Chapter 3: Rude Awakening

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Angel

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I head the ring of the elevator behind me. Confident footsteps. I slowly turned around, I was so thankful I was wearing my favorite pink sunglasses because I was just so surprised right then. I suddenly felt very... foolish, if that's the right word. There goes my hopeful heart again, leaping at the sight of any handsome young man. I did not find the younger version of Ben Stein but a perfect guy seemingly right off of the Bachelor television series. Well, hello tall, dark, and handsome. Jet black hair slicked back, vibrant thoughtful eyes, a pointy nose, and a square jaw. Not to mention the shoulders of a soldier.

I hid my mirth when I saw his expression hold still as his eyes traveled from down to up, scanning the curvacious profile of my body as if I was the first woman he ever laid eyes on. Men are all the same. I mean, who did he expect? The transy version of Ben Stein?

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, walking towards me. He held out out his hand casually. The hands of a handsome Negotiator. "Helloo. Now how may I be of service to you, Miss... um..." He had a deep manly voice that only led to the kind of thoughts that I didn't want right now.

Usually I had to look down on men, this time I had the pleasure of looking up. I took his hand. 'Calm, collected, cool, slick,' I thought to myself, reviewing the most important of my training. 'Never show emotions. Just strictly business.'

"I'm Casseey Jenkins," I said confidantly. I took a seat down on the chair, folding my legs uncomfortably because I had to wear a skirt. I hate these blasted heels. Oh, the trials of being a woman. "I'm on contract with power management to oversee investigations." I handed him my Paradigm business card.

"So you're with the Paradigm Group, aren't you?" he said, taking my business card as he sat across from me. He set it on the coffee table. "There have been a lot of power outages lately, haven't there Miss Casey?'

"Do you have any idea where we get our power from, Mr. Smith?" At that moment, that convenient moment, the lights decided to turn on. Oh God. He looked even better with the lights on. How rare is that in a man?

He cleared his throat. "So, how may I be of help."

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Roger

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I was hired to see to it a hydroelectric power plant that was being unused be brought back online. It's only natural that you ask yourself, 'Why a negotiator?' The residents of Electric City, the run down town where the plant is located, are apparently obstructing the Paradigm Company, trying to redevelop the area. Why did I take this job anyway, you may ask as well. It's not like me, it's not normal. I would never tackle a job for Paradigm, the firm that just happens to rule the city. Electric plant efficiencies-- let Paradigm worry about it. It's not like I care that there's an electricity supply outside the domes. So why, I wonder why.

For some reason I thought of the strikingly beautiful Casseey Jenkins as I drove along the highway that led to Electric City, remembering when I escorted her outside my home to her taxi. One thing I knew about her, she was always wearing a remarkable amount of pink. A pink suit under a pink vintage style crown hat (my mother was fond of such things as well) and a long pink overcoat. I guess it was her favorite color. She wore its happy hues to make her feel happy and familiar within this chaotic world, feel like herself, surrounded it around her-- just like I favored the classiness and solemnity of black.

She always clutched that mysterious white envelope close to her with those wine red gloves. Before she entered the taxi I remembered she turned to me with that pleasurable sultry voice of hers and those mysterious sunglasses which she never dared to take off. "I'll well aware of your reputation… Roger, the Negotiator." And then like the wind she was gone. It was like some black-and-white 1940s girl-hires-detective movie playing in my mind.

Outside it was dark as a movie theatre. I exited the highway going by some dilapidated sign that said a not too welcoming 'Welcome To Electric City.' One of the first things I noticed about about the city was the irony of how it had the potential to produce vast amounts of power and yet I could not find a single inkling of electricity. There were no televisions or light bulbs here; people lived archaically, using kerosene lamps, torches.

The road leading to my destination was icy and the black skeleton tree branches hovered over me like a bad portent. No wonder the city needed improvement. The region here was mountainous. I saw the silhouettes of high-voltage transmission lines on the ridges. The road was empty and therefore easy to maneuver through. I followed the road that approached the mountain. The steep street hugged the sides of the mountain as I went in circles; if I lost control of the Griffon on the dangerous road, I could easily plunge to my death.

The scenery improved outside. It wasn't natural wonders but marvels of human technology. I saw a large arch-gravity damn to my right outside the window. It was insanely a large concrete structure which obviously had the potential to produce vast amounts of hydroelectric power. No wonder Paradigm Corp. wanted it so badly. My headlights flashed onto another welcome sign like the previous one. It was time to get out of the car. I braked and stepped out. The surroundings looked highly industrial and there were many buildings. But there seemed to be no sign of life.

"Now where's the power plant?"

I looked beside me, seeing the beautiful calming sight of a portion of what I assume was the Hudson. I heard the pleasant sound of churning water. Humans have evolved so far as to control the natural world by the horns for the use of their own purposes. I then turned around to face an intake tower guarded by a wire fence gate topped with a lock. "Right there… Whoever chained this up--"

A bright flashing light interrupted my discovery. I felt the shape of a round barrel pressuring my back. Dang it.

CLICK.

I lifted my hands up in submission. I only meant well; no need to start a fight. The best tactic was to remain calm and befriend the natives. I head the coughs and footsteps of not one man but several.

"You must've hated electricity," I said good-naturedly, turning around to face my apprehenders. All of the men looked quite rough outdoorsy and hardened in the winter weather. Hunting hats and hoodies, beanies, mufflers, earmuffs, bundled up in coats, old-fashioned kerosene lamps, rugged scarves, facial hair, and a hunting shotgun aimed at my rear. I must've certainly looked alien to them in my sharp classy suit. Worst of all, they didn't look the type to enjoy jokes.

I don't know if Electric City was the name of this city before the plant's existence. It would be ironic, that's for sure. A few seconds passed and I saw the crowd of men got bigger. In fact, there were also men arranged on the second level of the dam. They were sure quiet.

"What's the matter?" I demanded, scanning all of their faces. "Hey, does anybody here understand me?"

A man stepped out, obviously their leader.

"We understand you," he said angrily. "You can call us primitives if you like."

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God will rain down his lightning of wrath? Not only am I atheist but I'm also not naïve. You expect me to believe that there's a god here that gives off electricity when he's angry? I walked along the thin concrete walkway over the dam, shaking off the warning the men told me. I had to promise them that I would walk back to my car and never come back. I looked to my left and saw a person's shadow marked against the lit window of an intake tower. I jerked to the edge of the walkway to get a closer look. Then it disappeared and the lights turned off. Obviously, the person inside was satisfied that I was heading in the right direction. "There's no sign of any tunnels leading there… They're destroyed," I mused, wondering how the person reached the tower if the walkway leading towards it was damaged. I looked at the mountains which had more small dark buildings and barbed wire. "It's connected underground?"

One building stood out upon the crest of the mountain. It appeared to be a small homey-looking cottage-- that was occupied. Smoke was rising from its chimney like the way in a fairytale. I hiked toward it on a hunch. The ascent was tough, even for a young guy like me. I had to be careful and get a sure footing or else I would slip backwards. "Oh man. If I had known it'd been like this, I could've brought Dorothy a long. She could've made herself useful by lighting up the path," I said, talking to myself to break the silence. It was awfully quiet and cold. Dead trees surrounded me, concealing me from anyone's sight. I approached the cottage. I smoothed my hair and prepared to look presentable just in case.

The cottage was stilted in order to avoid the problem of having been snowed in. It looked quite beautiful in the moonlight. I observed the bright cottage, walking around it and listening to my surroundings. Then I saw a decline which apparently led to some sort of cellar. I ducked behind a group of freshly cut logs, looked around for any people, and, satisfied, I proceeded to descend into the stairs. Before I took my first step, I grabbed a flashlight and peered down. It was pretty deep. Too deep for just keeping vegetables and more logs. I also saw some fresh footprints leading inside the locked cellar's concrete door. "This is it."

And I heard the making of even fresher footprints behind me. Not again. I pulled on a smile. "It's not my style to carry a gun. I don't like being slugged from behind."

The last thing before total blackness that I remembered was this hard force hitting the back of my head. I fell hard onto the concrete, my body becoming limp.