It was to be an elegant affair. The chandelier hung high and the lights danced on every spotless surface creating the effect of sparkling diamonds. Everything was taken care of for the evening to come. The guests had been invited, the meals detailed in a menu that stretched on for many pages decided on, and every room in the castle-like mansion was scrubbed until it gleamed and decorated to make it as grand as its owner. 

    Silk curtains painted a deep crimson framed the high ceilings. They sat unaware of the frenzy going on about them. Servants, cooks and all kinds of cleaners ran about the house. In and out of the kitchen, flying up the stairs to set up the string orchestra for that floor, maids in tight uniforms carrying feather dusters spread out around the manor, like they were hand picked and sprinkled onto the scene. Everyone and everything was a flurry of motion, the people prepping the house were a blur of faces with masks that covered their noses and mouths. 

    Among the rushing swarm of people stood a woman in a cleaner’s uniform completely still. She watched the scene in silent horror. 

    Her body was stiff and her skin so pale and sickly, it looked like the people had awakened a disturbed corpse from its slumber. No one paid her any attention; she wore no face mask, had sunken eyes and seemed to be breathing slowly with apparent difficulty. She was dressed in a darker, more morbid version of her uniform. The fabric was bleached and dyed a sluggish brown that melted into black. The black of her clothes matched the darkened likeness of her eyes, they gave the air of pulling people in a void of suffocating stillness. 

    A butler rushed past her paying her no notice.

    “He’ll be here in five minutes, everyone look alive, you there!” he pointed at a rogue kitchen crew member standing around with his hands empty. “Take those plates away quickly,” he ordered. The butler walked around with a hurried step, and snapped his fingers at the others. The rest of the help complied obediently, each had their task and was consumed with  the overbearing burden of individual responsibility. It was like a choreographed dance, the butler acted as the music conductor and the rest all moved to his rhythm. 

    Faithful to the butler’s internal clock, the master of the house emerged from the putrid heat of the day into the cool conditioned home. He strode inside with an air that could only amplify his own thoughts of his worthiness. He wore a sharp navy suit that highlighted his broad shoulders, his stride confident. He loomed over many of the staff present, gracing them with his chiseled face. While his appearance on the whole was conventionally appealing, it was marked with a seriousness that made it plain that no smile ever graced his lips unless it was forced. He had no easiness about him. Only poise and a cold demeanor. 

    “I want everything completed in an hour’s time”, he commanded simply to the entirety of the house. His voice echoing through the hallways and amplified by the sudden stillness of the working people at his arrival. 

They needn’t be told twice. 

The flurry of chaotic motion resumed at once as the people sped up their work. The more humans that fretted and panicked, the more still the objects within the mansion seemed. The majestic arched windows in the ballroom allowed the fading rays of light from outside bathe the grand piano in a golden glow. The tendrils of light highlighted every key and spec of dust resting on the instrument; all sat undisturbed and unaware of the hysterical humans and their fumbling ways. 

    After sunset, the guests began to arrive one by one in carriages adorned in pure gold. The men wore fine suits made from imported fabrics. The women walked in looking like goddesses from an ancient time with jewels decorating their necks, and their dresses made of silks and other materials of luxe. Music streamed out of the open front door and mingled with the voices of different mobility, all guests of the master of the house. 

    The party was in full swing as people laughed and danced, they spoke to each other of their latest purchases and their future plans of merriment. They were spread out in the manor, occupying every available space. 

    In one corner of the ball room, stood a small crowd of people talking over the tiny monitor placed in the wall. It showed a man wearing a mask that covered his nose and mouth speaking into a microphone, as a series of headlines moved at the bottom of the screen. 

    “A rise in deaths due to the virus that is running rampant has been reported. As more people, particularly those struggling with finances, continue to lose their jobs and their lives, people are advised to stay at home and seek financial aid through the following ways”. The reporter sounded out of breath as he spoke quickly, as if he was worried he would be stopped any second. The lords and duchesses in the presence of the monitor glanced uncomfortably at each other and the screen. While they tried to continue their conversations confidently, the man’s deep voice kept interrupting their gleeful flow. Whispers of finding the remote were half-heartedly suggested. Meanwhile, the anchor continued. 

    “If you are able to help those affected by this pandemic or the recent shootings, here are the ways in which you can donate money to those desperate-” the voice was cut off by one of the men finding the remote and turning the screen off. The discomfort that had settled on the group like a dark cloud instantly lifted as they began their conversation again with new found enthusiasm. 

    Outside the manor, the humid air that surrounded all living things in these summer nights amplified the sudden pungent odor that came from a garbage truck. The men standing next to the truck wore face masks and had eyes that appeared too dim, even in the darkness of the night. They carried a body bag that seemed to be the source of the smell, and with some combined effort managed to toss the quiet body in the disposal part of the truck. Their gloved hands held a clipboard which they signed quickly. 

    “You sure we can’t bury him?” one of the men asked his partner. 

    “Cemeteries’ still full around here. Morgue at the hospital won’t take em’ no more. Let’s just get this over with” the other man replied. And with that brief discourse a button was pushed, and the unknown body was pulled inwards; it was crushed beneath the weight of metal claws. The sounds of the sickening snap of bones, and of flesh being pulled apart was drowned out by the music from the manor and the clinking of champagne glasses. 

    Inside, the man of the hour gathered people in the ballroom and silenced the music. He raised his glass. 

    “A toast! To all the incredible hard working people in this room. To the most successful business deals we’ve ever made in the past few months! A flu almost sunk us-” there he paused to laugh with his guests.

    “But because of our ability to push through hardship and our resilience, we are still on top. Cheers to the best year yet!” He spoke loud and clearly. A small smug smile on his otherwise serious face. 

    “Cheers” the guests replied in unison, laughing and clinking their glasses. All were drinking and all were bright. 

    All except the woman in the dark cleaning uniform. She had watched them brag about their new vacation homes. She had watched them speak over each other, full of bubbling pride to announce their latest sales and numbers. She watched them dance and sing and laugh. So much wealth in one place, she bore witness to it all. 

    A gurgling cough erupted from the woman’s throat. She bent over, hand on her knee and struggled to take a deep breath as she wiped the excess blood from her mouth on her handkerchief. When her cough passed she straightened once more and slowly hobbled out of the room towards the kitchen exit. As she walked she let her fingertips trace the patterns on the wallpaper plastered on the walls. She grazed the surfaces of nearby tables and counters, felt the cold and smooth the texture on her rough hands. In the kitchen, she grabbed her small balck purse that lay next to a bottle of champagne. Behind her in the distant ballroom she heard one of the guests begin to cough. A steady murmur began to increase as some people in the far corners of the rooms began to cough a little more rigorously. A small tired smile etched itself on the old woman’s face. She put her arm through the strap of her purse and made her way out of the sinking manor bathed in moonlight.