Saturday, November 04, 2006

PROLOGUE (5/11/06)


It was a perfectly normal Monday morning, as far as Monday mornings could go. The surly looks of the people that crossed his path that morning was an indication that a perfectly normal Monday for him could be a blue Monday for everyone else. He didn’t care one bit how everyone else perceived Monday mornings. Subjective ideas didn’t need deliberation. It was a pure waste of time.

Mark was headed down town towards the office. Having turned 23 earlier that year, he was one of the youngest in the office. The rest of the team were greying men who had children who were just a few years younger than him.

Mark was lanky, and had long arms and legs which concerned him greatly. He always thought he was clumsy, and mentioned his worries about it to anyone who would listen. He was particularly conscious about his arms and legs, and avoided activity that required him to use it much such as games and dancing. In reality it was merely a figment of his active imagination.

From a slight distance he noticed that something was not quite normal about the office surroundings. The car park was slightly deserted, and a grey suited man was sitting at the entrance steps, and there w as also a policeman dressed in blue by the side of the man in the grey suit.

Did someone die?

Mark attempted to enter the building past the man in the grey suit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the policeman said

“Work” Mark replied

“Don’t be smart, young man” said the policeman in a gruff tone as he got up and placed himself in front of Mark.

“I’m sorry, but I work up here.” Mark tried to be as polite as possible. As far as he could tell, getting into trouble with the police was not in his list of things to do. Not that he did have a list, but if there ever was one, getting into trouble was not going to be in it.

The grey suited man moved forward, and signalled something to the policeman.

“You work up here?” the man asked Mark in what he called a kind tone

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark queried, worried.

“I’m afraid so. We have closed the place for an indefinite time. I’m sure your boss will contact you to inform you regarding the… ‘cough discreetly’ current issues at hand” said the man again. “I believe it’s best if you leave this place now.’

Mark looked at both the man in the grey suit and the policeman.

“Run along now, kiddo. Your boss will contact you soon.”

Reluctantly Mark left the building. He took out his cell phone and called his boss. There was no dial tone. The phone was dead. He tried another number, his colleague’s number this time and then another, and another.

All the phones had something similar about them. There was no dial tone. At that moment, Mark felt was wistfully reminded of a character from a book he once read.

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Saturday, November 04, 2006

PROLOGUE (5/11/06)

It was a perfectly normal Monday morning, as far as Monday mornings could go. The surly looks of the people that crossed his path that morning was an indication that a perfectly normal Monday for him could be a blue Monday for everyone else. He didn’t care one bit how everyone else perceived Monday mornings. Subjective ideas didn’t need deliberation. It was a pure waste of time.

Mark was headed down town towards the office. Having turned 23 earlier that year, he was one of the youngest in the office. The rest of the team were greying men who had children who were just a few years younger than him.

Mark was lanky, and had long arms and legs which concerned him greatly. He always thought he was clumsy, and mentioned his worries about it to anyone who would listen. He was particularly conscious about his arms and legs, and avoided activity that required him to use it much such as games and dancing. In reality it was merely a figment of his active imagination.

From a slight distance he noticed that something was not quite normal about the office surroundings. The car park was slightly deserted, and a grey suited man was sitting at the entrance steps, and there w as also a policeman dressed in blue by the side of the man in the grey suit.

Did someone die?

Mark attempted to enter the building past the man in the grey suit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the policeman said

“Work” Mark replied

“Don’t be smart, young man” said the policeman in a gruff tone as he got up and placed himself in front of Mark.

“I’m sorry, but I work up here.” Mark tried to be as polite as possible. As far as he could tell, getting into trouble with the police was not in his list of things to do. Not that he did have a list, but if there ever was one, getting into trouble was not going to be in it.

The grey suited man moved forward, and signalled something to the policeman.

“You work up here?” the man asked Mark in what he called a kind tone

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark queried, worried.

“I’m afraid so. We have closed the place for an indefinite time. I’m sure your boss will contact you to inform you regarding the… ‘cough discreetly’ current issues at hand” said the man again. “I believe it’s best if you leave this place now.’

Mark looked at both the man in the grey suit and the policeman.

“Run along now, kiddo. Your boss will contact you soon.”

Reluctantly Mark left the building. He took out his cell phone and called his boss. There was no dial tone. The phone was dead. He tried another number, his colleague’s number this time and then another, and another.

All the phones had something similar about them. There was no dial tone. At that moment, Mark felt was wistfully reminded of a character from a book he once read.

No comments:

 

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