'in which the work never stops'
You let out a long sigh, leaning into the back of your chair. You glare down at the spread of papers on your desk. You've been struggling through these papers for what feels like hours, and you've hardly made a dent in the small stack that America had handed you.
A yawn escapes your lips. You stare groggily at the door to your office. You sigh again, dropping your head onto the hard desk. Its not even noon yet and you already need a nap. Maybe you should... Whats America going to do? Fire you? You laugh dryly at the thought.
You have no idea what he would do. The man had somehow become even more confusing in the week that had passed since he fell asleep at your appartment.
That whole day still baffled you beyond belief. He really just showed up, dragged you around DC, dumped some trauma on you and then fell asleep. As one does, you suppose. And on top of that confusing mess, America's been refusing to elaborate on anything. He was gone by the time you woke up the next morning, and he'd been skating around talking to you in any extent, which has been making your job unnecessarily difficult. Really, how does he expect you to get any work done if he doesn't tell you what you're supposed to be doing?
You groan loudly, pushing yourself backwards in your chair. The wheels roll a short distance, coming to an abrupt stop. You kick your feet up, resting them on the desk surface, not caring if your shoes dirty the paperwork America had given you.
This was ridiculous. What was that man thinking. You lean back in the chair, placing your hands over your eyes before dragging them drammatically down your face. You don't even know what half of these papers are for. They're all just vaugely worded messes of budgets and collaborations with other buisnesses and none of them make sense! You were so damn confused...
You let out a sigh and stand from your chair. Maybe a break will help you think better... You begin to walk over to the office door, but you stop short of it as the door slams open.
"[Name]! C'mon we have a meeting."
"We do? Since when?"
"Since right now!" Layla grabs your arm, dragging you out of your office. "I've already gone to collect everyone else, we just have to head to the meeting hall in the basement..."
"This building has a basement?" You raise an eyebrow as you follow Layla down the flight of stairs. You had never noticed a door with basement access before, but then again you've never really been exploring in this office, unless you consider the one time you were looking for a bathroom while scared for your life.
"Yes... Don't ask why the meeting has to be held there... It's what America insists on when it comes to meetings like this."
"What's that supposed to mean...?"
"Right... You're..." Layla sighs, pushing the door at the bottom of the stairs open. "Do you remember when we first met? I mentioned that this company is more or less a front for America's personal and political affairs, correct? I believe I also mentioned that there were only a handful of us that knew of this fact, this handful now including you..." Layla falls into silence for a moment as she leads you to the end of a hall. She rests her hand on a door. "This meeting, happens to involve those 'personal and political affairs'" Layla pulls a set of keys out of her pocket. She unlocks the door, pulling it open to reveal a narrow staircase, barely illuminated by a lightbulb that looked like it was going to go out any moment.
You stall at the top of the staircase for a moment. This wasn't ominous at all. Definitely didn't look like you were going to get kidnapped a second time.
"Make sure to lock the door." Layla calls up to you as she walks down the stairs. You let out a soft sigh.
As you step down into the dim stairwell, you shut the door behind you. You turn the doors deadbolt, and follow Layla down into the basement of the office. One of the lights above your head flickers. This was not creepy whatsoever.
The staircase was surprisingly long. Not unreasonably so, but you had decended further into the ground than you had expected. It was strange to say the least. You had to assume that it was for security reasons. Though you can't imagine what they were defending against this far underground. Radio maybe? You don't know how radio works exactly, or who would go through the efforts of smuggling a radio down here. You can't imagine radios being small in the 40's.
It's surreal to say that it actually was 1940 now. Or 1940 at all. You still hadn't wrapped your head around the whole time travel thing, even as it was going on seven months that you've been stuck in the past. You've more or less given up on the thought of going home now. If you were ever making it back to the future you'd think it would have happened by now. But no. Here you were, still lodged several decades in the past.
It was aggravating to say the least. The whole situation was. You were so far beyond the careful plan that you saw yourself following during your lifetime. It was frustrating beyond belief. You should be on break from university right now, spending time with your family instead of walking through dingy hallways to god knows where.
Layla pushes open a door to the left side of the hall, and you're almost blinded by the light that pools out from the door. You almost forgot what an actual functional light bulb looks like. You follow Layla into the room, blinking as your eyes readjust to the light.
"Take a seat [Name]." Layla gestures in the direction of one of three empty chairs. She takes a seat in her own chair, tapping a few sheets of paper that were already sat on the table into a neat stack.
"Is America too busy to bother giving us his time?" You glance around the table before your gaze lands on the man who had spoken. He looks peeved, to say the least. You catch him rolling his eyes as he leans back into his chair. "Typical..."
Layla lets out an equally annoyed sigh. "He said he had 'important matters' to attend to."
"Like what? Avoiding us?" The same man leans forward, resting an elbow on the table. Several people laugh. It's bitter and sharp; a cloud of annoyance floats over the room.
"Let's just... start this alright?" Layla shuffles her papers. The tapping of the stack sounds loud in the deathly silent room. She gestures toward you for a split second. "As a formal introduction, this is [Name]. As I'm sure you all know she's America's assistant." You follow her gaze as it darts around the room. She sets her small stack of papers down on the table once again. "As most of you are aware, throughout this month the 48 States will be arriving in preparation for the meeting being held amongst them at the end of the month. As per usual, our job is to make sure they don't do anything foolish to expose themselves to the public."
"And also doing our regular jobs?"
"And also doing our regular jobs." Most of the room lets out an annoyed sigh at Layla's reply. She flips one of her papers over partially, staring at it as the room lapses into silence.
You hear nothing but a rhythmic congregation of the breathing of the rooms occupants. It's soft and quiet, periodically broken by the sounds of sighs. You have a hunch that no one here is very fond of their jobs. At least the extra responsibilities that come with their jobs. You have to say that you are very much in the same boat. Not that you can even pretend to have 'regular' responsibilities with your job title.
Layla clears her throat, "I'm sure you all know how important it is to maintain normalcy right now. Especially with everything that's been going on elsewhere, it is our top priority to keep America from falling into any issues." You receive a pointed look from Layla. You nod, taking the hint.
Layla continues talking about the coming month. She goes in-depth on probable arrival days, other meetings happening between the states and even which states were the most problematic to deal with. Everyone, other than you, looked bored out of their minds. You assume they've heard this speech a million times by now and you assume Layla's given this speech a million times before based on the absolute apathy in her tone.
You lean back in your chair slightly, trying to remain focused as Layla rambles on as though she had been programmed to do only that over and over in an insurmountable capacity. You wonder how many times exactly Layla has spoken about this supposedly annual meeting of the states and America. The brunette flips one of her papers over and your gaze is drawn to her. How long has she been here you wonder? She knows a lot about the goings-on in this building, but how much is a lot? She's always carried the air of knowing more than the average person. You do suppose that is her job as a secretary. Still, you can't help but wonder just how much she knows.
You cast your gaze across the room, your eyes lingering for just moments on each of the other four inhabitants of the room. One treasurer. One receptionist. Two administration workers. You wonder who's who? You wonder who knows what?
You suppose thats all this meeting really amounts to. A group of people who know too much meeting to make sure what they know doesn't leak beyond the bounds of this small group of six. Its strange to you that you were involved in this incredibly important secret, while carrying your own secret that you would take to your grave. You glance around the room again and you sigh softly. Some secrets will unite people, and others will isolate them. Its an oddity to be involved in both.
"I believe that covers everything." Layla trails off for a long moment. You imagine shes taking in the relief of finishing her familiar tangent. "Any questions?"
Her question is met by a long elapse of silence. She stands from her chair, organizing her papers. "This meeting is dissmissed then." With her words, she steps out from behind her chair. She pushes it neatly under the table and walks out of the room.
You sigh and stand from your own chair. Theres really no need for you to stay here any longer. You roll your neck slightly, allowing your muscles to relax after sitting in one position for so long. You figured that you'd be used to sitting still for prolonged periods of time after sitting in lecture halls for hours at a time. You must be out of practice.
Stepping into the hallway, you blink a few times. Your eyes had to adjust to the darkness again. At least its not as painful as going from dark to light. Small victories you suppose.
"So. It's [Name] is it?" A voice stops you in your tracks. It was the same man who was complaining about America earlier.
"Yeah, that's me." You place your hands in your pockets. "Who're you?"
"Daniel. I handle the finances here." You stare at him. His hair was blonde and surprisingly shaggy and unkept. His eyes are a dull green and flicker as he glances around. Almost like he's studying you. Of course, you're doing the same thing so who are you to complain?
"Nice to meet you. Can I help you with something?"
"No." The tone that he uses suggests otherwise. It was filled with animosity. "I just figured I should introduce myself to America's new little assistant."
"Alright then..." You sigh. You have a feeling you aren't going to get along well with this man. You don't even know what his deal is.
"Though I can't help but wonder..." He stares you down. The direction of his gaze still flickers, as if hes watching for your reaction. "How did someone like you manage to get a job here as Americas personal assistant?"
You begin to laugh but you quickly catch yourself. If only he knew. "Just a couple of slightly unfortunate coincidences." Slightly unfortunate is a major understatement, but you weren't about to tell this man anything more than he needed to know. You were in the business of keeping secrets after all.
"A coincidence?"
"Coincidences." You correct him, tilting your head slightly. "Semantics I know."
"Right." A quiet silence fills the air and a displeased look forms on Daniel's face. "Well it was wonderful to finally meet you, but I should get back to my work now. I'll be seeing you~"
With that, he walks off down the dim hallway, quickly becoming submerged into the shadows that linger on the walls. You sigh, walking slowly in a similar direction. He was going to prove to be a pain, wasn't he? Just your luck.
Maybe you should correct your previous thought. Secrets may bring people together, but they are far from a glue that unites people. Another sigh slips from your lips as you reach the bottom of the long staircase. You place your foot on the first step, and you quickly begin climbing the flight of stairs, returning to your office with the grim thought of what the future holds for you.
*so like,, university is hard when you dont have any time management skills who would have guessed? anyways im back now hopefully