Tales of the Exiled Letters: B is for Bureaucracy

by Luc Reid

After a long delay, here is the second story in the Tales of the Exiled Letters series. The first piece in this series, A is for Authority, appeared in April, 2007.

“But to business,” B said, bending over her bright blue blotter. “Please, be seated.”

X sat on the bare black bench across the desk from B, nervously crossing and uncrossing his legs.

“Now, X,” B said. “How long have you been a letter?”

“Well, I don’t remember exactly. About two thousand years? Maybe twenty-five hundred?”

“And you’ve served as, my goodness, quite a lot of things, haven’t you? I see that in addition to your literary duties, you’ve worked in algebra, codes, Roman numerals, corrections … this list just goes on and on. And haven’t I seen you in multiplication?”

“Excuse me, that’s times,” said X. “He only looks like me. We’re not related.”

“And what sound, exactly, do you make?”

X felt extremely uncomfortable. He did not, of course, want to be expelled from the alphabet, and he’d heard rumors that the alphabet was considered to be running a little “fat” at the moment.

B smiled. “Well, I’ll tell you, shall I? It seems to be ‘ks,’ doesn’t it? Except sometimes it’s ‘kz’ or that sort of ‘kh’ sound, or ‘z,’ or ‘sh’ … really, X, don’t you have a sound of your own you could make? And you haven’t been beginning very many words, now, have you?”

“There’s xylophone!” X exclaimed.

“Be serious,” said B.

“Xanthic,” X extemporized. “Xenophobe. X-ray …”

“Stop, please,” B said. “Don’t belittle yourself. It’s not becoming. I think we both know what will become of you.”

“Except –”

“But me no buts,” said B. She held up a list. “This is the Alphabet, also known as the A-list.” She put it down and picked up another. “This is my list, the B-list. Do you know what happens to letters on the B-list?” She beamed balefully. “They become ex-letters. Get it?” She bore down on a button. “Bring backspace,” she bid.

“This is excessive,” X said in exasperation, “examine–”

“Those words don’t even begin with X,” B broke in. The door opened a bit. X leaped upon B and held her down, muffling her with his vertex.

Backspace entered the room, massive, and eraser-like, but his boss was effectively crossed out. Backspace surveyed the room blankly, found nothing to read, and silently backed out, closing the door behind him.

X muttered an expletive and crossed to the window before B could budge. Glass exploded as X leapt through it, exiting to the extensive grounds.

“You’ll be sorry you dared to cross me!” B blustered. But X was gone as though he had never existed.