08-12-2013, 10:44 PM
Minutes later they were out of the inner office and walking across the blue carpeting on the Liaison office and reception area.
Outside the door, the floor was covered in the terrazzo, so the two women's shoes could be heard clicking and echoing before and behind them.
Krasivolkya looked at the women on her left. Perfect posture, eyes looking forward. She gave no sign of whatever was going on behind those eyes of hers. Krasivolkya could sense interest though. Krasivolkya knew that this Dr. Weston was intrigued and interested in this project ...or was it the facility.
Like all military staff, Dr. Victoria Weston was prim and exact in her military uniform. Every button polished, and creases in all the right places. This is exactly what unnerved Krasivolkya. She was always in tailored business suits. Each piece cut for her shape and body. She ensured all her creases were razor sharp and her accessories and outfits ordered to a "T". This was normal for her. She had made her own uniform and dared anyone to think differently. However, who can stack up to the starched and trim military uniform? Krasivolkya could stand out in a world of high powered executives and government officials, precisely because she adopted the fashion regimen more commonly associated with the military. But next to the real thing, Krasivolkya felt an "also-ran".
"This was ridiculous," Krasivolkya thought to herself. It needed to be fixed, she was dwelling way to much on the inadequacy of her outfit! Jesus! What had gotten into her. This Army doctor had gotten to her. "What the hell," was the only phrase she allowed to penetrate her mental self-chastisement.
They had been walking for a while, around corners and across hallway intersections. She was going to where she had been told. She was making sure she did it by seeming rote. Of course, she had mapped out the course and memorized it before Dr. Weston had come in the office. Some things were best not left to chance.
They came to a bank of elevators and stepped into the one to the far right. Dr. Weston followed her in.
"This elevator will take us to the first sub-floor. From there we will gain access to where we are going, " Krasivolkya explained.
The doctor didn't respond. She wasn't rude, simply "detached from this." Interested, she knew, she KNEW, however Dr. Weston was also aloof from her present company, Krasivolkya noticed without thinking. She was aware of the simple expressions the woman seemed to be emitting. Dr. Weston was proving to be a tough nut to crack.
The exited the elevator into a non-descript hallway. Green and white institutional tile lined the floor in a checkerboard pattern. Industrial-based taupe paint shellacked the walls all the way down on both sides. No doorways, no windows, only cheap, plain sconces lined the hallways, while color-draining fleurescents shown down from above.
The two women walked for 5-6 minutes. At the end of the hallway they took a right through a locked double steel door. Entering a retina scan and their CCD codenumber, the door unlocked and they entered. They had not seen another human since getting off the elevator. And now Krasivolkya was outside her comfort zone. She had never been this far or this deep. And they still had more to go.
Krasivolkya's memorized instructions, directions and cool kept her focused. She walked the prescribed 30 meters and on her left was a lone elevator. She placed her hand on the sensor, and looked into yet another retina scan.
"Damnit!", she thought, "I will be fucking blind if I have to make this trip everyday, twice a day." Krasivolkya scowled as the door slid open.
The inner chamber of this elevator was padded in a white, quilted, vinyl fabric. There were no buttons, floor indicator or panel. There was only a digital screen to the right of the door where images rotated in order...ironically, some the same as the ones she had shown Victoria Weston minutes before. Mrs. Florsheim would hear from Krasivolkya over this. Routine stock photos in a confidential briefing. Ridiculous! Even if the woman had had to bribe someone to let her go down this very elevator and take the photos herself, Mrs. Florsheim should never have let that happen. Krasivolkya didn't suffer embarrassments well. At all.
Krasivolkya's annoyance was interrupted by the elevator doors opening.
They stepped out into a brightly lit round foyer. There was a small square hallway leading off, so from above the space they were in would look like a keyhole. At the end of the squat hallway were double frosted glass doors. Krasivolkya indicated Dr. Weston should go first as they approached the doors and prepared to enter The Facility.
This story will be continued in The Facility forum, in a thread entitled Door After Door
after Torri's post below.
Edited by Krasivolkya, Aug 20 2013, 09:48 PM.
Outside the door, the floor was covered in the terrazzo, so the two women's shoes could be heard clicking and echoing before and behind them.
Krasivolkya looked at the women on her left. Perfect posture, eyes looking forward. She gave no sign of whatever was going on behind those eyes of hers. Krasivolkya could sense interest though. Krasivolkya knew that this Dr. Weston was intrigued and interested in this project ...or was it the facility.
Like all military staff, Dr. Victoria Weston was prim and exact in her military uniform. Every button polished, and creases in all the right places. This is exactly what unnerved Krasivolkya. She was always in tailored business suits. Each piece cut for her shape and body. She ensured all her creases were razor sharp and her accessories and outfits ordered to a "T". This was normal for her. She had made her own uniform and dared anyone to think differently. However, who can stack up to the starched and trim military uniform? Krasivolkya could stand out in a world of high powered executives and government officials, precisely because she adopted the fashion regimen more commonly associated with the military. But next to the real thing, Krasivolkya felt an "also-ran".
"This was ridiculous," Krasivolkya thought to herself. It needed to be fixed, she was dwelling way to much on the inadequacy of her outfit! Jesus! What had gotten into her. This Army doctor had gotten to her. "What the hell," was the only phrase she allowed to penetrate her mental self-chastisement.
They had been walking for a while, around corners and across hallway intersections. She was going to where she had been told. She was making sure she did it by seeming rote. Of course, she had mapped out the course and memorized it before Dr. Weston had come in the office. Some things were best not left to chance.
They came to a bank of elevators and stepped into the one to the far right. Dr. Weston followed her in.
"This elevator will take us to the first sub-floor. From there we will gain access to where we are going, " Krasivolkya explained.
The doctor didn't respond. She wasn't rude, simply "detached from this." Interested, she knew, she KNEW, however Dr. Weston was also aloof from her present company, Krasivolkya noticed without thinking. She was aware of the simple expressions the woman seemed to be emitting. Dr. Weston was proving to be a tough nut to crack.
The exited the elevator into a non-descript hallway. Green and white institutional tile lined the floor in a checkerboard pattern. Industrial-based taupe paint shellacked the walls all the way down on both sides. No doorways, no windows, only cheap, plain sconces lined the hallways, while color-draining fleurescents shown down from above.
The two women walked for 5-6 minutes. At the end of the hallway they took a right through a locked double steel door. Entering a retina scan and their CCD codenumber, the door unlocked and they entered. They had not seen another human since getting off the elevator. And now Krasivolkya was outside her comfort zone. She had never been this far or this deep. And they still had more to go.
Krasivolkya's memorized instructions, directions and cool kept her focused. She walked the prescribed 30 meters and on her left was a lone elevator. She placed her hand on the sensor, and looked into yet another retina scan.
"Damnit!", she thought, "I will be fucking blind if I have to make this trip everyday, twice a day." Krasivolkya scowled as the door slid open.
The inner chamber of this elevator was padded in a white, quilted, vinyl fabric. There were no buttons, floor indicator or panel. There was only a digital screen to the right of the door where images rotated in order...ironically, some the same as the ones she had shown Victoria Weston minutes before. Mrs. Florsheim would hear from Krasivolkya over this. Routine stock photos in a confidential briefing. Ridiculous! Even if the woman had had to bribe someone to let her go down this very elevator and take the photos herself, Mrs. Florsheim should never have let that happen. Krasivolkya didn't suffer embarrassments well. At all.
Krasivolkya's annoyance was interrupted by the elevator doors opening.
They stepped out into a brightly lit round foyer. There was a small square hallway leading off, so from above the space they were in would look like a keyhole. At the end of the squat hallway were double frosted glass doors. Krasivolkya indicated Dr. Weston should go first as they approached the doors and prepared to enter The Facility.
This story will be continued in The Facility forum, in a thread entitled Door After Door
after Torri's post below.
Edited by Krasivolkya, Aug 20 2013, 09:48 PM.