Page 51 - Extraterrestrials, Foreign and Domestic
P. 51

Anteroom

        seating  themselves  as  far  as  possible  from  the  dipsomaniac,  the
        man pacing back and forth.
          The older woman spoke first.
          “Let’s  try  to  make  some  sense  of  this.  First,  why  us?  We’ve
        never  met.  So,  who  are  we?  I’m  Alice  N.  Ordnung,  senior
        administrative assistant to Oliver D. Zein, vice president in charge
        of logo products distribution at Buckshot Enterprises.”
          A brief silence was broken by slow applause from the sprawled
        man.
          “Gainfully employed, and by a big old multinational maker of
        cheap  handguns,  expensive  cologne,  and  everything  in  between.
        Yeah. Just for the record, I’m Wilton Devine, unemployed since
        nineteen-sixty-nine and proud of it.”
          The younger woman looked away, as if from a scene of carnage.
        “I am Ann Tiffany. I teach  creation  science at Holy Relic  High
        School.  I  cannot  think  of  any  earthly  reason  why  I  should  be
        trapped in here with you—you people.”
          The pacing man stopped in his tracks and glanced at the ceiling.
        His  eyes  had  narrowed  into  crafty  little  slits.  “I  am  Claudius
        Quintilian Cumber,” he began, in a voice louder than  necessary.
        “My friends call me C. Q., and I would like to think they are out
        looking for me right now. I am a mail order computer salesman,
        but I do not know anything about the new QPF-6000 chip.”
          Wilton again clapped sarcastically.
          “And we’re all involved in an elaborate industrial espionage plot
        to get that secret out of you, Comrade Cumber. Do you think this
        place  is  bugged,  that  hidden  cameras  are  recording  your  every
        facial tic?”
          C. Q. turned on him.
          “Do you have any better suggestion, you lazy bum? I think it’s
        highly  suspicious  that  these  rooms  apparently  have  no  windows
        and  no  lighting  fixtures,  but  it  is  perfectly  bright  in  here.  And
        where is the ventilation intake and outflow? What are those walls
        made  of?  They  won’t  give,  they  won’t  scratch,  they’re  neither
        warm nor cold. I’ve never seen any material like the stuff that’s
        covering this sofa. Have you? And I would bet anything that we’re
        being observed.”



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