By L L Watkin
Published by L. L. Watkin at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 L. L. Watkin
For Elizabeth, whose advice on this work was very ill took at the time, but proved invaluable by the end.
David Arman straightened his dress uniform nervously, trying to make the official crispness transfer to his confidence. It wasn’t often he was nervous and it made him doubly twitchy when he was. It wasn’t often he hid in the gents either, but here he was lurking over the sink. A land-lubbers sink, where silvered taps let out colourless water which gravity spiralled into miles of underground pipes gurgling and groaning in time to the distant boilers. An uncomfortable luxury and something he barely trusted to work. He had let it run for a whole minute, watching the circular swirl of liquid over the white ceramic. Such a wasteful thing.
The rippling sound was supposed to be calming, but it called his attention constantly by its unfamiliarity and jarred his nerves. Might as well have been birdsong. All it did was emphasise the absence of engines. But he didn’t turn it off.