The Big Headed Story

It has been two decades past since I graduated from Madam Fifis academy for the performing arts. Such a delightful time spent in the school. Three years of provided instruction in skills pertaining to the stage arts. Areas such as acting, dancing, singing, miming. I had loved it. I excelled at it. Madam Fifi said my rendition of Shylock was one of the best she had ever seen.nbsp; When I left the school I decided to rest for a while. Unfortunately you can only rest for as long as the money lasts and it soon became apparent that I needed to find money and that meant finding a job. Ironically after trawling through websites like the actors gazette, dancers chronicle, I found my first job in one of my fathers business newspapers. The advert read 'mime artist required. Business man role. Two hours a day two days a week rolling week contract. Excellent pay for the right candidate. Send youtube references to your work'. Now I have to say that Madam Fifi was very progressive and from our first day she strongly suggested we build up a portfolio showing off our skills. Luckily I had a good proportion of mime pieces and some were considered business man like.nbsp; I made the application and sent off the references. Within the hour a certain, Mr Berg, called me and we had, what I considered, a telephonenbsp;video interview. After what seemed like several hours of questioning, I was accepted for the roll, or should I write job. Mr Berg explained the job to me and insisted on calling me boy.nbsp;Now listen here boy. He would say. I have to say I learnt to hate being called Boy within a very short time. I had humbly asked him to called me by my name but he simply chose to ignore me. Listen here boy, he said. I will be sending you a packing crate. In the crate is a business suit. I expect you to wear it. Also there is helmet which you will wear on your head.nbsp; OK I said. When will it arrive I asked but he abruptly snapped. Next week, Tuesday, that is all. before slamming down the phone. Tuesday came, and so did the package. I opened it and pulled our a lime green suit with 1970s flair lapels. There was also a pillar box red tie and light blue shirt. Good grief I thought, Mr Berg must be colour blind.nbsp; There was a piece of paper with a few instructions simply telling me to find the metal box, open it Put on the helmet and flip a switch at the back. Underneath the clothes was the metal box. I pulled it out of the package and opened it.nbsp;Inside was a rather strange object. I could only describe it like a motor bikers crash helmet but it appeared to be made of two parts. There was a black inner part surrounded by a clear glass outer layer. At the back of the helmet was the switch and a couple of buttons. I put it on and found it strangely light. I could see and hear normally well as if I wasnt even wearing it. It was very comfortable. I reached round the back of the helmet and flipped on the switch. What took you, a voice boomed inside the helmet` It sounded like Mr Berg. Is that you Mr Berg?nbsp;I asked. The parcel was delivered ten minutes ago. He shouted Dont slack off next time if you hope to keep this job Yes sir I apologised. Now listen here boy. We need to practise. You do as you are told. I can see and hear everything you can see. You just have to pay attention to my orders. Do you understand ? He asked in a rather condescending way. Now walk over to the mirror. I want to see the head in action.nbsp; Puzzled, I did as he ordered and walked over to the wall where I had hung a large mirror. I was shocked, and somehow amazed. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror looking back at me was the head of Mr Berg where my head should have been. It was therenbsp;as if suspended in the helmet. It transpired that the helmet was some sort of three dimensional projection device. It was as if my head had been pushed off my body and replaced by Mr Bergs.nbsp; I had seen Mr Berg on the video conference during my telephone interview but that had been on a slat screen display. Here was Mr Berg's scary and angry face in three dimensions. Dont just stand there. Move your head around He shouted. Walk around the room. He demanded. Demands, demands and more demands. It will have to do. Right you can take off the helmet. Try on the cloths. They should fit you if you were competent enough to send me your proper dimensions. Tomorrow we visit the office. He said I quickly flipped the switch. The screen went blank and I removed the helmet.nbsp; Mr Berg had explained to me the job during the interview. He owned several companies with factories and offices all over the world. Basically he had no time or energy for flying so he had custom made a virtual presence helmet made. He wanted to hire a mime to act as his body. The mime would carry the head around and perform the appropriate gestures. For example, waving arms around, pointing and stabbing fingers at scared employees, shaking fists, that sort of thing.nbsp;He could of course use robotic tele-presence but he had been dissatisfied by the lack of the human touch and flexibility of the contraption. With this helmet he could actually be there. He could observe, shout, manage, terrorise.nbsp;He wanted to intimidate in order to keep his workforce keen and motivated he had claimed. The next day , a chauffeur driven car arrived and took me in my green suit, red tie and Mr Bergs head to the first of many representative offices and factories. I, or rather Mr Berg was met in the factory car park by the country manager. Welcome sir he cordially said. Dont give me that welcome nonsense the Berg head shouted.nbsp;I quickly tuned into character and I started to jab my finger at the shocked manager.nbsp; It was here that I received my first compliment from Mr Berg.nbsp; One word, He simply said "better". As we walked around the factory, Mr Berg basically shouted at everything and everyone. On my part I would flail my arms around. I would walk with an air and grace and push people out of my way. Before they even opened their mouths to complain they would see the face of Mr Berg and cower down.nbsp; I was only a mime but I could feel a sense of power. It was intoxicating. It was addictive. Mr Berg told me where to go, who to visit and together we poured the sense of dread into everyone we met. Mr Berg with his menacing devil voice, his projected facial expressions and myself with my animated power stance and violent hand and arm movements. This situation went on for several weeks. Mr Berg would have me collected, taken to one of his factories or offices around the country and around Europe.nbsp; It was all going very well but I will never forget the moment that made me decide to give it all up.nbsp; We were mid in torrent terrorising one of his many offices, persecuting the local work force when Mr Berg came across a young employee. It was obvious she was straight out of college. There was an obvious intelligence about her, young, bright and gifted. I will never understand that, for no reason I could fathom, Mr Berg targeted her. At first he asked probing questions and she became flustered and she started to make mistakes. Mr Berg loved mistakes, he could use them to raise himself up and from where he could rain down his terror.nbsp; She broke down in floods of tears. Inside the big head I could sense Mr Berg chuckling to himself. He was actually enjoying this awful abuse of power and I was playing my part. Throwing my arms around, stamping my foot, jabbing the finger accusingly at her. While I was doing this I caught sight of my reflection. I realised at that moment that this was not Mr Berg terrorising this young employee, it was me. I was the one adding terror to the situation.nbsp;At that moment I reached to the back of the helmet, found the switch and turned it off. I decided that I hated the helmet, I hated that job,nbsp;I hated it simply because of what it made me become.nbsp;nbsp;