Don't Press the Red X Published by David S Reynolds at Smashwords ...
Don’t Press the Red X Published by David S Reynolds at Smashwords
Copyright 2014 David S Reynolds
Cover by David S Reynolds
Discover other titles by David S Reynolds at http://davidsreynolds.weebly.com Or by following him on Twitter @davidsreynolds1 And on Facebook at Renaissance Redneck Media
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Don’t Press the Red X By David S Reynolds
It was Bill’s first day at Amaranthine and he was confident in his work as he arrived. He reported ten minutes early to make a good first impression and even though he was fresh out of school he was
top in his class. His instructors told him they had never seen anyone better than he was. The word prodigy was even tossed about a few times. That confidence was not to last. The security guard, a large red haired man with small forehead that sloped back accentuating his large nose, barely even looked at him as he arrived and proudly displayed his newly minted ID chip. “Hi!” Bill waved a greeting at the guard. The guard merely grunted and continued thumbing through the magazine he was reading. “I’m the new-” Bill started to say before he was cut off. “Don’t care,” came a slightly more intelligible grunt. At first Bill was angry at the guard but he decided to not let it get to him. “I’m supposed to report to Mr. Aoristic.” The guard looked up menacingly from his magazine, sized Bill up, and found him wanting. Without a sound the guard pointed at the staff interface kiosk at went back to his magazine. “Um, thanks.” Another grunt emanated from the guard that sounded suspiciously like bite me. OK, Bill thought to himself, I guess that’s what happens when you are uneducated and you know your job is about to be replaced by a robot. He went to the kiosk and looked up Mr. Aoristic and sent a message. All Bill could do now was wait. He looked around the reception area of his new workplace. A few plastic chairs were lined up along the wall opposite the guard’s desk. They blended in with the freshly painted off-white walls. The only color in the room was the blue and gray Amaranthine logo on the kiosk screen and the matching blue and gray uniform the guard wore. While it was bright, the light only accentuated the blandness. Bill started to understand the guard’s attitude. Oh well, he thought to himself, I guess the advanced computer mainframes I’ll be working on don’t really care about their surroundings. His thoughts turned inward as he pondered what his first project would be. Would he be fine tuning the new superconductors that Amaranthine had just developed? Or even more tantalizing, he would be working on the new fields opened up by the superconductors like levitation or artificial intelligence? A door opened and interrupted Bill’s thoughts. Bill didn’t know what to think of the old man that came through it. First off, he was short, barely over four feet tall. What little hair he had left was white and thin. His skin was the color of old leather and covered in wrinkles. Despite appearing to be ancient, the old man moved with the ease and grace of a gymnast as he crossed the floor towards Bill. “So,” a reedy voice pronounced, “you’re the new kid?” “Yes sir!” Bill reached out to shake the man’s hand. “You must be Mr. Aoristic.” A gnarled had grasped Bill’s with unexpected strength. “At least for today.” As Bill tried to understand that answer he found himself be sized up for the second time with an even more critical eye than the guard had. Unlike the guard however, Mr. Aoristic seemed to be delaying judgment. It still made Bill uncomfortable. “Where is Mr. Watkin?” “Once Mr. Watkin selects a new hire his job is done.” The statement was made with an air of finality that encouraged no follow up. “Um,” Bill stammered, unsure of what to do next.
“I supposed I should give you the tour.” Mr. Aoristic turned back to the door he had come from and said a greeting to the guard. “Having a good day Adam?” “Fine,” the guard grunted out as they passed. Bill was incredulous. It was one thing to be rude to someone you didn’t know but to be rude to an obviously senior company person? “How does that guy keep his job?” “You’ll have to forgive Adam,” Mr. Aoristic replied. “He has been with the company a very long time and he doesn’t like change. Add that to the fact that Mr. Usbeisns, the man you are replacing, was one of his favorites and you are going to have a rough transition. Give him some time.” “If you say so.” Bill was unconvinced. “Right.” Mr. Aoristic moved down the hall faster than Bill thought possible for a man of his advanced age. Bill had a hard time keeping up. “Your ID chip will get you through the door, so you really have no need to ever talk with Adam. I suggest you let him make the first move.” They stopped at a red door. “This is the lounge. You’ll find it has all the usual lounge stuff; fridge, microwave, tables. Any questions about the lounge?” Bill looked in the door. It was a small room with two tables and chairs that matched those in the entry. On a pristine white counter sat a surprisingly old microwave that had to be from the turn of the century. The only sound was the humming of a small refrigerator. It was as non-descript as the entry occupied by the grumpy Adam. “Nope.” “Good.” Mr. Aoristic took off down the hall and Bill struggled to catch up. “That’s R and D,” he pointed at a green door as they passed, “don’t go in there.” “Yes sir.” Bill tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice as he realized the implications of not being allowed into R and D. “Did you think you were going to start with the big stuff right away boy?” Mr. Aoristic stopped at a yellow door. “Well, I…” “I don’t care what your teachers think of your technical abilities at that school; around here you need to prove your trustworthiness first.” “Yes sir.”
Copyright 2014 David S Reynolds
Cover by David S Reynolds
Discover other titles by David S Reynolds at http://davidsreynolds.weebly.com Or by following him on Twitter @davidsreynolds1 And on Facebook at Renaissance Redneck Media
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Don’t Press the Red X By David S Reynolds
It was Bill’s first day at Amaranthine and he was confident in his work as he arrived. He reported ten minutes early to make a good first impression and even though he was fresh out of school he was
top in his class. His instructors told him they had never seen anyone better than he was. The word prodigy was even tossed about a few times. That confidence was not to last. The security guard, a large red haired man with small forehead that sloped back accentuating his large nose, barely even looked at him as he arrived and proudly displayed his newly minted ID chip. “Hi!” Bill waved a greeting at the guard. The guard merely grunted and continued thumbing through the magazine he was reading. “I’m the new-” Bill started to say before he was cut off. “Don’t care,” came a slightly more intelligible grunt. At first Bill was angry at the guard but he decided to not let it get to him. “I’m supposed to report to Mr. Aoristic.” The guard looked up menacingly from his magazine, sized Bill up, and found him wanting. Without a sound the guard pointed at the staff interface kiosk at went back to his magazine. “Um, thanks.” Another grunt emanated from the guard that sounded suspiciously like bite me. OK, Bill thought to himself, I guess that’s what happens when you are uneducated and you know your job is about to be replaced by a robot. He went to the kiosk and looked up Mr. Aoristic and sent a message. All Bill could do now was wait. He looked around the reception area of his new workplace. A few plastic chairs were lined up along the wall opposite the guard’s desk. They blended in with the freshly painted off-white walls. The only color in the room was the blue and gray Amaranthine logo on the kiosk screen and the matching blue and gray uniform the guard wore. While it was bright, the light only accentuated the blandness. Bill started to understand the guard’s attitude. Oh well, he thought to himself, I guess the advanced computer mainframes I’ll be working on don’t really care about their surroundings. His thoughts turned inward as he pondered what his first project would be. Would he be fine tuning the new superconductors that Amaranthine had just developed? Or even more tantalizing, he would be working on the new fields opened up by the superconductors like levitation or artificial intelligence? A door opened and interrupted Bill’s thoughts. Bill didn’t know what to think of the old man that came through it. First off, he was short, barely over four feet tall. What little hair he had left was white and thin. His skin was the color of old leather and covered in wrinkles. Despite appearing to be ancient, the old man moved with the ease and grace of a gymnast as he crossed the floor towards Bill. “So,” a reedy voice pronounced, “you’re the new kid?” “Yes sir!” Bill reached out to shake the man’s hand. “You must be Mr. Aoristic.” A gnarled had grasped Bill’s with unexpected strength. “At least for today.” As Bill tried to understand that answer he found himself be sized up for the second time with an even more critical eye than the guard had. Unlike the guard however, Mr. Aoristic seemed to be delaying judgment. It still made Bill uncomfortable. “Where is Mr. Watkin?” “Once Mr. Watkin selects a new hire his job is done.” The statement was made with an air of finality that encouraged no follow up. “Um,” Bill stammered, unsure of what to do next.
“I supposed I should give you the tour.” Mr. Aoristic turned back to the door he had come from and said a greeting to the guard. “Having a good day Adam?” “Fine,” the guard grunted out as they passed. Bill was incredulous. It was one thing to be rude to someone you didn’t know but to be rude to an obviously senior company person? “How does that guy keep his job?” “You’ll have to forgive Adam,” Mr. Aoristic replied. “He has been with the company a very long time and he doesn’t like change. Add that to the fact that Mr. Usbeisns, the man you are replacing, was one of his favorites and you are going to have a rough transition. Give him some time.” “If you say so.” Bill was unconvinced. “Right.” Mr. Aoristic moved down the hall faster than Bill thought possible for a man of his advanced age. Bill had a hard time keeping up. “Your ID chip will get you through the door, so you really have no need to ever talk with Adam. I suggest you let him make the first move.” They stopped at a red door. “This is the lounge. You’ll find it has all the usual lounge stuff; fridge, microwave, tables. Any questions about the lounge?” Bill looked in the door. It was a small room with two tables and chairs that matched those in the entry. On a pristine white counter sat a surprisingly old microwave that had to be from the turn of the century. The only sound was the humming of a small refrigerator. It was as non-descript as the entry occupied by the grumpy Adam. “Nope.” “Good.” Mr. Aoristic took off down the hall and Bill struggled to catch up. “That’s R and D,” he pointed at a green door as they passed, “don’t go in there.” “Yes sir.” Bill tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice as he realized the implications of not being allowed into R and D. “Did you think you were going to start with the big stuff right away boy?” Mr. Aoristic stopped at a yellow door. “Well, I…” “I don’t care what your teachers think of your technical abilities at that school; around here you need to prove your trustworthiness first.” “Yes sir.”
