The Switch (Part 3)

Martin dropped into his seat as Ms. Tross sat, smoothing her suit.

“Philosophy master’s student at Northwestern,” Ms. Tross read from the binder. “Deceased parents leaving you with a considerable inheritance, no committed relationship aside from the redhead seen leaving your apartment every morning for the past two weeks.”

“Phenomenal research. Just provide your sources, and you’ve got yourself an ‘A’ plus,” Martin said as he reclined in the chair, his arms behind his head.

“Are you concerned that college degrees no longer hold any influence?”

“Unless that degree opens your mind to fresh knowledge. Ideas that could change the world.”

“Interesting choice of words.” Ms. Tross stood and pulled the curtains apart to the same scene Nancy McCall was still witnessing. Martin’s eyes widened, but he repressed all sound from his lips. “I think the world is ready for a bit of changing.”

Martin brought his hands to his lap and exhaled deeply.

“Martin,” said Ms. Tross. “Have you ever heard of the Switch?”

“The Switch that will kill off half of the world’s population in seconds? A philosophical myth.”

“It is not a myth, Martin.” Ms. Tross’s voice was soft. Her eyebrows turned up as she focused on his face. “There are simply not enough resources to sustain our population growth. We will all be killed at each other’s hands. The government has been preparing for this moment for the past decade, and everything is now ready.”

Martin head never turned from the window.

“The Switch exists, Martin. And it is right in front of you.”

Martin’s eyes fell on the small metal box on the table.

“Take a peak,” Ms. Tross said, and Martin slowly pushed the lid open. Underneath lay a red switch, one side down, the side toward him up. Martin stared at the Switch in silence.

“I must take a step out for a few minutes, if you will excuse me. Changing the world is entirely in your hands now, Martin. I will be back with you shortly.” Ms. Tross exited the room and locked the door behind her. 

*Final part coming next week.*

Part 1: http://emmaraeparker.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-switch.html

Part 2: http://emmaraeparker.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-switch-part-2.html

The Switch (Part 2)

“That was more of a formality, Ms. McCall. It is no secret that Bass & Cordovan’s revenues have declined drastically from ten years ago.”

“Yes, well, prisons are full to bursting, so criminals no longer have a need for attorneys.”

“I am well aware of our current legal system.”

“You seem to be aware of everything else,” Nancy’s voice began to rise.

Ms. Tross cocked her head almost too slightly to notice. “There are just too many of us these days.”

“You’ve got that right.” Nancy leaned back.

The red bulb above the door began to flash. “I am going to leave you for the next few minutes to consider this visual.” Ms. Tross stood from her seat and pushed the curtains open.

Nancy let out a gasp at the sight of the street below. Not five inches of the street was left unpopulated by people. Several groups were engaged in full out brawls. A few broken down cars were scattered and appeared to have been remodeled into homes with linens in the windows and makeshift toilets by the wheels. Everyone was bloody and dirty. Guns went off. Whenever one person fell down dead, three more appeared to take his or her place in the battle.

“Hence, the reason we had you take our underground entrance.” Ms. Tross peered at the scene as if viewing a portrait at the Guggenheim.

“Close it! They’ll see us!” Nancy yelled, pushing her wheeled seat away from the window with her heels.

“This is bulletproof, one-way glass,” Ms. Tross said. “You are safe here.” She exited the office with the second binder and locked the door behind her.

Ms. Tross found a young man in suspender with tossed dirty blond hair now seated in the reception area. He sat reclined with his arms wide around the chairs next to him and chatted with the receptionist.

“Martin Greggor?” Ms. Tross asked.

“Yep,” the man replied without straightening.

“Back here, if you please.” She led him to the identical but reversed second office and locked the door behind them.

*Part 3 coming next week.*

Find Part 1 at: http://emmaraeparker.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-switch.html

The Switch

The taps of her high-heeled shoes echoed behind her through the metal hall. Her blond hair danced on her gray suited shoulders. As her pale face blended into its blond hairline, her gray eyes contrasted deeply as its only dark feature. She squeezed the two binders she held into her side as she pushed open the thick metal door.

            “Good morning, Ms. Tross,” a young man said from the front desk. He wore a blue and white striped collared shirt. “How many are we expecting today?”

            “We decided two is most efficient. Gives them time for personal reflection.”

“Anyone promising?”

            “They’re always promising,” Ms. Tross said. Her mouth remained in a line flatter than a calm sea.

The office was a sealed box with metal floors and walls. The reception area was decorated in abstract art pieces and mahogany furnishings. Ms. Tross continued behind the man’s desk and entered the first office.

Ms. Tross pulled the black curtains together on the far wall and dropped the two folders on the end of the long white table. She glanced up at the small metal box at the other end before turning back to her binders.

Ms. Tross was halfway through the second binder when the red bulb above the door began blinking, and she stepped out of the office. A woman sat in the waiting area with crossed legs and arms, her back stiff in her chair. She wore a black high-waist pencil skit with a white collared blouse. Her black hair was twisted into a bun behind her head.

“Nancy McCall?” Ms. Tross said. The woman sat up even straighter. “This way, if you please.”

Nancy pulled her small, black purse into her chest and followed Ms. Tross into the office.

“Criminal defense attorney for 19 years with Bass & Cordovan,” Ms. Tross said as they seated themselves. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Divorced, ostracized son, no close family.” Ms. Tross read from her binder and looked up.

“Excuse me?” Nancy asked, her voice slightly softer.

“Just some fact checking while we get acquainted, here, Ms. McCall. Or do you prefer your maiden name of Henderson?”

“McCall is fine.”

“Tough times in business?” Ms. Tross continued.

“When every human in the world is a criminal, it’s not hard to find clients.”


*Part 2 coming next week.*