Now that the benefits of hard work had finally shown themselves, Troy was finding it hard to regret those forty minutes. He had nothing against it to start off with of course, but this absolutely did go the extra step for him. Work had always been a tiring thing for the younger man. Moving boxes, stacking shelves, and washing cutlery and plates. He had done it all so many times. Even having the chance to do any of it would be counted as a miracle. There really were not any of those job openings anymore. Why hire a person to do it, when automation could do it ten times as quick? It might have cost more in the start with how expensive they were, but with little to no upkeep attached they were more than worth it in the long run. It was only through distrust, that people were able to keep the jobs already in place.

And nobody would go away from such a position willingly. It was only through factors outside their control, that people would make their former position open. With a large mass seeking it, and such a small number of openings available, Troy was something of a walking miracle. In his few years of being on the job market, he had tried a bit of everything that he had the education for. Only a brief one though. Staying at a privileged job position never seemed to stick. Being told to over one’s ass off, and to be grateful about it, just would not be accepted in that stupid brain of his. His former superiors were fully right in their words, no matter how unnecessary it had been to shout it at him.

Those jobs had been revered as the greatest the lower-class could get. Not doing his utmost constantly would only result in him being fired. Why would they want somebody not wearing themselves down? Thousands upon thousand were only waiting for their chance to shine. Desperate times called for desperate measures. These people were well over double the age of Troy. They would rather die than give up the position. And some did. He had seen it himself, people going into work with their backs just a bit closer to the ground, the hair on their heads turning grey before they deserved it.

It could have been that experience that turned him into what he was today. Being unable to really join the big leagues, through both faults of his own and faults of his parents’ financial situation, had certainly done something. Being looked down upon like a second class citizen, no matter how much it was true. In most other countries, he would have likely starved to death long ago. The government had supported him for a whole year after he got out of school. 'To promote getting a job-position that would be kept for many years to come.` Troy had actually believed that it would be the same for him. To get his very own place in the clock keeping the world spinning. It would have been small, but it would have been his own till the very end. He would have accepted it.

After that first year, he had prayed for it. No words had been thought of by anyone in particular. He had done the rounds a few times, seeing if any of the religions would bring more luck than the others. After nothing different for months, that hope had been extinguished. Troy liked to think that it had forced him into a more logical view of the world. In reality, it had made him more hopeful of simple luck. The universe was not alive after all. Chance was what the name suggested. Everybody could fail and succeed, no matter where they started from, no matter what they did. If he did nothing, he could still succeed. That had been one of the first steps into the world-renowned sin of sloth.

Pair that with the experiences gotten from the few years of work, and it was a match made in… heaven? Maybe the sixth circle would be more fitting for Troy’s predicament back then. No matter what one wanted to write it down as it had certainly caused much to happen. It had turned him into what some would call a poor excuse for a human being. Some days, there would be no rejections of that title. Troy didn't always have the energy to deny it.

For most of his life, jobs had given little to him. The money was enough to live off, but not enough to do much more than that. Not anything to pay for entertainment that he could use. Many nights spent looking up at the ceiling had taught him that fact. He was told to be happy that he had a ceiling to look up at. And he certainly was. There was just that undying want for something more than that. Something those jobs long ago could not give.

Troy still was not sure what it was. He had never been able to quantify it, other than the fact that it existed. Yet… in the last few days, there had been the feeling of getting closer to that goal. He only hoped to know that he had reached it if it ever happened for someone as unlucky as him. Or well, he was lucky when it was thought about. Somehow, he had succeeded without doing anything for it, hadn't he? That was one goal which had been completed. With such a track now in the realm of possibility, was it so hard to believe that the rest would come to the same state? For Troy, it was not. Getting hopes up was always the easy part of the ordeal. He had done it enough times to be a pro.

At least he could reap the benefits of a short job well done now.

"If I have to be honest with you," Charlie began. "I had not thought you would be able to show us anything good. Are you even allowed to see most of what you work with?"

As yet another surprise to see, something reminding Troy of a smile showed itself on Esme’s face. A radical observation. Could it be that the happiness of a job quickly done had woken up the emotions within?

"I have special clearance," Esme answered simply. Which did put some thought on Troy’s mind.

"Are we allowed to see what you work with?" Troy questioned. "If you need a special clearance, would that not mean we are in danger of seeing something we probably shouldn't?"

Esme looked at Troy a small bit like he was an idiot. This time her face did not change to fit this opinion, but the younger man could still feel the aura of perceived incompetence. Aura might also have been a fictional concept, but it still kinda worked to explain unknown factors. And the unknown factor was how the everliving heck that Esme was making her thoughts known without showing it. Was telepathy possible without digital manipulation?

"If you were able to get inside here, you have the clearance to see everything I have to show."

Troy stared at her as he heard the words for himself before nodding dumbly. "Of course."

The little guideline given might not have worked so well with the two of them. Sure, they had gotten inside easily enough. But that had been due to a slightly very illegal device, that Charlie had certainly made in secret. He had even sworn Troy to secrecy about it, so there was a distinct feel of illegality around their way they got inside.

That should have been okay though. The messed up key-card was only a placeholder for Troy’s own. Charlie had certainly not brought them into an area where they were not allowed to be, right? The man had even known where it was… though that might have been due to planted bugs. He was supposed to put those on everybody after all.

He needed to somehow ask Charlie about it! If it was higher than what he was supposed to know about then-

"Well, this place should only be on the level of Darlows, right?" Charlie stated, giving a small shrug in Troy’s direction. The muscular man had read the younger one’s face with ease.

"Oh, no," Esme immediately stated, looking a little offended at having been thought to have such a low clearance. Which should have been more offensive for Darlow really, but nobody thought to point that out. "This should be one or two levels above that… I can't remember what it is though. It does not get brought up much here. Not many to talk with."

And that certainly did surprise, Charlie. A raise of the eyebrows, and a swallow of the spit accumulated in the mouth. The man did not look as prideful as he had a couple of seconds ago. Troy would have thought it hilarious, if not for the fact he was just as deep in shit as Charlie was. All from the words of a woman beside them who had no idea, why the other two were being so quiet. She did have an inkling, due to the subject being so weirdly focused on, but that couldn't be…, right?

"Really?" Charlie finally said after four whole seconds of silence. "How surprising to hear. But that does explain why you talk about your projects so little. How about we take a look at them?"

Again, the wording seemed extra tense. Troy noticed it. Esme noticed it as well. And neither mentioned it in the slightest, both having different reasons for it.

"Sure," Esme said, bringing out one of the many key-cards strewn throughout her lab-coat. Most were for different purposes, but a few were simple duplicates, too important to easily be stolen.

Walking over to a weirdly empty piece of the laboratory, the key-card was pressed against the wall. An eerily similar blue-light was emitted, scanning the card. It was accepted quickly enough, not coming close to the time it took for Charlie’s card to be accepted. Likely due to the Esme used was not totally illegal, but that might just have been a biased opinion of Troy’s.

Also, he was decently sure that it was his first time seeing a double hidden area. A secret door that was hidden behind a secret door. By then, was the security provided by it not overdone? Double-checking for any more doors was one of the first things to do, once the first had been found. Though…

Looking around, Troy found it hard to believe anybody would willingly start any kind of explosion within the laboratory they were in. The only reason to raid the facility would be to get what was within. Destroying millions of dollars worth of research and equipment just to check for hidden doors would be an incredible waste and a terrible strategy decision from any person worth their damn.

Millions upon billions. Would it not already take much to break into the facility itself? While he had not seen much offensive security, Troy did not doubt the existence of it. Fail-safes for if plans went through the roof. Secrecy alone was not a good defence, and there was doubt that they would readily delete all the data gained. Giving it to the enemy would be bad, but to erase all the progress made would be even worse. There had to be more to keep it all safe.

"What are you gawking at, Troy?" Charlie questioned from the side. "We have not seen anything yet, friend. How about we keep our excitement to our mind, so we can get ourselves some world-renowned secrets?"

"World-renowned secrets aren't secret," Esme said from a few meters forward, not stopping to wait for the two.

"Oh, he got the point," Charlie said, defending his contradictory statement, even if it was wrong from the start. Looking back at Troy. "And, don't worry too much about the things you can't control. Take in the flow, and see where it leads you. Right now, it leads us forward, so that is where we will go. Asking questions about it will only bring more questions."

With that, the muscle-bound man walked forward, leaving Troy to ponder the words said. The fate of the universe was not in the hands of men. The men were the ones controlled. It was a fact of life, as ancient as the time itself. One could not get out of it. One could not escape it. But then again… why would anybody want to? Nothing was going against them. It was only a cosmic force when one wanted it to be. Fate was a background for life. That was it. There was no need to bring it forth when it didn't need to be.

'You should move. Tempting fate with your life on the line is not a productive lifestyle for either of us.`

Troy looked to the sides, seeing the door readying itself to close. Walking through it quickly, he could not help but mutter a few words back to Adam. With how little preparation for the words there had been, the young man did not realise the sentence even rolled off his tongue.

"Is that not the second time today I've done just that?"

Yet while Troy noticed not his own words, the two before him certainly did. Charlie had a feeling what the comment might have been, and Esme was beginning to wonder exactly just what was going on.

It was no matter what had been said. What mattered was just who Troy was talking to. It was a mystery she was more than ready to find out.