“Where the hell have you been?” he
asks, quite annoyed.
“Believe it or not, fighting for
my life.” I really don’t feel like arguing right now.
“Well thankfully, the meeting
before ours is running late, so we’re still technically on time.” He looks me
up and down. “Go fix up your make-up and hair. You certainly look like you’ve
been fighting. But hurry, the meeting’s starting soon.”
I rush to the bathroom, and see
that all the hard work I put into my appearance this morning is pretty much
ruined right now. I smooth down my hair using water from the sink, and I rub
off and reapply my make-up. I turn around to inspect myself, and I see a long
gash up the back of my stockings. I sigh. There’s nothing I can really do about
that. I take off my shoe, seeing that there are little shards from the
android’s eye still embedded.
Finally, when I’m done, I don’t
look so disheveled anymore. And I’ll just have to look as dignified as possible
with a rip down my stockings. I go outside and see Marc waiting for me.
“There, you look more respectable
now. More like a modern day business woman and less like a Stone Age one,” he
says. I shoot him a glare. “Now, are you ready?”
“Yep,” I say a little nervously.
“Time to get the show going.”
“Well then, after you, dear.”
Dear? Has Marc gotten some sort of
a loose screw? Wait, I forgot. We’re supposed to be a married couple. Right. I
sigh. “Thank you, darling.” He smirks at me, and I shrug. Might as well get
into the role.
As we approach the building, I
realize just how intimidating it is. A large skyscraper, plated with mirrors
and silver so that the afternoon sun gleamed and glittered against the smooth
surface. The tip of the tower disappears into the clouds above. It seems so
unreal. Inside of 134 Tree Street is even more intimidating, with its high
ceilings, and very geometric architecture. The thing that put me at the most
unease was the sheer whiteness of the entire lobby. It’s a medical white, the
type almost too pure that it hurts the eyes. It makes the room look even larger
than it already is. The room and the people seem distant, and cold.
We approach the desk, and a young
woman looks up at us. She fixes the glasses on her nose and asks, “How may I
help you?”
“We have an appointment with Mr.
Sharpo. I had asked earlier, but you said that his previous meeting was running
late,” said Marc as monotonously as possible.
The woman started typing in
something into her computer. After a few seconds she looks up and tells us that
Mr. Sharpo’s ready to see us. She points us to the direction of the elevators,
and tells us that Mr. Sharpo’s room is on the 35th floor. Mr.
Sharpo’s located only on the 35th
floor? How interesting. I would expect such a high-ranking
official to be on a much higher level. The 35th floor is only about
half way up the building!
I smile elegantly and thank her.
It’s hard keeping up this act. Always having to be elegant, cool and mature. Also,
trying not to say something biting to both Marc and the secretary is hard. How
can adults do this all the time? It’s only been a few minutes yet I can feel
the façade cracking.
Marc and I slide into the elevator,
and I lean against the wall, thoroughly relieved I can drop the act for a
little bit. Marc touches my arm, and I jump. He looks hurt, then pulls his hand
away. “You ok?” he asks, a bit gruffly. “You seemed freaked out back there.”
“Yeah,” I reply. I hug myself
nervously. “Just a bit edgy. Sorry if I offended you.” I smile at him
crookedly.
He waves me off. “You didn’t
offend me.” He isn’t looking at me now. I feel bad, and I’m about to apologize
when the door slides open and a man in a slick black suit walks in. I
immediately straighten, and look at the display. We’re only on the 19th
floor. I sigh, and the man presses the button for the 73rd floor.
The man looks at the lit button of
the 35th floor, and then looks over at me. “So you’re the one with
the meeting with Sharpo,” he says casually. “He’s a good subordinate, but a bit
too stuck in his ways.”
Subordinate? This guy has to be
either the second in command, or Mr. Bronson…
“Oh, how rude of me. The name’s
Bronson. Head of command here at the Investigation Bureau.” He gives me a
smooth smile. “Would you consider giving me your name? It would be an honour to
make an acquaintance of such a lovely lady.”
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