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Tempests

By Michael Carter (c) 1997, 2013



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Bradley had just signed on, and was now qualifying his Job Seekers claim by doing exactly that, weaving in and out of the boards, running his eyes over the job cards for any suitable positions. He was scanning the ‘Clerical’ section, behind which were the double doors, needlessly electronic as they were always fixed open.

He was reading the ‘Other Details’ section of a temporary desk-job in Helmington when the girl with the innocent yet alluring face and the dark shoulder-length hair walked in, looking far too healthy and bright to belong to this high-membership late-sleepers club.

No longer interested in the clerical position (‘Two years secretarial experience required’) he shifted his stance so that he could see through the space between ‘Clerical’ and ‘Retail’, and watched the girl as she strode up to the ‘Queue Here’ barrier and extracted her signing-on book from an inside pocket.

Mmmm, very nice, thought Bradley. His glance spiralled downward, and to anyone observing him he would be seen to be studying the form on the bottom row. Not so; his eyes were focused somewhere between the jobs.

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