I spend the rest of the day reading. I begin to miss the old days when there were entertaining things to distract you from the terrible aspects of life on TV. Now it’s just all breaking news, all the time. If you watch an hour worth of TV, then you have seen everything they’re going to repeat for the entire day. I suppose I could always go back and watch something old, or even see one of the older popular films in theater… there hasn’t been a new movie made in eight years—the industry has faded away. It is considered now a luxury that we, as a country, just can’t afford.
Instead, I decide to read. For a while, no one really read that much—that is one thing that has made a rather swift comeback. Good old fashioned paperbacks. I think it is a comfort thing. They remind people of a better time. Just the same way that antiques are becoming more and more popular. Sometimes I miss video games. You can still play some of the old stuff if you track down the antique systems. Just, no one has the time really. A lot of the old technology has been repurposed or just no longer works. If you want an old blu-ray player or video game system, then you’d better have a pretty good salary to back it up. I figure one day—I’ll probably have something from the better days—especially if I keep up my job with C-Shapes.
8. The Date
I arrive at the Argent a little after five p.m. I feel confident in my black suit. I am wearing my father’s old watch. It is one of the only things I have left to remind myself of him. As an antique, I could sell it for a fair price—but I never will.
As I step out of the car, I realize that the Argent is not just a restaurant… it is entire skyscraper. A silver sign hangs above tinted glass doors. The sign reads, ‘The Argent’ and in small print it says a C-Shapes Facility. It then, at that moment, all begins to make sense.
I walk into an opulent black marble hallway that ends with a rather large black man wearing a suit and a gun. He eyes me as I walk down the red carpeted marble hallway.
“Your badge, sir,” he says as he reaches out a large hand.
I quickly reach into my pockets and hand my C-Shapes badge over as instructed.
He runs it over the raised glass display in front of him and it scans my name into the system. “Ethan Chase, take the elevator on the left. Have the attendant take you up to the 34 floor,” he says as he reads off the info from the screen and then hands me back my badge.
“Thank you,” I say as I place it back in the front pocket of my pants.
“Good luck with your date,” He says with a single nod.
I stand before the silver elevator, its rounded door etched with the C-Shapes logo on the front. Now that I look at it, the bottom half of the design does kind of resemble some kind of wave. As the door swings open, I shake my head free of the thought of all of Noah’s crazy conspiracies.
“Which floor, sir?” The attendant asks.
“34, I say with a nod as I realize that the reverse side of the elevator is made of glass. “Thanks…”
“As we rise up into the sky a garden appears in between the set of four connected skyscrapers. I watch in terror as I rise thirty four stories up. My knees feel a bit weak and my hands begin to shake.
“Not comfortable with heights?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say as I attempt to gain my composure. “But… yeah.”
“Here we are then, sir,” the well dressed attendant says as he gestures ahead. “The Argent Restaurant is just to right of this hall.”
I step out of the elevator, thankful to be out… slightly dreading the knowledge that I will have to take it back down. I know that they are safe—it’s just, I never feel very safe in them.
I round the hallway and find myself in large crimson red, circular room. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling en masse. Everything sparkles and refracts in the light of so many different facets. It reminds me of being in some kind of lit cavern full of diamonds… not that I’ve ever been in that kind of situation… it is the only thing that comes to mind.
I am immediately greeted by a tall man with dark hair and eyes. “Your name, sir…?”
“Ethan Chase,” I say. I have never been surrounded by so much awkward beauty. It is a little too much to take in all at once. As I follow behind him, I see that all the tables are lit with glass pyramid shaped lights that sit atop golden tables. C shaped booths encircle the tables cloaked in red velvet fabric with golden imprints of vines. I am taken to a dimly lit booth in the far corner of the restaurant. My date is already seated and nursing a small glass of wine.
“Ethan,” She says with a deep red smile and reaches her hand out.
I take her hand in my own and nod. “Michelle.”
“Sorry I got here a little early,” Michelle says as I sit down against the soft red velvet. “I hope you don’t mind I ordered us a bottle of white.
“White…?”
“The wine,” Michelle says with a wry laugh.
“Oh, of course,” I say as I take the glass in hand and take a sip. I’ve never really been much of a drinker—always seemed to give me to worst headaches the next day. “It’s good, it is an excellent choice.”
“So I hear you are new…” Michelle says as she leans forward as though she is studying me. “How new exactly are you?”
“One week…” I say in a rather embarrassed tone.
“One week?” She says as she laughs.
She has a nice smile and pretty blue eyes. Her light brown hair is curled and she is wearing a very form fitting red dress that compliments the current setting rather well. She smells faintly of lavender and vanilla.
“One week…” I repeat, almost feeling kind of Mirrorish.
“You know how long I’ve been a Sitter?”
“Six years?”
“You actually read the profile,” Michelle says as she leans back in her seat. “I’m impressed, most guys they just look at the pictures.”
“I thought it would be the polite thing to do.”
“I like that,” Michelle says as she smiles. “So what kind of basket cases did they start you out on?”
“Oh…” I reply, taken a little bit aback by the terminology. I suppose it was just like Katharine said—people who have been at this kind of thing for years tend to have become a bit desensitized to being politically correct… or polite about it. “I have a Mirror and a highly functioning Amnesiac.”
“No shit?” She says as she leans in. “Who did you have to sleep with to get that kind of first gig?”
“I assure you, I’m not shitting you,” I say, not really knowing how to respond. “That’s just what I was handed.”
“My first cases were a god damned vegetable and a Manic,” Michelle says as she takes another drink from her crystal glass of wine.
A waiter brings food, a plate of lobster, some chicken and an assortment of red potatoes. A long piece of asparagus rests over the top, sprinkled with some kind of black salt.
“Did we order?” I ask, slightly confused, but finding that this is a pretty usual state for me.
“You don’t order here…” Michelle whispers. “They have the finest chefs prepare basically whatever they feel like giving you.”
“Oh,” I say as I nod. “Makes sense… Anyway, do you have any tips for me? I mean… half the time I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or not.”
“Just make sure they take their Calm,” Michelle says as she shrugs. “You can pretty much do whatever you want—especially with your types. Read a book, take a nap.”
“Shouldn’t you try and engage them though…”
Michelle laughs. “What is the point? They’re screwed no matter what. I mean sure there is a chance now that they won’t go Aggro, either way even with a cure it’s not like we can fix their issues. No matter what happens, you can’t really help them. Most of them are a menace.”