11-01-2009, 08:47 AM
Lawrence swallowed hard as he presented his security badge to the burly, black-shirted guard. This place was giving him the creeps already, and he hadn’t even started the job yet. The guard scrutinized the photograph on the plastic card before doing a comparison. After a moment, he grunted and jerked his head towards the door, signaling approval for entry. Lawrence shrugged his tool bag tighter against his body and walked on through. Although the better part of his conscious screamed at him to just stare at his feet until he got to the room, the worker couldn’t help but glance around. He couldn’t recall seeing more organized chaos in his life, and wondered how in the world everyone else buzzed around like there weren’t armed guards or security cameras zeroing in on their every move. Something didn’t feel quite right about all this, but he was being paid a lot of money to be here.
A line of men and women in white coats and black-and-white checkered pants walked by, toting small cylindrical bags at their sides. By their apparel, Lawrence figured them for chefs. He might have chuckled if he weren’t so nervous, wondering if it was the guards who needed the fancy catering.
“Are you Mr. Scott?” someone asked suddenly.
Lawrence nearly jumped out of his skin. “Y-yes,” he stammered. The one who startled him was a man in a gray uniform, holding a clipboard and pen. The worker stole a glance at his name badge; it read “Victor Lewis.”
“Follow me, please.”
The nervous worker nodded obediently and shuffled along, not daring to allow himself any more distractions. They eventually came upon a large room, dark at first. The uniformed man flipped on a switch, and several bars of fluorescent lighting flickered to life along the ceiling. Numerous big gray sheets covered giant, bulky masses that lined each one of the walls.
“So…what is it you want me to fix?” Lawrence asked.
“We’re having some connectivity problems. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure,” Victor replied.
“Can you show me?”
The uniformed man nodded, and motioned for Lawrence to follow as he approached one of the sheets and pulled it away. He opened a hatch, and much to Lawrence’s horror, a body came tumbling out. He let out a loud gasp and instantly backed away.
“Sorry about that,” Victor said. “The janitor forgot to empty them.”
Lawrence couldn’t figure out which was worse: the fact that there was a dead body on the floor, or the fact that the employee was so nonchalant about it even being there in the first place. He covered his mouth, trying to mask his discomfort, which became even harder after he realized Victor had mentioned the word ‘them,’ as in, plural. Victor dragged the body away from the machine and rolled it over, flopping it down so it faced towards them. Open eyes bulged from the sockets, frozen in a lifeless stare.
“I’ll have someone come and pick him up,” the employee assured.
“Uh…could you…could you, uh,” Lawrence stuttered, choking back a lump in his throat and pointing a trembling hand at the corpse.
“Oh! Yeah, sure,” Victor caught on, as if it hadn’t been obvious before. He rotated the lifeless mass to the other side, so the disturbing gaze transfixed in the opposite direction. Without missing a beat, he stood up and pointed to a component within the machine, explaining a complex and bizarre problem.
“Do you have the schematics?”
Victor produced them from his clipboard, which had been set aside.
Lawrence reviewed the general layout, more than wishing he hadn’t accepted the offer to be an outside contractor for the Syntex Corporation.
“Do you have everything you need?”
Lawrence nodded weakly.
“Excellent. Should you require anything else, let me know. It’s very important for you to do a good job. Please begin,” Victor smiled. He pulled a walkie from his belt. “Commencing repairs.”
“Roger that,” crackled the reply.
Victor walked towards the heavy metal door, shutting it and locking it from the inside. Lawrence looked up, a mixture of surprise and fear etched along his already pale features. Victor stood in front of the only way in or out, unholstering his firearm and charging the ki clip within it. An unmistakable, heart-hammering humming noise filled the air as it did so. With a pistol in his grip, he calmly folded his hands together in front of him, giving Mr. Scott an eerie smile.
Lawrence fought back the urge to sob.
A line of men and women in white coats and black-and-white checkered pants walked by, toting small cylindrical bags at their sides. By their apparel, Lawrence figured them for chefs. He might have chuckled if he weren’t so nervous, wondering if it was the guards who needed the fancy catering.
“Are you Mr. Scott?” someone asked suddenly.
Lawrence nearly jumped out of his skin. “Y-yes,” he stammered. The one who startled him was a man in a gray uniform, holding a clipboard and pen. The worker stole a glance at his name badge; it read “Victor Lewis.”
“Follow me, please.”
The nervous worker nodded obediently and shuffled along, not daring to allow himself any more distractions. They eventually came upon a large room, dark at first. The uniformed man flipped on a switch, and several bars of fluorescent lighting flickered to life along the ceiling. Numerous big gray sheets covered giant, bulky masses that lined each one of the walls.
“So…what is it you want me to fix?” Lawrence asked.
“We’re having some connectivity problems. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure,” Victor replied.
“Can you show me?”
The uniformed man nodded, and motioned for Lawrence to follow as he approached one of the sheets and pulled it away. He opened a hatch, and much to Lawrence’s horror, a body came tumbling out. He let out a loud gasp and instantly backed away.
“Sorry about that,” Victor said. “The janitor forgot to empty them.”
Lawrence couldn’t figure out which was worse: the fact that there was a dead body on the floor, or the fact that the employee was so nonchalant about it even being there in the first place. He covered his mouth, trying to mask his discomfort, which became even harder after he realized Victor had mentioned the word ‘them,’ as in, plural. Victor dragged the body away from the machine and rolled it over, flopping it down so it faced towards them. Open eyes bulged from the sockets, frozen in a lifeless stare.
“I’ll have someone come and pick him up,” the employee assured.
“Uh…could you…could you, uh,” Lawrence stuttered, choking back a lump in his throat and pointing a trembling hand at the corpse.
“Oh! Yeah, sure,” Victor caught on, as if it hadn’t been obvious before. He rotated the lifeless mass to the other side, so the disturbing gaze transfixed in the opposite direction. Without missing a beat, he stood up and pointed to a component within the machine, explaining a complex and bizarre problem.
“Do you have the schematics?”
Victor produced them from his clipboard, which had been set aside.
Lawrence reviewed the general layout, more than wishing he hadn’t accepted the offer to be an outside contractor for the Syntex Corporation.
“Do you have everything you need?”
Lawrence nodded weakly.
“Excellent. Should you require anything else, let me know. It’s very important for you to do a good job. Please begin,” Victor smiled. He pulled a walkie from his belt. “Commencing repairs.”
“Roger that,” crackled the reply.
Victor walked towards the heavy metal door, shutting it and locking it from the inside. Lawrence looked up, a mixture of surprise and fear etched along his already pale features. Victor stood in front of the only way in or out, unholstering his firearm and charging the ki clip within it. An unmistakable, heart-hammering humming noise filled the air as it did so. With a pistol in his grip, he calmly folded his hands together in front of him, giving Mr. Scott an eerie smile.
Lawrence fought back the urge to sob.