And We Are Heroes

1.5 ; arushi

"But if you're troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt will make them pay for the things that they did."
chapter i ; part v

    "I'm here as the new intern?" Arushi Suresh asked, well aware that what she'd said wasn't a question. "Last name Suresh, first name-"
    "Arushi," the man behind the white metal desk finished, rolling his eyes. "Your picture is practically wallpaper for your dad's office. And it's about time he sent his precious daughter to learn the family business, too."
    "You've been to my dad's office?"
    "Sweetheart," the man drawled, not even looking up from his three monitors, "There isn't a person who works in this building who hasn't had a deep, meaningful conversation about the future of mankind with him in his office. He co-owns the company. Nobody can escape his wonderfully exhilarating lectures."
    "Oh," she said. "So do I have to sign in? Or wear a name tag?"
    The man sighed and pointed at the front of his desk. "Look. I have a name tag. It says Pierre Larsson. You know who else has name tags? Starbucks baristas. Your local nurse. You know who doesn't? Household names. Justin Bieber. Obama. So, using your genius little inherited brain, who is the household name in this situation?"
    "You?"
    "No. Wow, you're bright. You are. You are the household name. Everyone knows who you are. You don't need a name tag."
    "My dad said I'd need a name tag," Arushi pressed, slightly fed up with her new boss's attitude. "I'm not saying I want one."
    Mr. Larsson huffed. "It's under my nameplate."
    She couldn't believe the man. She reached forward and lifted up the aluminum prism to find that yes, he had, in fact, stuck her laminated name tag underneath his nameplate. "Thanks." She put it on and looked to him for further directions. It was his job to tell her what to do, right? After several moments, Arushi realized that her clearly wasn't about to do so.
    "Um." she said. "Sir? What do I do?"
    Mr. Larsson glared at her. "Quit pestering me and go do your job."
    She floundered helplessly. "I can't, until you-"
    "Useless," Mr. Larsson said. "This generation of rugrats. Completely braindead and useless."
    She was at a loss for words, but the voice on the intercom saved her. "Arushi! Suresh! Please! Come! To! My! Office!"
    "Oh, look," Mr. Larsson muttered. "There's your dad again. The most skilled person I know at using a loudspeaker system."
    Stifling a scream, Arushi stalked from her boss's office and took the elevator up to her dad's penthouse office. As the co-owner and CEO of Futurtex Inc., he had the best of everything available to him. Except, as it seemed, people skills. Still, Arushi thought, he was a downright pleasure compared to Mr. Larsson.
    Inside the orange-themed office, Arushi found ten or so businessmen chatting in plush sienna armchairs. Her dad was at the end, standing apart behind his oakwood desk. The furniture, Arushi noticed, looked as if a cement roller full of orange paint had puked everywhere. The only varying factors were the slight differences in shades and the comfortably out-of-place men in black. And then, just like Mr. Larsson had predicted, there were at least a hundred framed photographs of Arushi, her mother, and the family hen cluttering the orange walls.
    "Beta!" Mr. Suresh chirped, delighted. "Have a seat next to my desk! Right here! How was your first day?"
    Awkwardly, Arushi fast-walked around the perimeter of the room and sat in her designated childish neon orange beanbag chair. The beans sank down about a foot when she sat, making her feel even smaller than she already did. "It was fine, Dad."
    "Isn't Larsson a delight?" he exclaimed. "One of my favorite employees."
    "Totally agree, Dad," Arushi said. One of the men in the circle of chairs smiled in bemusement.
    "Are we going to get to business, sir?"
    Mr. Suresh, wagged his finger at the man. "Not 'sir,' remember? 'Buddy.' We are building synergy here."
    "Sorry," the man forced a smile, looking like he'd just been ordered to touch moist mold. "Buddy."
    "I have gathered you all here today," Mr. Suresh finally started, "To announce that we will finally begin Operation Futurtex."
    Arushi had no idea what that was, but already knew it was terribly named.
    The ten men were shocked. "So soon?" the oldest man yelped. He had hair so white it was almost transparent. His pink, wrinkled skin paled. "I thought I wouldn't see it happen within my lifetime."
    "What prompted your decision?" a square-faced man with red hair questioned. "Buddy?"
    Mr. Suresh shook his head. "That vote this morning. Should Native American tribes be granted more land. The decision was yes, after a single vote from Jaimie Chan tipped the scales."
    "How did you know it was her, sir?" another man said. "I mean, buddy."
    "Please," Mr. Suresh scoffed. "I know the results of every vote before it happens. And last time I checked, Ms. Chan was a definite no."
    This was news to Arushi. She felt suddenly sickened, having had no idea how much intel her father had into the government. He always tended to avoid politics at home.
    "My point is," Mr. Suresh continued, "I've just realized how far gone our patriotic, honorable, amazing US of A is now. We have to have a vote to give people back the land we stole! And the measure just barely passed, too! It's about time we changed this country before it's too late."
    A man stood up and applauded. Now, Arushi realized, he had been sitting in an armchair grander than the rest, directly opposite to her father's desk. The chair had gnarled, carved feet that were an undeniable sign of authority. The man, who wore a striped red-white-and-blue tie, grinned at Mr. Suresh. "I completely agree, buddy. Let's get Operation Futurtex up and rolling."
    Arushi still had no clue what the operation was, but her stomach began to turn. Whatever it was, she guessed, it could not be good.