They stepped into the lobby of the Human Resources building. It was massive but inviting, like an old hotel from the 1930s decked out in full art-deco style. A giant chandelier dominated the lobby. Joe looked up in awe. Lawrence caught up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Remember why we’re here.” Joe shook himself out his trance and glanced around for the concierge. A neurotic-looking man with a monocle stared at him from behind the welcoming desk. He had a phone in hand.

Joe strode over to the desk and slammed the phone down. “Hi,” he flashed the most charming smile he could muster. It made him look desperate. “I need to speak to with a case officer.”

“Sir, I’m afraid no one is available. We have a situation on our hands at present. Hey!”

Joe reached across the counter and lifted the clerk off the ground by his collar. “I know. I am the situation.” To come so far with no hope in sight, his adrenaline pumped out of control. “I need to speak to somebody. Anybody with authority. Now!”

The clerk trembled, cringing away. “I’m sorry, sir. Everyone’s busy. They’re all in an important briefing upstairs.”

Joe lifted him higher and shook him violently. “Where?”

“Eighteenth floor! Room 18-7! Now, please let me go!” Joe released his grip, dropping the man in his chair. Joe ripped the phone out of the wall, snapping the cables.

“Thank you very much. You have a nice day.” Joe started towards the lift, then, thinking better of it, headed towards the stairs. Nothing was going to stop him from getting this ordeal sorted out. Lawrence ran to catch up.

“Why aren’t we taking the elevator?”

Joe glanced back and noticed Lawrence’s appearance. “Nice shades. The headgear doesn’t suit you, though.” Joe held the door open and nodded for him to go first.

“Thanks,” Lawrence huffed as he trudged up the stairs. He glanced back at Joe expectantly. “So tell me, why we aren’t taking the elevator?”

“Ah. Because if they’re hell-bent on catching us, all they need to do is turn off the power and we’d be stuck. This way is much more inconspicuous. Think you can handle the climb?”

Lawrence nodded and up they trekked.

Wandering through each possible scenario in his mind was akin to climbing a jungle gym designed by a surrealist. He was losing his mind, this was all a bad dream, or this was another inter-office political coup. Maybe all three. Frustration boiled within as he throttled the handrail with every ascending grasp. Hatred built up inside like a great obelisk, on which he imagined skewering the indomitable suits behind this.

Every two floors he told himself to calm down. Human Resources really weren’t bad people. After all, he originally wanted to be one of them. They could be reasoned with. He would explain his situation very delicately and they would resolve the problem together. He didn’t mean to hurt those guards, but something strange was going on. They would understand. They had to. He would just have to keep a cool head throughout and hope for the best.

When they reached Floor 18, Joe thought he heard a door slam. He looked down, keeping perfectly still. His hands trembled, breaths coming in gasps as he tried to listen. There was nothing. Lawrence looked at him concernedly.

“Thought I heard something.” Joe squared his shoulders and shook it off. He was paranoid. “OK. Open the door.”

They emerged onto the Eighteenth Floor shaking from the long and tedious climb. Lawrence leaned against the wall and sank down, catching his breath.

Joe looked down the hall and saw two intimidating guards toting MI-16 machine guns standing in front of a door marked 18-7. They wore combat helmets with black visors and strapped to each of their leg bands were twenty-two inch serrated carbon machetes. These were not homegrown company boys. Joe shuddered at the thought of engaging them. Force was not the preferred method here. He’d have to find some way of talking his way past them.

Joe straightened up into his ‘commanding’ posture and walked directly towards the guards. They immediately turned to face him, rifles aimed at his chest. Joe paused, then took one step closer, hands raised.

“I demand you let me through! I am on time-sensitive business here. I absolutely must speak with the people behind this door!”

Silence.

“Sir,” the guard on the left inquired in a gruff voice, “may I see your access card, please?”

Joe sighed and with shaking hands extended Miller’s ID badge. The left guard nodded, took it and inserted it into a slot below his ear. It made grinding noises and spat the card back out. It was chewed to pieces.

“Is there a problem?” Joe asked, talking to the rifle barrels.

“You’re not allowed to be here, sir. We are authorized to shoot any persons without access.”

“Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you.” Joe closed his eyes and prayed.

“Commencing execution of hostile in five seconds! Five…four…three…”

“None of that soldier! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing? This man is with me!” Joe opened one eye. It was Lawrence. He stood poised, then stormed toward the guards. He pressed something into the hand of the left guard. He took it and inserted it into the slot. After a few seconds, it whirred like a fan and the guard’s visor went from black to glowing green.

“Thank you, Deputy Sergeant Wigglesworth. You and your subordinate are now cleared for entry. RoboGuard Security Systems International thanks you for your patience and apologizes for any inconvenience.” The guard stepped aside and held the door for them, inviting them into darkness within. The glowing visor clicked back to black.

“Thanks,” said Joe nervously. “You have a good day now.” Lawrence put a hand on Joe’s shoulder and led him into the black.