Try as she might, Irena could not get her head around the fact that the office had one of those hideous, shape-changing Chinese glitter clocks. They were trendy back in the 2050s. "This place is so run-down," she thought.
She reorganised her papers one last time and put them back in the folder. A green light flashed briefly, indicating that all important documents were in place. Funny how people had developed the finest technology only to go back to paper because it became the only way of protecting sensitive data. She sighed.
"Sorry I kept you waiting so long," said Boris.
"Not to worry."
"You were right, the President is not very concerned. In fact he doesn't feel any measures need to be taken at this moment in time."
"But…"
"He is happy to continue funding the research, provided SHL doesn't know about it."
"There's certainly no risk of that."
"No need to be sarcastic. Sarcasm is the tool of a broken spirit, Comrade."
"Right. The true hero is one who conquers his own anger and hatred."
"Excellent. Is that Karl Marx?"
"Not quite. I will see myself out."
The elevator took her to the ground floor where she rested the back of her hand against the scanner until it recognised the chip under her skin. She then entered a 14-digit code to open the vault-style security door and once it closed behind her, she moved the old dusty curtain out of her way. She was inside the Happy Dough sandwich shop.
The guy at the counter handed her a six-inch sandwich in a bio-degradable plastic bag, she nodded her head and left.
The taxi was waiting outside. She opened the door and was about to take a step back, startled by what she saw, but got dragged inside the vehicle. She heard a click as the door locked. The car started moving, driving by itself.
"I knew I shouldn't take Uber."
"Yeah, how are they even still around? Anyway, I should probably introduce myself."
"I know who you are. Neal C, the last person I should be talking to."
"You're well informed. So what have you been up to, Irena?"
"I just got myself a sandwich from Happy Dough's."
"Yeah? What's in it?" Asked Neal and snatched the bag off her.
"Vegan patty."
He tore the paper wrapper off and checked.
"Incorrect. It's meatballs, actually. They probably got it wrong. Unless, of course, it's not a real shop and you don't give a damn about what's in it," he said and took a bite. "So what were you doing there?"
"That's none of your business. Let me out."
"I know it was about SHL."
"And by SHL you mean…?"
"A computer program that is effectively running the country."
"Don't be ridiculous. That's all far-right propaganda."
"What does it do, then?"
"It provides guidance, it analyses data and predicts, it's a magnificent tool. The country, however, is run by the President. They teach that in elementary school."
"Everyone knows Radcliffe is a total pushover, just like his dad. A Brit and a wizard, come on. Look, I know you have considerable doubts about the whole thing."
"I do?"
"They're not taking you seriously."
"I'm just doing my job."
"They want to introduce German as the official language. German!"
"That's a hoax. Now seriously, let me out, Neal. I can't help you in any way. And wipe that tomato sauce off your shirt."
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