A chill autumn wind was blowing around the park, rattling leaves and ruffling duck feathers. An old paper wrapper scudded along the concrete path, and was rudely brushed aside by a walking stick. The owner of the stick was deep in conversation with another figure; the two of them strolled along, rulers of this lacklustre microcosm.
“…all of which accounts for the current state of the market. I’ve never known it so bad.”
“Me neither, old chap.”
The conversation whipped out from under branches and echoed through the desolate park.
“I can see why the other boys in the Bureau want to make some cutbacks ”“ this latest project, for instance” the first figure continued, his partner taking it all in.
“Oh?” Dom straightened; this did not sound good.
Sam was getting into his stride by now. “I never cared for it much myself. Ignorant bunch working the thing.”
“Now, hang on, old chap…” He was on the defensive ”“ but then again, he usually was.
Sam’s voice betrayed his annoyance; “Well, they swan around like they own the place, never giving a thought to us…” Ridges appeared in the elderly brow, as bushy eyebrows were pushed closer towards the centre of the gnarled face.
“But you can’t tar them all with the…”
“…they constantly ignore us…” he continued, completely failing to see the irony.
“It’s not been easy for them…” Dom tried.
“Poppycock! They’ve had a second chance…”
“Still…”
“… and a third, fourth, fifth…”
“Well, yes, but…” Dom’s voice traield off and he sighed inwardly.
“There’s only so much leniency we can show,” insisted his partner. “After all, we are running a business.”
The pair had been walking in silence for a few minutes now.
“What’ll happen to them, old chap?” Dom knew the question proved a certain masochistic wish to persevere with something he should have left alone. But, like a dog rummaging through a bin, he never knew when to stop.
“Well, not a lot…” The reply had a dark undertone which was not lost on its small audience.
“You mean…?”
A nod told him all he needed to know.
“What, all of them…?”
Sam continued nodding.
“The entire planet? Completely wiped out?” The words had been spat out from beneath popping eyes.
“Mmm” was the only response.
“Hardly seems fair, old chap…” Dom’s manner was now that of a chastised schoolboy.
“But look at the state of the place.” Sam tottered slightly as he gestured expansively, before adding “I mean it’s not exactly a roaring success, is it? It’s the shareholders I feel sorry for.”
“We aren’t going to save one or two specimens? For future projects?”
“Mmm, possibly. Can’t see it’s worth it myself.”
Another pause inserted itself into the conversation.
“What was it called, again? Urr… Ith…?”
“Earth.” Dom’s response was tinged with remorse.
“Arth…?”
“No, old chap, ”˜Earth’ as in ”˜dirt.’”
“Earth… Earth… Odd name for a planet. Still, won’t matter much longer.”
Dom tried one last roll of the dice; “but think of the paperwork. Planet Demolition Forms alone are over a hundred pages long.”
“Ye-es…” The reply was accompanied by a long frown, “Still, it’s out of our hands.”
Sam glaced briefly at the ancient pocket watch, then replaced it the pocket of his equally ancient waistcoat.
“Well, best be getting on. I’ll buy you one of those strange local drinks ”“ what do they call it? Tea?”
Dom brightened slightly at the mention of his favourite Terran beverage.
“Yes, might as well enjoy a bit of local culture while we still can. I heard they make it with their own waste products.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past them. Y’know, I once met this chap… huge fellow…”
The two smartly-dressed old men rounded a corner and once again the park was silent, almost reflective. No-one would notice them, but then Earthites seldom paid attention.