“Thanks.” The human stared at them. Uneasy, sensing something alien and ancient but unable to articulate why. Pestilence looked like one of them, moved and spoke like them, but humans instinctively sensed their otherness.
The next life source stood with a third, a youngling, and spoke in a hushed voice, “I said no more chocolate.”
“But, Mom.” The youngling screwed up their face. “I’m hungry.”
“If you’re hungry, there are apples in the car.” The mother threw them an expression half exasperated and half fond.
The youngling glanced at them and sighed. “But I’m not hungry for apples.”
“Excuse me.” Pestilence eased past the pair with a smile. The lightest touch against the mother’s arm, a nudge of their ankle against the youngling’s as Pestilence made their selection.
At the cash register, a tired salesclerk managed a wan smile. “Late for a ride.”
“Yes.” Pestilence handed over the money now soaked with excretions from their palm. “Got a long way to go. Wanted to get a head start.”
“Right.” The clerk added the money to the register where it would nestle amongst other bills, bills that would be passed to another customer. “Well, you’ll beat the traffic all right.”
“I like the quiet.” Pestilence shrugged. “Helps clear my head.”
“I hear you.” The clerk bagged their purchase and handed the bag to them. “Go well.”
Pestilence smiled. “Stay well.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Somewhere in the US
Helmet-hair aka Marcia placed both hands on her desk and threaded her fingers together. “I don’t need to tell you, Bob, how disappointed we are.”
Focusing on the downtown view outside her window, he rather thought disappointed was putting it mildly. What they were was flat out fucking panicking.
Their senator had been annihilated by a full media contingent. The memes were making themselves and multiplying over social media.
Bob had stood at the back of the press conference and relished every moment he had wrought and was still basking in the ensuing scramble. So much of his life had been dedicated to this inane crap, but now he was free.
The little gray man had struck, and his blow had sunk the ship. It was almost biblical in its beauty. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Marcia was staring at him, waiting for a response. The temptation to toy with her and see if it took the lift out of her super-hold hairspray won out. “Disappointed, Marcia?”
The human resources representative seated to Marcia’s left at the shiny conference table gave her a subtle nod. Legal on her right braced pen on paper.
“Well, Bob.” Marcia flipped open the folder in front of her and consulted the documents.
The table reflected the folder’s cover. Had they shined it up for this meeting?
“I believe I gave you the prepared statement on the twenty-first of last month,” Marcia said.
Legal’s gaze whipped to her. “Believe.”
“I know.” Marcia cleared her throat. “I gave you the prepared statement on the twenty-first.”
Legal scribbled a note.
“The twenty-first.” Bob pretended to think it through. He knew the date even better than Marcia. That had been the day of his rebirth. “I could have sworn it was the twenty-second.”
HR scrolled on their screen and showed it to Marcia.
“No, Bob.” Her smile looked spackled onto her face with her overbearing makeup. “It was the twenty-first.”
Legal made another note.
“Are you sure?” Bob tapped his chin. “Because I could have sworn it was the same day we had birthday cake in the break room for Taylor’s birthday.” Pretty crappy birthday cake—no gluten, no nuts or nut products. He gave them all a timid smile. “And Taylor’s birthday is on the twenty-second.”
Legal looked up. “Who is Taylor?”
“Not germane,” Marcia snapped.
Just like Bob had been.
“No, Bob.” Marcia’s carefully pleasant tone frayed at the edges. “I have the original document, and it was created on the twenty-first.”
HR tapped the table. “This information was all forwarded to you with a copy of your file and the purposes of this hearing.”
She’d smudged the glossy table, and Bob suppressed the desire to wipe away her grubby fingerprint. He clicked his fingers. “But maybe Marcia didn’t give it to me until the day after it was created.”
“No, Bob.” Marcia raised her voice.
Legal cleared her throat.
“What Marcia is saying, Bob,” HR surged into the gap, “is that the correct statement was given to you along with clear instructions to brief the senator.” She forced her mouth into a smile. “As you will have read in your copy of today’s proceedings.”
“No.” Bob shook his head and pressed a thumbprint on the table. There. Now he had left a small mark. Not that they would forget him after today.
HR frowned. “No?”
“No, I didn’t read the file.” Bob grinned at her.
HR gaped at him.
Legal sat forward, their white blouse front perilously close to their cream cheese bagel. “You admit to having received the correct statement and understood the instruction from Mrs. Cartwright?”
Cart. Wright. Interesting name considering the cunt reminded him more of the mule pulling a cart. “Yup.”
Marcia exchanged a smug look with Legal and HR. “But that wasn’t the statement you gave to the senator, nor did you brief him. Do you admit that?”
“Nope.” The Arby’s he’d had for lunch made him want to fart. So he did.
