7.a.vi.
The metal-rung
ladder ended at a platform which was much like a miniature, wrought iron
version of a train station platform.
There was a door against the back wall and a small plate on the door
which read: Members Only.
Senior
Executive knocked on the door and after a few moments the “Members Only” plaque
slid to the side with a flick and a pair of small, tight-set eyes peered out
from inside.
“Who’re you?”
a deep voice asked.
“You don’t
recognize us?” said Senior Executive.
“No. You members?”
“Would we be
here if we weren’t?”
“Maybe.”
After an
uncomfortably long pause the voice asked, “What’s the password?”
Senior
Executive glanced at Corporate Man, then Business Woman, then Commander
Credit. His eyes flared slightly,
seeking a plausible response to the password question.
Corporate Man
stepped forward and said, “What password?
We don’t need a password. Open
the door you fool.”
“Good,” the
voice muttered. “There’s no
password. Still, that don’t show that
you belong.”
“Of course we
belong,” said Business Woman.
“How am I to
know?” asked the voice.
After another
hesitant moment Business Woman said, “You must be new so we’ll cut you a
break. Take a look at his
portfolio. That should tell you all you
need to know.”
Senior
Executive and Business Woman exchanged a volley of looks in which Senior
Executive silently asked Business Woman what on Earth she was thinking, where
did she come up with her scheme, and his beliefs that it, whatever it was,
would never work. Business Woman, in her
gestures and expressions, conveyed a message which implied to Senior Executive
that it sucked to be him right now.
Senior
Executive moved to the window, held up his smart phone, and showed the eyes
belonging to the deep voice a series of financials which were quite impressive.
A latch clunked
and the heavy door eased back.
“My apologies,
sir. Gentlemen. Ladies.
Please come in,” said the voice.
There was a
metallic hum as the door slid inwards and then to the left. The Union walked
inside but there was no doorman or attendant of any sort. Affixed to back of the door, at the same
height of the “Members Only” plaque, was a clunky black box. A yellow extension cord dropped from the box
and ran to a nearby wall outlet.
“So… I guess
we just make ourselves comfortable then?” said Business Woman.
There was a
long arched corridor extending from the doorway, a procession of fluted columns
flanking either side. A burst of
yellow-orange light flared from the fluting.
No benches, seats, or stools with which to make oneself comfortable,
stood anywhere along the passage.
“Well, no use
loitering about, right?” said Corporate Man stepping forward and striding
confidently down the hall.
At the end of
the hall was a massive set of doors.
Senior Executive tried to open them but they were locked. Adjacent to the double doors was a smaller,
less grandiose hallway with a modest door at the end. Perched above the entrance in bright neon
green, a sign advertised: The After Hours Lounge. There was no discussion amongst the Union ,
and barely an exchange of glances pre-empted a simultaneous shrug, followed by
a uniform migration toward the lounge.
