There was a pressing sense of unease that descended on Otrahun as he stepped into the lift that would take them higher up the building. The helipad that they had landed on was built only halfway up the building on an extended platform that looked like a beggar's bowl asking for alms.
"I'd always looked at this building from my flat but I never thought I'd actually be in it."
The woman looked up from her screen for a second and stared at Otrahun. She looked completely at ease inside the building and her former disgust at the roadside stall was all but vanished. This was a woman who belonged here and she was in her natural habitat of concrete and glass.
And then, like a ten car pile up on the highway with a double-digit death count, she smiled at him. "You've seen nothing yet."
The lift rose higher up the side of the building and Otrahun fancied that he could see till the far edges of the city. Down there, where the human worms ate each other up for another chance to live one more day. Where the rich conspired and gossiped to get a sense of thrill in their vacant lives. And then there were those stuck in the middle, like replaceable cogs in the great machine of economics took their place till they were ground down to nothing in the gears and belts of what made everything work.
The lift slowed down to a halt and the door opened up with a cheerful chime that was exactly opposite to the dark mood that had come upon Otrahun. Was this world really worth saving, even if it made him rich enough to not work another day in his life?
The room they both stepped into was white. Everything from the walls to the floor the ceiling was pristine white. So much so that Otrahun was afraid of taking another step forward for the fear of spoiling the whiteness of the room with the dirt that he might have carried on his person. It felt like walking into a box of nothing where you could see for miles and everything seemed to be coming at you.
A screen lit up in the middle of the room and the face of a grizzled old man appeared on it. There was a pair of tubes snaking in his nostrils and his left eye drooped along with his face. His other eye looked at Otrahun with judgment and open hostility. When he spoke, his voice had a clear authority that sent a needle of fear sliding down Otrahun's spine.
"Son," he said, "do you believe in sin?"
"I'd always looked at this building from my flat but I never thought I'd actually be in it."
The woman looked up from her screen for a second and stared at Otrahun. She looked completely at ease inside the building and her former disgust at the roadside stall was all but vanished. This was a woman who belonged here and she was in her natural habitat of concrete and glass.
And then, like a ten car pile up on the highway with a double-digit death count, she smiled at him. "You've seen nothing yet."
The lift rose higher up the side of the building and Otrahun fancied that he could see till the far edges of the city. Down there, where the human worms ate each other up for another chance to live one more day. Where the rich conspired and gossiped to get a sense of thrill in their vacant lives. And then there were those stuck in the middle, like replaceable cogs in the great machine of economics took their place till they were ground down to nothing in the gears and belts of what made everything work.
The lift slowed down to a halt and the door opened up with a cheerful chime that was exactly opposite to the dark mood that had come upon Otrahun. Was this world really worth saving, even if it made him rich enough to not work another day in his life?
The room they both stepped into was white. Everything from the walls to the floor the ceiling was pristine white. So much so that Otrahun was afraid of taking another step forward for the fear of spoiling the whiteness of the room with the dirt that he might have carried on his person. It felt like walking into a box of nothing where you could see for miles and everything seemed to be coming at you.
A screen lit up in the middle of the room and the face of a grizzled old man appeared on it. There was a pair of tubes snaking in his nostrils and his left eye drooped along with his face. His other eye looked at Otrahun with judgment and open hostility. When he spoke, his voice had a clear authority that sent a needle of fear sliding down Otrahun's spine.
"Son," he said, "do you believe in sin?"
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