“We have a critical task before us.”

Mr. Browning looked at the two men and the woman sitting around the table, strangers all, before he spoke again. “It must be someone we can all agree on. The decision must be unanimous.”

They shifted. The woman and one of the men looked at each other. The other man placed his head down on the table and groaned softly.

“We are allowed to vote on each name proposed.” The woman, Mrs. Derringer, folded her gloved hands and focused on them. “And we are each allowed to suggest three names.”

“Let’s get on with it, then.” Mr. Winchester put a beefy hand down on the table and pushed himself up. “I nominate my ex-wife, Maureen, her former lover, Dr. Matthew Leavitt, and Father MacGregor, the priest from my childhood parish. I don’t know if he’s still on this planet, but the world will be a better place.”

“Winchester, you know the guidelines – no personal vendettas. We all need to agree, and it’s not for us to settle our grievances.

“All the same, Browning, those are my three names, and I won’t withdraw them. I’m not keen on this task, but as I have been selected to participate, I must stand behind the names I put forth.”

“You’re talking about people, not names, Mr. Winchester.” Mrs. Derringer crossed her ankles under the table and fanned herself with a small folding fan she drew from her purse. “I nominate the homeless man with no legs to whom I gave five dollars yesterday. He’s located in front of Pier Twelve, 7 am daily. Or the woman who carries flowers down to the bay every afternoon. She gathers a large bouquet, throws them in, then lays down on the rocks to weep.” She shook her head. “It would be a mercy.” 

Mr. Browning nodded. “Those are acceptable. The homeless man, and the demented woman.” He muttered as he wrote on a pad of paper.

“Are my names on that list, Browning? Make sure that you’ve got them all.” Mr. Winchester pointed to the sheet of paper and looked over Browning’s shoulder. “Ah, good.  Which ones are you submitting, by the way?”

Mr. Browning picked up a newspaper, opened it to the local section and laid it flat on the table. He drew a circle with his pen. “This one.” He drew another circle on the paper. “This one.” He circled another. “And this one.” He tossed the pen back on the table and Mr. Winchester peered down at the paper.

“My God, Browning. A birth announcement? The mother, father or baby?” He looked down again. “A drunk driver, of course. But a nonprofit director who just received a promotion? What are you playing at?”

Browning  looked up. “I’m not playing at anything, Mr. Winchester. I’ve randomly selected three names. And it’s the mother, to be precise. Which is entirely acceptable. Mrs. Derringer, do you have a third suggestion?”

He looked at Mrs. Derringer expectantly.

“Yes, I do.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “There’s a dog trainer at Muttin’ Matters on Wishing Well Avenue. Darius Styles. I choose him.”

Browning wrote on his pad.  “That leaves you, Mr. Ruger. You’re the last one to give us three names.”

The three swiveled to look at their silent partner. His hooded head rose from the table, displaying a grey sweatshirt with a large marijuana leaf emblazoned in a bold green color and the saying, “High Roller, High Stakes, High Times” below it in a loopy rainbow script. He looked younger than the others by several decades.

“Call me Josh.”

Mr. Browning nodded. “Okay, Josh. Who do you suggest?”

Josh looked down at the table, the hoody falling over his eyes. “Guido Sarducci, an Italian priest in New York.”

Mr. Browning wrote on his paper.

“And Wayne Campbell, from Illinois. He’s got a talk show on cable.”

Mr. Browning recorded the name. Mr. Winchester frowned.

“Now you’re playing games, Ruger.”

“Call me Josh.”

“Okay, Josh. Those are fictional characters. From Saturday Night Live.”

“Ah, but those are my names.  Aren’t you the kettle calling the pot black, Mr. Winchester?”

“My names are real, however distasteful they may be to you.”

“This is all very unusual.” Mr. Browning ran his hand through his hair. “Apparently Mrs. Derringer and I are the only two who are taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously.” The young man looked at the others. “Which is why the third name is my own.”

They gasped. Mr. Browning started stuttering. “I-I-I-I… I don’t know that I can use that.”

Mrs. Derringer sniffed and looked at Josh, curling her upper lip. “Young man, you are making light of a situation that none of us are enjoying. Perhaps you aren’t sure how this is supposed to work.”

“I understand perfectly. We each put forth three names and then come to a unanimous decision.” She nodded, and he continued. “We’ve all done that. Now we discuss and decide. Or else we will be here all day.”

“Apparently you don’t want to be here at all. On this earth.” Mr. Winchester peered intently at the young man and studied his face then turned to the other man. “Okay, Browning, we’ve got our names. Now what?”

Mr. Browning flipped through a small notebook and read quickly. “Now we debate our nominations.

Josh spoke up. “There’s nothing to debate. I refuse to agree to any of your nominations, Unless you choose mine, there is no consensus.”

“But two of your names are fictional, and the other is yourself!” Mrs. Derringer looked scandalized. “We have to provide the officials with the name today, and if it’s fictional, we won’t have done our job in good faith. Not to mention that we’ll be the laughingstock of the community.”

“I’ve given you one real name.”

“Now Mr. Ruger….”

“It’s Josh.”

“Now, Josh. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to work. Be reasonable. We can’t choose under duress.” Mr. Browning turned towards the younger man. He continued.

“Take my choices, for example. Yes, a new mother sounds awful, but men are much more likely to remarry after a spouse dies, so the baby should have a new mother relatively quickly. And why not a drunk driver? Putting people at risk like that.  I believe there’s justification there.”

“And your dedicated nonprofit leader?”

“Yes, well, that’s random. All three of them are, actually. Which is an entirely rational way to approach it.”

“And therein lies my problem.” Josh looked at the others. “We are supposed to approach this rationally, but it’s an entirely irrational activity. Mr. Winchester can’t select rationally, so instead he selects his unfaithful wife, her lover and his childhood priest. He argues that it’s best for society. But it’s self-serving.”

Mr. Winchester’s face reddened. “It may be self-serving, but all of them would be justified.”

“Justified by whom?” The young man began pacing around the room as the others glanced at each other and then watched him. “How can any of you make this decision about anyone else?”

Mrs. Derringer spoke up quickly. “It’s been this way for generations. It’s random and impersonal by design. None of us are eager to be in this position.”

“But you’ve quickly nominated people who obviously distress you. A homeless beggar? A crazed grieving widow?  I venture to guess that your dog groomer has offended you somehow – that’s not random.”

Mrs. Derringer shifted and folded and unfolded her fan.

“Any objections to this process should have been brought up before this panel was convened.” Mr. Browning ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I move that we accept all names offered and proceed.”

“If what Josh is saying is correct, if he isn’t going to agree to any name other than his own, that would be suicide. I can’t be a party to that.” Mr. Winchester sat down heavily at the table.

“Mr. Winchester, you know as well as I do that once the name is officially submitted, it will occur within 48 hours, with the timing and method unknown. I hardly call it a suicide if it is not self-initiated.”

“But you are initiating it!” Mrs. Derringer’s voice rose as she lost her composure. “Think of your mother, Josh. Think of the life you still have ahead of you.”

Josh shook his head. “What makes me different from any of the names that all of you have put forth? Each has a mother. Hell, one just became a mother! Everyone on our list is loved by somebody. Our task is unforgiveable, and I refuse to play God. I cannot and will not condemn anyone. I keep my name submitted.”

“No, no, no, no, no….” Mr. Browning mumbled to himself as Mrs. Derringer crossed herself.  Mr. Winchester wiped his shining brow with a handkerchief.

“This is truly a deplorable situation,” Mr. Winchester put the handkerchief in his pocket. “Why you chose to take this approach, I’ll never understand.”

“Josh, please reconsider.” Mrs. Derringer stood up and put a gloved hand gently on his arm. “Think of your family, and the years you still have to live.”

“The only difference between me and the folks you nominated is that I am in front of you. I’m not changing my position. Do what you will.”

Mrs. Derringer removed her hand and placed it on her throat as she walked away from Josh. Her voice was thick. “Let’s get it over. Let’s vote.”

Mr. Browning took his glasses off. “This is highly irregular.” He wiped the lenses with his  shirt sleeve. “But we have no other options.  Josh, will you agree to any of the names that have been put forth, except for your own?”

He put his glasses back on and looked at the young man who shook his head. Mrs. Derringer inhaled sharply and sat down. Mr. Winchester stared angrily at the hooded young man. Mr. Browning fixed his gaze on the table and spoke in a thick voice.

“Will both you, Mr. Winchester, and you, Mrs. Derringer, vote for the name that Mr. Ruger, uh, Josh, has put forward?”

Mr. Winchester scowled at them all.  Mrs. Derringer started to cry. Mr. Browning sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Josh spoke quietly. “Why is it like this? Why do we do this? We don’t have to.”

No one looked at him. No one spoke.

Then Mrs. Derringer’s voice broke the silence with a whisper. “Yes.”

All heads turned towards her. She continued to cry but nodded her head. “I vote yes.”

Mr. Browning wrote on his pad. “Mr. Winchester?”

The man nodded and grunted an assent. He wiped his forehead again.

Mr. Browning continued. “Josh?”

The young man gave a thumbs up, face hidden in the folds of the hoody.

Mr. Browning made one last note on his pad. His hands were shaking. “We have a unanimous decision.” He stood up, walked to the door and opened it. “I will give our results to the officials. Thank you for your time and cooperation.”

He exited quickly, leaving the others alone. Mr. Winchester stood up and followed without a word. Mrs. Derringer dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and looked at Josh as she prepared to leave. She started to speak but stopped. She reached a hand out towards the young man but withdrew it. Then she, too, exited without a word.

The young man sat alone for a long while. Then he stood up and walked out into the day.

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