The Ocean On Their Shoulders

Chapter 4

The first day at a new job can bring many things and entice many feelings. Anxiety, excitement, anticipation, etc. And yet, something about joining such a secretive project and participating in questionable research was making her miss her previously uneventful job. At least that one didn't make her feel like she was walking the wire...

~*~

Anticipation. The pestering consistency of it kept her up all hours of the night. More so than before she started her waitress job at the Fishbowl, than even before her receptionist job at the Futuristics. This was going far beyond taking the stairs one step at a time, instead leaping past each and landing at the top with such a burning false pretense.

No. She deserved this, had spent so much time and money on the surface to get her degree that would eventually land her the job of her dreams.

This was the job of her dreams, right? Studying a mysterious species of sea slug that produces and secretes a substance that can completely rewrite a person's genetic code? At least she had the bragging rights of actually seeing a sea slug of any species, not recalling learning about this marine animal in her graduate classes on the surface.

Nevertheless, the undeniable bounce to her step was obvious, fingers fussing over her bangs which made it apparent, ever since she woke up, that they weren't going to cooperate. Now, whether the fidgeting and extra energy were from the extra coffee she downed to help steel her nerves or the sheer anticipation of not sitting behind a desk for hours at a time essentially doing nothing. Everything still seemed to blur together as she approached the entrance to the Futuristics, slipping past the bio-scan door with ease as her attention remained forward. She didn't even spare her previous desk a second glance. She did, however, find her gaze settling on a familiar face just beyond the desk, leaning against the wall of the security office with a cigarette in hand. Silver plumes rose from the end of the cigarette, whips dancing in the air as the potent smell was more apparent the closer she got.

He didn't even spare her a second glance either. "You're late."

Jane stopped dead in her tracks, finding solace in her purse as she fiddled with the crossbody strap and pulled it in front of her. "Mr. Fontaine, sir, you did tell me to arrive at eight."

"Yeah?" He took another drag of the cigarette before snuffing it out in a nearby ash bin. "An' I've got other shit to do. So, let's get this over with."

Her incredulous expression twisted to guilt, ducking in on herself again with her head tilting down to catch the glint of the overhead light in his polished oxfords. Mouth opened again with an apology sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she noticed Fontaine immediately turn then towards the central area. Her jaw clicked shut and she followed with hurried steps to try and keep up.

It would probably sound bad too if she were to say it out loud, but for as long as she's been a receptionist at the Futuristics, she's honestly never ventured as far as the security office directly behind her desk. This is why she tried to keep as much composure as she could manage while trailing behind Fontaine, the central area bustling with activity with employees flooding the grand staircase that reached as far up as she could see. More employees could be seen scurrying around off to the right of the staircase where she could make out signs for the Plasmid Showroom. However, before she could ogle more, she noticed then that Fontaine had stepped off to the side before the staircase, and she followed.

With both hands resting casually in his pockets, she almost didn't expect his voice to lower then and she had to step closer just to hear him over the activity in the central area.

"You read th'paperwork I sent you, right?" A nod, "Good, then you know not to go talkin' 'bout the next area imma 'bout to show you."

Obediently, footsteps fell directly behind his as they veered off to the left of the staircase where the bathrooms and a Med Bay sat. What she didn't notice right away was another hallway just opposite the bathrooms that seemed barren and irrelevant enough to garner interest from any employee. However, as they got closer, she noticed a door with an ominous "OFF LIMITS" sign covering the porthole window. It must have been genetically locked anyway as she watched Fontaine pull a hand from his pocket to place his thumb on a coded pad right next to the door's handle. It beeped, flashed green, and they were through. Jane looked back for a split second to see if anyone had been watching them only to see no one else in the hallway. No one except a whirring security camera back towards where they had come from, the lens of the camera pointed directly at them with a visible red recording light pulsing.