“Sir, why do you insist on using paper and not just use the computer?” I asked the boss while I stood by the doorway, guarding this ornately decorated, ostentatious room. My tall frame was clad in a naval-blue, three piece suit as was the standard garb of those who worked here.

“Ahh, you must be new, here,” He replied, not looking up from the stacks of papers on his desk. The room was rectangular, with one half on a raised platform--the half where he and his desk sat. From my angle, I couldn’t see what he was working on and the raised position only seemed to further cement the fact I was his subordinate within me.

Similarly, he was wearing a suit, the colour complimenting his brown, although greying slightly, hair and pale, sunken complexion.

“Yes sir; I just joined,” I replied, consciously maintaining a polite and respectful tone, as I had been informed to.

“What’s your name?”

“Adora.”

“Who was it? The one who recruited you.” He shifted over one sheet of paper, drawing his hand up in the air and displaying a fountain pen--another anachronistic tool.

“Rhodes, sir,” I kept my comments brief.

“Rhodes? He’s always had a good eye on him. I prefer paper because it’s much harder to steal. Computers can be hacked, people can be interrogated, but paper? One would need to directly take these to know what’s written on them,” He briefly lifted one sheet up but the duration too little to allow me even a mere glimpse of what was written on it.

After he said that, silence returned to the room. I was being paid to guard, not to be a conversation partner.

The silence pervaded for a good half an hour with the only sounds being that of paper rustling, pen scraping, and my own breathing.

“Adora… Do you know what parts of your job entails?” His voice was abrupt, cutting through the silence like a sharp sword through fruit.

“Guarding you primarily,”

“Yes, I suppose that is part of it. However, you’re a user, correct?” For the first time, he raised his deep, piercing eyes to gaze directly at me. The power of the gaze was unnerving, and I only nodded in affirmation. “Then that means you will be doing similar work to Rhodes; convincing our clients to pay up.

“As such, you will have to familiarise yourself with who are clients are. What I’m doing right now is going through the list of clients and seeing if they are due for collection any time soon. Some days, I leave this to someone else but I like to do it personally; it allows me to keep up to date on information.”

For some reason, it had seemed that he had fallen into a talkative mood at this point in time, but for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why?

“There’s a young man here—goes by the name of Arthur McDale—who’s due one week from now. As a general rule, well send those who owe us in a week a friendly reminder from now.

“There are others like Arthur, however. Cassidy Brown is due for collection in ten days, so she’ll need a reminder. Part of your job will be to remind people.

“There are also some strange people. For instance, this one man had died and so his debt passed to his sister. In these cases, we’ll send a reminder two weeks in advance. To give them ample time “

I wouldn’t have wanted to be too presumptuous but, at that moment, it felt like he was trying to get me more familiar with the processes of the organisation and, for that, I was grateful.

“Sir, if it may not be too bold of me to ask, why do we have it debt pass onto the next of kin rather than wipe it away?” I decided to take a risk and ask him a question, mainly because he was so lovely today.

“Because we're running a business, not a charity. If I was interested in giving people money and not expecting. It to be paid back then I’d want it tax deductible. We have to make our money back somehow.”

It was an understandable business practise and, when he put it like that, I couldn’t find fault with it. Sure, it may be seen as ethically malicious by some but I knew how it was necessary.

Once he had finished his lecture—and I felt just one question was enough—the room fell into that all too familiar shtum.

I was fine with silence but that didn’t mean I got bored. It was bad practise to let your eyes gaze around aimlessly in distraction or listen in on something you shouldn’t have but we were in a closed room with many people guarding the building; being alert all the time seemed a bit like overkill.

I looked upon boss’ desk while he was busy working but that was the same sight as earlier—it could not hold my interest.

I swept my sight over to the wall. There were two large, beautiful French windows inset there, giving a beautiful sight to the small part of the city where we were currently. The building was only two storeys tall so the sight was low to the ground but, none-the-less, that didn’t distract from how finely detailed and lovely the other structures were to gaze at.

Outside, the sky was dark, night already set in. No stars were visible and the blanket that covered the whole city gave off a depressive atmosphere.

Opposite the windows were paintings and bookshelves occupying the wall. The paintings were expensive, and none were traditional, singular portraits. They were there to lift the opulence of the room, not raise the ego of the one current residing in it.

The bookshelves themselves were mostly full, with what must’ve been over a hundred books. I hadn’t read any of them and I couldn’t even see what they were but just the sheer number of them was enough to make a statement.

“Adora,” Boss started talking again. He declined to stick to methods of courtesy and simply speak when he wanted to who he wanted to. “What is your Specialisation?” It was a personal question and one you generally don’t answer. It was like telling someone your weakness.

“I can create a vacuum of energy, sir,” I answered honestly, but without giving the precise name of my spec.

“That does sound useful. In a way, it’s like a force field. Have you thought about the applications for it?”

“Yes sir. I have developed ways to utilise it in a defensive or offensive fashion.”

“Excellent,” He replies slowly, lacking excitement or enthusiasm in his tone. “I like to help out my users to make sure that they are the best they can be. I expect great things from you, Adora.”

His last comment I imagine was meant to be encouraging in some way but the way he spoke, the possessive subtext underlying it all, just made it feel ominous.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to feel uncomfortable with many more comments because he didn’t speak at all after that.

Furthermore, he only stayed in that room a little while longer before having finished his work and left.