As the big players on the world stage prepare to enter our world for two hours, last minute preparations are maddeningly unfolding behind the scenes to ensure flawless execution of plans that have been exhaustively designed and polished to a pristine excellence.
While the main stage is a sea of peace and serenity, everything in meticulous order, and the lull of enticing music mesmerizing the crowds, a thunderstorm of giant proportions is brewing in the wings. Someone dashes in with a ripped jacket hem distressed beyond means this has happened at such an important moment. Two staples later and a covering of black Sharpie ensure the future of the world doesn't hang in the balance due to a fashion disaster.
As the printer awakes growling and beeping incessantly to be fed a breakfast of A3 and A4 paper, the server refuses to open its eyes to the new day. Maybe the overload of new knowledge objects dropped in its lap last night has taken its toll.
Two people enter stressing over the absence of an important dignitary, while another enters asking for antacid tablets. A forth enters searching for a pen and a place to sit. The carefully placed stacks of information prepared for the session have suddenly become smothered in coffee cups, folders, cell phones, and laptops.
A last minute review uncovers a catastrophic flaw in the writing and everything has to be scrapped. The tension in the air crackles like thunderbolts. Seeing the potential for a deluge, the keeper of the crypt takes a deep breath and smiles. As the new assignments find their way off the now sated printer, a calm begins to emerge and day breaks once again.
It's 7am and the world's secrets have started to unfold not on the main stage, but between the walls of the backstage crypt. Its eyes and ears are witness to the true workings of peace, and I am the keeper of the crypt.
