Monday Briefing

As recorded by the Department of Paper Cuts and Minor Disasters, through a haze of cheap coffee and wounded egos.

Hampus let his gaze drift across the room on Monday morning.

Before him sat the editorial staff of RABAGAS.

Journalists.

Photographers.

Writers.

Creative souls.

A respectable gathering of inquisitive people who, all things considered, probably represented the closest the world was ever going to get to a magazine like this.

He himself had just emerged victorious from a long and humiliating battle with the coffee machine.

The beast had spat, groaned and complained loudly before finally surrendering something resembling one-third of a mug filled with murky black liquid.

The mug itself was enormous and bright pink.

His niece had given it to him for his fortieth birthday.

She had been two years old at the time and had wrapped it herself, with an enthusiasm that greatly exceeded her practical abilities.

One-third of a mug, Hampus decided, was a perfectly reasonable Monday serving from a machine that had apparently gone on strike and refused to cooperate before lunch.

He took a sip.

The taste confirmed his suspicion.

This was going to be one of those weeks.

Had anyone planned anything at all?

Or would he once again have to coax assignments out of people one teaspoon at a time?

His eyes settled on Dag.

Of course.

Dag was busy.

His latest obsession was LinkedIn.

Hampus silently cursed himself for ever suggesting the platform in the first place.

Dag possessed the sort of temperament that threw itself one hundred and twenty percent into absolutely everything.

One evening of dancing in the park and the man would be ready to get married by breakfast.

Now LinkedIn had become his latest great love.

The rest of the editorial staff had simply learned to live with the dry little bursts of laughter that escaped him whenever he believed he had written a particularly clever post.

The others didn't look much better.

Hangover faces.

Yawns.

The lingering smell of ash and gin that had clearly visited several other places before eventually finding its way into the newsroom.

Hampus had barely finished the thought when Jonas walked through the door.

A pleasant interruption.

Not necessarily a useful one.

Jonas was talking to his phone again.

As usual.

Where Dag enjoyed quiet fits of laughter over his own LinkedIn posts, Jonas delivered full-blown sermons to his camera.

The endings of his livestreams had become so long that the rest of the newsroom could practically recite them from memory.

This, everyone knew, was only the beginning of today's goodbye.

There were at least another five minutes to go.

Hampus sighed, picked up a stub of chalk and turned towards the old blackboard someone had apparently left behind sometime in the 1980s.

In large letters he wrote:

TODAY'S AGENDA

1. The Fool Article (Jonas)
2. The OnlyFans Story (Sweden)
3. Miscellaneous (Keep it brief, dear God.)

The Fool Article

At last, Jonas lowered his phone.

His hoodie slipped back, revealing red eyes and biscuit crumbs caught in his beard.

He collapsed into a chair, opened a bag of potato chips as though it contained life-saving oxygen, and muttered,

"Trolls."

Dag looked up.

"Again?"

"They've escalated," Jonas replied between generous handfuls of crisps.

"I'm talking coordinated sabotage."

"Hate comments in twelve languages."

"Someone photoshopped me into a ferret yesterday."

Ragna looked up from her notebook.

"A ferret?"

"A ferret."

"Congratulations," Dag said dryly.

"You've reached the mammal tier."

Hampus pointed his piece of chalk towards the blackboard.

"Which is precisely why you're writing The Fool Article this week."

Jonas frowned.

"What?"

"The title is practically finished already," Hampus continued.

Sometimes you have to play the fool to convince fools they've fooled you.

"It suits you better than that hoodie."

"I can't write that."

"Oh yes, you can," Dag said.

"Think of it as therapy."

"Play the fool."

"Show them how it's done."

Jonas shrugged.

"Fine."

"But the ferret stays."

"The ferret stays."

Hampus placed a neat tick beside the first item on the agenda.

One problem solved.

Or, at least, officially relocated.

The OnlyFans Story

The next item on the agenda was the OnlyFans feature.

Ragna cleared her throat with ceremonial seriousness.

"We've found a forty-one-year-old woman in Sweden."

"Entirely ordinary in every other respect."

"She's trying to build a career on OnlyFans while also helping other women enter the Swedish market."

"Technically against the platform's rules."

"Journalistically very interesting."

Dag nodded.

"Long-form feature."

"A female byline."

"This could carry an entire issue."

Jonas leaned forward.

"What about me?"

"Absolutely not," Dag and Hampus replied in perfect unison.

A brief silence followed.

Tass appeared carrying two mismatched mugs of instant coffee, muttering something about heartburn.

Elsa predicted a decline in subscriptions.

Sophie absent-mindedly waved her camera around as though it might double as a weapon.

Dmitri coughed.

Rin continued writing with surgical precision.

Everyone had their moment.

Nobody volunteered for the OnlyFans assignment.

The question of who would take it remained suspended in the room like a suspicious cable hanging from the ceiling.

Hampus clapped his hands once.

"Right."

"That's settled."

"Jonas is writing The Fool Article."

"We'll decide the OnlyFans feature later."

"The rest of you..."

"...keep the wheels turning."

"The meeting is adjourned."

Jonas stuffed another handful of crisps into his mouth.

"Fine."

"I'll be the fool."

"But I'll be the fool with the byline."

The room exhaled as though someone had just lit a collective cigarette.

The coffee tasted worse with every sip.

The mandarins in the fruit bowl were quietly giving up on life.

Out in the hallway, the coffee machine continued sulking to itself.

It was Monday.

The working week had officially begun.

And the respectable, inquisitive, and slightly dysfunctional people of RABAGAS staggered onward...

...towards the next deadline.