An early start at the office was always a troublesome way to start the day – especially due to the fact that I had been summoned to meet with some of the office seniors. With their request there was no explanation as to why I had been summoned for this morning, all that was stated was the
place where we would meet and what time. All that was known about them was that they had something of an intimidating presence, which is why they
are rarely seen mixing with the people lower down in the corporate hierarchy.
The environment surrounding the office wasn’t particularly welcoming or aesthetic; in fact it was quite the opposite. The city was showered with litter, plumes of smoke appearing from various factories across the city. Broken glass was also a common sight too; crime rates were ever increasing which lead towards fear and general paranoia. On the contrary, muggings and stabbings were fairly uncommon within the city centre against the background of various towering office blocks which often seemed somewhat illogical. I arrived promptly outside of Taylor & Sons at 9am; the courtesy town car had brought me from my city studio apartment I shared with my fiancée, Mina.
As I stepped into the main reception, I was greeted by the dreary décor that was the entrance to this seemingly grand building.
The female receptionist sighed and huffed down the phone line, her face drained from colour with limp black hair covering a majority of her face.
She brought a mug of coffee to her lips; the steam circling gracefully around the brim before in was forcefully hit back down onto the desk with a fit on anger. I made my way over to the elevator; there I stood alone as I punched the button for floor 37. After pressing the button, it lit up gently in a way that suggested that magical things happened to the floor I had never been invited to. The floor itself was unknown to me and many of the people who worked on the 22nd floor. As the elevator ascended it played in the uncomfortable background the generic elevator music; which was in sense supposed to lighten the mood. It was also somewhat unsettling that I stood alone in this elevator, what did they want with me?
This world I worked in was a cruel one; my father had also worked in a profession similar to mine and drilled into me through my early childhood that “life was not a fairytale”. He would always return home after a day at the office, completely drained and whilst he was alone would gaze at a plaque by his university diploma that read “Life is not fairytale”.
The elevator doors slid open gracefully to reveal a cleanly painted white wall with several small lights leading down a narrow corridor.
I finally arrived at the office of Mr D Taylor who had summoned me to his office, an intimidating mahogany office door with a plate with his name written in beautiful calligraphy. I tried to regain some composure before cautiously knocking on the door, as I rose by hand to the door it opened immediately. The room was mysteriously dark considering that it was during the mid-morning when I reached the office. He greeted me with a cold smile; “Welcome to my office, Jonathan Harker. Enter freely and of your own free will-” his voice trailed off quietly as he attempted to usher me into his room.