MF1.0 - 05 - Jones

A dozen windows filled Jones’ screen – reports, data and calculations all indicating the same thing.

He stared at the data for a moment longer, just to be sure. ‘Mirrorfall,’ he said, then began to print out the data.

His printer provided some much-needed noise to the silent lab – it would have been easier to simply require the documents into existence – pulling them from the firmament of the multiverse, but this gave him time to think.

A blue folder appeared and sighed as he ordered the documents and placed them into the folder. He paused to adjust his lab coat before hesitatingly opening the door. The world outside his lab was always filled with a lot of chaotic elements - things he could never predict. It made him nervous - he liked the security and stability of his lab.

His footsteps were light as he walked down the bright hallway toward the lift. It was a quiet morning – he couldn’t hear any of the recruits. Then again, most of his recruits tended to keep odd hours, and he had no intention of stifling this. He didn’t require that they awoke each morning at six for rigorous training before breakfast as Taylor did.

The fact that his recruits were “unregulated” angered Taylor – then again, most things did. The combat agent thought of the technical department as a waste - and had no problem voicing these thoughts. They were a waste - at the very most, a barely necessary evil. It didn’t matter that the techs were responsible for figuring out how to track down enemies, trace Solstice meetings, organise upgrades, predict events or any of the other sundry tasks they were assigned. All that mattered was that they were weak.

Taylor refused to abide weakness.

This one simple fact had brought him nothing but misery over the years. He sighed and cleaned his glasses as he waited exactly eight seconds for the lift doors to open.

A pink bra stared at him as he entered the lift. He stood frozen for a moment, as if he were intruding. He shook his head and crouched down – he pressed a finger to the soft lace and it disappeared.

Recruits often had trysts – especially those regularly engaged in combat – it was a fact of belonging to the Agency that it generally truncated the human life span. Leaving evidence of a tryst, however, was never good – it led to Taylor lecturing and banning all recruit privileges for a few days.

The doors slid open with a soft ping and he stepped out.

He walked down the short hall to Ryan’s office – now he could hear recruits. This floor of the Agency tended to the busiest, as the main gym was there, as were the recruit recreation areas. It made him relish the quiet of his floor.

He extended a hand and knocked on Ryan’s door.

‘Come,’ Ryan’s voice said a few moments later.

Jones entered the office – Ryan slammed a desk drawer and looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘There’s another mirrorfall coming.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,CenturyGothic,Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Ryan stood and took the proffered data. ‘When?’ he asked as he flicked through it.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,CenturyGothic,Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘No less than a week, no more than two.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,CenturyGothic,Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Ryan looked down at him. ‘It’s going to fall here?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,CenturyGothic,Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">He nodded. ‘Yes sir.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,CenturyGothic,Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Ryan snapped the folder closed. ‘I’ll inform Taylor. Give me a more accurate estimate when you can.’