Just For One Day

10

     Mercer stared at himself in the mirror. He smoothed over his thinning hair and splashed water onto his plump face, noting the crows feet around his eyes that had deepened noticeably over the past few months. Working on the Pink project had aged him considerably.

     What was it about that man that made him so terrifying? Of course there were the surprise visits, the probing questions about lack of progress, the subtle threats...that was normal; practically every client did that. Science was sometimes...well, more art than science, and breakthroughs were made when they wanted to be made. Mercer was used to unhappy clients, and he was normally no pushover. He had mastered the art of taking no guff while simultaneously selling the dream (he was also very much the sort of person to use the phrase 'take no guff' with a completely straight face). Eagle Scientific was a serious company which took itself very seriously, with lots of serious scientists and serious investors. Even when projects ran behind schedule, they always delivered in full in the end and the results spoke for themselves. It's how they stayed so successful in a field populated by supergenius competition. Besides that, Mercer had a lot of letters after his name. One doesn't get to be a head scientist in a company like Eagle Scientific by acting like a pussywillow (yet another oft used gem in Mercer's vocabulary).

     But Roger Pink was like no one Mercer had ever dealt with before. Whenever they experienced a setback, instead of becoming angry, he would just smile, shrug his shoulders, and offer them more money. It was, if anything, the most unnerving thing he could possibly do. Mercer could handle anger, and shouting, and threats. But understanding and pats on the back and "oh well, that's life, eh?"...that was entirely new territory. It set Mercer on edge.

     Prior to the Pink project, Mercer had been happy, healthy, and rosy cheeked. He enjoyed his job. Bioterrorist viruses were a fun challenge to make. Engineering unnatural abominations via in situ hybridization allowed him to flex his creative side. Super powerful biomechanical exosuits were a snap to build. His life had been great, his work fulfilling.

     Now, the face that stared back at him from the mirror told a very different story. High blood pressure, nervous tics, fainting spells at the mere mention of a certain color...it was a complete transformation. He no longer even had the desire to write nasty letters to his HOA about his neighbors' obvious breaches of conduct by allowing their hedges to grow several inches too high before trimming them; it used to be one of his favorite pastimes.

     "You can do this," he told his reflection. "The project is only slightly behind schedule; it's nothing you haven't dealt with before. He's only a man."

     A man who made Mercer sick to his stomach with unease, but a man nonetheless.

     Mercer took a deep breath and pushed his way out of the bathroom. He made his way past the offices, through the cubicles, and down to the lobby, where (and here Mercer swallowed hard and steeled his resolve) Roger was hitting on the receptionist.

     "So I told him, look Mr. President, I'm flattered, but I just don't have that kind of time," Roger was saying, one crimson clad elbow resting on the desk while his other hand was on his hip.

     The receptionist giggled girlishly, the fingers of one hand in front of her mouth while she batted her eyelashes at Roger. "That is so funny," she said, laying a hand on Roger's arm.

     "You think that's a good one, wait until I tell you about-" Roger began, but Mercer cut him off before he lost the nerve to speak.

     "Mr. Pink," Mercer said. "So glad to see you."

     "Mariachi!" said Roger, seemingly unperturbed by the interruption. Mercer felt his eye twitch. He had long ago started to feel that Mr. Pink got his name wrong on purpose. "Just the man I was hoping to see!"