Versus

I would like to take this opportunity to allow the reader a peek at the inner workings here at Weapon Mods. Some of our readers have expressed a desire for something of a personal touch, to see beneath the glossy exterior that we take such pains to keep polished. It may be time to put a face with the name, as some would put it, and with nothing pressing at the moment, now seems like as good a time as any. However, there may as yet be something else behind this post. I've decided not to pin up the thin veil of altruism that I had considered, but I can't quite get into why I'm opening the doors, if just a bit, sans golden ticket. I'm sorry to have doubted you, Reader- I should have known you'd be right along with me, despite my earlier facade of posting a Making Of...but, let's just get to the real reason for this post.

Now, don't be too disappointed, we will need to explore some of the behind-the-scenes aspects of Weapon Mods if we're going to reach a conclusion to the problem I will put on the table for all to dissect, shortly.

The offices of Weapon Mods are situated in a cozy downtown office building that looks more like a brownstone apartment than a commercial space. To be sure, if the sounds that emanate from the floor above us are any indication, it is unlikely that all the inhabitants of this four-storied facility are within the demographic of persons wanting to further their career.

Because of the monorail, the lights do dim from time to time, the windows do rattle, and on a slow day we can watch motes of dust drift lazily in the shafts of the 3:00 sunlight. Actually, it's usually 3:07, as the D Train is always a little off. Not all of the light sockets work, and the plumbing is nefarious in the winter. Despite all this, 7784 Thornbelle Street, Suite E, is where we crank out this crowd-pleaser, and for the most part, we wouldn't have it any other way. Also, for that long list of cons, rent ain't so bad, either.

The quirks that are the natural conditions of our setting do not create the problem. No.

The problem lies with a particular houseplant situated in the hall outside the doors of Weapon Mods, Suite E. This plant is a tall, ungainly mess, that bears no resemblance to the description thrust into the dirt at its base: Ficus Benjamina, Weeping Fig- Elegant Braided Stem. Good Light Essential To Avoid Leaf Drop, But Avoid Direct Sun. Water Once Every Two Weeks, But Otherwise Keep Moist. Liquid Feed April-September. It reminded me of something someone would write about themselves on one of those match-maker sites, but then you end up with this ugly unwieldy mess that makes you want to drink.

I will go so far as to describe the hall outside our office to illustrate clearly why this houseplant is a problem. Suite E is not accessible via elevator, as there is no elevator; three flights of stairs serve as the last defense between us and any invading armies. The floors are hardwood with a slight run of blue carpet running the length between the stairs and a window overlooking some one's urbanite garden and from time to time small children seemingly escaped from some orphanage or otherwise guardian-less. The window is narrow and tall and faces West, allowing us to be joined by our massive counterpart shadows at closing time. The framework of the window makes for the hall to be bisected. In other words, Weapon Mods, Suite E, clearly holds dominion on one side of the hall, while Suite F rules the other. This is an unspoken, yet beyond-question law and I am sure was inked out along the same time as Hammurabi's. And, for the most part, things went swimmingly when it came to any questions about the immediate surroundings of Weapon Mods, until the Ficus Benjamina.

I knew it may become a problem when I first spied it upon reaching the third floor last October. But, it was on the opposite side of Suite E, Suite F's territory. It blocked some of the sunlight coming in, but my hands were tied; after all, I wouldn't have anyone from Suite F making a row if I decided to burn someone from their staff in effigy on our side of the hall, that was just the matter of things.

And for months, there it stayed, on the other side of the hall, full and healthy, even though it was an inherently ugly specimen of vegetation. For a long time I thought we may have to endure the thing indefinitely; I thought it was a fake. But that proved not to be the case as time went on; someone from Suite F was keeping it alive, caring for it, it seemed, every two weeks.

The problem, at last, is this: round about two weeks ago the weeping willow looked as if it had made some progress, however lacking bipedal locomotion, to our side of the hall. I was in a hurry at the time, I wanted to start "Take Flight" before that errant Cardinal left my mind completely, so I didn't stop to confirm my earliest suspicions. The next morning was the next I thought about the plant, and the sight of it made me eye the door of Suite F contemptuously, O.A.D.S. the placard to their door said...the full name wouldn't fit into the allotted space. The plant had moved, yet again. I pushed it back toward Suite F's side of the hall with my foot, and considered calling. I didn't want a misunderstanding to escalate, so I shrugged it off. Surely it happened because someone had turned the plant in order to assure all sides were evenly sunned, and in so doing, the plant had inadvertently settled nearer to Suite E.

But when I locked up that night, the plant had been pushed clear to the other side of the window, our side; a provocation had been made.

I pushed the Ficus back across the hall and left.

The next morning the CO2 emitting hulk was standing in front of the door to Suite E, blocking the placard that read, Weapon Mods, and inserted into the soil below was an index card that read, "Take care of your plant. -Orbital Anvil Drop Station."


The degrees of retaliation clicked and whirred through my mind like some devil's The Price Is Right wheel. I was incensed: long has that inferior blog been a sty in the eye of everything we do here, but there were always efforts to remain cordial.

Silence from the opposite door, I wondered if someone was watching me from the space at the floor. I was going to set the plant exactly in front of their entrance, but it seemed petty. At last I picked it up and set it next to the window, away from our side, as it always had been.


Later I wondered if perhaps an honest mistake had been made, maybe the tenants of Suite F truly thought the plant was ours. But, I had folded the dirt-smudged index card in half and set it in a drawer, and taking it out to look at it, I knew who was making the mistake.


So, Reader...that is the problem. I do not know how to proceed. I feel, we here at Weapon Mods have been "called out", so ignoring it is not the best solution (some degree of dignity must remain intact). Also keep in mind, that no matter the outcome, the folks at O.A.D.S. and Weapon Mods will likely remain inhabitants of the third floor of 7784 Thornbelle, so I can only hope that some plateau of civility can be reached sometime in the future.


I turn to you, as surely we can agree upon some solution. Quickly.