How To Stop A Nuclear War

Introducing Toby

"Sir, the photographer is an hour late already-"

"And what?!" I swiped my hands across my desk, sending piles of paper flying off it and descending, slowly and awkwardly down to the ground. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

Kate Jenning, your typical blonde secretary with Prada shoes, took a deep breath through her nose and let it out of her mouth, as if to form an invisible wall to protect her from my bad temper. Her lips were pressed into a thin line while she watched as the last of the documents arrived at their landing spot among the freshly polished, red wood floor. 

"Well, you might want to organize for someone else-"

"Look, Kate. Just cut the crap. " I snapped her off once again, and this time she looked considerably more annoyed. "Firstly, Barry is specially trained for this kinda thing. I can't just go into the street and pick up "someone else". According to him, Barry has been working on this day and night, thinking through every detail. Secondly, I am a very busy man, incase you haven't realized, and I have no spare time to worry about ad campaigns that my advertisising manager should be fretting about. He will be the next person to get fired, after Barry." 

Kate looked like she was about to reply, because her lips parted slightly and she took yet another deep breath. It made me laugh inside, that I could affect Kate-a girl who is notorious for her cold character. But for the third time, she got cut off. This time though, it wasn't because of my impatience towards waiting for my turn to speak. 

A sharp ringing was coming from one of the many phones that were scattered along the length of my spotless white desk which stood out like a bald patch among the room which mostly consisted of black furniture. By instinct, I grabbed the phone, and pressing the reply button, brought it up to my ear without checking the caller.

"Hey, Toby, I was wondering if you could come here later on." It turned out to be the muffled and slightly high pitched voice of Jake, my financial mananger. "If you're not too busy, that is."

"What is it?" I rolled my eyes like a stroppy teenage girl.

"Oh, it's just some paperwork-"

I didn't get to hear the rest of the sentence (which I was sure was very important, in the least contumelious way possible) because another phone began vibrating next to me. The paper-thin, unbreakable glass device that has only come out last month was lit up and the ID of the caller was clearly visible in glowing letters-Thomas R. I let out a frustrated groan.

"Wait, Jake, just hold on a second." I placed down the phone I was holding and picked up the other one, tapping the answer button.

"If this is any less important than "Earth is going to explode right this second and you have been ordered to do something about it" I have no reason what so ever to talk to you."

"Well, not really." came a deep, overly manly voice from the other end. "Just the general update. There are some Russian submarines..."

I hung up, and desciding I didn't want to hear the rest of what Jake had to say, that phone got slammed down as well. My attention span was back to Kate. She has a look of irratation plastered on her face. Maybe it's time I fire her as well. The only thing she is good at is talking crap with a smart look. I am a 25 year old businessman, in the year 2020, not some boy who has plenty of spare time to put up with bimbos.

"Yeah, so..." she took a deep breath. "I will go and try to sort something out."

"I think it's time you do that. " it took me a couple of seconds to realize how exasperated I sounded. 

She gave a tiny nod and spun around. I watched as she made her way towards the sleek, automatic door and strutted out of it, her heels making a rhythmic tapping sound on the floor. I cringed. 

I glanced over at my computer, which had my company's name printed at the top of it in shiny, cursive letters. To-B-Tec. I always thought that it was actually quiet a rubbish name.

Right, now, I am not going to fulminate against To-B-Tec. If not for for the company that I created, I would most likely be at the other end of The Scale (now days, there seems to be only two ends, not a healthy middle), earning only enough to survive on and if I am lucky, pay my bills as well. I would most certainly not be the 3rd richest man in the world. 

It started off small, but as the futuristic age advanced, the demands on, well, futuristic things grew higher and higher. More and more people wanted computers, phones, telecommunication. Most of all, they wanted something new. Something fresh. And I definitely do not lack in the imagination department. And I am not just being egoistic and big headed-it's not often Toby von Burden gives himself praise. I am an idiot in many categories of thought and action. Not the type of idiot that occasionally slips up on the street or says something they not have. The type of idiot that completely screws things up, down and over.

So I do not blame this company for the drastic change in my life that I wasn't sure whether I hated or loved. The company made zero change to the way I think, so I do not blame it for that.

I blame a girl called Deniese Hamley.

And most of all I blame nuclear weapons.