The New Departure Part II

I do apologise for the long wait, I have actually been busy recently (seriously!) and haven't had time to type up the stuff I've written. In any case, it's here now and the third part is written up, but not typed yet.

I should mention that this is actually going to be a four part story as opposed to the original three part idea. I need another section to pull of the ending as I chose to introduce more characters than I had originally envisaged. Enjoy this part, written in a very loose, first person style.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen’ he raises his hands up high like he’s praying to the god of arms trading. With another breath he says ‘Let me introduce you to The New Departure.’ You can hear the capital letters click into place.

I try to listen but I find my mind wandering off, not out of boredom but out of sheer disgust at what this excuse is saying. Outside the seventy-fifth floor boardroom the rain is hammering down, so unsuited to the lofty words being spoken,
I’m shaken out of my self imposed exile from the conscious world by the smiling suit’s introduction.

What am I now? Did he say Visionary or Paragon? Who cares? I stand and face the assembled faceless drones. Jesus Christ I must be higher than I thought, they really do look faceless.

‘Esteemed-’I snigger inadvertedly but manage to turn it into an almost convincing sneeze. Drone #1 at the head of the table becomes alarmingly smiley, like he’s just realised that the coffee cup he’s drinking out of contains raw sewage and he’s unsure how to come to terms with the situation.

‘Esteemed persons of the board.’

‘You may not know me, I’m…uh…I’m…’ I look down at my cards, which aren’t there anymore. Holy shit, did I just forget my own name? Must recover this. Must stay focused.

‘I’m the man who designed the T-Chip that currently resides in the uh…um…’ Christ, what’s a diplomatic name for killing machine?

‘The uh…Recon and Combat assist vehicles being used by our armed forces.’ Used is perhaps the wrong word. Unleashed? Nah, it has too many negative connotations. I’m a wee bit zoned out at this point. Guy Smiley across the room hints at me that I’ve been staring blankly at the windows for the last 15 seconds.

‘Protecting our soldiers is our number one priority’ Just above suppressing our rampant alcohol and drug addictions.

‘We at…’ only a few moments pause as I try to remember who writes me cheques every month. ‘Davis and Davis Corporation are committed to protecting our assets…uh our troops. Our troops are our most valuable assets, we here at Davis and Davis and…Davis know our most valuable troops are our most um…’

Smiley has just stood up, ready to take charge. Good thing too.

‘I need to piss.’

Did I say that out loud? Ooh probably time to exit.

‘Mr. Gleeson everyone!’ The hollow, confused applause follows me down the hall.

The executive bathroom. A bright, sparkling tribute to what rich people do with their trousers down. Chrome and expensive wood are in evidence everywhere. The urinals are made of only the finest china, handcrafted by Tibetan monks in a monastery high above the clouds. Probably. I wonder if they knew what they were going to be used for.

The bathroom attendant creeps up to me, takes one look at my face and backs away slowly.

None of the cubicles are occupied and I’m free to sing fragments of songs at the top of my lungs to entertain the bemused attendant.

‘All finished!’ I say as if there’s a nervous crowd outside awaiting news of my bathroom engagement.

Damn my head hurts, I need another fucking…oh for the love of…I’ve dropped the goddamn box. I root around on the pristine floor a bit. No such luck. I stand and open the door, forgetting the vital step of removing my hand when it has finished opening. I stumble forward and shake my head. Bright black spots ship across my vision and I fall unceremoniously to the floor.

***

Images dance in and out of my eye line and muffled sounds filter through the buzz that blankets me morning til night. Am I on a plane?!?

Christ I hope I didn’t bring any of the junk onboard. The company won’t bail me out again.

‘Excuse me; I have to take a leak.’ Damn that didn’t come out right, few things do these days. I try to stand but I’ve been strapped in like a fucking baby.

‘It’ll keep him out of trouble for a bit and it might even give us a bit of a boost in-’

Things feel a wee bit…fuzzy. Not booze fuzzy or coke fuzzy but the kind of fuzzy you get from expensive prescriptions to stop you killing your husband as he comes back reeking of scotch for the seventy billionth time in a row.

The ginger bloke, uh, Chaz? Chiz? He’s the one talking like I can’t hear. The other guy keeps snatching glances at me like I’m going to go postal any second now.

I wonder what the inflight meal is. When do we get the menus?

‘Passengers’ the speaker above my head intones ‘This is your captain speaking, we are currently cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet and we should reach Fort Baxter, Poland in about eleven hours. Until then, enjoy your flight.’

‘Oh for fuc-‘