edit it and I will pick it up

tomorrow around noon.” The man looked clearly uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about

it,” Icarus said reassuringly. “It’s fine. Just get it done. I owe you one.” With that,

Icarus turned and walked out the door. The man was left sitting at his desk, stunned.

He was immediately regretting his decision to edit this article.

The elevator doors opened for Icarus once again revealing the busy

fourteenth floor. His colleagues were all getting their pieces ready to be published

for the edition. As Icarus approached his desk, a figure caught his eye towards the

back of the floor. Talus was standing calmly in Daedalus’ office. Icarus’ stomach

lurched. Daedalus hadn’t even told him.

…

Just fifteen minutes before, the same elevator doors opened for Talus. He

exited with a big smile on his face. This was the first day Talus had the ability to

write for the company. He was so excited and couldn’t wait to get to his desk to

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begin writing. Talus had not written anything that had been published since his

novel. He was shaking with anticipation.

When he walked into Daedalus’ office, his happiness evaporated. His uncle

was sitting at his desk, arms crossed, with a stern expression on his face.

“Talus,” he said simply. “I think it is about time you found a new job.” It was if

he had been punched in the stomach. Talus could not breathe. “Pack up your things,”

Daedalus directed him. “You need to be gone by two o’clock.” Talus nodded. He did

not even put up a fight. He turned around slowly and, for a brief moment, caught

Icarus’ eye. Talus immediately looked away. He passed Icarus’ desk silently. There

was nothing to say.

Talus left the office walking slowly down the hall. He hugged both arms

tightly around his briefcase and made his way towards the elevator. Icarus wanted

so badly to say something, but he also knew there was nothing to say. It was

finished; there was nothing either of them could do.

Icarus looked back into his father’s office. His father sat there indifferently,

with his feet up on his desk once again. The elevator doors closed behind Talus.

Icarus had an eerie feeling that would be the last time he would ever see him.

Later that day, the New York Police Department found the body of a man

floating down the East River. The death was ruled as a suicide. The man had jumped

off the Brooklyn Bridge around six o’clock PM, Eastern Standard Time. His name

was Talus.

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7

The news of Talus’ death came as a shock to everyone. Daedalus made a

public statement regarding Talus.

“He was a great man,” Daedalus began. “One of the most talented writers I

have ever known.” Icarus stood behind him, dressed sharply in the new suit he had

bought for himself. His arms were crossed; Icarus could not look directly at his

father. He knew this was entirely his father’s fault. The news of Talus’ firing from the

company had never officially gone public. As far as Daedalus was concerned, no one

knew what he had done. Icarus was not going to tell them either. The twentieth

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anniversary edition of the magazine would be out tomorrow. Icarus had no need to

complicate matters. Tomorrow the deed would be done; everyone would know

what his father truly was.

Icarus felt ill at the press conference watching his father as he spun a web of

lies to the public. Icarus stood there coldly until his father’s speech was over. They

walked out together, side by side.

“This should never have happened,” Daedalus whispered harshly into Icarus’

ear.

“This is your fault Dad,” Icarus said. “You can’t blame his death on anyone but

yourself.” Daedalus shot Icarus a cold look of disbelief.

“Oh, save it, Dad,” Icarus returned. “You handled it completely wrong. Even if

you did want him gone, you could have done it differently! You didn’t even tell him

not to come into work. You made a scene in front of the entire office! How would

you have felt?” Daedalus had not thought of it that way. “Not once have you ever

thought about anyone else but yourself,” Icarus said to him harshly. Talus was a

great man, and you used him repeatedly.”

Somewhere deep down in his soul Daedalus felt terrible. He acknowledged

the tragedy that he was responsible for. He gave Icarus a look of remorse. For a

fleeting moment Icarus thought that maybe, just maybe, his father would take

responsibility for his actions. Perhaps he would even apologize, but Daedalus’ face

shifted quickly.

“It’s business, Icarus,” he said dryly, "you’ve got to be tough and get used to

it.” With that, he walked away and got into the black car that was waiting for him a

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few yards ahead. Icarus was angry, although not surprised by his father’s actions. It

would all come to a screeching halt tomorrow morning.

It was now twelve o’clock. He had told his friend down in editing that he

would be there around noon. Icarus had run home to change. He needed a more

casual outfit for work today. He left his new suit hanging in his closet, next to the

others. Icarus had decided to get rid of the suits his father had bought for him over

the years. After tomorrow, Icarus would no longer need them. He would be a new

man, and the suits were another symbol of a past life.

Icarus pulled through the gate of the parking garage, waving to the ever-

friendly Jonathan as he passed the booth. He parked his car in his usual spot and got

out quickly, making his way to the elevator. Icarus had a busy day ahead of him. He

pushed the button for the twelfth floor. The doors opened with that familiar “ding”

on the twelfth floor. He made his way once again through the chaos walking slowly

down the hallway until he arrived at his friend’s office. The door was open this time

and his friend was inside talking on the phone. Icarus stood in the doorway and

waited. His friend raised his eyebrows, surprised to see him there. He waved him

into the office and raised his finger as if to say, “Give me a minute.” Icarus nodded

and took a seat in the large leather chair opposite his desk.

“Yes, Larry, I will have it edited for you by the morning,” said his friend. “Yes,

it will be done. Don’t worry about it. I have it completely under control.” The man

shot Icarus a quick look of annoyance followed by rolling his eyes. “Yes, goodbye,”

he finished. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath. “That guy just won’t leave me

alone. “Writers,” he said with a laugh. Icarus chuckled at the joke.

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“So,” said Icarus, “Speaking of pesky writers, have you finished my article?”

“Yup, it’s all done,” his friend responded. “Let me just…” his friend said

bending down to the bottom drawer of his desk. “Here it is, all finished,” said the

man. “Thanks so much,” responded Icarus. “I really mean it. This is huge.” Icarus

gave him a smile and rose slowly out of the chair.

“Icarus,” said his friend before he left. “Why are you doing it?” he asked. “I

know it’s not my place,” he continued, “but this could ruin him. Why are you doing

this to him?”

“Because he ruined me, and Talus,” Icarus responded coldly. With that he

turned on his heel and walked out. Not once did he turn back to see if his friend was

watching him, he did not care.

The elevator doors opened on the thirteenth floor. Surprisingly, Icarus had

never been to this floor before. It was the home of Publishing. This floor was much

different than the two floors above and below it. Unlike the chaos of people in open

cubicles and papers littered about on the other floors, it was calm and orderly. The

thirteenth floor was filled with small offices, each of which, Icarus imagined, held a

specific responsibility in the manufacturing of the magazine. It was here that they

designed the layout of the magazine. After that, it got sent to the fourth floor to be

finalized. The whole process was fascinating to Icarus. He realized that he played

only a small part in the process.

Usually, Icarus would have given his article to his father who had underlings

bring it down for him. However, with this article, Icarus knew giving it to his father

was not an option. Icarus decided it would be better to bring it down himself.

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Following the signs, Icarus was directed to a small office on the left side of the floor.

He made his way over to find a short man sitting at a computer facing away from

Icarus. He knocked softly on the doorframe, hoping not to startle him. The man

turned, surprised to see someone new in his office.

“Yes, can I help you?” he asked. The man had a peculiar voice. It was almost a

squeak as it left his throat; Icarus held back the desire to giggle.

“Yes, my name is Icarus. I have the lead article. I was told by my father to

bring it down to you,” he said.

“Oh? And who is your father?” the man squeaked.

“Daedalus,” responded Icarus with a hint of distaste. He was growing

impatient. Icarus did not have time to be questioned by this mouse of a man.

“Ah, I see,” said the man, “I am sorry for the questions. It is just that Talus

usually brings down the articles from your father.”

“Talus is dead,” Icarus replied coldly. The man’s stupidity was beginning to

bother Icarus.

“Oh, I had not heard. How terrible!” said the little man.

“Yes,” said Icarus. “He will be missed. But Mr…” said Icarus pausing.

“Sturgis,” replied the man. “I’m Mr. Sturgis.”

“Yes, very well, Mr. Sturgis, I am here to drop off the article as I said before,”

said Icarus.

“Oh yes,” the man replied. “Let me have it. I will add it into the magazine right

away.” Icarus reached into his briefcase for the article. He pulled it out of the zipped

side pocket where he had stashed it.

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“Here it is,” he said, handing it over to the man. “There is one more thing,”

Icarus said.

“Yes, what is it?” said Sturgis.

“My father gave me strict orders that no one is to read the article before the

magazine is released tomorrow morning. It is a special article, created specifically

for the anniversary edition. No one is to read it before tomorrow,” Icarus repeated

sternly.

“Very well,” said Sturgis, “I will make sure that is the case.”

“Thank you,” replied Icarus before exiting the room as quickly as he had

come.

Icarus was pleased with himself. He thought he had handled the situation

very well. Mr. Sturgis would not ask any questions. He would simply do as he was

told. Icarus’ work was over; all he had to do now was to wait. Having nothing left to

do in the office, Icarus took the elevator back down to the parking garage. Getting

into his car, he slipped out his Iphone and dialed Jane.

“Hello,” he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

“I just submitted the article to publishing,” Icarus said. “I’m taking you out

for dinner.” It was now four o’clock. “I will pick you up at seven,” he said.

“Let’s meet at the Starbucks we went to yesterday morning,” she responded.

“Fine by me,” he said, “See you there.” Ariadne was pleased. Icarus had done

his job. She would not be attending dinner; all she had to do now was disappear.

…

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He had not eaten since twelve, four hours before. Icarus reached into his

kitchen cabinet and pulled out a box of Frosted Flakes. They were his favorite and

had been since his childhood. Pouring the milk into the bowl, Icarus took a seat at

the small dinner table where he ate alone every night. “Maybe that would change,”

he thought to himself.” Icarus wondered if this mysterious woman would become a

part of his life. He sure hoped so.

When the large bowl was empty, Icarus stood up and dropped it into the

kitchen sink. He would deal with cleaning the bowl later. For now, he was going to

get ready. He wanted to look good for Jane. Icarus jumped into the shower, flipping

the water on. The warm water soothed him. Finished, he retracted the shower

curtain and grabbed his towel off the rack. Drying himself and walking casually into

the next room, he slid the closet door open and examined what was inside. The row

of suits hanging on the closet rack had grown since the week before. Icarus reached

in pulling a sleek black suit off the rack. Next, Icarus took out a scarlet red tie. He

held the suit and tie up in front of his body, turning towards the mirror.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

Icarus planned on taking Jane out to the Atelier at the Ritz- Carlton on Central

Park South. He raced out of his apartment. The streets were noticeably empty. He

needed cash. Icarus walked hurriedly down the street until he found an ATM outside

a small Capital Bank on the corner. Entering the booth, he plugged in his card and

entered his PIN number. He clicked the “withdraw” button and a blinking cursor

came up, asking him to type in an amount. Icarus thought for a moment, and then

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chose five hundred. He grabbed the money as it came out of the machine and

pressed the “no receipt” button before rushing out.

Icarus checked his watch. It was six fifty seven. He began to run. Icarus did

not want to be late for Jane. He wanted tonight to be special and being late would

not be a good start.

Turning the corner, he caught a glimpse of the green awning, illuminated by

the nearby street lamps in front of Starbucks. Icarus could see that Jane was not

there yet. “That’s good,” he thought. Icarus hoped to arrive before she did.

Icarus waited patiently for the next two hours pacing back and forth in front

of Starbucks. Not once did the thought that Jane wouldn’t show up cross his mind.

He was ever hopeful. However, after those first two hours he stopped looking up

when he heard footsteps approaching. Icarus sat down on a nearby bench and

stared at the pavement in front of him. He did not move until the sun came up the

next morning.

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8

Five white vans left the warehouse that morning. The Daedalus Publishing

Company warehouse was located just three blocks away from the corporate office.

The warehouse was a moderately sized building, filled with vans, each of which had

a large “D” on its side, representing the company’s logo. These vans delivered the

magazines to all businesses and newsstands around the city.

This morning, each van was filled to the brim with the twentieth anniversary

edition of D Magazine. On the cover was a picture of Daedalus standing proudly in

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front of the corporate office with his arms folded across his chest. He had that

similar pompous smirk that he often fashioned in many of his photos.

Each van stopped to make its first delivery at different newsstands across the

city. They moved to the next one and after that another, until the hundreds of

magazines were delivered. It only took about two hours until each van was empty

whereupon, they returned to the warehouse. The drivers had no idea that they had

just delivered the bomb that would set off a lamentable chain of events; first, being

the destruction of their employer. On page three of the magazine was another

picture of Daedalus. However, this picture was not as flattering as the one situated

on the cover. The caption under the photo read, “So you think you know my father,”

written by Icarus. The article ranged from page three to six, three entire pages of the

magazine. Daedalus had no idea.

Daedalus woke that morning to the bright rays of sunlight pouring in through

the large skylight of his apartment. He slipped out from under his spun cotton

sheets and goose down duvet. At the foot of his bed rested his velvet slippers.

Daedalus was quite pleased with his purchase. His toes sighed with contentment in

the soft quilted satin lining as he walked down the hall to his kitchen. His apartment

faced out towards Central Park. Daedalus walked towards the huge bay windows

overlooking the park; pushing a small white button on the side of the wall, the black

curtains quickly retracted. The apartment flooded with brilliant sunlight. The

apartment was magnificent, filled with modern furniture and finished with bamboo

flooring. Daedalus had designed it himself. It was the love of his life.

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Passing the leather sofa, Daedalus walked into his kitchen that faced out

towards the windows. Taking two bananas out of the fruit bowl on the counter, he

opened the large stainless steel refrigerator. From the bottom drawer, Daedalus

pulled out a small container of strawberries, followed by a carton of orange juice.

He threw the two bananas into the large blender next to the sink, chopped off

the tops of the strawberries and threw them in as well. A few ice cubes were the last

ingredient. Satisfied, Daedalus covered the blender and pushed ‘Start’. A great roar

engulfed the room as the contents were liquefied. Turning the blender off, the room

became abruptly silent. He poured the frothy mixture into a large glass and began to

drink slowly. Standing in the sunlight streaming into his kitchen, he mused upon

how much he enjoyed his morning smoothies. Daedalus loved them almost as much

as his velvet slippers.

Not far away, Icarus was still lying on the bench outside of Starbucks. It was

now nine o’clock and the city was coming to life. Icarus was awoken from his

uncomfortable slumber by the deafening blast of a truck making its way through city

traffic.

Startled and disoriented, it took him a moment to realize where he was. The

dreadful memory of the previous night came flooding back into his mind. He felt sick

to his stomach. Icarus had been let down, used by this woman. He had never been

stood up before. This was a first and what a disaster.

Stretching his stiff muscles, he climbed up off the bench. His new suit was

creased and dusty. He brushed himself off. Now, at least, he was presentable. Icarus

headed towards his apartment. Taking a warm shower was now the only thing on

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his mind. Crossing the street on his way back, he passed the newsstand and

something caught his eye. Taken by surprise, Icarus suddenly realized that today

was Monday.

“The magazine!” he gasped. He sprinted over to the rack, “Has the new D

Magazine been delivered yet?” he yelped. Icarus did not see it on the shelves.

“Yea,” the man replied indifferently, “Sold out though. Next delivery is at two

o’clock. Come back then,” said the man.

Icarus was ecstatic. “Thank you,” he yelled to the man, giving him a hug

before running off down the street.

“Yea, whatever, crazy,” the man grumbled before turning back to his cash

register.

Icarus sprinted all the way to his apartment without stopping until he was

through the door and into his bedroom. Jumping in and out of the shower quickly,

he was now clean and ready to head over to the office. He pulled out the gray suit his

father gave him and ran to the living room. Searching around the room for the

remote, Icarus spotted it in between the cushions of his sofa. He grabbed it and

clicked the ‘TV’ button. The small black television across the room sprang to life.

Changing the channel to the news, the headline was about the magazine. Icarus was

shocked. It had already made the news. A picture of Daedalus filled the screen. They

were speaking about the article. He turned up the volume so he could hear what was

being said.

“For anyone who is just tuning in, this morning, we are talking about the

newly released edition of D magazine,” said the newsman.

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“I have to say,” said his female co-anchor, “it is quite shocking.”

“Released today was the twentieth anniversary edition of D Magazine,” said

the man. “This edition has all the usual pieces, each spectacular, as always.

However,” he continued, “there was also a big surprise. Spanning from page three to

six is the cover article written by Daedalus’ son, Icarus.” Icarus smiled, staring

intently at the television, swelling with a growing sense of triumph. “This was it,” he

thought.

“This will be the end of my father.”

…

Now dressed, Daedalus sat comfortably on his white leather couch watching

the news. He was pleased that there was so much attention being paid to the new

edition of the magazine. Daedalus did not frequently read many of the articles. He

expected greatness and that is what he received from his writers. The newsman

didn’t say much more about the article, only reciting the title. “So you think you

know my father.”

The words spun through Daedalus’ mind, “Oh boy,” he thought, “it’s about

time I fixed this mess.” Daedalus didn’t even take the time to turn off the television.

He jumped in the elevator.

The doors opened, “time to act,” he said to himself. Daedalus rushed out of

the elevator. He was met by the angry eyes of every person in the lobby.

“Marcus,” he said to the tall slender man standing behind the desk, “do you

have a copy of the new edition of my magazine?” Daedalus looked down to see that

the man was reading it right then. “Can I borrow this,” he said taking the magazine

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before the man even responded. Daedalus scanned over the three pages and the

fearful look in his eyes soon turned to one of sheer terror. “No, no, no!” he yelled.

Daedalus turned and sprinted through the revolving glass doors at the entrance of

the building. Icarus had done exactly what he feared Talus would do. The office was

only four blocks away. Daedalus would arrive shortly.

…

Glued to the television, Ariadne was watching her plan deliver its final blow.

Daedalus would be gone within hours, and her problems would be solved. With

Daedalus out of the way, Ariadne knew that her own company, The New Yorker,

would soon return to its previous stature. She did not know who exactly would take

over Daedalus magazine now. Daedalus himself was sure to retire. He would be a

fool not to. She secretly hoped Icarus would be named Chairman and CEO, although

she knew it was highly unlikely. He was naïve and too inexperienced. “To be in this

game, you have to be a tyrant,” she thought. Ariadne knew that she and Daedalus

were not much different. Very few could handle the responsibility. Icarus, she knew,

was not one of them.

Standing on the street corner, Icarus whistled once, waving his arm in an

attempt to find a cab. The bright yellow sedan pulled over to the curb in front of him.

Throwing his briefcase on the back seat, Icarus climbed in. “

You know where the Daedalus Corporate Building is?” Icarus asked.

“Of course,” replied the man. “Did you take a look at that article in their

magazine this morning?” said the cab driver. “It was incredible. All I got to say is that

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Icarus guy’s got some balls!” Icarus chuckled quietly in the back seat as the cab

pulled out into traffic.

“I suppose he does,” Icarus replied, amused at the thought. He had never

considered himself in that light. People respected him now; he had never been

respected by anyone, really. A feeling of pride swelled up through his body. Icarus

could finally understand why his father loved his public image. It was quite simple;

the attention felt good.

“Right here is fine,” Icarus said to the driver as he pulled up to the entrance of

the corporate garage.

“Sorry sir, but the sign there says this entrance is for staff only,” the cab

driver said. “Would you like me to take you over to the main entrance?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Thank you though,” Icarus said smiling

giving the man his tip. “That guy you were talking about before, the guy who wrote

the article,” Icarus said, “you think he did the right thing publishing that?”

“Yea,” replied the cab driver, “I mean, if you’ve got a problem with someone,

you’re better off letting ‘em know, am I right?” said the driver. Icarus nodded still

smiling.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said. With that, Icarus turned and walked down the

entrance ramp to the garage. As he passed the booth, he gave Jonathan a friendly

wave and kept walking.

“Icarus,” a voice came from behind him. Jonathan stood outside the booth

with a copy of the magazine in his hand.

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“I have always been your father’s biggest fan,” he said, “but I know better

than anyone, that he can be difficult sometimes.” Jonathan held up the magazine,

“Was it necessary?” he asked.

“Yea, I think it was,” replied Icarus.

“Then I am glad you did what you thought was right,” he said with a smile.

“And remember,” he continued, “If you ever need anyone, I’ll always be here.”

Icarus could do nothing but smile. Jonathan was like the father he wished he

had.

“Thank you,” Icarus said, “it means a lot.” Jonathan smiled and ducked back

into the booth as Icarus turned quickly away, passing through the glass doors and

into the lobby. “Today is just another normal day at work,” he thought to himself.

Icarus stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. The

doors opened and immediately Icarus felt uncomfortable. As he exited the elevator,

looking in all directions and slowly making his way to his desk, he could sense every

pair of eyes in the room staring at him intently. However, he could not tell if they

were looks of scorn or complicity. Icarus wore a pleasant expression and walked

straight past the first row of cubicles until he could see his own desk. Whispers

engulfed the room. He knew that many of his co-workers felt the same way he did

about his father, unappreciated and underpaid, but this was not the greeting he had

expected.

Icarus gazed across to the back corner of the floor where his father’s office

was located. The room was dark; Daedalus clearly had not arrived at work yet.

Icarus wondered what would happen when his father did appear. “What was

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Daedalus’ next move,” he wondered. However, Icarus did not think for very long. He

reached for his briefcase and slid the slender Mac Book Pro out of its case and

propped it open on the desk in front of him. He reached into the top drawer for his

headphones. Icarus was in for a pleasant surprise. Besides the head phones, the

drawer was filled to the top with small folded pieces of paper. “There had to be at

least fifty,” Icarus thought. He pulled out a single note and unfolded it. There

scrawled across the scrap of paper was a single world, “fantastic”. Icarus unfolded

another, “great work” it read. The next was “bold move”, and after that “wonderful

article”. Icarus confused by the notes, looked out at his colleagues. They watched as

he discovered their secret notes and all gave him approving smiles. Icarus no longer

felt alone but supported by everyone in this room. It was heartening. The elevator

doors opened and everyone’s expression changed turning quickly back to their

desks. Even Icarus, in a sudden state of panic, grabbed his headphones and

disappeared within them staring into his computer.

Daedalus emerged from the elevator, panting heavily and red in the face. He

had sprinted four blocks to get to the office without stopping. He could not

remember running that hard since football season of his senior year.

He did not stop to look at anyone; Daedalus walked directly over to Icarus,

standing there until his son acknowledged his presence. Icarus could feel his anger

long before Daedalus reached his side but still he did not raise his eyes from the

computer. Daedalus stood there staring, breathing heavily. Icarus could no longer

contain himself.

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“Yes, what is it, Father,” he said, removing his headphones and turning his

chair towards Daedalus.

“How dare you speak to me like that,” Daedalus gasped, “especially after what

you have just done! Get in my office, right now.” It was as if he was reprimanding a

child. Daedalus grabbed his son by the arm, ripping him out of his seat and dragged

him into his office.

Daedalus shut the glass doors behind them and quickly drew the curtains.

Icarus felt alone isolated from the rest of the floor.

“Now, what the hell was that article about,” Daedalus yelled at his son.

“What about it?” Icarus said calmly holding his ground.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you these days,” Daedalus said, “but I

don’t like it, not one bit.”

“And why is that, Dad?” replied Icarus. “Is it because I ruined your

reputation? Is that all you care about? Is it?”

“What the hell does that even mean,” Daedalus responded offended by his

son’s accusation.

“It is,” Icarus said. “You don’t care about anything but how you appear to the

public. You’re a phony.” Daedalus’ eyes grew wide with fury.

“How exactly do you think you run a company?” Daedalus said enraged.

“What comes first is respect! You can’t get anywhere if people don’t respect you!

They will laugh and walk all over you. You can’t get anywhere that way, Son.”

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“Seriously, Icarus,” he continued, “do you actually think this company would

be as successful as it is if I didn’t act like this all the time? Half the reason why this

company is so successful is because people love and respect me. That’s a fact.”

“So, what are you going to do now that everyone knows you’re all for show?”

Icarus said triumphantly.

“I am not going to do anything about it, Son,” Daedalus said.

“What,” Icarus replied confused.

“You heard me,” Daedalus said, “I am not going to do anything. I obviously

have no support anymore, thanks to you,” he said. “They have you now.” Icarus did

not know how to respond. “You wrote the article. You are taking responsibility for

yourself. Now it is your job,” Daedalus said simply.

“What do you mean?” Icarus stammered.

“Jesus Christ, Icarus,” Daedalus said, “do I have to spell it out for you? It is

really quite simple,” he continued, “the company no longer needs me; they have you

now. I am resigning, giving my position as Chairman and CEO to you.”

Icarus could not believe what he was hearing. His day had come; this was

everything he had always wanted. Icarus no longer had to take orders from his

father. He was his own man, his own boss. Now, Icarus was in charge.

“I will let everyone know that I am stepping down and that you will assume

full control of the company starting tomorrow morning,” Daedalus said. “It breaks

my heart,” he continued, “that it had to end like this, Icarus. However, I suppose I

didn’t leave you much of a choice.”

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“I suppose not,” said Icarus. He was not tricked by his father’s false

confession; he was not going to fall for any of his ploys.

“Well,” said Daedalus, “I believe it’s about time to take my leave.”

Daedalus walked to the door, pulling the curtains aside and opening it for

himself. Before he left the room, he turned to Icarus. “I must warn you, Icarus” he

said. “This job is not as easy as it may seem,” said Daedalus.

“I think I will be just fine,” Icarus returned coldly.

“You must know that along with great power comes great responsibility,”

Daedalus continued. “I am not so sure you are up for it yet. I’m warning you now,

Son. Be careful; you have a tough position.”

Icarus was not listening anymore. He had turned his back to his father staring

out the window of his new office.

“Son,” he said, “are you listening to me?”

Icarus aroused out of his reverie, “Yea,“ he responded. “I’ll be fine. How hard

could it be?”

Shaking his head at his son’s stupidity, he continued his reproach.

“When you decided to write that article, did you even consider what would

happen afterwards? Are you prepared to take over this company?” Not waiting for a

response, “I am not so sure you are, Icarus. You are naive, truly naïve,” he finished.

With this Daedalus abruptly exited his office and out of the building.

Icarus remained in the office contemplating his father’s words. Quickly

dismissing any doubt, a triumphant smile came across his face, “I’m in charge now,”

Icarus said to himself.

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Daedalus did not exit through the corporate garage as he normally did. He

was no longer staff. To his surprise, he didn’t really mind. Daedalus had worried

about that damned company for twenty years. “Twenty bloody years,” he thought to

himself leaving the building. As he made his way up the street, with the Daedalus

Corporate Building receding in the distance, he felt a great burden being lifted.

“This is wonderful,” he finally said to himself, definitely feeling lighter. “I can

take a vacation.”

Daedalus was not worried. He knew now, with Icarus in charge, the ratings

would plummet. People would quit. Simply put, the shit would hit the fan. Daedalus

found himself amused at the thought. “Icarus needed this” he told himself. Daedalus

was no fool; he had noticed his son’s strange behavior the past few days. He knew

something was up. It wasn’t hard to get the scoop. However, he was incredibly

surprised when he found out about the article. He didn’t think Icarus had the

courage.

Daedalus realized that he had known the entire time and yet he had let it play

out. “If Icarus really could handle the responsibility, more power to him,” Daedalus

thought. But in truth, he knew that his son’s dream would be short lived. “I give him

a month,” Daedalus confirmed to himself, “tops.”

Back up on the fourteenth floor, Icarus had no idea. He had already made the

announcement.

“I regret to tell you,” Icarus said straightening his tie, “that my father will no

longer be working at the company. I have been named the new Chairman and CEO of

Daedalus Publishing Corp. I look forward to working with all of you in my new

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position.” The news was met with a round of applause. Icarus felt genuine happiness

for the first time in weeks.

“Now,” Icarus said, “I will need someone to help me move my father’s things

down to storage. How about you,” he commanded, pointing to a small man in a

nearby cubicle. “And you two,” nodding to a man and woman standing to the left of

him, “you can help move the contents of my desk into my new office. Thanks,” he

finished. “Oh,” he said remembering, “I have more stuff in the trunk of my car down

in the parking lot. Row E, number sixteen I believe,” he added to no one in

particular. Back in his new office, shutting the glass doors behind him, he took a seat

behind the huge wooden desk that, moments ago, had been his father’s. Icarus

raised his feet, resting them atop the desk as he had always seen his father do.

Putting his hands behind his head, settling back into his new chair, he smiled with

satisfaction and admired the view.

Out on the floor, the three individuals who had been assigned to the moving

detail were speechless.

“Can you believe it?” said the woman. “He isn’t wasting any time!”

“Well, he is his father’s son,” one of the men said with a smirk. Doubts about

the new Chairman and CEO had already begun. Icarus paid no attention; he was too

busy playing Daedalus.

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9

From that day forward, Icarus was in charge. Things ran smoothly at first.

The company’s ratings were flourishing. Since assuming his new position, Icarus

became the most celebrated writer in New York. Because of this, he contributed an

article of his own to each edition.

Icarus had stopped writing his novel. “I have a real job now,” he told his

publishers. The word spread quickly around the office. Icarus did not care what

people thought; this job was more important.

…

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The previous night, Icarus had no inclination of making the changes he now

planned for the company. It was Sunday evening and Icarus sat comfortably on his

new leather sofa. As Chairman and CEO, he received a significant raise in salary.

With the first paycheck in his new position, he felt entitled to indulge himself.

His apartment no longer felt quaint. He had refurnished and reorganized it.

The forty-inch flat screen TV was his favorite new addition. He had even purchased

a Vit-a-Mix blender. Icarus had always watched his father making those elaborate

smoothie concoctions.

Watching himself on the news, Icarus was surprised by a knock on his

apartment door. He checked his watch. it was seven thirty PM.

“Who could this possibly be on a Sunday evening,” he muttered to himself

getting up.

“Yes, what is it,” he said as he opened the door. Standing there wearing a

brilliant red dress, purposefully revealing the lower half of her left thigh, was

Ariadne. She was stunning in red. Her lips sparkled in the light flooding out of the

apartment.

“Jane” Icarus said, taken aback, “I wasn’t expecting you.” His startled look

brought a smile to her face.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re nervous,” she said with a wide smile, “may I

come in?”

“Of course,” Icarus responded stepping aside quickly realizing he had been

blocking the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he asked, still clearly confused by

her sudden appearance.

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“I was in the neighborhood,” she said, “and I wanted to see how you were

doing. I never did hear what happened after you published that article.”

This was a lie, of course. Ariadne knew all about what had happened. Icarus

had taken over and was running the company surprisingly well. Never would she

have imagined that Icarus would handle the pressure this well. Her own company

was still struggling and she was growing desperate. She had not planned on seeing

him again since the night she stood him up. Her work was clearly not done yet. “It

would be soon enough though,” she thought.

“So tell me,” she said, “how did everything work out for you?” Icarus didn’t

hear her; he was mesmerized by the sight of her.

“What?” he muttered coming back to life. “What was that?” Ariadne gave him

another enchanting smile, his heart fluttered.

“I asked how everything worked out for you in the end; I never found out,”

she explained.

“Oh.” He forgot that he hadn’t talked to her for a few weeks now. “Great,” he

said, his confidence rising. “You are now looking at the Chairman and CEO of

Daedalus Publishing Corporation.” Icarus was beaming by now.

Ariadne let out a giggle and said excitedly, “I am glad to hear that. I am so

happy for you!”

Icarus was happy that she was here. In the back of his mind though he still

wondered why she hadn’t shown up that night. He contemplated bringing up the

subject but quickly decided against it. “What is important now,” he thought to

himself, “is that she is back.”

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“So, what is it like, being the CEO and all?” she asked.

“Well, it’s a lot different,” Icarus replied, “but it’s great. I couldn’t have asked

for more.” Icarus truly meant it. He was happy with where he was.

“That sounds wonderful,” she said smiling. “So, now that your father is gone,

what will you name the company?” she said leading him along.

“Pardon,” Icarus replied, “what do you mean?” This had taken Icarus off

guard.

“What are you going to name the company,” she repeated, “now that you are

in charge.” Icarus was baffled.

“I suppose I am just going to keep it Daedalus Publishing Corporation. I never

really thought about it,” he replied.

“But why?” she persisted. “Icarus, don’t you think you should assert your

authority? Your father is not there anymore; you run the place now. Don’t you think

people should know that? You always talked about your father and his love for

publicity. Maybe he was right. You should let people know that you are now the face

of the company,” she said.

Icarus felt his body tingling with excitement, beginning with his fingertips

and spreading across his body. He felt a flush of confidence flow through him.

“Now that you mention it,” he said, “that idea doesn’t sound half bad.”

“This woman was incredible,” Icarus thought, “she brings out the fire in me.”

It was true. Ariadne did have that effect on Icarus as well as on every other male on

the planet. She knew the power it gave her. She used it to her advantage and loved

every minute of it.

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“So,” she continued, “What will you name the company?”

Icarus thought for a moment, “I don’t know, what do you think?” he asked.

“I like Icarus Weekly,” she said, “or Icarus News,” she added excitedly. “Icarus

Weekly,” he pondered, “Icarus Weekly, I like the sound of that.” His mouth grew into

a broad smile and Ariadne knew her work was close to being finished.

“You really should rename it.” she persisted. “The sooner you make it known

that you are the new Chairman and CEO, the greater the respect you will command,

Icarus,” she finished.

“I will change it immediately,” he said, “you are completely right.” Ariadne

gave him a cozy smile placing her hand gently on his knee.

“You know,” she added, “you should even create a new self-image. A proud

more authoritative Icarus,” she said. “You must make it known that you can achieve

not just what your father did, but better.” He pictured himself shaking hands with

the president.

“I love that thought,” Icarus said, barely audible. Ariadne’s words had

thoroughly engulfed him, intoxicating him. “I am going to make these changes

immediately,” he uttered still deep in his reverie about his new image.

“Well, I am glad I could be of service to you again, Icarus,” she said getting his

attention.

“It was a pleasure as always, Jane,” he replied.

With that, Ariadne got up to leave. Opening the apartment door for her,

Icarus followed her out to the street, making sure to give her a proper goodbye.

“Will I see you again soon?” he asked.

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“I suppose I could make that happen,” she said coyly. With a kittenish smile,

she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek for the second time. The second was no

different from the first; he could not help but shudder with excitement. With a

giggle, Ariadne turned and walked briskly off up the street.

“Goodbye,” Icarus called after her hopefully. She did not turn around. He

watched as she turned the corner. Ariadne had vanished and for good this time.

Icarus would never see her again.

That night, sleep eluded him. Replaying Ariadne’s powerful words endlessly

in his mind, he resolved that tomorrow would mark the start of his new career.

Upon waking the next morning, Icarus promptly jumped in the shower

determined to get an early start on his day. Coming out of the bathroom, he slid his

feet along the new carpet; it felt wonderfully soft. Icarus dressed quickly, putting on

the gray suit his father had given him. Icarus knew he would not be wearing that

suit much longer. It represented a previous identity, one that was now gone forever.

Grabbing his briefcase and Iphone, he made his way out the door. He scurried

quickly down the steps. Using his Iphone, he dialed the number to his office.

When he was not in the office, Icarus had Jillian sit in and take his calls. She

was an intern who aspired to be a journalist. She was perfect for the job. Icarus held

the phone to his ear as he walked along. The soft ringing of the dial tone played for a

few seconds before it was interrupted with a quick “Hello”.

“Jillian, it’s me,” Icarus said coolly. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yes, Icarus, what do you need me to do?” she asked.

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“Set up a press conference,” he said. “Make sure everyone is there. I want the

entire company there, Jillian, every last person,” he finished.

“Ok. I will do that immediately,” she responded quickly. Icarus appreciated

her efficiency.

“Oh, and Jillian, I almost forgot. Release it to the media as well. I want

everyone there; make it public,” he said.

“Ok,” she said once more. Tapping the screen on his cell phone, the line was

cut off. Still walking, he quickly tapped the App labeled “City Navigator”.

Icarus held the phone up to his mouth, “Tuxedo rental,” he said into the

speaker. His words were met by the electronic voice of his phone, “Searching for

Tuxedo Rentals near you.” Icarus gave a satisfied chuckle, “That’s pretty cool,” he

thought.

“Jack Silver Formal Wear, two hundred and fifty West Forty Ninth Street,

New York, New York,” the phone responded. Icarus moved to the curb and hailed

the first cab he saw. The small yellow cab switched lanes and pulled up in front of

him.

“Two Fifty West Forty Ninth,” he said to the cab driver, jumping into the back

seat. He needed to look good for the press conference. The new Icarus would soon

be revealed and the old one would be gone forever.

Two hours later, that same taxi pulled up in the front of the office building.

Stepping out on to the street, Icarus gazed up at the large blue sign that read

“Daedalus Publishing Corporation”. The cab pulled away. Icarus remained on the

curb, still looking up at the sign. “Icarus Weekly,” he said to himself. He rolled the

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name over again in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more real it became.

“This was the next step,” he thought to himself. “This is what they will remember me

for.” Approaching the front entrance of the building, there was a sizeable crowd of

reporters waiting for access to the press conference. It was not until a stout woman

holding a microphone turned around that Icarus was identified. The crowd surged

toward him. Icarus paused posing nonchalantly. He was quite a sight.

Icarus had purchased a new suit. He now thought of it as his trademark. His

father had always worn fine suits; at least they appeared to be. Icarus felt it only

natural that he should wear the real thing.

He stood on the sidewalk, glowing in the sun, wearing a fashionable Armani

suit. This was not just any suit. It was pure white and to match it, Icarus had picked

out a pair of white aviator style Armani sunglasses.

The woman at the Sunglass Hut had said, “People wearing these would never

be forgotten.” At these words, Icarus had to have them. Standing there in front of the

crowd, Icarus looked like a god. He radiated self-confidence scintillating in the

brilliant sunshine.

With the crowd around him now, he could not move an inch.

“Icarus! Icarus!” they all screamed. Icarus did not appear to be phased by the

deafening roar.

“Yes,” he responded coolly, slowly removing his sunglasses and flashing a

smile for the cameras. “What is it that I can do for you?” he continued. The crowd

erupted into an indecipherable tangle of questions. The woman with the

microphone stepped forward.

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“How do we know you’re not just another version of your father?” she asked

brashly.

“Well,” Icarus responded with a hint of sarcasm, “no need for hastiness. What

is this, you don’t trust me?” Before the woman could respond, another reporter

interrupted.

“Icarus, what is your reason for calling a press conference? What are you

planning?” The question was barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“I suppose you will just have to come see for yourself,” he responded calmly.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” he finished.

Icarus lowered his sunglasses and headed straight through the sea of

reporters to the entrance. Opening the doors, he moved briskly into the building.

He immediately caught the attention of everyone in the lobby; however, he

did not stop to talk this time. He simply walked straight for the elevator.

When the doors opened on the fourteenth floor, every head in the room

turned toward him. He did not remove his sunglasses not wanting to make eye

contact with anyone. Icarus simply smiled as he made his way across the floor.

Upon entering the sanctuary of his office, he assumed his customary position with

his feet up on the desk.

…

Admiring the view out of the window, Icarus heard the glass doors to his

office swing open.

“How are you, Edward?” Icarus turned to greet the tall man with the graying

hair.

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“I am quite well, Icarus. Thank you for asking,” he replied. “Are you going to

tell me what’s going on here?” he continued. Edward was the Managing Editor of the

magazine. He had always been close to Daedalus’, and Icarus sensed that Edward

was not entirely fond of him running the company.

“You will have to wait until the press conference, Edward,” Icarus responded

calmly, “just like everyone else.” The man grimaced in frustration.

“Fair enough,” he said with resignation. “Icarus, the press conference will

begin in five minutes,” he said. “They sent me up here to get you.”

Holding the door open, “Well, Edward, what are you waiting for?” Icarus said

with a smile. The two men walked to the elevator together. Once inside, Edward

pushed the button labeled four. The company’s auditorium was on the fourth floor.

It was a space that could hold five hundred people comfortably. This is where Icarus

would unveil the big news.

Icarus stood next to Edward on the ride down but the two did not speak. The

air in the elevator was thick with tension. Icarus stared up at the display panel

watching the descending floor numbers. As the panel displayed the number five, he

reached into the breast pocket of his new suit and pulled out the Armani sunglasses.

Putting them on, he thought to himself, “I look good, stunning in fact, and everyone

should know it.”

As the elevator came to rest on the fourth floor, it produced the familiar

“ding”. The doors slowly opened revealing a narrow red carpet and on both sides

were masses of reporters with microphones and cameras. Lights flashed like a sea of

fireflies. Icarus stood still in the elevator. His eyes were closed beneath the dark

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lenses of his Armani glasses. In those few seconds, Icarus played over the events of

the past few weeks. Coming to life, sporting his father’s smile, Icarus emerged from

the elevator stepping out on to the red carpet. With his hands at his sides, only

giving an occasional nod of acknowledgment to the nearest reporter, Icarus made

his way to the podium, which was set up on the center of the stage, looking out over

the vast audience of colleagues and reporters. With a wave of his hands, the room

fell silent. Adjusting the small microphone in front of him and then placing his hands

with authority on either side of the podium, he began. Ariadne sat in the far corner,

at the very back of the auditorium. She wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

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10

“To my fellow colleagues and reporters,” Icarus began, “I would first like to

welcome you here and thank you all for coming. It is an honor to work with all of

you. I have been with the company for a year and a half now. It has been one of the

happiest times of my life,” he lied. “As all of you know, three weeks ago, my father,

Daedalus, resigned as Chairman and CEO. This came as a surprise to many. When he

left, he asked me, as his son, to take over his position. I did so willingly, as a sign of

my gratitude for my father. Now that he is gone,” Icarus continued, “and I am in

charge, I have decided to make a few changes.”

A murmur rose up from the crowd in the auditorium. Icarus silenced them

with another wave of his hands.

“Settle down now, please settle down,” he commanded.

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“First, I have decided that the Daedalus Publishing Corporation will, after this

meeting, no longer exist.” The crowd erupted in front of him. Hands shot up with

questions, not only from the media representatives, but from the company’s

employees as well.

“I will explain,” Icarus yelled into the microphone. “From this point forward,

this company will now be referred to as the Icarus Weekly Publishing Corporation.

Secondly…” he yelled again, trying to overcome the noise of the crowd. “As the new

name suggests, this company will now produce a weekly edition of the magazine.

That will be all,” he finished abruptly.

With that, Icarus left the podium as the crowd was clamoring with questions.

On his way across the stage, Edward met him with an outstretched hand.

“Bold move, Icarus. Bold move, indeed” he said vigorously shaking Icarus’

hand.

“Thank you, Edward. This is the future. This is what they are going to

remember me for,” Icarus said proudly.

The crowd began exiting the auditorium. A bustling mass of reporters

surrounded the red carpet. As Icarus stepped off the stage, with cameras flashing

and reporters yelling questions, he reached into his breast pocket again. Casually

slipping his sunglasses on with one hand, he used the other to wave regally to the

cameras. Not stopping to speak to any of them; he simply grinned widely and kept

walking. Edward remained behind to speak with his assistant. They watched as

Icarus wafted up the red carpet, smiling and waving as he went. Before disappearing

into the elevator, Icarus gave the crowd a final “thumbs up”.

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“I never would have guessed it,” Edward remarked to his assistant, “but he

truly is his father’s son.”

…

From that moment onward, the company had changed forever. The Daedalus

Publishing Corporation ceased to exist, overthrown by the new and improved Icarus

Weekly Publishing Corporation. It had not even been two days before the large blue

sign on the front of the building had been taken down. The work was done

overnight. To everyone’s surprise, the following morning, the familiar blue letters

were gone replaced by massive red block print. The sign now read “Icarus Weekly”

and was the first of many changes to come.

Across the city, Daedalus’ face had vanished from all of the billboards, the

placards at the bus stops and the small advertisements placed on the roof of taxis. A

younger version now wearing a gleaming white suit and matching sunglasses stood

confidently peering out of them.

Icarus had become a marketing phenomenon. He was rarely at the office. One

now had to set up a meeting with his assistant to speak with him. The new face of

the company was rarely present and people were beginning to notice.

Icarus spent his days at photo shoots and attending press conferences

expounding upon the glories of his company. Jillian, his assistant was the first to

leave. Her job had evolved into something entirely different. She’d had enough.

Icarus found her letter of resignation on his desk one morning. It was one of the few

days he had decided to come in. Icarus did not think much of it; he could easily find a

replacement.

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Icarus came into work that Wednesday morning to check on the progress of

the current issue. The magazine’s ratings were as high as ever although the writers

were exhibiting signs of fatigue having now to produce a new edition every week. It

was a lot to ask of the editorial staff who were used to producing only one edition

per month. Icarus refused to acknowledge the strain. He cared only about the

ratings and his own self-image.

Edward was the next to go. It came as a big surprise to Icarus finding

Edward’s resignation resting on his desk. He read the statement over a few times

before it sunk in that Edward was leaving after so many years.

“He was old,” Icarus said to himself dismissively. “He had to go eventually.”

The issue released that week had an advertisement for an opening for the position

of Managing Editor.

In the following weeks, letters of resignation began to pile up. One after

another, desks grew empty. Within a two-week period, a quarter of the company

had quit and the letters were still coming. He had become accustomed to finding

them on his desk. Still only appearing at the office twice a week, he did not think

much of it. Icarus, doing what he did best, kept up his public appearances and self-

promotion. The only thing he had done to solve the rate of attrition amongst his

employees was to include a separate column in each edition, entitled “For Hire”,

advertising the recent job openings.

The public soon realized what was happening and the ratings began to

plummet. Week after week, the magazine lost more readers. Icarus paid no

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attention. His two days a week at the office soon became one and not long after that,

he rarely made an appearance.

It was not until his leadership of the company was questioned at a press

conference that he decided to go into the office at all. As Icarus stepped out of the

elevator on the fourteenth floor, he noticed that the staff had decreased further

since his last visit. Only half were still present. Everyone turned their heads in his

direction. This time, Icarus did not give them the usual smile. He was still wearing

his signature white suit and sunglasses. Walking straight to his office, he found Tim,

his top writer, sitting in a chair opposite his desk with a hesitant look on his face.

Icarus had hired Tim after his father’s resignation. He was the newest

member of the team. Icarus had great expectations, hoping that Tim would become

one of the company’s best writers. Icarus had not been disappointed; Tim’s past two

articles had been magnificent. They brought Icarus great publicity. In addition, the

two had become great friends.

Icarus did not even look at Tim before speaking.

“Tim, let me ask you something,” he demanded. “Why the hell is that room

half empty? Explain it to me,” saliva spewing from Icarus’ mouth. “Tell me, Tim, why

is it?” Tim sat there motionless.

He looked up slowly, “It is your fault, Icarus,” he said solemnly.

“What, Tim? I’m sorry I didn’t catch that. Say it again” Icarus said caustically;

his voice now rising. “How do you figure that it is my fault,” he yelled.

“You are never around,” Tim countered softly. “You are too busy promoting

yourself.” Icarus’ eyes blazed with fury.

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“Promoting myself? Without me, this company would not exist,” Icarus was

screaming now.

“I suppose you could say that,’ Tim said. “You are the creator and

unfortunately, you have become the destroyer of this company,” he said sadly. Tim

stood up from his chair removing a letter from his briefcase. “Here you are, Icarus,”

he said, “I wish you the best of luck.” Placing the letter on Icarus’ desk, Tim walked

slowly out of the office and straight to the elevator.

Icarus was left standing alone, once again. He ripped his sunglasses off and

threw them violently at the wall. They shattered, breaking into pieces on the floor.

Icarus sat at his desk for the rest of the afternoon, silently staring out at the skyline.

This time he did not put his feet up on the desk.

That afternoon, Icarus began to think about everything he had done. Tim had

been right; it was his fault. As the sun descended behind the skyscrapers, Icarus

walked over to the door of his office and slowly removed the nameplate from the

front of it. Walking back over to his desk, with resignation, he dropped his name into

the garbage can. Everyone had left the office, and for the first time, Icarus admired

the vast empty space of the fourteenth floor. He walked to the elevator for the last

time, and pushed the button for the basement.

Exiting the elevator, Icarus walked out into the parking garage and all the

way to the entrance booth where Jonathan usually took his post. As always,

Jonathan sat patiently in his chair, waiting for the last car to leave the garage.

“Goodnight, Jonathan,” Icarus said softly through the small hole in the glass.

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“Goodnight, Icarus. See you tomorrow,” he responded. Icarus gave him a

hesitant smile and walked out, heading back to his apartment.

Jonathan, being perceptive, knew very well Icarus was not coming back to

work. He had always liked Icarus, ever since he was a young boy tagging along with

his father. However, Icarus had changed recently and this saddened him.

…

Icarus did not come into work the next day and no one noticed. He had

underestimated the challenge of his father’s job. Icarus was faced with the challenge

of showing the world that he could succeed where his father had. He needed to

show them he was better. Icarus had lived his entire life in the shadow of his father’s

glory and now having taken the initiative, he found himself exposed and perilously

alone. In truth, Icarus was nothing without his father.

…

It was not until weeks later that his absence was addressed. Daedalus was

asked to resume his old position as Chairman and CEO. Accepting the post, he had

known all along that he would be back sooner or later. Under Daedalus, the

company regained its former stature. He contacted all of his staff who had resigned

and apologized for his son’s naiveté. The red letters out front were replaced by the

blue sign that read “Daedalus Publishing Corporation”. Everything had come full

circle back to where it had all begun.

Daedalus had been right from the beginning. Only a certain few could handle

the responsibilities of this job and Icarus was not among them. He was a writer, not

a businessman, and Daedalus had made that clear. In life, everyone needs to fly a

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little too close to the sun, but it’s only the ones who survive the fall that truly find

themselves.

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