Spilling Guts

Part 44 - Upstairs

Once the Styrofoam coffee cups were dropped off for up-cycling (at a brick and steel studio decorated with glass bottle chimes, furniture upholstered with old bicycle tires, and bottle cap paintings) Will arrived at Novak Tower. He wore black slacks, a button up dress shirt, a hefty dash of minty cologne to his nerves, and a jacket. He had combed his hair back with a bit of gel, but the ends still curled over the collar and around his ears to tickle his jaw. The dress code for desk jockey's was fairly lax, including tie optional on Fridays.

He felt like he was going in for an interview again.

Hi past lover, here is my life now. No strange scientific experiments or shrinking at all. No secret organization trying to keep a balance between scientific progress and utter chaos. What's work like come Monday? Oh, that's special; I get to swallow a shrunken coffee addict that I have an aesthetic attraction to and then I get to punch a sensor plate. Totally normal.

Unless you meet Beni or Reese. Then it gets interesting.

Will wondered why he even mentioned where he worked to Jacob. He could have just said, "I'll meet you at this cafe at twelve-thirty" and he wouldn't have had to go through the "friends and family" thing.

At least he would get practice at pretending everything was normal if his mom or siblings ever visited. Jacob had given him a heads up earlier that morning with a text confirming that he'd be in Denver by noon. Who knew if his mother would call ahead?

Nilda Najarro met him at the reception desk. She was a tawny skinned woman with her black hair up in a pinned bun, wearing a black pencil skirt, carmine blouse, and high heels designed to sway her stride like a pendulum. With her hourglass figure, the sway was not necessary. From what Will read of her bio, she had a degrees in corporate law and business management, and a list of corporations she had buried under paperwork for trying to get one over on the Patent Office. If her years of experience didn't garner respect, her fingers tipped with sharp, jeweled acrylic nails that matched her gold hairpins and necklace would work just as well.

Will had no problem imagining that Najarro could take out Jabba the Hutt.

"Ready for your day in your new office?" she asked, her wine colored lips rising in a plush smile.

"A little nervous," admitted Will. As instructed, he had brought a personal framed picture, a personal mug, and another item to make the desk look lived in to the casual viewer. He hope his cheap figurine of a Ring-wraith would work. "Never did a family and friends visit before."

"We get that a lot. It's nothing to be nervous about."

Najarro showed him to the work area. It was similar to Main Tech downstairs, the spacing and equipment on each desk, walls painted a cool gray, but the far wall had wood trimmed windows to let in real sunlight. According to the Watch job outline, the glass was bulletproof. The only other difference was the United States Patent Seal on the front wall instead of the familiar and imposing Watch shield. An exposed staircase led upstairs to balconies and bright offices colored in cream and dark wood, like chambers of gold light above a silver bowl.

Najarro indicated a desk near the door to the reception area with his own nameplate.

Did they get that done just for today? Can I keep it?

Will hung his satchel and jacket on a nearby hook and enjoyed the sliver of sunlight that came through the office windows. He was one of many desk jockeys; each with their own particular sense of dress and desk decor; some wore studious black and white, others wore sashes and wild patterns and had a tiny disco ball over their monitor. One desk near the back either had an impressive popsicle sculpture, or a ficus ready to join the carnivorous club.

People who worked desk jobs at the Denver Patent office were aware of the Watch and its purpose and kept silent about it. They simply called it the Research and Development Department. They didn't mention the creative acquisition, enforcement, and neutralizing that occurred between the research and development. Or how violent it probably got. Or how they were literally underground.

The more well dressed individuals in the Patent office had actual offices in the back and upstairs and met with actual inventors and investors. Unfortunately the Patent office did the same stuff as the downstairs of the Watch: paperwork. Updating the patent database with the backlog of submissions. Will's desk already had a stack of very familiar files in the inbox and the computer was opened to the patent input program.

"You know the basic functions and scan features?" asked Najarro.

"Yeah." Will set out his Ring-Wraith figurine to lord over the tall pencil sharpener, as if it stood mid-step from stabbing the inbox like Frodo on Weathertop. "I've been getting a lot of practice lately."

"Is it that boring downstairs?"

Will wanted to protest that Watch Two could be very exciting, especially with Beni and Reese in tow, but couldn't find an exciting moment to relate from the last month. Unless he counted a white rabbit showing up in his lap. "Kind of."

"Ask around if you need anything." Najarro patted his shoulder and bade him good luck before she left for the upstairs offices.

Will rubbed at his eyes. His choked down breakfast of toast and tea that morning had done little to wake him up. He longed to reacquaint himself with Balcuwitz's comfy leather couch. He reached for his satchel and the mint tin; something to chew on while he got his mind together.

His exhaustion must have been visible because a fellow desk worker, with a desk plate engraved with "Higuri", waved to get his attention. "The break room is that way if you need a coffee refill. Or eye drops."

He didn't need coffee, but a cup of tea would work wonders. "Thanks, that's a good idea."

The break room was smaller than the one in the Watch, no need to potentially stock up for a week-long lock down, but their selection of tea was almost as varied as his own. Will brewed a cup of English Breakfast and a dash of honey from a glass jar. The first hot sip from his Space Federation mug melted down his throat and steamed up into his brain.

Much better.

Back at his temporary desk, and fortified with good tea, Will attacked his inbox.