Something In the Air
Act I
It's common practice for waiting rooms to have pictures in them to put the occupants at ease. They're usually pretty landscapes or still life photos or something with blurry objects in the foreground and teeny objects in the background, a failed attempt at perspective staring you in the face for an hour or so. This particular waiting room, that of a Mr. Dorian Fowler, was adorned with paintings of children. This would have been perfectly nice if only those children hadn't had eyes that were just obscenely huge. The receptionist said that they were supposed to put the people waiting at ease, but the feeling one tended to get from noticing that each eyeball was easily the size of the child's bill was nothing if not uneasy. In fact they reminded Beth Webfoot of wild owls, which in the end just added to her nervousness because she'd feared those creatures ever since she was a small child. As a result, the bouncing feeling in her stomach of anticipation mixed with dread was growing by leaps and bounds.
She tried unsuccessfully to keep her eyes from examining the pictures on the walls. No luck; that tactic tended to just remind her that they were there, and were possibly watching her while she was letting her guard down. Was it possible that Mr. Fowler could use these pictures to examine the people in the waiting area? Maybe this was part of the evaluation, sitting here and pretending not to be nervous, and if you cracked, you were weeded out. She knew it was ludicrous but the idea simply would not leave her mind.
As if she wasn't already on edge! This was her first in-person performance evaluation with Fowler-Mergatroid Multimedia Inc., and the very idea of being evaluated had her biting her nails. If they didn't like her work so far, she could be fired- and in front of the rest of the company! This sort of thing had never been Beth's cup of tea. It was at times like this that she wished she had stayed as a full-time employee of Bindler's Hardware store, no matter how low-paying and demeaning that job was.
To take her mind off of her anxieties, she let her attention settle on what was apparently a coworker: a woman sitting a few chairs away from her in the waiting room, carefully pencilling in a small notepad she held. The woman's age was difficult to determine, but she looked somewhat older than Beth. Her hair, a shade of darkish blonde, was far too curly for the unruly bun it was tucked into. It created a disheveled appearance which was only furthured by the ill-fitting shirt and skirt which the woman had draped herself in. The large, thick-framed glasses completed the look of either a haggard librarian or a flustered secretary which this woman seemed to be cultivating. Beth felt an immediate kinship, and considered striking up a conversation. After a few moments of indecision, she decided, Why not?
Nervously twiddling her thumbs, she spoke up. "Well, I wonder how many people are supposed to be here?" The woman looked up briefly and shot Beth a glance, then retreated back to her notepad. "Um, this is the waiting room for the performance evaluations, right? I'd hate to be in the wrong place, after all."
The woman looked up again. "Yes. Performance evaluations for the Fowler-Mergatroid CD-Rom project. At 3 o'clock."
Beth nodded. "Well, that's where I'm supposed to be. Thanks. That puts me at ease." She moved a few seats down and took a place in the chair next to the silent woman. "I'm Beth Webfoot, by the way."
After a pause, the woman nodded. "Skitting. Tonya. Hi." She fidgeted a bit, nervously, and began to write more in her notepad.
Anxious to keep a conversation going, Beth interjected with a new comment. "Uh, so how long have you been with the company?"
Tonya lifted the pencil point from her paper and sighed. "Six years," she answered, her voice carrying a sort of resignation.
Beth, perceiving that Tonya was in fact quite nervous, decided to do her best to quell her colleague's unease. "Oh, really? So you've done this before! See, I've only been here a few months, and I didn't even know they called you in for a group progress report when I first started working here, and then out of the blue they call and say I have to come in for this meeting thing! So I've been going just absolutely crazy, trying to find the right things to wear and hoping I know what to say, and things like that! I guess what I'm wearing is fine, since you seem to be pretty casual." As her comment was made, however, Tonya flushed, and Beth realized that she may well have been insulting yet again. "Oh, um, not to say that you don't look nice, of course. Just, I assumed- well, we're not supposed to look entirely formal, are we?"
Tonya had, by this point, sunk into herself somewhat and her shoulders were now somewhere up near her cheeks. "No," she said sullenly.
"Ah- well, in any case, like I said- I haven't done this before, and..." Flustered, Beth groped desperately for a change of subject, and decided to make use of Tonya's relative position of authority. "Er, so, in any case, you probably know exactly what you're in for. Gee, me, I've spent all my time so far basically working in classification, you know? Sticking things into categories, plants mostly, like some giant encyclopedia. But you, you're probably-"
"That's what I do, too," Tonya said. After an appropriate period of silence, she added, "For six years." She waited just long enough for the silence to become awkward before sighing, "But I should be up for a promotion now. A position just opened up. I'm looking forward to this meeting."
Beth let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she'd been holding. After an incredible case of sticking her foot in her mouth, at least there was an upside here. Still, she was too nervous to go back to the previous topic, and fell into silence for a while. Tonya made no efforts to maintain the conversation, but instead took the opportunity to go back to her notes. Beth peered over her shoulder. "What'cha doing there?"
Tonya jumped, startled, and drew away from her persistant neighbour. "Nothing!"
"Formulas?" Beth thought over what she had managed to see, and then gasped happily. "Ooooh! Chemistry!"
"Alchemy," Tonya said authoratatively. "It's a bit of a hobby, actually-"
"Chemistry is the same thing as alchemy, really," Beth interrupted. Continuing blithely on, she said, "That reminds me, did you see the special report on A Modern Affair about that 'magical element', the one that's supposed to be able to change things around? The 'Philosophers' Stone'?"
"The Philosopher's Stone?! They've found it??" Tonya's manner suddenly did a complete one-eighty. This time Beth was the one who jumped back as Tonya leaned forward exuberantly. "I always knew it existed! Who has it? I've spent years studying it, but I never knew they were close to discovering it! Imagine, finding the substance so pure that it can elevate the properties of other metals, changing them into gold!"
"They should have called it the Midas Stone," Beth said with a giggle. Then, more thoughtfully, "Couldn't it hypothetically change them into other metals, too?"
Tonya was brought up short. "What?"
Beth shrugged. "Well, I mean, I don't know a whole lot about it but it seems rather silly to me that gold would be the one element that the stone fixates on. What's so special about gold, when you think about it? It's not magical or anything. And even if it were, I don't see why the same properties couldn't be used to a lesser effect, elevating the original elements to levels slightly 'lower' than gold. Silver, lead, and oooh, maybe even mercury! ...But it's silly for me to even postulate on this."
Scribbling furiously in a new page of her notepad, Tonya didn't answer for a few moments. She underlined the phrase "other metals" and looked back up. "Not so silly, actually. Alchemy is a fascinating subject, I've found, and-"
"Oh, no, I love chemistry!" Tonya grimaced at Beth's continued use of a word she evidently did not care for. "It's just that I don't believe in the Philosophers' Stone. I mean, really, A Modern Affair is hardly the most reliable source of information. And even that report said that belief in the stone was dropped centuries ago. It's a completely outdated notion. The very point that I made, about it transforming metals exclusively into gold- that right there is silly enough to blow holes in the entire theory. It's completely-"
"And how would you know, anyway?!" Tonya bit off any further comments and glared at Beth for a moment longer, then turned away.
"W-wait- I didn't mean to insult you, I was only..." She trailed off as Tonya waved a hand in her face. As Beth tried to figure out what obscure meaning this gesture might possibly have, the door to the hall opened up and three men in suits entered, laughing between themselves.
"Oh, look! People are already here! We're not late, are we?" asked one.
Beth shook her head nervously. "Uh, I don't think so..."
The second businessman addressed Tonya. "Oh, hi, Skitting. Who's the new girl?" Tonya snorted in response, ignoring him otherwise.
Beth waved. "I'm Beth Webfoot." Grasping her hands in front of her, she twisted them together slightly as introductions were made. These men seemed friendlier than Tonya had, but in some ways that made her even more nervous.
"Is Dorian in his office?" wondered the first of her colleagues. Beth shrugged, and Tonya continued to ignore them all, so he walked up and knocked on the door. After a muffled "C'mon in!", the coworker opened the door and his friends filed inside. He beckoned to Beth, so she nervously stood up and followed the others.
Outside on her own, Tonya sullenly gathered up her notepad and large canvas bag, and made her way into the meeting room as well.
About an hour later, the building's doors opened and a stream of people flooded out onto the street, chatting amongst themselves. Tonya was among the last to leave, but was followed by one more- one whom she couldn't shake off, no matter how hard she tried.
"I can't believe I got the promotion!!" Beth said, for something like the fifth time since the meeting was adjourned. Tonya sped up her pace and tried to step in front of Beth, but the nuisance actually grabbed her by the arm in an effort to catch up. "I just ... I really wasn't expecting it! Nothing like that has ever happened to me before!"
"So you said," Tonya replied. Somehow, Beth seemed to be totally failing to notice that Tonya simply detested her.
Beth let go of Tonya's arm, but kept pace with her as they walked to the curb. "I know, but it was just so weird! I was sitting there, minding my own business and all, and I was so afraid that he was going to single me out for being bad or something! But in a way, this was almost worse- I mean, I don't want to look like a teacher's pet or anything. I used to get that a lot in school. You don't think anyone will hold this against me, do you?" Tonya grumbled to herself and didn't bother to answer, turning her attention instead to hailing a cab. Beth yammered on. "By the way, was this the promotion you were wanting? I'm sorry if it was. I really had no idea. I honestly thought you were going to get it!! You should have, I think. You deserve it more than I do. But I'm sure you'll get the next one! Isn't it funny how things like this work out?" Tonya spent a brief moment seriously considering pushing her into the street.
Suddenly Beth gasped, and the way this noise coincided with her imagined act of violence made Tonya jump. "Oh my gosh, I forgot my purse in the building! I'll be right back!" Beth said, as if Tonya cared. Tonya breathed a heavy sigh of relief as her rival ran back to the building, and spent a renewed half-minute attempting desperately to hail a cab. None stopped for her.
Tension building steadily, Tonya ground her teeth together until they were significantly duller. The best remedy to this was to get home to her lab and just immerse herself in her work for a few hours.
An unmistakably evil thought occured to her suddenly. The experiment whose formula she'd been puzzling over prior to the meeting was in progress, so she had the liquid prototype with her. The mixture was intended to work as a sort of liquid hypnosis, which would clear the mind of whoever was exposed to it and leave them highly open to suggestion. In other words, it was a mind control potion. It was still in the highly experimental stages, but if she could use it now...
She watched Dorian Fowler walk right by her, unaware of the malice she had directed towards him. He certainly deserved whatever he got, the ingrate. She hadn't been prepared for the complaints and the humiliation of this meeting; the memory alone still smarted. She'd been accused of not getting her work in on time, of going over her allotted budget... never mind the fact that, if she had been promoted and given the high raise she deserved, she wouldn't have to use the company's budget to fund her own private research.
Defiantly she reached into her purse, not caring about whatever ill effects the untested formula might have. She pulled out the vial with the foggy liquid, took a deep breath, and yanked the stopper out before she had time to change her mind.
But as she took her first step towards Fowler, someone dashed clumsily in front of her, knocking her arm. The vial fell from her fingers, mixing with the dark amber liquid which was gushing from the open can of Koo-Koo Cola which the figure had dropped. This new mixture splashed all over the front of the thing that was directly in front of it, soaking it completely.
The thing, of course, was Beth Webfoot.
Beth gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. "Oh Tonya, I'm so sorry! How much did this perfume cost? It can't have been too much, right?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, dug into her purse and produced a $20 bill. "If there's any change you can give it back to me later, or not, whichever," she said quickly, taking a moment to raise her arm and hail a cab. One pulled over for her immediately. "Wow, I've never even done that before! This must be my lucky day." She giggled. "Want to share? If you're going my way I can cover it."
"No!" said Tonya, taking a step back, the twenty-dollar bill clenched in her fist. That potion was the result of months of research and scientific effort, and now Webfoot was wearing it as bad perfume! It stank even from where Tonya was standing. On the other hand, a test was still a test, even if it wasn't on the ideal subject. She grabbed Beth by both arms and stared into her eyes. "You will do whatever I say," she said, haltingly and without much conviction. Her hopes faded the rest of the way when Beth only gave her a puzzled, slightly frightened look.
"I, um, I'd like to... But actually I have to get home now." She managed a weak grin. "Look, it was great meeting you- I'm so sorry about the perfume!! We should try and get together sometime, okay? I've got to go! Oh, are you going to the company banquet that Mr. Fowler mentioned?
Tonya was amazed. For her, the words "I've got to go" meant the conversation had ended, but Beth Webfoot seemed to have no such definition for her usage of the phrase. She shook her head impatiently.
With a shrug, Beth retreated into the cab. She leaned in and addressed the driver, an attractive feline woman. "Um, I guess I need to go to Avian Way- do you need directions? If it's too hard you can drop me off at-"
The driver cut her off. "I can get there," she said in an accented voice. Beth nodded, and leaned back out the door. Tonya was walking away, so Beth called to her. "Tonya! I'll call you!" She waved, puzzled by the fact that Tonya had evidently not heard her. Oh, well. She pulled the door shut and the cab pulled away from the curb.