Re: Fast fiction
PART 2
Adrian ambled over to a leather chair against the wall and leaned back, crossing his legs. He re-crossed them, then placed both feet firmly on the floor. It was difficult to appear relaxed when you were sitting on your own and not sure who might suddenly pop out of one of the doors, but he attempted a semi-recumbent pose. He was dying for a fag and hoped that whoever turned up was a smoker. It really was too bad though, he thought irritably. It was bang on the right time, he’d made the effort and …. “Good morning sir.” The voice breathed softly just behind his right elbow and Adrian nearly shot out of his chair. He had heard nothing, no footsteps, no door opening. The woman standing patiently a few feet away was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on, and that included any of the celebs he lusted after on TV. She was tall, willowy and pale, and the overhead lights brought her red-gold hair to life with tiny sparks as if her head was on fire. She wore a tailored suit of palest cream, very simple and yet, and yet … Adrian felt dizzy and slightly sick, as if wakening from a fever and finding the room off-skew without quite understanding why. The woman’s eyes met his. Those eyes! Palest blue, almost colourless as if the incessant rain outside had washed any colour right out of them leaving just the faintest residue. Stone washed demin, thought Adrian wildly. No, blind man’s eyes. Was she blind?
The woman held out a narrow, white hand with colourless nails and delicate veining. She held his gaze without expression, but her lips curled up slightly as if aware of the impression she was giving and it pleased her. “Are you good with your hands, Adrian?” she asked softly.
Adrian. How the hell does she know my name? Did I mention it on the phone? Of course, I must have done. How else would she know? Wild meandering thoughts chased each other across Adrian’s mind, chaotic, panicked. “Pull yourself together, man” he reprimanded himself. “It’s a job interview, for God’s sake.”
Adrian took a breath, sucked in his ample stomach and smiled ingratiatingly.
“Well yes, I am. Extremely good. I can fix most things actually. Machinery, electronic equipment, computers. Something of an expert, me.”
“Oh, wonderful. I’m so pleased. I think you may do very well.” The woman introduced herself. “I’m Angela, by the way. I can see how enthusiastic you are, Adrian. Tell me, have you had much luck in life?”
Such an odd thing to ask, he thought. She sounded like a bloody fortune teller. A hot fortune teller, it’s true, but even so; what sort of question was that? The funny thing was, he found himself suddenly telling her everything, all the slights he’d suffered as a rep, the misery and humiliation of unsuccessful jobs due to the incompetence of the idiots who paid his salary, the barely hidden sniggering asides from kids half his age at coffee machines. All of it. Every damn let down, every lonely night nursing a pint at a table on his own at the pub, the comfort eating, the smoking. He felt oddly cleansed, as if he’d offloaded to a priest in the confessional. Angela patted his hand, and he could swear her denim eyes were moist with empathy.
“Now, Adrian” she said, standing up. “We do of course need you to complete a practical test before we can take you on. I hope that’s acceptable to you, but you do understand?”
“Of course, of course” Adrian nodded keenly. He’d expected some sort of test, hell, he’d had enough practice. She was probably going to show him a broken computer or maybe ask him to wire up some lighting system or something. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Er, Angela? I don’t think your ad actually mentioned what you do, did it? Some kind of surveillance is it? Fitting electrical equipment perhaps?”
Angela paused, considering. “All will be explained shortly, Adrian. First, I need you to go up to the top floor, where someone will meet you.” She indicated a smooth black set of double doors set into a far wall. “The lifts. Just press the top button.”
He glanced round to thank her – and she had gone. As if she had never been there at all, no sound of her footsteps, no sign of any nearby door. Adrian stood in the centre of the large reception area, totally alone and staring all around him. There it was again, that off-kilter sensation, that faintly nauseous feeling as if the world had slipped off its orbit for an instant. Then it passed, and he was just Adrian again, standing like a fool on his own and approaching the lifts. There was only one button to summon the lift, and the instant he pressed it, the doors slid noiselessly open to reveal a mirrored cubicle. Expecting to see the usual row of buttons for the various floors, he was startled to see one large smooth disc with “top floor” engraved on its surface.
“Ah, must be the executive lift” he surmised, grinning cockily. “This will be my own way up to my very own office at the top; give it a year and I’ll be using this one and to hell with the plebs fighting to use the other one.” He stuck his fat finger into the disc and depressed it firmly.
At first Adrian thought there must be a fault. The lift appeared to be stationary, and he searched in vain for a Help button. No, it was moving, he realised. Christ, it was slow! How the hell did Mr Big get to work? He would be quicker taking the stairs, or perhaps he left the house an hour earlier. This was ridiculous! He could tell the lift was ascending, although at such a gentle rate it was unbelievable. Well, this would be the first thing he’d mention once he did get up there; things would have to change once he was on the executive staff….
A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. All the walls were seamless mirrored glass, as was the ceiling. Each view reflected Adrian’s crumpled suit, gelled hair and darting eyes, like one of those fairground hall of mirrors, he thought. Quite creepy really. Except surely the ceiling and walls hadn’t been quite so close? The lift crept on, smoothly, silently, towards the top floor. Adrian Forrester stood enclosed within his mirrored box, sweating through his shirt and running his hands down the walls, looking for – what? He sank to his knees, placed a pen an a short distance from the angle of the wall and floor and watched incredulously as the wall inched its way towards the pen until it lay right up against it. The pen then began its creeping journey towards him. Frantically peering up at the ceiling, he was sure it was at least six inches closer to the top of his head now. Was he going mad? And why didn’t the bloody lift move faster?
“Help!” he yelled into the vacuum. “Help needed in here! Anyone hear me?”
“Hello Adrian” came the soothing velvety voice of Angela.
“Who – where are you? What the hell’s going on here? “ Adrian felt himself falling through the fabric of sanity. He wanted his flat, his pub, his mother.
“This is your practical test, Adrian” Angela explained in a patient tone, as if to a backward child. “Remember? To see if you’re as good with your hands as you said you were. You need to stop the walls and ceiling shrinking before you reach the top floor. It’s not far to go now. I’ve slowed the lift down to make it easier for you, but you don’t have long, Adrian. See you on the top floor – maybe.”
Adrian screamed. He was by now on his knees as there was insufficient head room for him to stand, and the side walls were sliding ever closer. He squatted with his arms out at his sides to hold back the movement, but nothing helped. He began to blubber, and begged the disembodied voice to let him out. A warm wetness squirted down the leg of his trousers and puddled on the shiny floor. The lift crept ever upwards.
Angela’s kindly voice echoed around the tiny space of the lift, although Adrian by now hardly registered the fact. He lay flat on his face, his wobbly stomach spread out on either side of him, legs bent, arms squashed to his sides. Fat drops of greasy tears slid down his cheeks and the remnants of a long-forgotten garbled prayer tried to escape his mouth.
“This is what we do, Adrian. We’re Corporeal Recycling of Useless Deposits – CRUD for short. Oh look, here we are – the top floor. Everybody out".