[ WP ] In a world where almost everyone is an unfeeling psychopath , those who can show emotion are shunned -- being able to display or feel emotion is considered a mental illness .

At lunch I walked in among sharks. Meeting the partner was something I could no longer put off. We were bound to discuss the potential layoff of several hundred subs. For a week I ducked her calls until it was no longer characteristic. Before her suspicions rose I set up an appointment at the restaurant where we had first broken bread. The woman was observing the menu when I joined her. 
 
 `` You're almost late,'' she said. 
 
 `` There was some protest on Main Street. Why we even permit these subs their hopeless charade is beyond me.'' 
 
 She sank her teeth into a slice of complimentary bread. 
 
 `` It's entertaining, mostly,'' she said, `` like watching headless chickens. It occupies them, gives them a sense that they're making a difference. But it's all good fun. Remember the protest a few weeks back? With the tear gas! Oh, that was beautiful.'' 
 
 `` I love seeing the riot shields come out,'' I said, `` as if they would do anything requiring them. It's almost unnecessary.'' 
 
 `` Almost,'' said the partner, `` Anyways, I watch the video from that last one at least once a day. Nothing like a good laugh to ease some stress.'' 
 
 I shoved bread in my mouth. 
 
 Everyone in the restaurant reeked of ivory. The partner was wearing an iron-colored pantsuit with stiff shoulders. Her hair, tied back, was lashed with gray. I regretted wearing brown. It screamed'different.' 
 
 A young blonde server arrived, asking what she could get for us. 
 
 `` There's so much you could get for me, sweetheart, but why do n't we start with the calamari.'' 
 
 I could have sensed the unease in her face with my eyes closed. Still, the girl put on a rehearsed veneer of professionalism. When she returned with the first course, the gold band on the partner's finger had disappeared. As the girl slunk back to the kitchen she made no eye contact. The partner watched her go from the corner of her eye. 
 
 `` We should start breeding subs,'' she said. 
 
 Chewing the calamari, she savored it with a deep breath. 
 
 When next we were approached it was by a male server. The partner stared up at him. 
 
 `` Who are you?'' 
 
 `` My name is Manny. I'll be your server now.'' 
 
 `` What happened to the girl?'' 
 
 `` Her shift ended. She had to go home.'' 
 
 The partner said nothing and looked across the table at me. 
 
 `` You see, this is the problem with these subs,'' she said, prodding her calamari with a fork, `` None of them knows what they want. They just cling to the sad idea that they've got each other. It's sick.'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry,'' said the server. 
 
 Right then his inexperience exposed him. Even someone from the next table over looked into our conversation. 
 
 `` No, do n't be sorry,'' said the partner with a smile. `` You should be proud. Is n't that right? You should be proud of what you are, of your existence. Is n't that what the protests are all about? Do n't leave your friends in the dust, now.'' 
 
 As the server shrank in his place, witless of how he should escape, I could feel everyone's sights converging. There was blood in the water. 
 
 `` What's the point of empathy, if you're just going to abandon your kind at the first hint of trouble?'' the partner said. 
 
 I could feel my blood rising. There was nothing I could do to control it; my face and hands grew hot and felt like beacons. 
 
 `` Why do n't you stop lying and bring us back the girl?'' I said. 
 
 The server looked at me like I had burned him. 
 
 `` I-I... s-she's gone home for the day -- honest.'' 
 
 I held him in my gaze for a few moments. Then without thinking I slid my plate of calamari off the edge of the table and onto the floor. As its fried contents spilled across the carpet, I feigned shock. 
 
 `` Oops,'' I said. `` I did n't mean to, honest.'' 
 
 His face collapsed as a patron nearby chuckled. Without a word he stooped over and cleaned up the mess and carried it away in the lap of his apron. With a surge of relief I looked at the partner. She was scrutinizing me. Her eyes sliced right through. I stared back and felt something snap shut in mine like jaws. Then she smiled. 
 
 `` So, shall we discuss business?'' 
 
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