There were five people scattered around the cold, unwelcoming enclosure. The quarter just around the corner from the secretary’s desk had the customary furnishings which consisted of a black leather sofa, a glass coffee table and abstract art splattered haphazardly on the walls. A cold, cruel, and ruthless world Spring 2006 - 16 years old There were five people scattered around the cold, unwelcoming enclosure. The quarter just around the corner from the secretary’s desk had the customary furnishings which consisted of a black leather sofa, a glass coffee table and abstract art splattered haphazardly on the walls. Beside this array of decorations was the bureau of a secretary. Her eyes were locked onto the computer screen, and her fingers were thrashing away at a shocking pace on the keyboard. On the table were the preceding month’s editions of several publications. On one side were the gossip rags with dull names and duller content. On the other side were political and economic magazines, all of which were thick and heavy, like the air in the room. The latter three were in pristine condition despite being rather old. The former were well worn, presumably read by nervous young men and women who were looking to ease their sufferings in the glossy pages of famous actresses wearing barely anything. The sofa too was worn, but not to the extent that it was falling apart. It was comfortable, thousands of people had sat on it and it had moulded into the most ergonomic seat in the building. This did nothing to soothe or comfort our five friends. The art, rarely looked at, was of the sort that would not offend anyone. It was yellows and blues and reds in blotches or lines, they were completely out of context in this office; however in a paradoxical way these inoffensive paintings had become so popular that this was their new context. Andrew McAdams was a man of slight build, he had few muscles and those were stringy threads connected to bones. This was all hidden under a dark blue pinstripe suit, a barley gold tie with narrow black stripes and a standard issue light blue shirt, found at many popular retail stores, this one purchased just opposite the building the day before. He wore beautifully polished black lace-up shoes that were obviously new. Andrew was reading a book he had brought and it wasn’t just the secretary who noticed how violently nervous he was. “Are you alright young man?” The secretary seemed concerned, his jittery behaviour was now interrupting her work and this would not do.
“Yes, th-thank you ma’am. I’m just a little nervous you might say”
“Indeed I would!” Andrew blushed after the stern gazes from the others around him. He had not made a good impression upon these people which made him feel even worse. Next along the sofa was Jim Thompson. He was an obnoxious fellow and it was obvious from the way he sat. Most people understand that three to a sofa means the occupants have to compromise on the seating. Jim did not and would not. He sat as he would while watching TV on a Sunday afternoon. This left Andrew squeezed on one wing and another fellow on the other. They despised Jim but he did not care. Jim was here to relax, to enjoy life and he lived every day as if it were his last. Most people are jealous of this lifestyle but most do not realise that Jim’s recklessness means his last day will come sooner than the last day of the other four in the room. Kevin Mitchell was a well spoken and polite man. He, like Andrew, was very nervous. He had put on a beautiful black suit with elegant grey pinstripes. The whole combination was of the finest quality. Kevin was the only black person in the room and he was also the oldest and the only one who had not worked in this industry. The one company which called that town its hometown was one of the most innovative in the world. It was exhilarating to be in this building, where some remarkable achievements had been made and continued happening even at that very moment.
“Mr. McAdams?” Asked the secretary.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“They’ll see you now.” She was relieved to have him out of her way. Andrew thought to himself, he had to be honest and relaxed. The first part was easier, but he knew that he had been selected from thousands of applicants for this job, they had been whittled down to five select people. He was one of them and that should have been reassuring. Curiously it was not; to him it was more pressure. Stacey Watts was a serious looking woman. She had spent the last ten minutes reading The New Yorker. She was dressed in a simple but elegant suit that was tailored for her. The rest of the people in the room were nervous except Jim who seemed to misunderstand the gravity of the interview. Stacey looked reassuringly confident. Andrew had just returned from his interview. He looked as someone would look if they had been lifted up by their scrawny legs and thrown mercilessly into the deep end. He noticed a sliver of paper that had fallen out of Stacey’s magazine and gracefully leant down to pick it up and stuff it into his jacket pocket. No-one considered this important. Only moments ago the secretary had been happy to see him go but now she felt sorry for the meek chap. She cleared her throat and then began to speak,
“Poor guy – alright Jim Thompstead, you may go in now”
“It’s Thompson, sweetheart” Jim exuded self-confidence. It was apparent in his indolent walk.
“Whatever, you’re next” Jim was surprised by the off-hand dismissal but walked in. It brought a smile to both Stacey and Kevin’s faces, their eyes met for a moment before dropping back to the pages of their magazines.
While Jim was in the waiting room he had flirted with Alice but now she was alone. Alice was an attractive woman who was quite ruthless in her work. She was a great employee but there was something slightly sinister about her that Jim foolishly liked. Kevin found it chilling. She was ready to flirt with anyone, it seemed. Stacey and Alice did not talk very much, maintaining a cordial relationship consisting of polite niceties but otherwise ignored each other. The remaining people went to their interviews and all came out at the end to chat about the proceedings of the day, just as students do after an exam. While none of them were ecstatic about their performances, Jim and Kevin were quite satisfied. Stacey was cautious and Alice did not appear to care.
“You looked relaxed throughout. Didn’t you feel anxious?” Stacey was puzzled by Alice’s demeanour.
“Yeah, I just handle these things pretty well.” Alice was not interested.
“Oh, I guess that’s pretty useful.” Alice murmured an acknowledgement. As they walked down the road, a natural separation began to occur as Alice and Jim paired off. They went to a bar to have dinner. The sun was setting over the tree tops. The clouds overhead were tinted violet, rose and indigo. The sunlight slicing through them was vibrant yellow ochre that reflected off the glass and metal surfaces of the imposing modern headquarters they had just left. They descended upon the local tavern and watched the night unfold before them, spending many merry hours together in front of the bar’s television watching the sports reports or whatever else flickered past on the large screen. The restaurant was cosy, it was constructed of an aged wood and the scent was a mixture of beer, steak and smoke. It was repulsive but after the gruelling past few hours, this was a blissful aroma that was a fitting finale to a long and tiring day. After ten, the bar closed. This was strange to Kevin and Jim who were used to bars in the city which never shut down. This rural town was very different and they would have to walk in the darkness to their hotel, which was at the other end of the sleepy village. Stepping out into the crisp, cold winter air, the four of them walked towards the bright beacon that was the hotel’s logo. The townsfolk had spent many days discussing just how bright and large they would permit the logo to be but ultimately it fell out of their hands and the brash logo was allowed to glow all night long. The four had shared tales of happiness, love, marriages and divorces over dinner. They all trusted one another and had not made much about the disappearance of Andrew. Andrew McAdams was a desperately quiet man who refrained from conversation and always did his very best to avoid confrontation. Most people in his immediate circle of friends barely knew much about him. Jim and Kevin were surprised that he had not been seen at all in the city and took little notice of that. All four of them had to leave town the next morning to catch early flights to various metropolises across the globe. They would not hear from the interviewers for a month and so there was no point waiting too long for Andrew. Mr. McAdams walked across the dusty, peaceful street towards a large navy blue automobile. He looked cautiously to his left and right before crossing the street. The car door opened and he stumbled into its warm and secluded confines. “The note was left in a magazine. It tells us all we need to know about their future information.” The women in the car wore rimmed spectacles but had shed the ugly office suit for a much more attractive dress. “Insider information?” Mr. McAdams quizzed as he pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. He had looked at it earlier during the day but the series of numbers made no sense to him. It required the time and dedication of a skilled cryptographer. Sixty years ago this level of skill was only ever needed to save the world. This night, it was needed just for the greed of a few insatiable individuals.
“We don’t use that term. It’s ungainly.” She noted sternly. “Oh, and what about what we are doing to that company.” He was irritated by her hypocritical comment, and although he knew of the risk involved with questioning her, he threw caution to the wind this one occasion to voice his opinion. She motioned for the door to be opened. “Good night Andrew. I hope you enjoyed your day.” She sighed as he left the car. He was a good actor, a kind and thoughtful man but unfortunately, had a conscience. If only he not been interviewed today as part of this ingenious ruse. The interviewers had been impressed. A letter would arrive later that month at his apartment announcing that he had been appointed to that position. That night, the crosshairs flailed around wildly, the darkness made it difficult to lock onto the target. When they did a silent click and a blinding flash of light from the end of the barrel marked the end of an uncomfortable evening.