The Human Retaliation [on hold]

Chapter 2: The Ghost in the Halls

I'm back!  This is the second book in a series I started on my other account Mr_Aek.  I'm testing posting it here first just to see which account has more active followers.  PLEASE DO VOTE! Votes and high ranking do help motivate me to write more XD.  And enjoy! :)

*** The Week that Follows ***

Harriet L. Malaway, the secretary to the world they called her, walked down the large long hallway.  She was almost as new as the building, appointed book-keeper two months after the war ended, right when the construction to the building was in full force.  Now completed in record time the building had a single hall, twenty feet across with nearly a hundred foot high ceiling supported by a couple dozen large columns which reached all the way up to the domed roof.

Her pace sped up, causing the tips of her light brown hair to bounce against her shoulders while her heels clicked and echoed through the entire empty hall.  She had a tight dark blue dress on that reached all the way to her feet, always staying a few centimeters from the ground.  To the left and right of her were various off-centered halls, the same tall roof as the main passage but much more narrow halls.  It’s all empty now, three am.  Urgent news, she knew the director would be here with his officers still, they never seemed to leave – taking care of an entire world was an important job.  She stopped and turned slowly, checking behind her.  There’s been this little girl in the hall on and off recently, a ghost – she’d be there, then she’d be gone.  It seemed only Miss Malaway could see the ghost, it’s kept her awake for the past couple days and she’s been running on little to no sleep now.  The girl wasn’t there this time.  That’s good.

She turned forward once more; she could see the hall targeted as the one the director would be down.  She turned around once more, sensing eyes on her back, she only saw the ancient looking Roman art that filled the now empty hall from top to bottom—an artistic addition the Director insisted—the Romans wanted to rule the world but failed, and he does now. Miss Malaway was never sure if the paintings were an insult to the Romans or respect, she was never quite able to discern his reasoning behind them no matter how much she toyed with him for the answers.

She looked at the image of the coliseum a little longer that she normally would.  The edges of the painting were pealed and the entire thing was stained an off-yellow with dust sprinkled over it.  There’s been much speculation of the age of the painting, it may be a modern reproduction with intentional aging or a legitimate piece of Roman art, one that must have been shifted from private gallery to private gallery never meeting the public’s eyes until now.  Her eyes caught the controversial almost dirt-like scatter of red at the bottom edge of the painting.  That’s where the previous owner was murdered in the hall of his mansion and the blood flew up against the wall and painting.  Where he struggled to get the beast clinging to his neck off before he finally fell dead.  Or so the story goes, it could just be dirt from poor keeping after all. 

She turned back around, not sure why in the world she’d slow her pace to look at a painting.  The corner, she was right at it now.  Turning corners here always terrified her, that girl—she could literally be anywhere.  She looked in front of her; there was the end of the great hall, a marble staircase going up several dozen steps in a massive half circle that stretches from the pillars on one side of the hall to the other.  These stairs all cumulate into one massive bronze chair with a red velvet cushion and winding intricate carvings etched into its sides.  The Seat of the World it was called, even though no one actually sits there.  Another ancient metaphor the Director insisted on, this one a symbol of a time of kings and queens, emperors and supreme rulers.

She remembered a sentence from his speech the day this great hall was opened, “Whoever sits in this chair rules the world, rules humanity, controls a great planet of six billion inhabitants.”  It then goes on vaguely, about a war on what’s to come, a punishment to the devil in the skies, and the greatness of the human race to prevail and retaliate against a foe unseen. This speech, much better written and performed than Miss Malaway’s memory sparked an uproar of cheers that probably could have been heard by the eight million souls living in the now capital to the world, Fridgerde.  It also put in motion a rapid space race like never before.  Revenge was needed and though humanity doesn’t even know which way to fly one things for certain: a year ago Earth was attacked by something out of this world, three and a half billion people perished and the rest are still dying to prove no one messes with humanity.