A Year of Stories (Collection Three)

Investing in Villany

The door looks like it was cut from glass, glass that is somehow clearer than any glass should be, yet strangely reflects nothing at all.

It's like staring into a hallucination.

Standing at this door is a man with broad shoulders and close-cropped hair. His face is covered in scars, which seem to perfectly complement his three-piece suit.

He watches me as if he were sizing up an animal for his wall.

"So, what do they call you?" He grumbles.

"Chainlink."

"One word or two?"

"Uh, one..."

"Of course. Glad you didn't pick something stupid."

"I have a meeting. Can I go inside now, or do you plan on insulting me more?"

"Nah, you should probably head in, don't want to keep Miss Low waiting."

"Right, and who are you by the way?"

"Me? Nobody, just a guy you probably don't want to see again."

With that, Nobody brushes past me and walks towards the elevator. As he does, he snaps his fingers, which are as scarred as his face, and the glass door – which still refuses to reflect light – swings open.

Nice trick.

Considering I once heard of an young, foolish entrepreneur having his eyesight reversed, so that he could only see the inside of his own skull, because he was late for a meeting with an Ashfert Partner, a little harassment at the door seems like a pretty fair price to pay for keeping Error Low waiting.

I step inside.

2.

The air has that tangy, antiseptic smell that hospitals rooms do, the kind that polite society uses to cover up its decay.

Error Low is sitting at the edge of her desk, which is made of the exact same glass that her door is. In fact, the entire room is covered, wall to wall, floor to ceiling. with the stuff.

I almost fall flat on my face, as my brain tries and fails to make sense of it. There is no getting the proportions of the place, it's like floating and falling all at the same time.

Error seems amused.

"Chainlink, have a seat! Just kidding, I only have one seat and it's mine. Feel free to stand more comfortably though."