The next morning came too quickly, and somehow my alarm clock had gotten silenced. That was the only reason I would run out of my apartment like it was on fire when it wasn’t. The bus, thank heavens, hadn’t left when I reached the depot and I managed to climb onboard and find a seat about thirty seconds before the doors had shut and the wheels started moving.
I had had plenty of rest, but my eyes still struggled to stay open, and I longed to go back to bed. When I walked out of the door, my hair was put up in a bun, and I wasn’t entirely sure if my socks matched. It could have been worse, I told myself. I could’ve been shot last night for the measly hundred dollars in my bank account. But it would’ve been enough to get that poor man out of the heat, the voice in my head told me as guilt gripped my stomach again. I hoped, prayed even, that he would get the help that he needed and he would end up somewhere happier and healthier than Central Park. However, with his habit of shooting people, there was a better chance he’d end up in a prison cell or dead as opposed to a hospital.
His eyes had haunted me when I went to sleep. Except in my dreams, he was crying for help, and I had reached out to help him, to give him some cash, but he grabbed me and demanded more. Pushed me to the ground, my hands had scraped across the real feeling concrete. There had been no Caderyn to stop him from pointing his pistol at my face and pulling the trigger.
The events of last night had weighed heavy on my mind for the remainder of yesterday’s evening, and during the minutes I hadn’t been panicking this morning. Caderyn had hardly spoken to me the walk home. When we had gotten back, he had smiled and muttered ‘good night’ before practically slamming the door in my face. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what could have happened, but the only thing that kept me from thinking I was insane was Caderyn’s shirt and the holes that proved that bullets had hit him. How did I end up spending the evening with the freshman that could take a bullet? Or better yet multiple? Even if they were rubber, he hadn’t appeared affected when they had hit him. And how would I convince myself that it was any less insane than it was?
I looked down at my phone, checking for messages. Nothing from Candace, yet. She had still been asleep when I had run out of the door in a panic. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that she hadn’t heard about last night’s events. The last thing I needed was my phone blowing up with messages of panic because her possible soon-to-be boyfriend’s roommate had bullet holes in his shirt and I had failed to mention why in my ‘We made it home safe’ texts. No news was good news when it came to the notoriously gossipy Candace Reiner. Good thing a knight may have distracted the gossip queen.
Though Marcus was the furthest thing away from Candace’s usual type, I hoped that he was good for her and that I would find out more about him than just how well he danced to loud music to impress a girl. It was better than thinking he could very well be some super villain, even though that seemed as absurd as Caderyn taking a bullet with no wound.
Oh, wait.
I was failing at keeping my mind off of the thoughts of the night before, of him, of how he – or something – had made my hair stand up when he had seemingly absorbed that bullet. My mind haltered its thoughts when the bus slowed to a stop. Ah, hell.
We were at my stop. My heart seemed to become audibly louder as it thumped in my chest and my hands began to sweat as I grabbed my things and walked off the bus. The sound of my heels clicked on the metal floor, and I tried desperately not to trip over myself. Could I come up with an excuse to skip out on this? Probably. I was nearly killed the night before, and that should’ve qualified for something. However, this was the kind of internship opportunity that you only get once in a lifetime, and I was not going to screw this up. I couldn’t. After last night I needed something stable in my life, and that had to be this job.
When I stepped off, I stood up in awe at the enormity of the building in front of me. Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived in Esmarina my entire life and had seen this building many times since it had been built all not that long ago. It was Monet Robotics, but the reputation of the man that owned the building – my boss – was what was more awe inspiring than anything else. Elijah Monet was not quite old enough to be my father, and he had started his empire from the ground and had built it to be the most advanced robotics companies in the world within my lifetime. If nothing else, the building was incredibly sleek and modern looking. As the church bells rang in the distance, I shook myself and realized that I was now officially late and took off towards the door as dignified as I could while walking quickly. Halfway up the large, elaborate stairs to the building my walk turned into a run. I swung the door open while inhaling sharply and was immediately welcomed by the sounds of robotics.
I looked up to see what appeared to be a small, toy sized plane flying around in the circumference of the average ceiling fan. It was painted blue and white, and it was somewhere around a foot long, the wingspan was a bit longer than that. I squinted trying to make out any more details about the plane.
“Miss Rand,” a kind male’s voice called out to me, and I turned towards the sound. “My name is Reginald,” he continued when my eyes landed on him. There was an air about him that made me instantly fill with respect; he was a man in his mid-fifties with gray speckled hair and a gentle face. He dressed to the nines, a luxury that I imagined that being on the payroll of Elijah Monet entailed. More importantly, he carried himself with poise and politeness.
“Mister Monet has asked me to show you upstairs once you arrived.” A warm feeling rose to my cheeks, and my stomach clenched. Had the few minutes of lateness been that noticeable?
Reginald regarded me gently, “Do not worry Miss Rand. We have had much more unpunctual and rude guests. Mister Monet, you will find, does not care if you arrive…” He trailed off and looked down at his watch, “Oh, all of fifteen seconds late?” He smiled, his voice filled with a teasing tone. With a gentle bow, he put his arm out and spoke, “Follow me please, madam.” He started towards the large spiral staircase that was in the middle of the lobby, and I followed him quietly. “Do watch out for any malfunctioning bots,” he said, gesturing upwards with his arm, “Mister Monet does not always thoroughly test his toys before showing them off. Perhaps you will convince him to do otherwise. For safety, most importantly.”
From the top of the staircase, I could look down upon the entire lobby, which was surprisingly empty for one of Esmarina’s more famous buildings. The white floors shined magnificently from the top, but it was a little odd. For a place of science and manufacturing, I expected there to be a bit more dirt. If I squinted hard enough, I could see something similar to the reflection of my pale blue blouse. There were various other robots that I could see from this spot. The first airplane was the lowest flying one. There were several like it that flew towards the ceiling. Some spun in a circle, and others flew in patterns that held more impressive tricks: barrel rolls or diving towards the ground dramatically before rising back up. There was also another much larger robot standing in the corner of the lobby, back near a hallway gap that led who knows where. He was lifeless and unmoving compared to the planes.
“This way, Miss Rand,” I looked towards Reginald who was all of ten feet ahead of me. I cringed slightly and profusely apologized as I took long steps to follow him. The hallway reminded me of the science building at school. Not to say that that they were bland but rather that they were bustling with life. The glass windows allowed me to peek into what the scientists were doing inside. I could see men and women in white lab coats standing in front of various instruments. There was a body-like figure lying on one of the tables. Black material from what I could make out of it, with small colorful lines going across it, pulsing in the same fashion of a heartbeat. It was strange, and I caught myself staring at it. Analyzing. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. But I did not get so lost in my thoughts that I allowed Reginald to hustle me along again. I instead followed him into the elevator silently.
I tried to figure out how a suit, one that was unattached from a body, could seem to breathe. How would the lights move like a heartbeat? For a moment I could’ve sworn the chest was moving, that it was alive, but it was impossible for something like a body suit to be alive. The thought made my head spin as I stood in the elevator in silence. Reginald pressed the button for the top floor and spoke to me. “You’re a communications major, yes?” I nodded. “That’s what I thought I heard. I’m not entirely sure what they informed you of before you got here.”
“It wasn’t much, to be honest, just the basics. Mostly vague statements of possibilities.” In reality, I hadn’t been sure what to expect from my internship. My acceptance letter had confused me as well as excited me.
“Ah, well, Mister Monet wanted you as an intern because of the writings that you’ve done for your school paper as well as your blog. He’s an avid reader and is a fan of your work.” What? I tried to wrap my mind around the thought of a man who had more money and experience in a field that I avidly wanted to work than I could imagine reading my blog or my news articles.
I was stunned. I tried to open my mouth in an attempt to speak, but Reginald continued. “He wants you to be the mouth to the public about his projects. So you will be working alongside him as though you were his science intern instead. You do, however, have a lab partner and your lab work will be like anything that you may have experienced in your university science classes. Though I have a feeling, Mister Monet will make them a tad more unpredictable sometimes. You do like science, right?”
I felt some relief spread over me, and I softly laughed. “Yeah, you can say that. My dad’s a professor of chemistry at a rival college, actually, and my mom’s a doctor. I have my reasons for choosing communications, but I still enjoy science.” A smile spread over Reginald’s gentle face, and the elevator dinged.
“Well, Miss Rand, we have arrived.” The elevator doors slowly opened and when I glanced through the doors, I was suddenly uncertain of where exactly my eyes should look first. It was a lab like no other I had ever seen, not one I had seen at school and not one I had ever been in with my parents. It was incredible; I could give Mister Monet that, but there was so much. Table after table, as far as the eye could see, there was one creation or the other on it, and as Reginald led me into the lab, it was hard not to resist the urge to touch.
“Mister Monet,” Reginald’s soft voice echoed through the lab. In the distance, there were two figures bent over one of the projects. One was taller, broader and from what I could tell in attire alone, older and more experienced. The other was thin, but still taller than me, with a smaller frame. It was the more towering figure that turned towards them.
“Good, good, you’re here.” He said and set something down on the table in front of him. Elijah Monet was just as handsome as he was in all of the newspapers. He was not particularly young, but not old enough to be labeled ‘old’ either, but his facial hair contained speckles of gray. His face looked the same as the first picture the newspaper had published. If he was old, he certainly didn’t look it, and aging was in his favor. His voice reminded me of some cocky bad boy typecast in a movie, except older and somewhat grown up, but there was a calm smile, and that was enough to know that I wasn’t in trouble and my nerves calmed some.
The boy (there was no other way to describe him when standing next to Mister Monet) had light copper skin and curly dark hair on the top of his head. He didn’t look old enough to drive. “Julian, this is Eliana. She’s going to be watching us and making sure we don’t blow anything up.”
A crooked grin spread across Monet’s face. “Reginald, thank you. You’re wonderful as always.” He half-bowed his head and waved his hand to dismiss Reginald, who nodded in return and turned back towards the elevator.
“Grab a lab coat, Rand. We have to get to work.” My stomach twisted again. While I liked science, I was only good at reading about it. My science grades had been all right through school (so far), but there was a reason I hadn’t followed in my parents’ footsteps. Quite a few.
Okay, I told myself as I inhaled and exhaled as normally as possible, I can do this. How hard can it be to watch? I mean he didn’t say I was going to be building anything right? I looked towards the other intern, but he had already turned back towards the table. Another deep breath and I looked around the room. There were three sections to the lab: the central part, where we stood. The sector to the right which was a room filled with equipment such as coats, goggles, and gloves from the looks of it, and the upstairs housed more robotic creations. Unlike the planes in the lobby, these weren’t moving.
Having found my destination, I walked through the doorway of the supply chamber, grabbed a white coat, and put it on. I also grabbed some gloves and safety goggles just to be safe. I looked back towards Mister Rand and Julian and didn’t see sparks. I was hopeful that they weren’t going to blow me up on my first day. I walked back into the lab and towards the two men. The object on the table was entirely black and shaped like a cadaver. However, it was missing the bottom part of its ‘body’. It was the torso and up. However, it did not appear to be, thankfully, something that had hacked in half.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a suit I’m working on,” Monet gestured dramatically towards the torso. “Military grade,” he added, “It’s supposed to be nearly invincible if the user uses it right.”
This suit didn’t seem to breathe as the one downstairs had. Whatever had made the other one resemble to be alive this one had lacked. It seemed rather lifeless in comparison. I bit my tongue and fought back my curiosity and instead went with practical. “Shouldn’t the suit protect the user despite their ability to ‘use’ it?”
“That’s easier said than done, but yes, that would be the ideal solution.”
“I thought this was a robotics company?” I was side-eyed by Monet as he sighed. Apparently, I hadn’t bit my tongue long enough.
“Robotics is the primary specialty of this company, Eliana. However, I work on many things. This suit just so happens to be a commissioned project. The material is a rare fiber that’s stronger than kevlar when it wants to work.” He growled his words and picked up a small switchblade that sat on the table. “Let me demonstrate.”
His arm raised and lowered with a precision strike in the chest, ripping the material down the center. “That’s a problem. Knife proof vests, as opposed to this, will catch the knife and will, for the most part, protect the victim from the stabber.” Monet sighed and gestured towards Julian. “Power it up.” In seconds the suit, now torn in half, jolted with life. The colors bounced through the suit. Oranges, blues, greens, purples. They initially spread through Monet’s suit smoothly, but now they were sporadic and disjointed. Confused, even.
Monet took the same knife and made another downward stabbing motion, and the knife didn’t stick but rather bounced off of the chest piece. “It’s electrified. When this happens, it turns into the most durable piece of material that humankind has discovered. Unfortunately, there are too many jolts of electricity going through that thing for anyone to wear and not electrocute themselves when powering it on. They’d die.” There was a small click heard from the electricity disengaging, and the suit’s colored lines disappeared entirely and rendered it lifeless.
It was fascinating to think of the possibilities. Now that it was powered off, I could touch it, and it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary. It felt rubbery to the touch, even flexible when I bent the flaps of what would be a chest back and forth with a flick of my wrist.
The next few hours passed quickly. I spent time watching Monet and Julian walk around the lab and work on a variety of projects. The chest piece was only one of the many strange things that this company held within its walls. There had been the jetpack first, which Mister Monet had told me not to touch. The maid robot was second, she appeared from the upstairs corridor, and she had started happily walking towards her creator with a tray of drinks when she tripped over her own feet and fell down the flight of stairs. The coffee she had been carrying hit her internal wiring, and she short circuited herself. Monet sighed and took the crumpled robot to an empty table; Julian hummed ‘Amazing Grace’ and I, for the first time that day, felt truly relaxed.
—
How is your first day going? I had stared at the text message from Caderyn for three minutes before I built up the courage to respond back during my lunch break.
It’s going fine. A lot more relaxed than I expected, to be honest. How is your day going?
Better, now.
So I have a question.
I might have an answer. What’s up?
Do you want to come over tonight? Marcus is taking Candace out.
There will be pizza involved.
If you like pizza.
Do you like pizza?
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed as I stared at the words as they popped up, one message after another. I took a bite of my sandwich, trying to figure out what exactly I was feeling at the moment. It was strange to go from hardly talking to Caderyn to having a private pizza party in his apartment. Maybe he wanted to explain things. Maybe he had an explanation as to how he avoided or absorbed those bullets. The thump of a body landing next to me made me look up from my phone and into the face of Julian. “I heard you sighing from across the room. What’s up?”
“Oh… nothing. I’m just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight.” I waved the hand holding my phone nonchalantly, forcing a smile on my lips.
If you don’t like pizza, we can get something else.
Julian leaned towards the hand with my phone, squinting. “Bullet evading boy?”
I tried not to glare at his obvious and somewhat obnoxious nosiness as he read my text messages over my shoulder. “He’s a friend.”
“You make friends who can evade bullets?”
“It’s a joke. Long story. Look,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich, chewing and then swallowing. Note to self, change Caderyn's contact name. “Aren’t you being nosey?”
“I’m just making conversation, new girl. It seems your bullet evading friend is asking you to dinner.”
“I can read, Julian.”
“I’d hope so. Testing out the repulsor boots this afternoon would be interesting with a lab partner who’s illiterate.” He gently nudged my shoulder, a sheepish grin on his face. He was too young and too friendly to get on my nerves right away, but he was working his way at it. “You should reply to him. See you in the lab, Eliana.”
Sorry, co-intern decided to drop in on me.
We can do pizza. What time?
Seriously?
No.
…
I was kidding. Yes.
Sorry. Just had to make sure after last night. Marcus is leaving at 5:30. Would 6:00 be okay?
6:00 would be great.
I’ve got to go back to work. I’ll let you know when I’m walking over.
See you later. Have a good rest of your day.
Thanks, Caderyn.
The rest of the afternoon flew by, and I was left in a whirlwind of wonderment when I left Elijah Monet’s lab. I was handed a small section of what was an attempted replica of the chest piece and told to break it to the best of my ability. I had shoved it in my bag and tried not to skip down the stairs.
When I reached the exit, Julian was speaking to a woman about one thing or another. I tried to sneak by unseen, but the woman spoke pointedly before I could put my hand on the door to leave. “You must be my brother’s other intern. Eliana, right?”
It took me longer than I want to admit but when I met eyes with the older woman, I realized who she was. Artemis Monet. There is no other way to describe Artemis Monet except ‘contained’: her braid fell to the middle of her back, she wore very little make up besides a light pink shade of lipstick and painted blue nails that went with her pristine blue blouse and skirt. Compared to her brother she was altogether in all the right places, and Elijah Monet was erratic and seemed unpredictable. Nice, but unpredictable.
“I – I – yes. I’m Eliana.” Despite my attempts to compose myself, my words stumbled over themselves. I dropped my awkwardly outstretched arm from the door to my side, and I could feel Julian’s smirk. “Has Mister Monet spoken about me?” I asked, shocked.
She nodded her head, “He always comes to me to help choose his interns for the year. Julian’s been here before, that was an easy choice this year. However, there was scarce hesitation from my brother to choose you. Your researched articles fascinated him and that, little one, is a feat in itself.” I was at a loss for words, causing myself to stare at her, stupidly. “We shall talk about this at a later time. I’m sure you both have various things planned for your evenings. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She smiled and folded her hands and the folders that she held them to her chest. The sound of her heels clicked up the stairs, and it wasn’t until she disappeared around the corner that either one of us moved.
“Care to enlighten me about her?” I asked when Julian opened the door and held it for me as I walked out.
“What do you want to know?”
“Does she hang around a lot? I mean from the research I’ve done about this company she's exclusively mentioned as Mister Monet’s—”
“You know you can just call him Elijah. He does not mind. He might tease about a lack of respect, but he doesn’t mind. He’s not overly strict about that sort of thing if you haven’t noticed.” There was a hint of condescension to Julian’s tone.
“It’s my first day. Never once did he say to call him Elijah.”
“Okay, I get it. You’re nervous about impressing him. Get over it. You have this job, do you not? You’ve impressed him. You don’t need to do anymore.” As easy as he was trying to make it sound it was harder to try and wrap my mind around. I hadn’t even been calling him Elijah Monet to Candace when we talked about it. “He’s old fashioned in some ways you’ll find, Eliana, but in others, he doesn’t mind.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to start accusing Julian of trying to get me in trouble tomorrow morning by saying ‘Good morning Elijah’ and not ‘Good morning Mister Monet.'
“She's only brought up as his sister,” I resumed, “Besides from her philanthropy work in the city, there isn’t much that I know about Artemis Monet. What role does she play in the company?”
Julian shrugged, “She pops in and out every once in a while. She’s mostly gone traveling and taking care of business that Elijah can’t do himself because he’s so busy with his company. You’ll find that once a month Reginald will watch over us in the lab. Elijah leaves for a few days for firm meetings in other states. Usually, during that time he’ll give us a project, and it’ll be expected of us to finish it before he gets back. Nothing too intense, or dangerous.” A grin spread across his face. He put the other strap of his backpack over his shoulder and waved. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eliana.” I waved back and approached the bench at the bus stop, thinking to myself how strange everything was becoming.
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