world,” he said. “Perception. See, one of the planks of our platform is trying to reinvigorate that sense of community that people have lost. It’s not about actually making things that way again; it’s about doing the things that people perceive as pushing us in that direction. And part of that is that they need to feel safe.”
“Your opinions are utter bullshit,” I said, shaking my head. I focused in on him with fiery eyes. “If I’m gonna have to deal with the misery of listening to them, I feel like I should at least get the joy of extracting them from you with a thousand fearful screams at the end of a chainsaw.”
“You can’t threaten me,” he said, and I could tell he was unmoved.
“I’ve done worse than threaten to worse people than you,” I said, not backing off.
“If you assault me you’ll be fired,” he said simply, “for cause.”
“I just quit, in case you missed it.”
“And your file will be leaked to the public,” he went on, like it was nothing. “Everything.” He leaned toward me. “You have done worse things to worse people than me. What was his name? Rick?” He looked like he was trying to remember. “Beat him to death with his own chair?” He never let up that gaze. “Did that make you feel superior? Did you feel like you showed him the error of his ways?”
I could feel my teeth rattle, whether from cold or anger I couldn’t tell. “He was a real bastard. But you should know he leaned on me, too.”
“You threatened me, I threatened you,” Andrew Phillips said. “Proportional response.” He took a small step back. “I won’t stop you if you’re going to leave. I’ve got preparations to make if you’re truly done, though. Prisoners to … make ready.” There was no joy in the way he said it. No emotion at all, really. “I read the report on every one of them. The only one that seems like he’s not a waste of oxygen is Timothy Logan.”
My head snapped around. Phillips was still looking at me coolly, utterly unflappable. “Now you’re threatening him,” I said.
“I’m not threatening him,” Phillips said simply. “I told you ten minutes ago what the consequences would be if you decided to resign. I’m just reminding you about all the …” he started to turn, “… aspects of your decision that you might not have considered.”
He strolled off across the snowfield, like he wasn’t cold, like he had not a care in the world. I watched him go, wondering all the while what the hell I should do.
16.
I started back toward the dormitory building, regretting not taking the underground tunnel. I was usually smarter than this, but apparently in all the fuss surrounding me quitting my job in a fury, I forgot that it was winter and cold, with snow past my ankles. I trudged along, feeling my lips freezing from the chill, my eyes blurring (I wasn’t crying, the wind was just hard, dammit), and the tears getting crusty around the corners.
I had the sense I was being followed, and turned to face my pursuer. I nearly did a double take.
It was a dog. I don’t know breeds, but it was kinda tan colored, with fur going in a lot of different directions. Not big, and kinda skinny.
I stared at him, he stared at me, his head cocked to the side like he was asking me a question. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, like he might answer me. We had a perimeter fence, after all. I blinked, and my freeze-crusted eyes flaked a little ice-dust. “Never mind.” I stopped talking right then, because I was pretty out of my mind to be talking to a dog, I thought. I started back toward the dormitory.
I made it about another fifteen feet when I heard a little whimper. I looked back and saw the poor guy shivering. He was up to mid-leg in the hard, crunching snow, and he didn’t have anything but that thin coat of fur to protect him. I cursed his master, whoever they were, for letting him out in this, and felt an internal tugging that I didn’t care for.
“Your opinions are utter bullshit,” I said, shaking my head. I focused in on him with fiery eyes. “If I’m gonna have to deal with the misery of listening to them, I feel like I should at least get the joy of extracting them from you with a thousand fearful screams at the end of a chainsaw.”
“You can’t threaten me,” he said, and I could tell he was unmoved.
“I’ve done worse than threaten to worse people than you,” I said, not backing off.
“If you assault me you’ll be fired,” he said simply, “for cause.”
“I just quit, in case you missed it.”
“And your file will be leaked to the public,” he went on, like it was nothing. “Everything.” He leaned toward me. “You have done worse things to worse people than me. What was his name? Rick?” He looked like he was trying to remember. “Beat him to death with his own chair?” He never let up that gaze. “Did that make you feel superior? Did you feel like you showed him the error of his ways?”
I could feel my teeth rattle, whether from cold or anger I couldn’t tell. “He was a real bastard. But you should know he leaned on me, too.”
“You threatened me, I threatened you,” Andrew Phillips said. “Proportional response.” He took a small step back. “I won’t stop you if you’re going to leave. I’ve got preparations to make if you’re truly done, though. Prisoners to … make ready.” There was no joy in the way he said it. No emotion at all, really. “I read the report on every one of them. The only one that seems like he’s not a waste of oxygen is Timothy Logan.”
My head snapped around. Phillips was still looking at me coolly, utterly unflappable. “Now you’re threatening him,” I said.
“I’m not threatening him,” Phillips said simply. “I told you ten minutes ago what the consequences would be if you decided to resign. I’m just reminding you about all the …” he started to turn, “… aspects of your decision that you might not have considered.”
He strolled off across the snowfield, like he wasn’t cold, like he had not a care in the world. I watched him go, wondering all the while what the hell I should do.
16.
I started back toward the dormitory building, regretting not taking the underground tunnel. I was usually smarter than this, but apparently in all the fuss surrounding me quitting my job in a fury, I forgot that it was winter and cold, with snow past my ankles. I trudged along, feeling my lips freezing from the chill, my eyes blurring (I wasn’t crying, the wind was just hard, dammit), and the tears getting crusty around the corners.
I had the sense I was being followed, and turned to face my pursuer. I nearly did a double take.
It was a dog. I don’t know breeds, but it was kinda tan colored, with fur going in a lot of different directions. Not big, and kinda skinny.
I stared at him, he stared at me, his head cocked to the side like he was asking me a question. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, like he might answer me. We had a perimeter fence, after all. I blinked, and my freeze-crusted eyes flaked a little ice-dust. “Never mind.” I stopped talking right then, because I was pretty out of my mind to be talking to a dog, I thought. I started back toward the dormitory.
I made it about another fifteen feet when I heard a little whimper. I looked back and saw the poor guy shivering. He was up to mid-leg in the hard, crunching snow, and he didn’t have anything but that thin coat of fur to protect him. I cursed his master, whoever they were, for letting him out in this, and felt an internal tugging that I didn’t care for.
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