Further Into The Future!

Chapter 13

The Chicago Preacher headquarters was in a dull green building shaped like a cylinder. There was a ring of trees around it, which complemented its green color. On the top was a big, neon sign of its name, with "Since 2067" and "With Hammer" written under it. We walked along a path through a wooded area to get to the entrance, then took a long metallic escalator to the lobby, where a secretary sat staring at a pane of glass that stood on an otherwise empty desk. A few dozen people were sitting on cushioned sofas around the walls of the large room, which had a ceiling so high that sounds echoed and whispering was impossible.

We walked up to the secretary, who raised her eyebrows and smiled as she looked up from the slightly gray glass in front of her.

"Can I help you?" she said, tilting her head slightly.

She wore lots of makeup. Her red lips contrasted heavily with her white cheeks, which made her look a tad bit like a clown, especially with her wide grin. The skin by the edges of her mouth wrinkled into many folds when she smiled. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head, and pearl earrings hung so far down from her ears they almost touched her shoulders.

"Yes, this is Professor John Bedford here for an interview with the editor," Susan said, patting me on the back.

"Oh, right," the secretary said happily, "lemme make a phone call." She tapped something hidden behind her ear and spoke into nothing as she stared at the glass screen in front of her.

She tapped the glass a few times and said "thank you," then tapped the back of her ear again and looked up at us, smiling.

"Mr. Plett is ready to see you now. His office is third on the left," she said. She pointed vaguely behind her.

"Thank you," said Susan. We began walking to the door behind the secretary.

The secretary spun around in her yellow swivel chair to face us.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Mr. Plett would like to see the time traveler alone."

"Oh, that's all right," Susan said. "Go ahead, Professor. I'll wait for you out here."

She hugged me then took a seat along the wall, grabbing a magazine off a coffee table along the way.

I pulled open the door. My hand, damp from sweat because of my excitement, left a smudge on the metal door handle.

I walked down a hall into a tennis-court sized room that roared with journalistic activity. Reporters, secretaries, and interns with long hair ran through dozens of rows of identical desks with papers clenched in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Telephones rang everywhere, all the time, with the same simple beeps. Computer keys pounded in the background constantly.

There were plants every few yards along the wall, as if placed there to make the room calmer, but they were withering, losing the battle against the stressful environment.

At first glance, it was exactly what I imagined newspaper offices were like in my time.

But after I looked around more I realized many things were different. There were videos of current events playing all along the wall and even on parts of the ceiling. There was a glass panel like the secretary's on every desk. And in the center of the large room hung a portrait of Hammer.

Unlike the photographs of him I had seen in the newspaper and on the wall in the Time Travelers' apartment, the man in this portrait was young and thin. His hair was thick and brown, his skin smooth and slightly tan. His confident smile radiated youthful energy.

I walked to the third door on the left, which was painted orange with "Simon Plett" written over it in blue. The metal door rang like a muted bell when I knocked.