by Tom Larcombe
“Consider me warned then,” she said.
Far more so than you're doing, she added mentally.
“Well then, I believe that's it. Welcome to the company,” he said, holding out his hand.
When she took his hand and shook it, there was a slight tickle against the shield she was holding. She immediately dropped it and forced herself to think of how grateful she was to find this job and to get away from someone that wanted to completely control her life.
Andrew's face split into a grin, almost a smirk.
“I'm sure you'll fit in wonderfully,” he said. “If you see the receptionist, she'll give you an address, the key, and the rest of the appropriate information. The next bus runs back there in about an hour, so you'll have a little time to kill before you can leave, but it shouldn't be that long.”
Amber put her mental shield back up before leaving the room. When she got out of the interview, the receptionist gave her another fake smile, a key on a chain, and a small piece of paper with an address printed on it.
“You can wait in the waiting room, or outside if you prefer. There are benches under the eaves,” she said.
Amber returned the smile with one just as fake.
“Thank you so much for your help,” she said. “I'll get out of your hair and just wait outside.”
She went out to the bench and pulled a battered paperback out of her backpack. She figured it fit with her cover story and besides, she hadn't finished this book yet and an uninterrupted hour to read would be a pleasant experience.
It wasn't to be though. As she started reading she felt a tingle on her shields as someone tried to read her mind again. Rather than run fake thoughts through her mind, she dropped the shield and focused on her reading, letting the story in the book take over her surface thoughts.
Three times, while she sat there reading and waiting for the bus, someone attempted to read her mind. Each time she did the same thing, dropping her shield and focusing on the book. It took away from her enjoyment at reading dramatically, but she tried not to show, nor even think, about that. Finally, a bus pulled into the parking lot.
A stream of people came out from the factory, their apparent ages varying from late teens to mid-sixties. Several of the men in that crowd checked her out discretely, but none of them continued to stare at her like the man on the bus had done earlier on.
She showed the slip of paper to the bus driver who nodded.
“Yeah, we stop about two blocks away from there. I'll let you know what stop it is, okay?”
The ride took about fifteen minutes. It would've been shorter, but hers was the third stop after they got back to the housing area.
“Now you just get off here, go up that road to the first intersection, take a left, and it should be about a block and a half from there, okay?” the drive said.
Amber gave him a genuine smile.
“Thank you, so much. I was worried I was going to spend forever finding the place.”
“You're welcome, it's my pleasure.”
She got off and spent a couple of minutes walking to her issued housing. When she arrived she tried the key. It unlocked the door and she walked into the house. There was a pair of the synthetic crystals sitting on the windowsill, apparently fully charged.
I wonder if that's how he controls his workers, she thought. I'm not going to touch them though. If anyone asks I'll say I thought they belonged to whoever lived here before me and they might not appreciate my messing with them.
Some of the furnishings were odd. In the living room there was a couch, an armchair, and then something that looked like the old-fashioned chairs with a helmet that women used to get perms in. The kitchen held something similar. A treadmill with a similar helmet mounted to it.
I'm not even going to try to figure those out right now, she thought. I really want to sleep, but I know that would be a bad plan, so I'll poke around the neighborhood a bit.
* * *
Before she could leave the house to explore the neighborhood, the distinct sound of a phone ringing rang out through the house. It took her a little bit to track down its location, but when she found the landline phone mounted on the wall in the kitchen, it was still ringing.
“Yes?” she said into the phone.
“Ah, good, you're still there,” Andrew said. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“Oh, no. I was going to take a look at the neighborhood, but I couldn't find the phone right away.”
“You mean the receptionist didn't give you the details on the house?”
“She gave me the address and a key, that's all,” Amber said.
She knew the sound of exasperation well enough to recognize it instantly since she'd heard it frequently directed at herself before.
“I'll have to have a word with her. Anyhow, the owner won't be able to meet you this evening, but he is planning on sending his assistant instead. Will that be acceptable to you?”
As though it would matter if it weren't? she thought.
“Sure,” was all she said.
“Good then, he should be there in about half an hour. Since you didn't receive the introduction package that should have come with the house, I'll tell you a few things myself. Your cupboards are stocked with some bare essentials and there should be meals in the freezer that you can just slide into the oven. We realize that many of our employees are overwhelmed by our benefits package and may not want to leave the house to go shopping immediately and try to provide for that.”
“Well, thank you then. Is there anything else I ought to know about this place?”
“Not that I can think of off-hand, but I'll see if your visitor will be willing to deliver one of the introductory folders when he comes to see you.”
“Thank you again, I don't know what to say. I can understand your employees being overwhelmed since I feel a little that way myself.”
“You're most welcome. We try to make our employees as comfortable as possible so they're more willing to make this a career as opposed to just a job. And with that, I must be off. There are other things I need to do this afternoon and time waits for no man. Good bye.”
“Bye,” Amber replied, but before she finished the word, he'd hung up.
As she walked out of the kitchen she was struck by a barrage of doubt. The first she knew of it was a niggling sensation at the edge of her mental shield, but the sensation grew and grew until it nearly consumed her shield. She knew that she had to keep control of her thoughts, even though she was close to panic, and be careful of how she phrased things, even in her mind.
So much for heading out to scope out the neighborhood. An assistant is coming to visit me? Is there a problem, some reason the owner won't come see me himself? I didn't do anything to piss them off, did I? Why did I think this was a good idea? I'm not going to fit in here, I can't do this. Maybe I should just leave. This was such a bad idea. Why did I think this would work out for me?
After a minute or so of similar doubts, with similar careful phrasing, plaguing her mind, they vanished like someone had thrown a switch. A moment later the doorbell rang.
Amber quickly re-erected the mental shield that she'd allowed to collapse under the barrage of doubt, then answered the door.
Standing on the doorstep was yet another strange man in a suit. This one looked to be in his mid-thirties and a smile graced his face. One of the first things she noticed about him was that the smile was not present in his eyes. They were cold and flat, and stared at her, moving up and down her body with pauses at the places she found most uncomfortable.
“Alice?” he said.
“Yes, that's me.”
“I was sent in the owner's stead to meet you. He's unavoidably detained for several days currently. A problem in another facility that occurred some time ago has yet to be resolved to his satisfaction, so he's gone to oversee things in person.”
His eyes were still staring at her, their coldness fading slightly as a hint of confusion entered them.
&nbs
p; Crap, probably my shield. He's probably trying to scan my surface thoughts and can't, she thought.
Amber made an effort to move the mental shield so it only guarded her deeper thoughts, to let her surface thoughts run outside of it so they could be scanned. At the same time, she let an echo of the doubts she'd been assaulted by fill her surface thoughts.
As she did so, the man smiled and the confusion disappeared from his eyes to be replaced by confidence.
“By the way, I'm Jack.”
His eyes swept over her entire body once again.
“Andrew told me we had a younger woman hiring on, but he didn't mention that it was a beautiful young woman.”
She mentally rolled her eyes, deep in her mind, behind the shield.
“Well, thank you.”
“Aren't you going to invite me in?” he asked.
“Oh, um, I'm sorry. Won't you come in?”
She stepped out of the doorway to allow him access.
“Andrew phoned to let me know you'd be taking the owner's place for this visit. He also said something about an introductory packet? One that I'd been supposed to receive earlier, but hadn't.”
“He didn't say anything about that to me. But I haven't spoken to him for an hour or so, not since I told him I'd be making this visit.”
“Oh, then he probably didn't get a chance to get that to you.”
“If he wants you to receive it tonight, he'll use one of the messengers. We use the children of some of the families here to deliver messages. It gives them paying work and keeps them out of trouble.”
“Oh, well, maybe I'll still get it then. But I just got here earlier today and don't know where anything is in the house. I'd hoped to offer you coffee or something, but I don't even know if I have any.”
Jack broke into a smile.
“I understand your problem then. Here, come with me and I'll show you where everything is.”
I hate playing the ditz, but that will explain all the mental chaff I dump into my surface thoughts for him to read, she thought, deep in her mind. Now pay attention to him, your act, and the crap you let run across the surface of your brain. If he's any good, he might be able to get to thoughts this deep. I bet if I flirt with him some though, that will keep him from trying to dig any deeper into my mind.
Amber played hostess as best as she could figure out the part. Her fumbles seemed to convince Jack that she was who she'd claimed to be. He became more at ease with her, increasing his flirting in response to her own. She knew that game well though, having learned it at the building when she started to fill out.
Finally, after a stressful hour of flirting and small talk, she showed him to the door. An antique limousine was idling in the street, one that hadn't been there earlier.
“Is that yours?” she asked, trying to sound impressed.
He shook his head.
“No, evidently I'll be required to report sooner than I thought is all. Good night Alice, I hope to see you again soon.”
“Good night,” she replied, swinging the door most of the way closed.
She waited there, behind the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the limousine's occupant. Instead, the wind changed directions and carried a portion of the conversation to her as Jack leaned over towards an open window on the car.
“...she a danger?” the occupant of the limousine asked.
“She spent the entire hour wavering between trying to get into my pants and wanting to go hide in the corner,” Jack said. “I think she's for real, no-one would try to infiltrate us with a young woman whose biggest fear is that she might not fit in at her new job. Plus, she's a lot older than the one you told me about, early twenties and hot as hell. Also, her name is Alice, not Amber.”
“I don't care if she's attractive, and people can lie about their name. But if her thoughts were all about a new job and flirting with you, then she's not the one I'm worried about. Go ahead and send the introductory packet, we can always use more wizards to generate power.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said.
The window rolled up and the limousine pulled away as Jack walked off down the sidewalk.
I'm in, Amber thought with a mental whoop.
* * *
* * *
Epilogue
The long row of chairs down the wall of the room were all filled, the wizards in them leaning back, their heads encompassed by the helmet style hoods. The first wizard in the room shifted the hood off and stood, followed by the second, the third and so on. The first one started for the exit of the room while the second stepped quickly to catch up.
“Hey Peter, is it true you're retiring at the end of this month?” the second man asked.
“Sure is, been here for what seems like forever. I love putting these doohickeys together, but I've worked at it long enough to get a full pension and my energy is starting to get a little low. Just not as spry as I used to be, you know?”
“What are you and Molly going to do? Can't stay in the company town after you retire.”
“We've never been to the Bahamas, so I thought we might do that, then find a little place somewhere and settle in for good.”
“No kids, right?”
Peter's face fell.
“We had one, Amber, but she died a long time ago. Molly never wanted to try again after that. I just kind of settled into my work and didn't pressure her about it. She was so torn up.”
He turned to the long room. To his eyes, it looked like a massive assembly line that built electronics.
“I will miss the line though. It fills me with a warm feeling knowing that I'm creating stuff, or at least building it, you know?”
“I know what you mean, that warm fuzzy feeling in my gut is one of the reasons I'm happy to keep working here.”
Peter nodded his agreement as they walked out of the factory.
* * *
“Molly, I'm home,” Peter called as he stepped in the front door of his house.
“I'm in the kitchen, honey,” she called back.
He walked into the kitchen and found her on the treadmill, exercising.
“I figured I'd get a mile or two in while I was making dinner,” she said. “I just love being in the kitchen while I cook, the smells are incredible.”
He took a deep whiff of the air and agreed with her.
“It smells wonderful. I just wanted to let you know I was home. I'm going to go sit and read the paper.”
He went out to the living room and sat down in his favorite armchair. He settled into it and opened his paper.
Or at least he thought he did. An outside observer would've seen him settling into a chair with a helmet like the one at the factory and just like the one on his wife's head that neither of them was even aware of. The helmet began to hum softly as it started draining the magical energy he generated.
Peter sighed with contentment, feeling that warm sense of satisfaction in his gut.
This is a great life, everything I do makes me happy. I've got a beautiful wife, a nice house, a great job. What am I going to do when I retire? What's going to make me happy then? I never hear from any of the other guys that have retired, so they must've found something to keep themselves occupied.
* * *
To be continued in:
Amber Endangered
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Author Notes
For those who haven't seen it on the Facebook or Amazon pages, I live in Colorado at a fairly high altitude with my wife, two daughters, and a varying number of cats and chickens. I started reading at a very early age (two years old) from an accident that had me in the hospital on and off for quite a while. Reading was a way to pass the time when my family wasn't visiting me in the hospital, even if my primary literary selection at that point was “The Little Engine That Could”. Needless to say, the habit, or perhaps addiction would be a better description, of
reading stuck.
Thank you, I truly appreciate that you picked this book and read it to the end, and that now you're reading the author notes as well.
As a reader I go through quite a few books, unfortunately sometimes to the detriment of my writing time. But there's always that point where I finish my current book and have nothing else queued up in my “to be read” pile.
Those times are typically when I get a new story idea. I start thinking about what kind of story I'd like to read next and my imagination kicks in and starts writing it. Sometimes I even manage to get them written in a fashion where the end result is recognizable as the idea I started with.
Often the story takes on a life of its own as I'm writing it and that's when I get the most work done. At those points it becomes more like taking dictation for the story than creating it myself. Those are the times when I find it most enjoyable to write as well. Going through and reading the work I put in at those times is very nearly like reading a book by a new author that I've never discovered before and it's one of the things I like best about being an author.
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Other books by Tom Larcombe:
Merlin's Awakening (An Untimely Error #1)
Merlin's Travels (An Untimely Error #2)
Merlin's Target (An Untimely Error #3)
Crystal Beach (Crow Hill #1)
Crystal Cache (Crow Hill #2)
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