Work Text:
The heavy bottle registered a shockwave which fled in all directions as the sommelier set it upon the table, finding its home in the eardrums of all three gentlemen present.
“That’s what I love to hear,” the wealthier of the two seated men remarked.
“Tell us more about this wine, Mr. Chambers,” said the other.
The sommelier, sensing an immediate opportunity to express his fondness in his career and his extensive knowledge of the subject, began to expound upon the history of the tiny bottle seated between the two men far wealthier than him.
“This wine comes from the Central Valley of California, an emerging location for wineries in the late 19th century. The Rex Opulentia vineyard, seated along the San Joaquin River, was a place exclusively famous worldwide for its fantastic variety and unique tastes, making it one of the most successful vineyards in the United States. Unfortunately, as demand for luxury goods fell drastically during the Great Depression, the Rex Opulentia was forced to close, permanently, in 1930 after selling only one hundred and fifty bottles of that season’s wine. This is one of three remaining bottles in the world of the 1930 Rex Opulentia, and one of seven sourced from the Rex Opulentia vineyard. Records say that the taste of the wine-”
“No need to continue, Mr. Chambers,” the wealthier man remarked. Mr. Chambers’ mind changed from immeasurable satisfaction that he had been given the opportunity to demonstrate his knowledge, his own great passion, to an all-consuming pale expressed in only four words: “No need to continue.”
“Pour us our glasses.”
And so Mr. Chambers did. Every drop of the liquid he poured into their containers was worth more than his complete annual salary. Billions of people live and die without seeing a sum of money like that which was about to be carelessly digested by these men.
The difference in wealth between the two men seated at the table was of an almost-incomprehensible magnitude, in the order of the tens of billions of dollars. Technically speaking, the less wealthy man possessed a net worth closer to that of the meager savings of Mr. Chambers than to the other, but this information was relevant on the level of bar trivia. In practice, Chambers served both men completely in that moment, in both mind and body. If one man said “Chambers, think about this,” said object would appear in his mind. If the other said, “Stop,” the image would be gone as quickly as it appeared.
The wealthiest man at the table took a sip of the wine, pondered for a second, and commented as though it were second nature:
“It has a smoky, almost overdeveloped taste. Very full in body. The aromas reminiscent of tobacco and cherries compliment the wine perfectly. Its astringent texture truly allows it to develop into its own as a wine. The taste of plums and grapes ripples over my tongue as I’m transported back through time to my youth on my father’s estate. Both stimulating and delightful to the palate. Thank you very much, Mr. Chambers.”
The two men sat and drank their historic wines, letting their carnal tongues demolish this work of art, remember it for a moment, and then lose it forever. They spoke about investments, coup-planning, investment plans, how to use one’s public image to make billions from cryptocurrency, and a myriad of topics which Mr. Chambers shut his ears to, as he was told to do. When the men stood up, they briefly thanked Mr. Chambers before departing separately in their luxurious containers.
The waiter quickly hurried over to collect the silverware and glasses from the duo, as Mr. Chambers turned, but took one long glance behind him at the retreating men, rere regardant. The chittering silence of a man left to himself was broken by the observation of the skinny, pale-faced waiter:
“Look, there’s still some drops of the wine. Want to have some, Andrew?”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Hey, isn’t it supposed to be the best wine ever or something? You’d be failing your job NOT to try it!”
“It’s my job to know what other people have said about it, not to taste it myself.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Actually,” Mr. Chambers said calmly, clearly pondering that this may be his only opportunity to try even a milliliter of the 1930 Rex Opulentia. The two workers clinked the glasses together, and drank down the last of the dredges.
“How would you say it tastes?”
This question from the lanky figure forced Chambers to ponder for a few seconds exactly the words he would use to describe it, but he could only arrive at one.
“Bitter.”