Islands of Hope

Chapter 25

She stood at the window, staring at the city below whilst she waited. Skyscrapers merged backwards in every direction, a futuristic landscape of metal and glass. Vehicles buzzed on clean flat streets, a high speed monorail wound its way around buildings. There were no flying cars, hover technology had been somewhat abandoned until recently, now the first wave of cars were out but only rose a few feet from the ground. However, the city was awash with bright screens, advertising the latest must have commodities, displaying breaking news stories, citing the greatness of Princips Ltd.

This was not a world she had built from scratch, getting her hands dirty on every corner, this was a world she had inherited, one she would not let go of. She told herself that this is what she was protecting, when in truth it was her own life that concerned her. But she needed to get into character, sincerity had always been a problem. If her acting was good and she remembered to look for clues on others' faces, surely she could feign it.

Kendra turned at the sound of a beep, the doors at the other side of the room slid open. As daylight flooded through the large window, all Martha saw was a black female shape. It made her think of a demon, here to rape and pillage the world's natural resources. Maybe it was not a trick of the light, maybe this was just how Martha saw Kendra. Martha had hoped to be a little late to the meeting, wanting others to be in the room when she arrived, just looking across at that woman made her feel sick.

"Good afternoon, please take a seat," Kendra said, all thoughts of sincerity having drained from her body.

Martha did not make eye contact, wanting to avoid a conversation, avoid forced interest. She hurried to her usual seat and sat down. Sensing her presence, a hatch in the table slid back, and a tablet rose out. 'Welcome Martha,' was emblazoned across the screen under the Princips logo. Before she picked it up the doors slid open once more. Appearing to take part in a benign conversation, Casper and Ukrit walked in. They clocked Martha and nodded to her, out of respect they offered Kendra the same courtesy. Both sat in their unofficial seats, never allotted but ones they always used. The conversation stopped with Kendra standing at the head of the table. She was like the stern teacher to their scared children. The silence ebbed and flowed around the room whilst they waited for the last directors to appear. A few minutes later, Derik Alkan and Fatir El-Sayed ambled through the door on doddery legs, old directors from an ancient past, each easily in their eighties. They were referred to as the silent partners, saying little, letting the youngsters run the company, only interjecting if the course of action would drastically change the company's direction. They did, however, have a tendency to make grunting noises, sounds of disapproval. If they kept silent, you knew you were on the right track.

As they took their seats, Martha looked across sadly. The others had come in pairs, a partner in crime, someone to lean on, to discuss ideas with. She felt isolated here, as if she did not fit. She wanted to use the word lonely, but that might be too strong. The sadness turned to fear as she watched Kendra at the head of the table. She was on her own too, distant from the others. Was Martha more like Kendra than she wanted to admit? She shook the thought from her mind; no, they might both be on the edges of this group, but they were on opposite sides of the circle, opposing views, opposing personalities.

Kendra wanted to get this over with, the less talking, the smaller the chance she would make a mistake. 'Those infernal relics take so long to sit down, why can't they hurry up and die?' she thought.

With everyone ready, sitting in silence, tablet in hand, only the Princips logo and their name on the screen, Kendra pressed her watch and the devices sprung into life. Lifting her hand, the holographic globe rose from the tabletop and started its slow spin. 'I suppose you are wondering why I have brought you here?' A clichéd start to any hastily arranged meeting, but she could think of no other way to introduce the topic. Her, semi rhetorical, question was met with more silence.