8.c.
“No you
wouldn’t believe the things that exist in the bowels of this building,”
Franklin Buck said as they slowly drifted up the elevator shaft on glacial blue
water. “There’s a weightless room, big
as football field, teaming with schools of Middle Men. I only survived cause this weird Siamese twin
named Profit/Loss was in a positive mood and–”
“Was this after
you escaped the boudoir of the provocative Pink Slip?” asked Commander
Credit. A wry smile curling on his
swollen lips.
“Hey, shut up
about her. She had some sort of… power.”
“I’ll bet she
did?” said Senior Executive.
“That’s called
business acumen,” said Corporate Man.
“Quit! Anyway, it doesn’t matter. She fired me.
After that I found myself in a colony of mindless children. They’re forced to watch television ads all
day long. Poor things walk around with
this glazed look in their eyes and their mouths hanging open. The whole place is run by Baron Advertisement
and The Duke of Marketing. Well, these
bastards sent a whole legion of these kids after me, controlling them like
drones using simple visual cues and jingling tones. They had me surrounded.”
“How’d you get
out of that one?” Senior Executive asked.
“I just started
punching them. They’re kids, you know,
and kids hate getting punched.”
Business Woman
shook her head and glared.
“What? What would you’ve done?” said Franklin Buck.
“Well, for
starters, I wouldn’t–”
A hissing noise, followed by a metallic clunk,
silenced the conversation.
They remained
adrift on their float tubes. Each
scanning the walls for a set of doors, but finding none. Then a seam opened in the ceiling and bright
beam of light cut across the water. Two
panels slid open above them, whisper quiet.
“This could get
nasty,” Corporate Man hissed. “Be
ready.”
They continued
to float up to the edge of the shaft.
The bright light stung their eyes and prevented them from seeing much of
anything. A soft clicking, faint at
first, grew steadily as they rose. Then,
through the haze of the blinding light, a black form emerged. A man.
He had pale skin and dark rings under his eyes. His hair was jet black, cropped short, and
had a round shape.
As he
approached they saw more of him. He
dressed entirely in black. His attire
looked like that of a military officer by way of goth obsessed designers. The stripes, insignias, and pinned on
pendants were all black as well.
The man yawned
and then polished his trim, black fingernails against his chest. He continued to stand there as they floated
up toward him. Finally he said, in a
low, disinterested voice, “That’s the problem with this pool elevator. It saps all the drama out of an otherwise
intimidating entrance.”
Corporate Man
shifted on his inner tube. There was no
effective defensive position, bobbing in a small pool as they were.
“Please,” said
the man in black. “Just wait for the
water to rise. It’ll be much easier and
less awkward in the end.”
“Wait. I know you,” said Senior Executive.
“Indeed,” said
the man in black. “And I welcome you
back into the fold. Junior.”
“Apathy!”
Corporate Man shouted and leapt from his inner tube.