Sunday, April 10, 2016

INTERFERENCE. Part One: Chapter Six.

Chapter six

Fritz had a certain disregard for women. He hid it fairly well, in his opinion, but his mother had given him a bad first impression of them. He acknowledged that his prejudice was illogical. He reasoned that it must have been some aspect of his psyche that was irrational and emotional, and so he regarded it with a certain sentimental lenience. So long as he was sure that no judgement that he passed on anyone was unmerited, he could allow himself to FEEL however he chose regarding his boss, for instance, because he knew that feelings were inconsequential.

This defense mechanism worked very well in defending his sanctity of mind when he had to put up with his boss's entirely irrational blame for what had happened with his computer. He admitted to Stephanie Barker that he had probably been the last person to use his desktop, presumably.

“Presumably?” she glared at him with a maniacal look that, whilst he acknowledged the validity of her reasoning, seemed a bit too controlling for his tastes. Stephanie's bespectacled, mathematical eyes, fixed perpetually in an analytical and almost tired hardness that juxtaposed the gentleness of their physical form, always made him question her sanity somewhat. “Don't be sarcastic,” she ordered.

He decided to surrender arguing with his boss. He could not, however, hide his aggression, and he could tell that Steph was reading him.

“Now I need for you to find a way of restoring your hardware to working order within the day, or disciplinary action Will be taken,” she said in almost a mockery of gentleness, effectively removing her fate from his, leaving him wide-eyed in disbelief.

“If I get it fixed, does that mean you don't want me to finish my project today?” She shook her head in a sarcastic imitation of pity whose every betrayal of feminine tenderness only served to strike him as nothing short of conniving and bitchy. “Remember that it is your responsibility. Okay?” She looked at him with almost a kind of incisive flirtation. He felt a fleeting moment of attraction, a brief, intimate fantasy running across his mind, which an entirely different part of his mind hoped to Science that she could not see.

“Okay,” he continued, looking slightly away, trying to make his voice civil.

“I need you to look at me,” Stephanie said.

He looked up at her. How she had appeared attractive seconds before seemed lost to him now, as he saw merely a bucktoothed girl masquerading as an adult.

“Okay,” he resumed. “Does this mean that I can leave the building, so that I can get it fixed?”

Steph's eyes sunk again into their most unyielding tone. “I'm afraid not.”

Instinct betrayed him this time. His arms just seemed to fly up into the air involuntarily. Steph returned her gaze to her desk. “You have until eleven tonight. Understand?”

Naturally, he thought. You go home at nine, don't you?


Dm.A.A.

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