The Little Dove #3 ✔️

03. The Book On Hypnosis

CHAPTER 3: The Book On Hypnosis

Edmund shows Lorraine the artistic rooms on the fifth floor, luckily the last floor, as it was almost time for dinner, I assumed, when my stomach rumbled. I glance down at the card in my hand. Strangely enough, there's a small, circular object I feel through the card, but flipping it over in my hand, I don't visibly see anything on the back. Just a plain shade of white.

"Was he right?" I hear from beside me before a finger flicks on the card, long and slender. Edmund stands next to me as he sees what I'm looking at.

I keep my eyebrows furrowed, "Which part?"

He turns to me, "About not sharing your thoughts, feelings, or secrets because you're afraid someone will use them against you?" He questions stoically, but couldn't be blank enough to show me that he was interested to know.

I blink, "No, I still think he's a con artist." I mutter, looking back down at the card with a constricted feeling. I could have just been paranoid. Instead of crossing my thoughts with the card, I throw it in the bin, stepping past Edmund and towards Lorraine.

She nods at me, "All classes are seriously full. There doesn't even look to be time for personal questions, just consistently working and writing. Remind me why I love business so much again?" She says to me dryly.

I lean on the doorframe, "Because it can open so many doors, Lorraine. That's why." I murmur, glancing through the door to see how full the class was. There was still a fairly large proportion of the empty lecture room, but the majority was filled, condensed instead of packaged in groups of individuals.

Lorraine turns to Edmund, who was standing patiently behind us...patiently-didn't seem like a word in his vocabulary, not even in his metaphorical thesaurus. The man didn't have a patient bone in his body, "Is there much group work?" She asks curiously.

I don't see his reaction, but hear it, "The majority of the work collated here is individual, but some tasks can be endured with a partner or two."

I furrow my eyebrows, "In a workplace, most of the time endured is within a group? That doesn't make sense if the training here is specialized under individual conditions?" I turn to him, confused.

He gives me half-closed eyes, a glare I see, but this one is more exhausting than annoyed, "They train you to be entrepreneurs, CEOs, the highest in the hierarchical management structure. They want you to strive for the best. It's not hard to work out the pattern of conversing with a group at a later time." He says considerably.

I squint at him, "CEO's still converse with their main managers, and they shouldn't be restricted to only speaking with those who could equalize them in the system...that's a rather barbaric way of learning?"

Now, he gives me a deadpan look, "Do you ever stop analyzing every detail? If it's the way the system is and it works, why change it?" Lorraine even looks skeptical of this.

"Every system always looks for improvement and...it's in my blood...to analyze." I gesture to the classroom. He merely rolls his eyes.

"You have one classroom left. Then we can be finished here." He mutters, annoyance seeping back in. He didn't like what I was suggesting, especially because he runs an oil enterprise or some. Being told that any system, all systems, will always require improvement is like a slap in the face for someone who believes routine works for everyone, he is now slowly coming to terms with the fact that not all his employees will run successfully under one pattern.

One rule.

What a pitiful life to live in!

Lorraine shrugs my way when she sees my pointless expression directed to the now rather silent Edmund, who walks gruffly down the darkened hall. The lighting in the room was all the same, white light...it was giving me a headache when there were lights uselessly placed on the ceiling.