Storia: A Table for Three (Un Tavolo per Tre)
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The chef placed the plates on the counter. The steak was perfect. The vegetables were fresh and tender. The smell of the sauce was mouth-watering. Henry picked the plates up and carried them gracefully into the dining room.
There was only one table in the lavishly decorated room. In the corner, a woman was playing soft piano music. The walls were made of glass, and the view of the sea was magnificent.
Henry placed one plate in front of each of the three men, and began to pour the wine.
“So, she’s been elected,” said one man with brown hair. “But without my support, she’s nothing.”
A bald man spoke. “That’s seventeen governments you control now, isn’t it? You sneaky devil!”
“I beg your pardon!” the man replied, offended. “It’s eighteen.”
“You’re catching up with me.”
The men clinked their glasses.
Henry bowed, left the room and returned to the kitchen. He washed his hands, and went to the bathroom. Inside a cubicle, he checked his hidden camera. The device was still working correctly.
Henry was an undercover reporter. For over five years, he had pretended to be a waiter. He’d worked at ten different catering companies. It was all so he could serve dinner to the three men this evening.
Everyone who worked for the company had a strict contract. If they revealed anything they heard, the penalty was extremely harsh. But Henry didn’t care: it was more important to show the world the truth.
He washed his hands again, returned to the kitchen, and helped to prepare the dessert. It was a luxurious tart, made with rare dark chocolate and decorated with gold.
When Henry brought the dessert into the dining room, the three men were laughing.
“I don’t care whether the President believes in climate change,” said a man with curly hair. “I have secret underground homes on every continent. She can burn with everyone else.”
“Underground?” laughed the man with brown hair. “Enjoy your life as a mole. I’ll wave to you from orbit.”
The third man scoffed. “Space? I’m staying right here on Earth. If it’s hot, I’ve got air conditioning. If it’s cold, I’ve got heating. If there’s something I need, I’ve got an army of robots.”
Henry looked at the chocolate tarts. He felt sick. He placed one in front of each man, and poured more wine.
“You know, I feel bad for them sometimes,” said the bald man. “Billions of people, working so hard, for so little. Like our waiter.”
Henry froze.
“Look at this man. Do you realise he’s worked for five years just to be here tonight?”