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Chapter 8

Angel
March 24

Roger had gotten up to look out at the window. He looked so serious for once; I wondered what he was thinking about. He looked very alone and burdened as if he had all the cares of the world set upon his shoulders.

I was restless.

I thought about all the events of the day, especially the climactic moment when the ship was approaching the federal building. I was scared that I was going to die again, but I was less scared compared to the events with the monster at Electric City. I was getting used to the prospect of dying. That was scary.

My head throbbed still from my injury during the collision. I was knocked unconscious for at least twenty minutes. Roger had said: "Twenty minutes. Not that long."

Goodness gracious. I wouldn't trust myself twenty minutes drunk with any other man.

I swear I had fallen on the back of the sub and yet I awoke to find myself sitting in the front chair as if I was the pilot. I came to conclude that Roger moved me that way I wouldn't drown myself silly in an unfortunate and unnecessary accident. Out of the sheer kindness that actually existed within his deep dark cold heart.

Haha. Just kidding. Roger was the type of man who was a paradox. He wanted to appear egotistical but secretly what keeps him on is his concern for the life of others.

I got up from my spot on the table and walked up to him on whim. But I dared not intrude on his personal privacy. I stood several feet away from him.

"This used to be where people lived and worked. Up until forty years ago. Right?" I asked carefully. I had plenty of time to think about our situation. "What do you think had happened to all of them?"

Even though I already knew the answer.

"They encountered the end of the world. You can call it a cataclysm," he said simply. He leaned his elbow at the side of the window, closing his eyes. From the sides of my eyes I saw his tall dark frame.

"But it's not the end. We carry on. We're still alive. Just not concerned about... appearances," I said, staring at the window as well.

I gazed back down at the bright rectangle that was in the middle of the street, the only interesting object that we've been staring for so long besides the awkwardness of the slanted buildings. That bright rectangle was the object of my mission, my fixation for all these years, my purpose in life. But it was not just for my gain, it was for the personal enlightenment of myself, the Union, and especially those who lived under the feet of Paradigm.

That bright rectangle, that hole in the ground, was a room where valuable information was stored. Information that could give light exactly on what the events of forty years ago were. I meant to dive down there-- until certain things had to come in the way.

His opened eyes shifted to me for a moment but he didn't move his head. He had become so stiff. I felt his presence peripherally eye me up and down but I didn't dare look back.

I guess I really didn't mind him seeing me in my lingerie. I tried to suppress a smile; as quickly as that smile came it quickly went away. I sighed painfully. There was no need to get involved with anything other than my purpose.

And I certainly didn't need to get involved with him.

"Do you think it's possible?" he asked.

My heart skipped a beat for some reason. I couldn't help but meet his gaze. I was about to ask him what did he mean when he continued on, "Do you think it's possible that living isn't about caring for appearances?"

My heart fell.

"So you can say sweet things, can you?"

"Hmph," he said, our eyes meeting during some strange moment despite our distance.

And then the tone of his voice changed. He was looking at a downwards direction beyond the window.

"Hey. It's them. down there!" he yelled.

In the city below us were the unusual men who resembled frogs swimming across a street, their headlamps giving off their creepy glow.

My competition.