In The Year 2000…

The three-storey building was owned by, Erik Matsunaga, of the Chicago Matsunagas. Half-Japanese, Half-German, all American. He bought the bulding early in 2010, and took a year away from his home in Illinois to renovate it the way he wanted to. Escape hatches, secret tunnels, an underground lab, and storefronts for his long-time friends who believed he could pull it off all along.

Blacklava Lifestyle Inc., The Kiriyama Projekts Project, The Connector Multi-Media Center, Where’s Johneric’s Beef? Restaurant and Beer, and The Someday Press, shared this building. Although vastly different in intent and path, these organizations and businesses essentially shared the same direction. It was a perfect fit. From employers to employees, to clients and patrons, it was, truly, one big, happy, family.

Camelot was too corny. So, Erik Matsunaga named it, The Traumen. Look it up. It’s German. And it made sense.

The Someday Press took the entire third floor. the view was nice enough for the writers to write, and close enough to the ground, just in case of an evacuation. Erik was the cautious type. He had a cozy little office in the southwest corner, not too big, not too little, just enough for someone who liked things just right. On the other hand, his business partner, Edren T. Sumagaysay, was opulent enough for the both of them. He had a state-of-the-art, fashionably decorated, large office, whose walls and door facing the rest of the floor was made of a darkened polycarbonate thermoplastic, just so he could say, “I got a bullet-proof office!” These two formed the most awesome writers workshop ever in the history of writers workshops, years before, and with a simple, self-enforced, philosophical approach to writing, they were able to bloom into a full-fledged innovative, contemporary, and interactive publishing company.

The key wasn’t so much, Erik’s know-how or, Edren’s genius, but the shared responsibility by, not only the writers within the writers workshop, but also with those who enjoyed reading a good story. There was a time where a abyssmal vacuum existed where Art once stood. And this was discovered to be caused by the apathy of irresponsible artists and irresponsible citizens. With standards of morals, intellect, and behavior declining within the last decade because luxury became a necessity, and art imitating for survival staying true to it’s nature of reflecting, the future of anything true and beautiful appear doomed.

The turn around wasn’t because of the writers workshop. And it didn’t happen overnight. The universe has a way of balancing itself out and one by one, slowly but surely, Artists became courageous again, and citizens became concerned again. Responsibility took control again and evolution continued. The relationship between Life and Art is a rhythm. And the writers workshop happened to be listening.

“I call this meeting to order.” said, Erik with his usual monotone timbre. “You know the drill. We gotta write everyday. So you got to get your writers to write. That’s all I really gotta say. Cheers.” And then he sat down in his chair.

The conference room was filled with 30 or so of The Someday Press’ most powerful editors. Each had their own cell of a writers workshop, each housed on the internet, which reached the entire world. These 30 or so editors, quickly over the course of a couple of years, helped literature find a place in every single human beings day to day activities. They deserved their annual million dollars. They saved the world.

“I believe,” began, Edren, wearing his diamond encrusted, diamond threaded robe. “our job is far from finished. Sure, we got the world to write and read and push the boundaries of literature to heights imagination couldn’t even, well, imagine. But this is just the beginning!”

“You always say that.” interrupted, Helen Kim. “This is just the beginning. This is just the beginning. This is just the beginning. You know you’ve been using that line since I joined?”

“But it is! It is just the beginning!” Edren said, standing up to reveal his ripped abs thanks to his robot personal trainer, PT-X45.20. “It’ll always be the beginning.”

“I believe that.” said, Vicky Luu, playing with her black rimmed glasses. “We can’t just stop because it seems like we’ve accomplished our goals.”

“We’ve only accomplished one of a thousand goals.” Joined, Johann Diel. “Haven’t you read the manual? It clearly states all thousand goals.”

“I definitely know what we’re supposed to be doing.” Said, Helen Kim. “I’m all for it. I was just making a comment about how, Edrne uses the same lines over and over again. It’s getting kind of obvious, don’t you think?”

“Come to think of it, yeah, he does!” said, Beverly Yanuaria. “Did you guys notice he says, ‘Ya know what I mean”‘ a lot, too? He says that more than ‘This is just the beginning.’”

Edren sat back down, as all heads began to nod.

“Friends. Ladies, gentlemen, fellow pilgrims of the mighty word.” Said, Allan Aquino, head shaven, wearing a black cloak seemingly made of shadows. “‘Tis not the time to state his obvious mental manueverings, although quite laughable. Tis time to come to an agreement as to excuting phase thirteen of the plan.”

Narinda Heng, the diminutive in size, but not in heart, stood up. Looked around the table. And spoke. “The next step is to raise the level of quality in terms of Art.” She smiled. contagious it was. “Not by telling people what that next level of quality is in some commerical or some billboard or through some celebrity. But by writing that way. By us writing that way. This is what he means by it being the beginning. Because it is.”

“Exactly!” Edren said, jumping out of his chair, excitedly, revealing his killer abs again.

“But,” Narinda Heng said, “You do say things over and over again.”

Edren sat back down. womp woooooooomp…

“Anyway,” Erik said, “I’m a bit hungry. I know we didn’t get a chance to hear everyone elses opinions on how, Edren repeats himself, but if we did, it would take a long ass time and my stomach would’ve totally devoured itself. Plus, I think we’ve gone passed what the definition of flash fiction is with this meeting. But I’m not really sure, I don’t remember the word count off the top of my head. Anyway, don’t get butt hurt if we didn’t hear from you this time. you’ll get your chance soon enough.” He got up, turned around and headed towards the conference room door. “Let’s all go to, Jonheric’s place. My treat.”

As the editors trickle out of the conference room, Erik and Edren remained behind.

“I got something ta ask you.” said, Erik.

“Go for it, bro.” replied, Edren.

“How much was that robe?”

“Oh. A couple of bucks. I got it from, Chow. It was one of his cosplay get ups. The diamond sorceror.”

“Why’d you wear it today?”

“Because al my other clothes are dirty.”

“Alright. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

“Alright.”

“Cheers…”

“Cheers.”