Friend of mine just roped me into a 60-minute word sprint. I just typed 1400 words in one sitting and my eyes are all like @_@ but I got some remarkably good moments out of it that I'm going to keep.
I took a deep breath and decided to stop putting off my meeting. The Janus building looked about the same as I remembered, with large, paved walkways to the building from the street corner and a small area of real grass surrounding the dark marble slab that had Janus’s logo mounted on it in embossed gold. Under it was a logo in fancy script: “Building the future, with the dreams of yesterday.”
To most people Janus was a purveyor of kitsch and assorted knick-knacks with a nostalgic style. To the rich, they provided luxury goods and services for a premium price.
To the underground, they were one of the single largest employers of scientists, soldiers, private military contractors, doctors, accountants, and lawyers in Metro. My old boss was now the CEO.
After the long walk to the lobby, I reached into my coat and pulled out a special ID that let me past security with no questions asked. The bevy of receptionists up front took a glance at the same and waved me through to the elevators with a smile. I picked the fancy one, by itself at the end of the hallway, and swiped my card in the executive slot. The doors opened on a genuine, living, breathing operator.
The man looked to be in his early twenties, but he’d probably gotten a derivative age treatment several generations down the line from the research that yielded my nanocytes. I hoped by now the technology had grown more stable.
“Good day, sir.” He gestured for me to step into the elevator, and I obliged.
“Where can I take you this afternoon?”
“I’m here to see Claude Treadle.”
The young man turned pale and glanced around the elevator car, but I couldn’t miss his glance over my street clothes. So yeah maybe I don’t clean up so well. Sue me.
I reached into my pocket again and pulled out the ID card, showing him my terrible picture and the carte-blanc security clearance it gave me for everything except the research labs in the basement. His face changed quickly from ultra-pale to fire-red as he blurted out and apology and started us on our way to the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city.
For about half the ride I couldn’t decide whether to make small talk or not, but when I hadn’t thought of anything to say by the fiftieth floor, I decided it was better to just stand there and smirk to myself. Poor kid never saw me coming.
Finally the doors slid open onto the foyer on the top floor and a very beefy-looking, well-armed man in an expensive suit greeted me with his palm out.
“ID.”
I showed him the card. He pushed a button under the intercom on the wall.
“Mister Treadle, you have a guest. A man named Arthur Breach is here to see you.”
The intercom was silent for several seconds, and then I heard Claude’s voice on the other end.
“Shoot him.”
I bum-rushed the big guy and pinned his weapon to the wall before he pulled the trigger. He tried to bring his knee to my groin, but I grappled his leg with mind and forced him spread-eagle and off-balance with my hand against his throat. Then I turned to the intercom.
“You just ruined this guy’s day, Claude. That was inconsiderate, at best.” Then I turned back to the beefy guy. “How long have you been working for Claude Treadle?”
“Uhnk.” Oh right. The throat thing. I loosened my grip.
“How long?”
“S- sixteen days.”
“Sixteen days. Claude? Jesus, turnover must suck for you, now. Take some pride.”
The intercom came to life with wheezing laughter.
“For god’s sake, Jerry. Let the man in.”
I looked back into the man’s face.
“Are you going to let me in, jerry?”
He nodded.
“And you aren’t going to shoot me, first?”
He shook his head. Desperately.
“Okay, then. At ease.”
I let the man regain his footing and straightened his collar. Then I patted him on the shoulder and opened the door to Claude’s office. The old man was sitting behind his desk with tears streaming down his face and a cigar in his hand.
“On behalf of Jerry outside, you’re kind of an asshole, Claude.”
Author
Topic: NaNoWriMo 2014: It's Over! (Read 25206 times)