Resistance

Untitled part

Nigel Frye drew a trembling sigh, stepping off the bus before the massive building. Pyramid. His new work place.

The building was huge, exterior walls consisting mostly of large glass panes, reflecting the sky and surrounding buildings, and giving the place a clean and modern look. At the top, Facing the street was a massive sign with the company logo; simplistic outlines of a pyramid followed by the word pyramid in bold-italic capitals. Below this the words 'pharmaceutical research' were written in a smaller font.

Nigel felt his palms sweat and his pulse quicken as he took in the magnificent sight. Pyramid was the largest, most successful pharmaceutical company in the country, shipping their products worldwide.

Nigel couldn't quite believe he'd scored a job at this place. It seemed too surreal.

When his college professor had said he should try, Nigel had written it off as just another peptalk to boost his spirits, but when he'd gotten an official letter from the manager himself inviting him in for an evaluation, Nigel had realized his professor hadn't been joking around.

Nigel had been terrified before his interview, to the point where he'd almost passed out during the questioning. He'd been such a wreck, yet somehow he'd managed to muster through and he'd been offered the position as lab assistant for one of the scientists there. His professor had been ecstatic at the news, praising him and telling him it wouldn't be long before he got his own lab there.

"With your talent it's only a matter of time, son." He'd said. Nigel wasn't so sure, but he'd been happy with the offer. It was just what he'd wanted to do and he was still a little starstruck at the fact that he'd gotten the job.

With one last, deep sigh he stepped up to the entrance and went inside. The lobby was a large open room with a couple of sitting areas at either side of the main entry and a reception desk towards the back. The windows reached floor to ceiling, letting the sun in and rendering the electrical lights almost redundant during daytime. Everything was white, apart from a few plants and pictures on the walls, along with a black line in the carpet on the floor, serving as an indicator of where the floor ended and the wall began. Nigel went over to the reception and the woman behind the desk eyed him briefly signaling for him to wait, while speaking into the phone in a foreign language. Nigel took a moment to recognize it as Spanish. Possibly. Or Italian. He'd never been good with discerning languages from one another. His genius peaked at medical studies, but not much else.

He cast an uncertain glance around while waiting – heart in his throat – until the woman put the phone down.

"How can I help you?" She asked, and it took a moment for Nigel to react.

"Uhm, kid?" the receptionist tried again. A soft frown formed on Nigel 's brow. Kid? Then it dawned on him that she was talking to him and a jolt of panic pierced his chest.

"Oh! Uh... I – My name id Nigel Frye. I'm here to-to..."

"What?" the receptionist interrupted him impatiently. "Give a message to your mom or dad? Spit it out, kid!"

"I-I'm here to accept a position!" Nigel blurted out all flustered, looking anywhere but at the receptionist. There was a brief silence and Nigel took a moment to try and collect himself – seriously, how had he managed to score this job? – and cast the woman a careful glance. She was eyeing him, raising an eyebrow.

"You are?" she asked and Nigel gave a helpless sigh. This always happened. Nigel was not tall for his age, and with his baby-faced appearance people tended to see him as a child.

This got especially tiresome with door-to-door salesmen who'd constantly ask him if his parents were home, leaving Nigel to explain that the apartment he lived in was in fact his own. Most of the time he'd call for his roommate, Patrick – who wasn't much older than himself, but at least looked the case (more or less) – to come and sort things out.

"Yes, Ma'am." Nigel replied. The receptionist raised her eyebrows.

"Huh..." she said. "Okay, then. What did you say your name was?"

"Nigel Frye, Ma'am." Nigel said. "I was going to meet a, uh, a Bert Felton."

"Okay, hold on." The receptionist said and put the phone to her ear again.

"Hey, Bert." She said once she got a reply on the other end. "Listen, there's a young man here to see you. Nigel Frye. Uh-huh. Okay, I'll tell him." She put the phone down and addressed Nigel again. Her gaze alone was enough to make his heart do an uncomfortable leap.

"He'll be down shortly to see you." She said, pointing to a group of couches behind him.

"You can just sit and wait."

"Okay, thanks." Nigel said and went over to the couches to sit.