Running With the Wave

Chapter 23

The man rushes through the glass doors that open to let him through, straightening his black tie in his professional suit. He's running late, and everyone knows what happens to those that are late. He turns to the right and runs down a long hallway, the cleaning staff and the other lesser people stop and raise one hand with only two fingers on it as he passes by. When they were enslaved, the other three fingers had been cut off to show that they were no longer free. An older man with silver, thinning hair waits for the man at the doors of an elevator.

"Right this way, sir." the old man murmers, gesturing towards the now open elevator with a bandaged hand.

A ball seems to form itself in the man in the suit's throat at the sight of the old man. Stop it, he tells himself, it was the right thing to do. The best for the City and the human race.

He tells himself this until he believes it.

He steps into the elevator, but when the other man tries to follow him, the man holds up a hand to stop him and refuses to look at him.

"There is no need to come with me, Juro." he says firmly.

"I have to, sir. It is my job." Juro whispers, his voice strained.

Juro steps into the elevator and presses a button so that it begins to go up. Shuffling to the side a bit, the other man closes his eyes and stands stiffly, facing the doors. He regrets ordering for the elevator to have mirrors as walls, he doesn't want to have to look at the aging man and his bandaged hand. No one says a word, the only sound being the sharp beep of the elevator as it tells them that it's reached a new floor.

"Do you know what floor I am going to?" the man asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir." Juro murmers quietly, "Floor 276."

"Very good."

Silence rebounds off the walls and seems to take up all the room. The man slides his hand into his pocket and glances up at the top of the elevator, his heart sinking when he sees that they're only at floor 100.

"I have a new idea to propose to the council." he says to himself.

Juro looks up in surprise, then a saddened look fades over his eyes.

"I am no longer on the council, therefore have no right to hear the ideas you have."

"I wasn't talking to you." The man snaps, angered.

"Of course, sir."

Floor 150. He lets out an irritated sigh. 126 floors to go, so around ten more minutes alone with Juro. The man shoves a strand of chestnut hair behind his ear, wishing he hadn't been so careless with his hairspray this morning. He opens his eyes and looks into the mirror, grimacing in disgust and the stray strands. It ruined his professional look, and that was something he couldn't afford to ruin. His eyes catch on a red spot on the floor near Juro. Spinning around, he turns to face the old man.

"What is that?" He snarls.

"The red spot?"

"What else would I be talking about!" The man barks impatiently.

"It's my blood, sir." Juro answers, looking nervous.

As he should be. The man's eyes wander to the bandage on Juro's hand where his fingers were severed the week before. The two remaining fingers poke out from a bandage that no longer looks white, it's so stained with free-pouring blood.

"As soon as I leave this elevator," the man hisses menacingly, "you will have this cleaned up so that it looks as if it were never here. Do you understand, old man?"

"Without hesitation, sir." Juro whispers, tears beginning to track down his cheeks.

The elevator beeps and the man walks briskly out of the door without another word to Juro. The doors close behind him and he feels a sense of freedom, no longer having to be around him. His relief rapidly evaporates, making way for panic. He glances at the wall screen to his right. 5:20 am. He's officially late now. The man's eyes open wide and he dashes down the hallway, finally skidding into a room. Nineteen people sit around a table shaped like an oval, all staring at the wild eyed man that had just ran into the conference room.

"You're late." a steely voice hisses.

The man in the back stands up, his brown eyes blazing.

"The elevators were too slow, Darh." the man in the suit says nervously.

"We all made it here in time." Darh comments, gesturing around the table.

It was like what people called deja vu before the Fall. Now it was just called a memory, for that's all things ever are anymore.

"I'm sorry, Darh. But I have something to propose to the council." The man says apologetically, sliding into his seat at the opposite end of Darh's seat.

"Go on, Deeth." The man with the brown eyes sighs, waving his hand impatiently.

"The elevators should be made faster. It takes twenty minutes for a man to get up from the ground floor to this floor." Deeth says smoothly, straightening his already straight tie again.

A few snickers burst out among the men, but Darh shushes them.

"You think that we should speed up our elevators, Deeth?" Darh muses.

"That is what I said."

"We are the Authorities." Darh continues quietly, sounding amused, "People depend on us. Our world was built up from a ruin many years ago but we still have many serious matters to worry about. And you want us to speed up our elevators?"

This time Darh doesn't suppress the growing snickers. Deeth feels his cheeks burn and wishes he could turn invisible. How could he have thought that it would be a good idea?

"Of course, sir. I've been stressed." Deeth apologizes quickly.

More snickers erupt around the men. Who would have thought that the council, known to the public as the Authorities could be so immature?

"You know what I think?" A man named Hezell murmers, leaning across the table towards Deeth.

"What?" someone calls out.

"I think," Hazell continues, "that Deeth wants to speed up the elevators to help his father, Juro, now that Juro is no longer on the council and doesn't have a say!"

Anger blazes in Deeth. An assault like the one Hazell had just made on him is completely unacceptable.

"Don't you dare!" He hisses, jumping forwards so that his face is practically touching the other man's face.

"Oh I just did." Hazell cackles.

"I have no feelings for Juro!"

"Family sticks together."

Desperately, Deeth pushes away the memory of being with Juro on the elevator, of feeling uncomfortable and bad for him.

"Juro went against the Authorities. He proposed that we let the women out. That is unacceptable and I will never do it, the women deserve to be in the prison. I will never leave the Authorities and never propose something as horrifying. Is that enough for you?" Deeth seathes.

He draws back into his chair, please that he managed to defend himself with only the truth. Hazell sits back down and everyone begins murmering to each other before Darh stands up.

"Silence!" he snaps, then turns to Deeth, "You have defended yourself with something I can't go against. I can only hope that your words are the truth, but no that we will enslave you at the slightest thing you do wrong. Understood?"

"Yes." Deeth replies firmly.

With that one word, Deeth sealed a dangerous deal.