After driving for what seemed like an eternity down the same, boring, electric fence lined road, I had reached the front gate. I pulled into the right lane and the red and white gate had slowly lowered down in front of my car. In the kiosk sat Kenneth, with his navy blue security uniform and hat.
"Hey, Kenny." I said, optimistically.
"Hey, what's up, Darren?" he responded, shuffling papers in his hands. I handed him my laminated ID.
"Not much, just the same boring day. Nothing ever seems to be new." I said. "You ever find your job boring?" I added in.
"No not at all, I like meeting my co-workers and friends every morning here at the gate, never any trouble. No one wants to mess with the big security guy." he said with a grin.
"Haha, yeah. I'm already late so no chit-chat for today, see you around 5, Ken." I pocketed my ID, and he shot me a wave as I drove down the road into the parking lot next to the large, plain white metallic building. I parked, the back of my car facing in, and shut off my engine.
Entering the building, I was swept away by the cold air-conditioning. I was already wet with sweat on the abnormally hot day. The fluorescent lights buzzed and I walked past the armed security guard. He stands there every day in his black and white, armored uniform with a P90 assault rifle. I respect the security here, they have a tough job. I entered the 3rd elevator with my co-worker, Ron. The doors shut, and we were jolted as the old elevator began to descend. A low mechanical hum filled the air, and we didn't speak a word to each other. Eventually, the elevator came to a stop almost 10 minutes after we had gotten in. I stepped out and walked down the clean, white fresh hallways, Ron following behind. I turn down the hall to Locker Room-A, Ron kept walking down towards the laboratory sector.
"Seeya." I said. He kept walking, which I thought was strange, but maybe he was having a bad morning.
I entered the locker room and proceeded down the rows of tall standing gray boxes until I reached my row. I opened the locker and unzipped my blue windbreaker, and placed it inside. It revealed my wine red dress shirt and charcoal tie, then which I covered with a thick, chemical resistant, bright white lab-coat. I don't even know why I have to wear this, I work in a crappy cubicle, no where near the labs, let alone the containment areas. I reached into the locker, grabbing my laminated ID from my windbreaker pocket and attached it to the lab-coat on its little metal pin. It reads my name, Darren Hetfield, and has a depressing, expressionless picture of me, with text above it. In bold black letters, it reads "Secure, Contain, Protect."
