Society, Part Two
This is part two of something I started earlier in the week, I'm starting to really like it. :) Lost? Click here for part one. Just in case anyone is keeping track, I used NO italicized words in this one, go me!
A short cramped elevator ride and flight of grandiose stairs later, I found myself in a large poorly lit hall. Tan marble columns rose into the black, giving the illusion of no ceiling. The outer portion of the hall past the columns was bathed in inky darkness, from which it felt as if many eyes were…oh god, I’m totally buying into the society’s bull. Enough of that nonsense. I focus my attention on what most of the hall’s central lighting was there to illuminate, the Die Augen symbol that had been etched into the marble floor. It’s ghastly; really, it’s so far down on the scale of cool it makes ‘lame’ seem like an unattainable goal. Hell, I could draw a stick figure that would be a better looking logo. It’s just a bunch of eyes all stuck together as if in a pile with two little…it’s…trust me it’s awful and better to just move along. I intentionally stepped on as many corneas as I could while walking across it. Not much of a protest, but it made me feel a hell of a lot better.
I stepped into the shadow on the far side of the hall and was immediately set upon by a small spectacled man who seemed…anxious, like a Chihuahua- only in a suit.
“A14? I’m Functionary 137, right this way!” He stepped to the side, opened a door and went through it, fully expecting me to follow.
“I’ve got a name, ya know.” As much as it pained me I followed him.
“Yes, I’m sure you do. However, it is strictly forbidden for me to know it.” Die Augen’s rule structure was filled with little gems such as this one.
“*cough*Joshua*cough*”
“Beg pardon?” He looked completely horrified.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing, just getting over a cold. *cough*Tatum*cough”
“Yes, well…” he choked and smiled nervously, “I’m sure I could find some cough medicine, if need be.”
“…Or some bourbon, that would work nicely too.”
“Yes. Quite.”
That’s the last thing he said to me for the next ten minutes, scurrying in silence with his mouth set in a thin line of worry and distaste. This was fine by me, gave me time to stew. I wasn’t exactly happy to be here as I’m sure is apparent. Meeting my new Handler was not high on my list of things to do…it’s two below ‘dying’ and only one below ‘meeting my first Handler’. Long story short I’ve been transferred, I’m sure it has nothing to do with my last handler almost having a nervous break down, but more of our inability to get along. That said, this next guy was purportedly a vicious ex-military task master, who was supposed to whip me into shape, as it were. Funny, I don’t feel out of shape, but there you have it.
Functionary 137 halted at a large dark wooden door, with a massive bronze doorknob, spun on one heel and said, “Right through here, I’ll see to it that someone brings you that cough…er, bourbon shortly.”
“I appreciate that, Function. Wish me luck.” I replied as I clapped him on the shoulder, it occurred to me just then that I’d been doing a fair share of shoulder clapping lately. I let my hand drop to my side.
“Yes, well. Good luck.” He nodded sharply and in what seemed to be his natural walk, scurried away.
I turned the knob with both hands as it seemed almost impossible to do with just one; I yanked the door open and stepped inside. I barely had enough time to register a table with two chairs before a gruff voice barked, “SIT DOWN, A14!”
“Bite me.”
A short cramped elevator ride and flight of grandiose stairs later, I found myself in a large poorly lit hall. Tan marble columns rose into the black, giving the illusion of no ceiling. The outer portion of the hall past the columns was bathed in inky darkness, from which it felt as if many eyes were…oh god, I’m totally buying into the society’s bull. Enough of that nonsense. I focus my attention on what most of the hall’s central lighting was there to illuminate, the Die Augen symbol that had been etched into the marble floor. It’s ghastly; really, it’s so far down on the scale of cool it makes ‘lame’ seem like an unattainable goal. Hell, I could draw a stick figure that would be a better looking logo. It’s just a bunch of eyes all stuck together as if in a pile with two little…it’s…trust me it’s awful and better to just move along. I intentionally stepped on as many corneas as I could while walking across it. Not much of a protest, but it made me feel a hell of a lot better.
I stepped into the shadow on the far side of the hall and was immediately set upon by a small spectacled man who seemed…anxious, like a Chihuahua- only in a suit.
“A14? I’m Functionary 137, right this way!” He stepped to the side, opened a door and went through it, fully expecting me to follow.
“I’ve got a name, ya know.” As much as it pained me I followed him.
“Yes, I’m sure you do. However, it is strictly forbidden for me to know it.” Die Augen’s rule structure was filled with little gems such as this one.
“*cough*Joshua*cough*”
“Beg pardon?” He looked completely horrified.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing, just getting over a cold. *cough*Tatum*cough”
“Yes, well…” he choked and smiled nervously, “I’m sure I could find some cough medicine, if need be.”
“…Or some bourbon, that would work nicely too.”
“Yes. Quite.”
That’s the last thing he said to me for the next ten minutes, scurrying in silence with his mouth set in a thin line of worry and distaste. This was fine by me, gave me time to stew. I wasn’t exactly happy to be here as I’m sure is apparent. Meeting my new Handler was not high on my list of things to do…it’s two below ‘dying’ and only one below ‘meeting my first Handler’. Long story short I’ve been transferred, I’m sure it has nothing to do with my last handler almost having a nervous break down, but more of our inability to get along. That said, this next guy was purportedly a vicious ex-military task master, who was supposed to whip me into shape, as it were. Funny, I don’t feel out of shape, but there you have it.
Functionary 137 halted at a large dark wooden door, with a massive bronze doorknob, spun on one heel and said, “Right through here, I’ll see to it that someone brings you that cough…er, bourbon shortly.”
“I appreciate that, Function. Wish me luck.” I replied as I clapped him on the shoulder, it occurred to me just then that I’d been doing a fair share of shoulder clapping lately. I let my hand drop to my side.
“Yes, well. Good luck.” He nodded sharply and in what seemed to be his natural walk, scurried away.
I turned the knob with both hands as it seemed almost impossible to do with just one; I yanked the door open and stepped inside. I barely had enough time to register a table with two chairs before a gruff voice barked, “SIT DOWN, A14!”
“Bite me.”