The Second Floor | The Rest, is Silence (63.01)

[mragland]

11.06.2062 – Richmond upon Thames, Greater London

Alastair Kingman, assistant general manager of the London Monarchs baseball club of the Global Baseball Consortium, arrived at work in Twickenham at the usual time that Monday morning. The nearly empty car park was his first clue that something was amiss. In the year he had been with the club so far, he consistently arrived early Mondays, but he wasn't typically the first in. He guided his Range Rover Velar to its designated space and got out.

As he approached the front door of the club offices, he saw that the lights were off in the lobby. He reached out to open the door, coffee in his other hand. Locked. With a bemused look on his face, he fished for his key fob in the inside pocket of his jacket. He produced and waved it at the panel to the right of the door. The door gave a precise 'click', allowing him ingress. Upon entering the lobby, he immediately noticed the smell of cigarette smoke.

“Hello?” he called to the silent building, realizing that he didn't have a clue where the light switches were. The overcast sky outside provided little light.

“Oh, hello, sir,” said Alfie, the caretaker, briskly walking down the hall towards Alastair, cigarette in hand (oddly enough, the club's manager, Jack Gulliver, trailed behind him), “wasn't sure you were still with us, sir.”

“Why wouldn't I … what's going on here?” demanded Alastair.

“The old GBC rapture,” said Jack, in his Baltimore accent. “They're gone. They're all gone, well nearly all,” he nodded at Alastair.

“What the gaffer means, sir, is that the front office has cleared out,” explained Alfie, exhaling cigarette smoke and flipping light switches. “It happens around here, from time to time. I've gone ahead and removed the nameplates from the office doors,” he said, jerking his thumb toward a pile of nameplates on the receptionist's desk.

“Sometimes it happens more than once a season,” added Jack. “General manager leaves, takes front office personnel with him. Those he doesn't take usually end up getting replaced by the new man anyway. Folks have gotten wise, and just clear out and find something new before that happens. Nobody told you, I guess.”

“No,” said Alastair, incredulous, “nobody told me. Is this some kind of joke?” Turning to Alfie, “put that out. Smoking in the workplace...”

“It's not a joke,” said Jack in a serious tone. “They're probably looking for a new general manager right now.”

“So Taj knows?” asked Alastair, a look of concern on his face.

“Knows? Hell, he probably instigated it,” said Jack.

“But you and I are still here,” said Alastair, pointing at Jack.

Jack just held up three fingers, one for each of the championships his teams had won since he arrived. This was his usual response any time somebody questioned his authority, or his worth to the club.

“Your fob still works on the front door, sir,” said Alfie cheerfully, “that's a good sign.”

Alastair looked at them both, not entirely comforted. “I'm going upstairs. I only hope the phones still work...”

[woods]

Nice pull, bringing the caretaker back into the narrative. Not that I should be surprised that you've done your research. Excited to see where you go with it.