“You have a coffee machine in your limousine.”
Sandra had been in a limousine only once before. As she babbled to the lawyer, it wasn’t graduation or any particular ceremony, it was a group of six people leaving one pub for another and a clever limo driver parked outside offering a ride for 60 bucks. They’d all piled in and pretended to be Liam Gallagher for the 10 minute trip. It was obnoxious and annoying, but given the driver was make 60 bucks for a 10 minute drive, he’d have to deal with it. It never occurred to them that, given he made a living driving high school kids to debs, formals and graduations, he’d dealt with much, much worse. If anything, driving around drunk adults pretending to be rock stars was a holiday.
“You have a coffee machine. In your limousine.”
Of course, that was nothing like this. This felt more like gold class cinema than a limousine. The world outside was utterly detached, a moving projection on several huge shaded screens. Inside, the seats weren’t so much leather as an extension of her skin, impossibly comfortable for an upright position. Even the floor felt comforting through her shoes. There were seats all around, with a small table in the middle. A table. In a car. And still enough leg room to stretch a hamstring. Not to mention the fridge full of expensive booze somewhere. She couldn’t see it, but there had to be. But most importantly, compact and impossibly there, was a coffee machine.
“It’s not my limousine”, said the lawyer. “It belongs to my employer. Would you like an espresso?” and without a reply, he reached for the machine next to him, placed a small cup underneath it and made magic happen.
Sandra was utterly dumbfounded.
“This. This is. Impossible” she stumbled. “You’re not about to tell me I treat you like a wookie and you respect that.”
The lawyer, dripping in professionalism, didn’t skip a beat.
“No”, was all he said, as he handed her a perfect espresso. “Would you like sugar?”
Sandra took the coffee and said “no, thanks”, even though she did actually want sugar but was feeling out of place. All of this comfort, this wealth made her uncomfortable. She was also remarkably fatigued, but had been fatigued for so many years that it rarely impacted on her ability to function as, what she thought was, a normal human being.
“What’s with the limo anyway? Don’t people just have fancy company cars these days?” she asked. He smiled, looked out the window. Sandra felt like an indulged child.
They rode in silence for a short while, as she slowly sipped her coffee. It was still too hot to drink, but there was nothing else happening and she felt like she needed to be doing something, as if sipping coffee was contributing to the advancement of mankind. She noticed the lawyer didn’t have one, though he seemed like the kind of person you never actually see eat or drink, but is always there, always awake and always immaculate. She’d normally hate that type of person, but her curiosity far outweighed any potential unjustified dislike.
Every sip of coffee was punctuated by the absence of sound. The outside world was utterly cut off; they could have passed road works and heard nothing. The lawyer sat still opposite her, looking out the window. He wasn’t staring, he was looking. His legs were at the correct angle, his socks pulled up, revealed by the only slight gap between his expensive shoes and tailored trouser leg. His tie – my god, his tie – it was perfect. She never realised how perfect a tie could be until she saw this tie. Sandra finished her coffee and concluded that the man was in fact an android, and set about trying to break him with her humanity.
She put her cup down on the table, briefly marvelling that she was putting a cup on a table in a car.
“So, sorry – what was your name again” she asked, trying to be polite but firm but in fact sounding belligerent.
“Sebastian Pohler.”
“That’s an unusual name.”
He just smiled that well rehearsed disarming smile. The car moved on. The world outside glided silently by.
“So”, Sandra picked up the conversation (such as it was) again, “Sebastian. I suppose I should have asked you this before I got into the car with you. Where are we going?”
“Good question. Glad you asked it”, he said, and then stopped talking. His smiled stayed. He looked out the window now – two things that directly irritated her. Sandra had had an unfortunate 48 hours. Sandra had had an excellent coffee. All she needed was a BLT and she would be invincible.
“What is that, some kind of lawyery thing? Answer a question by answering a different question? You’re going to turn to me with that disarming smile now, aren’t you?” He did. “...and now you’re going to assess my mood and give me an answer that calms me down, right? Well before you do that, let me tell you my mood. My mood is –“
“You’re annoyed, clearly. You’ve had an unfortunate 48 hours that has confused and alarmed you. You’re tired, both emotionally and physically, and that coffee has just peaked. Pretty soon you’ll start coming down and find yourself lost for words once more. What you really need is some breakfast, something to keep you going but you’re too busy being frustrated like everything is out of your control, and what you really want to know is who my employer is, and where we are going.” His smile stayed the entire time. “And perhaps a hair tie.” Smug git.
“Uh. Yeah. That’s right.” She quickly recovered, as he passed her a hair tie that emerged from.. somewhere. “But don’t think that –“
“So what do you want for breakfast?”
Damn it. He did it again. Distracted by food. Distracted my the possibility of any imaginary food she could have. She straightened her posture, tied her hair, and decided to be firm.
“I want a BLT. And not on Turkish bread, I want it on light rye, with whole grain mustard and mayo and real lettuce, not baby spinach. Lettuce.” He texted the order as she made it.
“It will be ready when we get there”, he said. And turned to look out the window again.
“And exactly where is that?” she asked. He turned back to her.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Would you like another coffee?”
She nodded. There was quiet in the car apart from the dull grunk of the coffee machine.
“Have one yourself” she said as he handed it to her. He simply sat back again, and looked out the window. She took two sips – the first was for indulgent aromatic purposes, the second as a delay as one didn’t seem enough. Then she’d had enough.
“Ok Skip – this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask you a number of questions, and you’re going to answer them, unless you can’t answer them in which case I want you to give me a reason why you can’t answer it. Okay?”
“I can’t answer that until I know what the questions are.”
She briefly imagined some poor judge having to deal with him. She wondered how often he heard the words “overruled”. She then wondered momentarily of judges actually said that. Then she sighed, chose to not put her head in her hands and instead returned eye contact with the lawyer.
“Where are we going?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Who is your employer?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why can’t you tell me any of these things?”
“I was asked not to.”
“Do you always do what you’re asked?”
“If the request is from my employer, then yes.”
“So you do what you’re paid to do.”
“That’s my job.”
“Makes sense I suppose. How do you know who I am?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What’s the square root of 64”
“8.”
“What can you tell me about the last 48 hours of my life.”
“I can tell you nothing.”
“Is that because you don’t know, or because you won’t tell.”
“I can’t answer that.”
“When do I get my sandwich?”
“When we arrive.”
“How soon is that?”
“In about five minutes.”
“Can I have another coffee?”
“Of course.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“It’s not my job to advise you Miss”, and without missing a beat he turned to the coffee machine.
She sat back, took the coffee, and pondered for the next five minutes as the lawyer resumed his position. It had been, as her mother would say, a most perplexing turn of events. Wherever she was headed now, it was either going to provide some answers or confuse the situation further. Either way she’d had three espressos, her left leg had started to twitch and her mind was a dangerous place to be. Unless you were her. So she felt she had the advantage. She finished her coffee as the limousine slowed to a stop.
“When you’re ready Ms Walker, we’ve arrived.”
She put the coffee down carefully on the table, sat up in her seat and smiled at the lawyer.
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