The Substitute Assassins

My clansman starred in a film called The Replacement Killers once. It was quite a hit. One day, I overheard an old man trying to recall the title, and the title of this post is what he came up with. And that leads me to my present state of mind.

Right now, where I work, are many substitute officers. They were our former trainees, now qualified, who are in between states of life and jobs and the beginnings of their careers. I amuse myself by trying to think how their own trainees must see them, and what they must seem like to those who do not know that they are only substitute officers.

Here is what I've thought. They look pretty solid (mostly) for ersatz workmates. You might be forgiven on first look for thinking that some of them are indeed entry-level officers. Then again, maybe not. And sometimes, unfortunately, you look at them and unflattering or peculiar nicknames spring to mind.

There's one I call the Loafer. Seemingly loafing around all the time, this substitute has a sheepish and yet somehow guileful look which shades to potential malevolence when in the wrong shadow. There's another I think of as Bond movie material, but who has a pervasive air of innocent charm. There's one more who looks positively elegant despite some altitudinal compromise, and another who persists in calling me 'sir' in tones of mingled outrage and despair. There's one who struggles to put on a no-nonsense look, even as our most junior trainees misbehave. There is one more who ghosts around the place looking like the beautiful but vengeful spirit of some artistic muse.

They walk around the place, as if still not quite sure whether they are officers or trainees.

It is all very amusing, and yet very touching. I am happy to see them around, but they also make me conscious of my dispensability, my mortality, and the fact that seasons change and times pass; and we are as the flower of the field that fades and blows away. In a way, these young people have brought my death that much closer to me. By that, I am sobered, and yet made happy and oddly thankful.