Grease

On Monday, the last remaining abbot of the Spider Clan called Java master Suku into his office.

“You are well behind schedule,” said the abbot, flipping open a painted fan. “I shall help you prioritize. The analyst tells me that your application’s primary purpose is to chart historical data. Therefore, direct all developers to cease their current activities and complete the chart-generation module.”

“As the abbot commands,” said Suku. She bowed low and went out.

On Tuesday, the abbot called Suku into his office.

“I have spoken with the customer,” said the abbot, filing his long nails. “They can forgo charts in the first release, provided that we can export the data in tabular format. Direct all developers to cease their current activities and complete the data-export module.”

“As the abbot commands,” said Suku. She bowed low and went out.

On Wednesday, the abbot called Suku into his office.

“I have spoken with the sales department,” said the abbot, pulling a needle carefully through an embroidery frame. “They have several prospective customers who would be swayed if we offered geographic visualization in the first release. Direct all developers to cease their current activities and complete the map-generation module.”

“As the abbot commands,” said Suku. She bowed low and went out.

On Thursday and Friday, the abbot called Suku into his office.

All went much as it had on the days before.

On Saturday, the abbot called Suku into his office.

“You have made very little progress this week,” said the abbot, dragging a tiny rake through a miniature sand garden on his desk. “Explain.”

“As the abbot commands,” said Suku. With a whirl of her staff she struck the abbot in the back of the head, sprawling him unconscious on his desk in a spray of white sand.

On Sunday, the Abbess Over All Clans And Concerns called Suku into her office.

“The abbot of your clan wished me to cancel your morning meeting on his behalf,” said the Abbess, “as he appears to have fallen into our deepest well and cannot climb out.”

“Are there not sturdy iron rungs set in the walls?” asked Suku.

“They appear to have been thoroughly greased,” frowned the Abbess. “As was the bucket-rope. And the stone walls themselves. The abbot has climbed many miles this morning, yet sadly it is the same ten feet over and over. Direct all your developers to cease their current activities and observe his progress. I believe they will find it most edifying.”

“As the abbess commands,” said Suku. She bowed low and went out.