World Wars Inc.
A Sci-Fi Story
“We have every single data point.”
“But-”
“Every. Single. Datapoint.”
He wasn’t even flinching. He spoke through his teeth. He’d done this a thousand times before.
She scoffed, half-rose from her seat. Her face crumpled. She turned around and ran out. That icy building — beautifully-designed, modern, but chilling, all white and dark gray and sharp corners. Gray imitations of plants in bulbous black vases.
She ran down the quiet, sunny city street, cars honking faintly in the distance. It didn’t matter; none of it mattered. She ran faster until she got to her shitty building, shakily inserting the key and entering the cement-scented staircase. Four flights. She slammed the door behind her upon entering her one-bedroom apartment. She’d been so proud, a one-bedroom in Brooklyn!
“AGGGHHHH!” She screamed, vase smashing against the opposite wall. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh”
She wailed.
He was handsome is the thing. Perfectly trimmed sharp beard. Nose all sharp edges. Deep brown eyes that she could’ve liked. What was he, 28? 29? She’d read online that he’d studied at Princeton. The sick fuck. He didn’t even finish school when he came up with his idea.
