Squatting down in the hallway, and going eye to eye with a man capable of throwing him several meters, was not in Troy’s day-planner. Neither was what caused the whole thing to start up either, the young having thought that he would be enjoying some time looking at the blank white void that he called his work-space. It really was incredible how these things came together. If more strange things began to just come together around him, the young man would start calling himself Truman. Had to sell those products somehow.
“If you are thinking of moving your base over here,” Troy started it off with, making sure both understood what was going on fully. “Could you possibly do it on the opposite side of the hallway? I would like to enjoy the comfort of being able to enter my room. You could even decide to just work in your laboratory, as this brilliant place chose to give you.”
“It is so innocent to think that they gave me my own place because they liked me. It's more along the lines of them just not wanting more complaints about unprofessional behaviour when it came to me. Distancing me from everybody was apparently the best fix they could think of. I'm not complaining,” Charlie answered, putting away whatever the gadget he was playing around with into one of his many inner pockets. From the brief time where it had been in full view, Troy could have best called it a miniature UFO.
If the thing had been a little bit wider, it might even have worked as a frisbee. Might even have been one. Though, that would lead to the question of what the man could possibly do to improve the design, not just from a structural standpoint but also on how he could incorporate technology. Perhaps a slew of miniature thrusters which would make it spin faster? 'The frisbee of death.` Sounded like a terrible kids toy but a wonderful weapon of mass destruction.
“That does not explain your need for sitting in front of my door, you know,” Troy pointed out, getting up from his squatting position. It was understandable that some people found such a position relaxing, but he could not help but find it incredibly taxing on his legs. Some people were just built differently. “And the reasoning behind your privilege of privacy does not excuse your lack of using it. Do you not feel bad for your boss, as he just despairs at how little time you spend inside your work-place?”
“Greg could cry at my feet, and I would enjoy it to the fullest,” Charlie said back, showing just how full of remorse he truly was. That man had differing opinions on who needed to be respected, and Greg was clearly not one of them. Troy wondered why that particular boss had gotten so much hate. What had he ever done, to gain such notoriety? Maybe he had given out some of those sugar-free doughnuts, before the event that had caused them to be banned. Peanuts were never to be underestimated. “Not like anybody would even notice I'm gone. Do you know how many people willingly enter my fortress of solitude? By my count, four people have, out of their own free will, walked through the readily open door. Some might have a slight fear of doing so, as one of those people have a semi-permanent discolouration on their nose, but at least they live up to their first name now. Somehow, that man did not take my humour well.”
The one hearing that dry humour did not want to acknowledge that small jab at a poor man’s parent’s naming schemes. Instead, a decision was made to put on the offensive, since that was perhaps more likely to bear fruit than whatever the hell the two were doing right now, Troy standing at full height, and Charlie continuing to sit on the ground like some kind of incredibly muscular goblin. If the hair had been any other colour than blond, the man might just have been able to pull it off.
“Could you just… not block my door? Like, you can come inside if you want to. Not like I even need to-” Troy said, cutting himself off before he even got properly started on his tone of indifference. The man now showing off his absurd levels of tallness, that others might have been slightly jealous of, had pulled out his mildly, extremely illegal card, and had entered Troy’s room near-instantly. It had been like a dance, seeing the calfs used to spring the body upwards, the twists in the heels making it turn, and the hand on the wall making him get pulled through the door-frame. A beautiful act of elegance that most certainly left a smudge mark on the wall. “And clean your fingers while you're at it. You've got some black powder attached.”
No thoughts were spared to what this blackness was, as that would only bring misfortune. Troy could only pray that it was something harmless like the powder used in ancient weaponry. It would fit the standards while only being dangerous if enough heat was attached to it. Though, if it turned out to be the powder used a decade or two ago to spread a disease meant to spread ticking time bombs… again, there was a good reason why people didn't need to think about the details.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
At least Charlie chose to follow his advice, going towards the toilet to get the stuff off himself. It would have been better to get out someplace other than the bathroom, like a kitchen perhaps, but Troy had this thing called not being in possession of such amenities. Whoever had designed the room had chosen only to include the bare basics. It was only meant to be a sleeping space, after all. Anything more could be found somewhere else. Perhaps the higher-ups had some more space or something, but there were doubts about that. These rooms were made to take up as little space as possible, while still seeming to be in a liveable condition.
Troy liked to think there was a lot to that room of his, but it really was closer to an entrance that could be walked through in a single step, his room that could hardly fit two standard beds, and a bathroom cramped enough that he needed to be wary of getting the toilet wet when having a bath. It was just all those thin, non supporting walls that made it all seem so much bigger than what it actually was.
Indeed, if the young man positioned himself in just the right position, he would be able to touch his front door, the foot of his bed, and the bathroom door while still being able to spit on the alarm clock sitting on his…
There was an alarm clock on his bed-table. An innocent, little alarm clock that was identical to one he had previously owned, destroyed through the bare-handed efforts of Dr Hale. A mortifyingly normal-looking timing-device that had the additional feature of descrying in on Troy’s everyday activities, when they were localised within his room.
The young man had worried about having to teach himself to wake up himself at the needed times. It would have been an arduous task of self-discipline, but it could have been dealt with given enough time to think. Seeing that somebody had entered his room, removed all evidence of the earlier destruction, and had placed a new clock there as if nothing had happened at all… it was not the greatest action to be made, for the sake of his mental health. Dr Hale’s words were indeed truthful, but seeing an example of it was more than a little disturbing. Everything else had the potential of being circumstantial, yet this was more than enough. Something was going on. Something he didn't understand the least bit. Something that had more influence than he could ever hope to grasp.
“Is having a look at your bed really so interesting?” Charlie said from behind, putting a hand on Troy's shoulder to reveal his location. “I got bored from staring at my own by the first week, and that was already on the scale of raising questions. Did you just order some fascinating new bed sheets or something?”
“Nothing has changed in this room since the moment I first arrived here,” Troy said in correction, not having any real control of what came out of his mouth. It was closer to be said in a trance-like state, the man focusing on more important things than mere words. “I am just beginning to realise how little I understand this place. With how smart everybody here is supposed to be, one would expect that people here would all understand what was going on around them. Yet, its beginning to be more clear that nobody really gets anything about this place at all. Nobody is clear on who controls what, how much they can influence, and what buttons they are allowed to press. It a sphere of information that we cant get inside of, no matter how much we want to. Yet, I feel like its only the expectation of what the answer will be that drives us on. If we ever truly understand it, I dread that we will want to get back to that blissful world of ignorance, never truly grasping how little we controlled in the first place.”
“I totally understand that,” Charlie said, giving the young, mentally confused man a good clap on the back. “I remember back in the day when Darlow and I were trying to create the ultimate weapon of destruction. It took nearly six months of independent work, but we were able to make an untraceable, undetectable, incurable, and fully configurable gas that could make somebody’s dick rot off in the span of a week. We were so proud of it, but it turned out that the higher-ups were not looking for weapons that would also cause deterioration of eye-sight, a minor side-effect of anybody inflicted with the gas at any capacity. Honestly, there is no sense with these people.”
The muscular man, making watery noises like the bulky gremlin that he was, had enough charisma to draw Troy out of whatever hole his mind had decided to jump head-first into. If this was done intentionally was up to anybody’s guess, as the young man could see a few actual tears in the taller one’s features. Either Charlie was a well-rounded actor or he was expressing actual sadness about his… alternative warmongering techniques being shot down before they had any chance to show their effects.
“We are in agreement on one thing, then,” Troy acknowledged, noting that the hands were now fully clear of any questionable materials. “If I might ask, why were you even here so early? We agreed on showing up much later today.”
“Yeah…” Charlie said, stopping the watergates immediately. Again, a well-rounded actor. “I kinda forgot when we would be meeting up, and I really didn't want to hang out at the gym alone for several hours alone, so just sitting in front of your door seemed like the optimal choice.”
“I am somehow having a hard time buying that but whatever,” Troy said, having a guess or two about the actual reasons. “Do you just want to go now, then? You would have to grab your bag from your room, but-”
“Oh, no, that's already cleared up perfectly,” Charlie said, cutting in whenever he damned pleased. “I had time to kill before getting to your room, so I just shoved in my bag into one of the boxes at the gym. You just need to grab your own, and we can be on our merry way.”
Troy felt like pointing out logistical issues in that but just didn't want to bother with it. Grabbing his bag, and the various articles that would be taken along with it, the two went on the short journey over to the gym.