Story 2020 - The Story
- Thread starter MDL
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MDL
RIP Doctor Calgori (2012-2017)
Chapter One: How I Miss Crime
Cold walks, yellow cabs and safe citzenry. Oh, how he missed crime. Well, real crime, that was... Yes, old ladies purses still got snatched and Korean store owners still shot shoplifters with oversized handguns. But real crime... Oh, how he missed it. The Italian mafia, Mexican drug cartels, Serbian insurence fraud, Irish weapon distribution, the list was long, so very, very long. As strange as it may sound, those really were the good old days. When he would work together with the FBI to stop some of this world's most notorious criminals. Mafia family heads, serial killers, child molesters, all forced to kneel at the iron feet of justice. Now those days were long gone, thanks to the stupid, but efficient merger of the FBI and the CIA in 2016. The Federal Intelligence Agency had been cleaning, no, purging the American streets. There was still crime, but it sure as hell wasn't organized.
Erwin stopped at the corner of 5th Avenue and Central Park Street. The park itself looked like the outskirts of a ghost town this time of year. And as he stepped onto one of the many paths leading into the park he felt like a character in a horror story, who had just fled the clutches of the haunted mannor only to find himself in the way scarier deep, dark forest. The forest where werewolves ruled the shadows, forever searching for innocent prey and the jagged trees grabbed hold of bypassers as the werewolves howled in the honor of the hunt. Well, there was of course all the people there, the park was packed to it's limit. They didn't exactly fit into his ghostly day dream, but it was to be expected. The ten million people living in the city needed some place to go for fresh air, or at least the illusion of fresh air. Luckily for him it was an early Monday morning, so even though the park was packed, the benches were still vacant. No one had the time these days to just, have a seat.
He wasn't cold. He was dressed in his beige coat, black leather gloves and shining gentlemen's shoes. It was an ensemble he wore often. The only thing missing today was his black fedora which usually completed his intentionally detectivesque look and stylishly covered his soon to be completely gray head. Therefore today, he had to settle for a warm, black linnen cap.
He was here to see one Mrs. Echelstien. She had called his small but comfortable Financial District office and by the word of his secretary, Ms. Borg, she had sounded like the average, conspiracy theorist nutcase. But, you never knew. The least he could get out of it was a good laugh and a good story to tell Eveline, Richard of Richard's Inn's daughter and his favorite of all his various love interests.
He eyed the bypassing crowd, some on their way to work, but most on their classic New York morning, friend's catching up walkabout. There were all kinds of people, all of them Americans, apparently. Whenever he would visit Europe, or Asia, he had found that the inhabitants of a country actually looked like the same people, here that was never the case. America felt like a country of tourists that had fallen in love with each other and decided to settle down, build houses and have kids. But to be fair, no one was more a tourist here, than himself. He posessed less knowledge of this nations history and promise than the actual vacationists that visited this god forsakened place.
As he was about to helplessly fall back into his ghastly dream world, filled with horrid beings and exciting endeavors, he could out of the corner of his eye notice a person walking very decisively towards him. Even though his conjectural and adventurous side immediately spun into overdrive, he didn't turn around to acknowledge this individual's pending arrival. He contained himself, because he or she was possibly on their way to greet him from behind and Erwin was very interested in how seemingly small factors could change the course and outcome of any social situation. He unintentionally coughed as the stranger closed in on his position and as he felt the individual take a seat next to him he excitingly awaited the initial contact, the start of a very interesting social encounter.
Cold walks, yellow cabs and safe citzenry. Oh, how he missed crime. Well, real crime, that was... Yes, old ladies purses still got snatched and Korean store owners still shot shoplifters with oversized handguns. But real crime... Oh, how he missed it. The Italian mafia, Mexican drug cartels, Serbian insurence fraud, Irish weapon distribution, the list was long, so very, very long. As strange as it may sound, those really were the good old days. When he would work together with the FBI to stop some of this world's most notorious criminals. Mafia family heads, serial killers, child molesters, all forced to kneel at the iron feet of justice. Now those days were long gone, thanks to the stupid, but efficient merger of the FBI and the CIA in 2016. The Federal Intelligence Agency had been cleaning, no, purging the American streets. There was still crime, but it sure as hell wasn't organized.
Erwin stopped at the corner of 5th Avenue and Central Park Street. The park itself looked like the outskirts of a ghost town this time of year. And as he stepped onto one of the many paths leading into the park he felt like a character in a horror story, who had just fled the clutches of the haunted mannor only to find himself in the way scarier deep, dark forest. The forest where werewolves ruled the shadows, forever searching for innocent prey and the jagged trees grabbed hold of bypassers as the werewolves howled in the honor of the hunt. Well, there was of course all the people there, the park was packed to it's limit. They didn't exactly fit into his ghostly day dream, but it was to be expected. The ten million people living in the city needed some place to go for fresh air, or at least the illusion of fresh air. Luckily for him it was an early Monday morning, so even though the park was packed, the benches were still vacant. No one had the time these days to just, have a seat.
He wasn't cold. He was dressed in his beige coat, black leather gloves and shining gentlemen's shoes. It was an ensemble he wore often. The only thing missing today was his black fedora which usually completed his intentionally detectivesque look and stylishly covered his soon to be completely gray head. Therefore today, he had to settle for a warm, black linnen cap.
He was here to see one Mrs. Echelstien. She had called his small but comfortable Financial District office and by the word of his secretary, Ms. Borg, she had sounded like the average, conspiracy theorist nutcase. But, you never knew. The least he could get out of it was a good laugh and a good story to tell Eveline, Richard of Richard's Inn's daughter and his favorite of all his various love interests.
He eyed the bypassing crowd, some on their way to work, but most on their classic New York morning, friend's catching up walkabout. There were all kinds of people, all of them Americans, apparently. Whenever he would visit Europe, or Asia, he had found that the inhabitants of a country actually looked like the same people, here that was never the case. America felt like a country of tourists that had fallen in love with each other and decided to settle down, build houses and have kids. But to be fair, no one was more a tourist here, than himself. He posessed less knowledge of this nations history and promise than the actual vacationists that visited this god forsakened place.
As he was about to helplessly fall back into his ghastly dream world, filled with horrid beings and exciting endeavors, he could out of the corner of his eye notice a person walking very decisively towards him. Even though his conjectural and adventurous side immediately spun into overdrive, he didn't turn around to acknowledge this individual's pending arrival. He contained himself, because he or she was possibly on their way to greet him from behind and Erwin was very interested in how seemingly small factors could change the course and outcome of any social situation. He unintentionally coughed as the stranger closed in on his position and as he felt the individual take a seat next to him he excitingly awaited the initial contact, the start of a very interesting social encounter.
MDL
RIP Doctor Calgori (2012-2017)
But this person said nothing. A minute passed, no bump on the shoulder, no "Excuse me...", nothing. At first he thought that this could then impossibly be the impulsive, excited woman his secretary had told him about and it could impossibly be a potential client that had reached out to him. You don't treat someone with the reputation he had like this, it's out of the question. It wasn't that he found it disrespectful and he didn't care if a member of the citizenry failed to recognize his importance, it just didn't happen. People, in any poor or rich, sad or happy, war-torn or peaceful corner of this world possessed great respect for him. He was, a face known all over world. But eventually he started wondering, what if it was her? He couldn't just sit around and ignore the fact that there was a ridiculously tiny little chance that this was the potential client, and his face had been turned the other way. So perhaps it was just a coincidence that she had taken a seat next to him.
He sat there, thinking about how he should proceed, weighing the possibilities for several minutes. He was in the process of trying to remember if Ms. Borg had mentioned anything about this woman's nationality, perhaps she was North Korean or Siberian and therefore didn't recognize him, when the stranger next to him spoke. "I knew it! Follow my lead, Mr. Edwards.", she said with a low, but direct tone, almost a whisper and quickly got up. Her voice was strict and proud, most probably because she was British. She spoke somewhat of a "Royal" English, he didn't know what island it originated from, but he figured she had been living in London because her voice emitted a slight urban vibe.
He stood up and turned towards the lake, at least that was the direction he thought she had gone. As he still hadn't seen her, he struggled with figuring out which one of the older ladies was her. But as a couple kissing split and walked away from each other, he could see a woman in a brown fur and high heels turn around and look at him. He could see her face clearly and her forehead was wrinkled in despair. She waved him over and continued towards the newly renovated "2nd Park's Square". He started walking, moving quickly through the gray, almost black, winter park and navigated his way past the oncoming crowd.
This was a classic New York winter's day, none else than the third day after the snow. The first day, or really just the first two hours after the snow falls, the city is truly a "Winter Wonderland" and everyone, yes, even married men over the age of forty, are filled with just an inch of hope and promise of a brighter future. The next day, the snow is made into dark, toxic piles of crap from all the shit that goes through the air, in what really is a dirty, disgusting city and the third day, which was this day, the snow turns into a watery, slippery slush and, two things peak, the city's water levels and your prowling depression.
He sat there, thinking about how he should proceed, weighing the possibilities for several minutes. He was in the process of trying to remember if Ms. Borg had mentioned anything about this woman's nationality, perhaps she was North Korean or Siberian and therefore didn't recognize him, when the stranger next to him spoke. "I knew it! Follow my lead, Mr. Edwards.", she said with a low, but direct tone, almost a whisper and quickly got up. Her voice was strict and proud, most probably because she was British. She spoke somewhat of a "Royal" English, he didn't know what island it originated from, but he figured she had been living in London because her voice emitted a slight urban vibe.
He stood up and turned towards the lake, at least that was the direction he thought she had gone. As he still hadn't seen her, he struggled with figuring out which one of the older ladies was her. But as a couple kissing split and walked away from each other, he could see a woman in a brown fur and high heels turn around and look at him. He could see her face clearly and her forehead was wrinkled in despair. She waved him over and continued towards the newly renovated "2nd Park's Square". He started walking, moving quickly through the gray, almost black, winter park and navigated his way past the oncoming crowd.
This was a classic New York winter's day, none else than the third day after the snow. The first day, or really just the first two hours after the snow falls, the city is truly a "Winter Wonderland" and everyone, yes, even married men over the age of forty, are filled with just an inch of hope and promise of a brighter future. The next day, the snow is made into dark, toxic piles of crap from all the shit that goes through the air, in what really is a dirty, disgusting city and the third day, which was this day, the snow turns into a watery, slippery slush and, two things peak, the city's water levels and your prowling depression.
MDL
RIP Doctor Calgori (2012-2017)
A normal citizen of this earth might find an event like this one to be strange, troubling or even disturbing. But not this citizen. Erwin had during more years than most had lived, dealt with oddities just like her. The mysterious potential client, actually seemed like the somewhat pleasant kind of crazy person, the one that wasn't trying to put a bullet through your brain, or at least he wished she was. On far to many occasions had he found himself at gunpoint with some child molesting clown. Yes, an actual party clown, hired to entertain the children while the grown ups drank their brandy in peace. He remembers when some young gun broke agency protocol and rushed in to save a three year old boy from being forever traumatized, while at the same time flushing a year long investigation down the drain. Yes, this woman was what one could call, a breath of fresh air, or at least, less poisonous, destructive and deadly than all the other breaths.
2nd Park's Square was a total disgrace. Actually, anything the city now claims to be new is just remodeled old. They were constantly filling in the holes and tying up loose ends, but he saw through it. He saw the cracks and what lied on the other side. It was a dark, ugly truth, and it was what haunted him. The knowledge of the city's darkest secrets was knowledge you couldn't share. A world based on lies could not be exposed, when lies was all there were. Who would he turn to? What would he say? Without risking the loss of their lives. And what if he would succeed in exposing and destroying The Corporation? What would be left of the world? When The Corporation, was the world.
The park's main attraction was the new subway station situated below 2nd Park's Square and to some extent, the architecture above. Why this was so popular and spoken of among common folk, he failed to understand. The square was flat, like all squares, but with four glass pyramids in each corner. He hadn't read the reasoning behind the choice of architecture, but he soon understood that it was a cheap imitation of the Louvre's pyramid, which construction he didn't approve of either. In the middle of the square to his immediate surprise, there wasn't an absolutely atrocious, metal fountain. The fountain that should have been standing there, was a silver colored metal beast, and was in his opinion, the least attractive piece of this ugly puzzle, but now it was gone. He stopped for a second to admire the plot where there was now nothing, while the woman continued down into the station entrance.
"It must have been stolen.", he heard a young woman say, somewhere in the pile of pedestrians behind him. "Of course, they wouldn't remove it, would they?", a man's voice continued. Why wouldn't they remove it?! It looked like it had been designed by a three year old which parents claimed that he or she wasn't retarded, just special, or behind. 2nd Park's Square was false hope, embodied.
2nd Park's Square was a total disgrace. Actually, anything the city now claims to be new is just remodeled old. They were constantly filling in the holes and tying up loose ends, but he saw through it. He saw the cracks and what lied on the other side. It was a dark, ugly truth, and it was what haunted him. The knowledge of the city's darkest secrets was knowledge you couldn't share. A world based on lies could not be exposed, when lies was all there were. Who would he turn to? What would he say? Without risking the loss of their lives. And what if he would succeed in exposing and destroying The Corporation? What would be left of the world? When The Corporation, was the world.
The park's main attraction was the new subway station situated below 2nd Park's Square and to some extent, the architecture above. Why this was so popular and spoken of among common folk, he failed to understand. The square was flat, like all squares, but with four glass pyramids in each corner. He hadn't read the reasoning behind the choice of architecture, but he soon understood that it was a cheap imitation of the Louvre's pyramid, which construction he didn't approve of either. In the middle of the square to his immediate surprise, there wasn't an absolutely atrocious, metal fountain. The fountain that should have been standing there, was a silver colored metal beast, and was in his opinion, the least attractive piece of this ugly puzzle, but now it was gone. He stopped for a second to admire the plot where there was now nothing, while the woman continued down into the station entrance.
"It must have been stolen.", he heard a young woman say, somewhere in the pile of pedestrians behind him. "Of course, they wouldn't remove it, would they?", a man's voice continued. Why wouldn't they remove it?! It looked like it had been designed by a three year old which parents claimed that he or she wasn't retarded, just special, or behind. 2nd Park's Square was false hope, embodied.
MDL
RIP Doctor Calgori (2012-2017)
With haste he left the square behind him and decended into the subway station's hollow tunnels, at least he found them hollow. The general public seemed to enjoy the, to him obvious, propaganda. Disguised as the art installation "The Unsung", logo's and portraits of founders of successful American businesses, who called New York their home, were painted as one massive collage on the white station walls. The official message was to encourage the young to grow little business trees of their own, find the cash current and let it flow, dream the American dream. With inspirational quotes from presidents, businessmen and celebrities, this could seem like the honest intent, but Erwin read the fine print. He had seen to much, been exposed for years, he knew the truth and saw it for what it was. These men, these corporations, were never to be forgotten. They were to be praised as heroes, even co-founders of the nation, have statues raised and plaques placed, all in their name. They would honor our history and promote our ideals, but not from a place of sympathy or righteousness, but from a bitter nature and severe paranoia. They were to rule.
The only thing he liked about the new station was that the tunnels didn't drag on for ages. After the stairs, the two entrance tunnels soon became one and created a wider, much more pleasant tunnel. It to soon transformed and emerged as the great, Central Park Station platform. Because of the so called art installation, this was now an "Ad-free Zone". The provocative irony of it all provided him with the occational laugh even though it wasn't a laugh ever shared. And the amusement couldn't cover the aching pain of his imminent failure. He had failed in finding whatever it was that he was looking for, failed to find any trace of good left in this world, not even common sense.
Standing at the north end of the platform, Erwin searched for the lady in brown. The city was in rush hour, well now a days, all hours were rush hours, though 4 pm was especially horrifying. He moved over to the tunnel wall, attempting to avoid all bypassers and not disrupt the, oh so famous, NY Flow. It was the single charectaristic of this city which he couldn't seem to grasp, it was to him, an unrideable river. Whenever citizens of Manhattan decided to go for a stroll, they found the river and rode it. It didn't really matter if it wasn't the most direct route, they left their fate with the flow, and they trusted it completely.
He leaned out over the subway track to better his point of view, but all he saw was a mess of colors, bright shirts, pink pants and blonde hair. What ever happened to "Less is more"? He decided that he wasn't going to make it through the crowd in time and even though the recent events had intrigued him, he also decided that his time was better spent working, not chasing crazy people. He gave the platform a last glance before turning around to walk back up, out of the "Ad-free Zone".
The only thing he liked about the new station was that the tunnels didn't drag on for ages. After the stairs, the two entrance tunnels soon became one and created a wider, much more pleasant tunnel. It to soon transformed and emerged as the great, Central Park Station platform. Because of the so called art installation, this was now an "Ad-free Zone". The provocative irony of it all provided him with the occational laugh even though it wasn't a laugh ever shared. And the amusement couldn't cover the aching pain of his imminent failure. He had failed in finding whatever it was that he was looking for, failed to find any trace of good left in this world, not even common sense.
Standing at the north end of the platform, Erwin searched for the lady in brown. The city was in rush hour, well now a days, all hours were rush hours, though 4 pm was especially horrifying. He moved over to the tunnel wall, attempting to avoid all bypassers and not disrupt the, oh so famous, NY Flow. It was the single charectaristic of this city which he couldn't seem to grasp, it was to him, an unrideable river. Whenever citizens of Manhattan decided to go for a stroll, they found the river and rode it. It didn't really matter if it wasn't the most direct route, they left their fate with the flow, and they trusted it completely.
He leaned out over the subway track to better his point of view, but all he saw was a mess of colors, bright shirts, pink pants and blonde hair. What ever happened to "Less is more"? He decided that he wasn't going to make it through the crowd in time and even though the recent events had intrigued him, he also decided that his time was better spent working, not chasing crazy people. He gave the platform a last glance before turning around to walk back up, out of the "Ad-free Zone".
MDL
RIP Doctor Calgori (2012-2017)
As Erwin was fighting his way back to where he had come from, he started to feel uneasy and stopped where the one tunnel split. What was this really about? Was this woman crazy, or perfectly sane? Was she in trouble, or was he in trouble? But most of all he asked himself, does she know? He was also gravely disappointed in himself, because a younger Erwin Edwards would not have let something like this slide, just because the potential client was almost certainly out of her old, worn mind. The young Erwin would have rushed in head first, he would have grabbed the woman by the arm and demanded she stopped playing whatever game she was, and start talking. The young Erwin would solve any mystery, accept any challenge and he would, see it through. But wasn't it to late now? Wasn't she on the train to Harlem, fighting for her royal right to a seat? Or maybe she had returned home to her boring life, boring family and boring job, sulking over the fact that the famous Erwin Edwards wouldn't join her elite crime fighting unit and go on many adventures with her vivid imagination. No, he refused to believe so. For the first time in many years he refused to doubt the possible and refused to doubt his abilities. He turned back around, took a deep, cool breath and channeled all his brainpower into the tiny socket of memory that was his youth.
He started running like he hadn't done in years, he started running and plowed his way through the crowd. "Hey, shitface!", was all he could make out of the young white man's roar, just after Erwin had caused him to fall, because of how he had forcefully made it through the man's left shoulder. But as he made it back out onto the actual platform his pace slowed, he couldn't risk people falling of the edges just because he was in the hurry of the ages. Walking through the crowd, he started feeling slightly off, like he carrying a brewing cold. Everyone around him suddenly seemed less two-dimensional, less predictable and he felt as if the unexpected would be wise to expect. This, was a feeling he knew very well. He stopped to rest by one of the platform's many pillars, the pillar which was now shielding him from the more frightening than usual, walking flow. He had still not seen the woman and a bad, bad feeling started to form in the low parts of his chest. The feeling quickly spread up his spine, through his veins and into his heart. The pounding beat in his chest intensified and he found it hard to stand straight. This, he had felt before. This was his instincts telling him that something was very, very wrong.
He placed his hand on his gun, an agency 1911 to be exact and pressed his body against the pillar wall. He started watching the people passing closely, searching for anything suspicious, any signs of ill will. What he feared the most was that his luck had run out, that his fame couldn't protect him any longer, or worse, that he was the last loose end. You could think that they couldn't take him down in the middle of this crowded area, but you would be wrong. There was nothing they couldn't do. They controlled the system now, they ran things, they were the Don and the world was their neighborhood and they wouldn't seize in enforcing their rule, until it was absolute.
He started running like he hadn't done in years, he started running and plowed his way through the crowd. "Hey, shitface!", was all he could make out of the young white man's roar, just after Erwin had caused him to fall, because of how he had forcefully made it through the man's left shoulder. But as he made it back out onto the actual platform his pace slowed, he couldn't risk people falling of the edges just because he was in the hurry of the ages. Walking through the crowd, he started feeling slightly off, like he carrying a brewing cold. Everyone around him suddenly seemed less two-dimensional, less predictable and he felt as if the unexpected would be wise to expect. This, was a feeling he knew very well. He stopped to rest by one of the platform's many pillars, the pillar which was now shielding him from the more frightening than usual, walking flow. He had still not seen the woman and a bad, bad feeling started to form in the low parts of his chest. The feeling quickly spread up his spine, through his veins and into his heart. The pounding beat in his chest intensified and he found it hard to stand straight. This, he had felt before. This was his instincts telling him that something was very, very wrong.
He placed his hand on his gun, an agency 1911 to be exact and pressed his body against the pillar wall. He started watching the people passing closely, searching for anything suspicious, any signs of ill will. What he feared the most was that his luck had run out, that his fame couldn't protect him any longer, or worse, that he was the last loose end. You could think that they couldn't take him down in the middle of this crowded area, but you would be wrong. There was nothing they couldn't do. They controlled the system now, they ran things, they were the Don and the world was their neighborhood and they wouldn't seize in enforcing their rule, until it was absolute.
MDL
RIP Doctor Calgori (2012-2017)
This page was just recently written so it might be heavily edited in the future.
Chapter Two: Welcome to America, Whoever You Are
"Tell me. What is it that makes you better than the others?", he asked with a devious smirk on his face, loving every second of this process. Recruitment was one of the best parts of this job. Sitting behind his powerful desk, not for a moment seizing to stare straight into their eyes, it was all to make them as uncomfortable as possible and he loved every second of it. Even though he was being completely selfish and didn't give a flying fuck about which of these poor bastards were to become the next in a long line of corporate America's puppets, he did though think that the applicant which could cope best under intense mental torture was the one best set to become the next slave in the corporate world.
"Erhm... I... think that I could bring a lot to the table.", the young woman responded, starting out slow but ending with in confidence. She looked like she was at the beginning of her, so called, journalistic career. Obviously full of hope and ideas, but incredibly naive. Journalism was now a days, unbelievably pathetic. It wasn't that he thought it was downright propaganda, because it wasn't. But it was never about something that actually mattered, something truly newsworthy and there was no investigative journalism. Everything was based on informing the reader of what was happening now, at this very moment, never of what had happened, or will happen. The Tribune only reported what it was fed and it was all shit.
"Don't they?", he shot back, fighting his inner laughter at how ridiculously easy this woman was to torment. It was like a classic Mexican standoff, only in this instance one of the participants was a master gunslinger and the other, a young fool, thinking she was ready to take on the world on her own and tell whatever story she thought needed to be told. Sad, is what it was.
"What do you mean?", she responded, trying to sound inquisitive instead of inexperienced.
"What I mean...", he looked down on her resume and found her name. Of course he remembered her name since the introduction, this was just all part of his act. "...Ms. Kiel... is don't you think the other applicants have anything to bring to this very shiny and expensive, mahogany table?".
"Not as much as I have, sir.", she responded instantly, way to fast in his, most humble opinion. Too confident was never good, she would just get in his way, and try to steal his job.
"Hmm...", he eyed her closely, every bone, every fragment of her soul, it all shined through and what he saw was one weak spine. "Very well, we'll let you know.", he said as he slowly got up from his very comfortable Eunik chair. They shook hands and her shake was far from firm, with young women, that's not a good sign. A bad handshake is the death penalty in a corporation such as this one. In here, people smelled weakness through the walls. Yes, one bad handshake and you were dead.
As the door closed behind her, he threw himself back in his chair. This was how to live life, a mahogany desk, a Eunik-Stiener chair and a well filled liqueur cabinet, that's all you need. He spun his chair around and admired the view, the whole city was bellow him. Well, maybe not everyone. There were still some offices in the city above his, but there was no building this high which he could see from here, this made him feel very good about himself. He reached for the telecom and pushed the tiny black button on the side of his desk. It was easily reachable, everything for comfort.
"Tania, was that the last one?", he asked his secretary, Mrs. Tania Malik. She was an excellent secretary, she always bought what he needed, was never late and always did what he wanted her to do, not the bastards upstairs. And as always, it didn't take long before he heard her sweet voice come out of the speakers positioned in all four corners of the room.
"Yes, Mr. Cohick.", she responded, her light, eastern accent giving him sweet chills. He looked up and searched for anything he could possibly leave, and in thirty minutes go "Oh snap, should have brought it". His office was stunning. The green carpeting, the dark wood, the golden lamp. It all added to the generally powerful feeling he inflicted on his victims and made him feel quite at home here. Not to forget about the fantastic view, gosh was it pretty.
"Good, because I'm going out for a drink.", he responded and stood up, giving the desk one last glance.
Chapter Two: Welcome to America, Whoever You Are
"Tell me. What is it that makes you better than the others?", he asked with a devious smirk on his face, loving every second of this process. Recruitment was one of the best parts of this job. Sitting behind his powerful desk, not for a moment seizing to stare straight into their eyes, it was all to make them as uncomfortable as possible and he loved every second of it. Even though he was being completely selfish and didn't give a flying fuck about which of these poor bastards were to become the next in a long line of corporate America's puppets, he did though think that the applicant which could cope best under intense mental torture was the one best set to become the next slave in the corporate world.
"Erhm... I... think that I could bring a lot to the table.", the young woman responded, starting out slow but ending with in confidence. She looked like she was at the beginning of her, so called, journalistic career. Obviously full of hope and ideas, but incredibly naive. Journalism was now a days, unbelievably pathetic. It wasn't that he thought it was downright propaganda, because it wasn't. But it was never about something that actually mattered, something truly newsworthy and there was no investigative journalism. Everything was based on informing the reader of what was happening now, at this very moment, never of what had happened, or will happen. The Tribune only reported what it was fed and it was all shit.
"Don't they?", he shot back, fighting his inner laughter at how ridiculously easy this woman was to torment. It was like a classic Mexican standoff, only in this instance one of the participants was a master gunslinger and the other, a young fool, thinking she was ready to take on the world on her own and tell whatever story she thought needed to be told. Sad, is what it was.
"What do you mean?", she responded, trying to sound inquisitive instead of inexperienced.
"What I mean...", he looked down on her resume and found her name. Of course he remembered her name since the introduction, this was just all part of his act. "...Ms. Kiel... is don't you think the other applicants have anything to bring to this very shiny and expensive, mahogany table?".
"Not as much as I have, sir.", she responded instantly, way to fast in his, most humble opinion. Too confident was never good, she would just get in his way, and try to steal his job.
"Hmm...", he eyed her closely, every bone, every fragment of her soul, it all shined through and what he saw was one weak spine. "Very well, we'll let you know.", he said as he slowly got up from his very comfortable Eunik chair. They shook hands and her shake was far from firm, with young women, that's not a good sign. A bad handshake is the death penalty in a corporation such as this one. In here, people smelled weakness through the walls. Yes, one bad handshake and you were dead.
As the door closed behind her, he threw himself back in his chair. This was how to live life, a mahogany desk, a Eunik-Stiener chair and a well filled liqueur cabinet, that's all you need. He spun his chair around and admired the view, the whole city was bellow him. Well, maybe not everyone. There were still some offices in the city above his, but there was no building this high which he could see from here, this made him feel very good about himself. He reached for the telecom and pushed the tiny black button on the side of his desk. It was easily reachable, everything for comfort.
"Tania, was that the last one?", he asked his secretary, Mrs. Tania Malik. She was an excellent secretary, she always bought what he needed, was never late and always did what he wanted her to do, not the bastards upstairs. And as always, it didn't take long before he heard her sweet voice come out of the speakers positioned in all four corners of the room.
"Yes, Mr. Cohick.", she responded, her light, eastern accent giving him sweet chills. He looked up and searched for anything he could possibly leave, and in thirty minutes go "Oh snap, should have brought it". His office was stunning. The green carpeting, the dark wood, the golden lamp. It all added to the generally powerful feeling he inflicted on his victims and made him feel quite at home here. Not to forget about the fantastic view, gosh was it pretty.
"Good, because I'm going out for a drink.", he responded and stood up, giving the desk one last glance.
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