The New London Divide
What a Villain
Don’t look at them. Just ignore them all.
Celeste determinedly kept her eyes on the elevator, the hissed rumours flying around her. Desperately, she stabbed at the call button of the elevator, feeling a cold sweat break out over her brow.
It’d been hard enough convincing the other government employees to trust her; not that she really cared of course, but it did make reports come in faster and responses to her requests approved more often. When she’d started dating Drenin, the trust had increased, to the point where she’d even bothered making a few friends. But after last night...
That damn segment on the news! She thought angrily, hammering her fist on the call button, which dinged desperately for the elevator to come and stop her assault. Why was it even on there? It was no more news than any other piece of gossip!
She knew that wasn’t true though. Government employees were the cream of the crop; ordinary citizens had to be obsessed with them. It was the only way they’d ever upgrade their status. As it was, government reps were almost celebrities, as there were the ones with the power to hand out upgraded Cards.
The belated elevator dinged sadly, sliding its doors open for her. She started in, and almost stopped when she noticed she was faced with a whole elevator-full of disapproving looks. Only her momentum and ability to control when she blushed kept her going.
It was the most awkward elevator ride of anyone’s life. Celeste could feel their eyes on her, filling their little heads with gossip and lies to spread to their nasty friends. Celeste was shaking so hard that her legs trembled.
Finally they reached the floor where her office was situated. As the elevator doors opened for her, she couldn’t resist a parting line.
“This was fun,” she told the startled group, and even gave them a jaunty little wave as the doors slid closed over their stunned expressions. Just before they closed, she saw everyone latch their EarPods to their ears, eager to share the news that they’d ridden in the elevator with Celeste Monroe. Yes, the Celeste Monroe!
Celeste began down the hallway, her mind already turning to her work.
I need the official report about the rioters in Lower London. She groaned as she realised who would have it.
Better sooner than later, she thought wryly.
Still carrying her briefcase, she stopped by a certain office just outside of hers.
“Senior Minister,” she began formally, and broke off as she saw the young woman perched on the edge of Drenin’s desk.
“A moment, if you will, Sylvia,” Drenin said, and the dark young woman slid off of his desk, winked at him and brushed none-so-gently past Celeste. “Yes, Junior Minister?”
“I need those reports on the Lower Londoner’s from last night,” she said, keeping her eyes on the lamp on his desk and not his face, trying to ignore the hot, sweeping sensation in her stomach. “Damage control. You understand.”
“Of course,” he replied easily, wheeling himself over to the digi-printer. “Media really can blow things out of proportion, right, Celeste?”
Bastard, she thought, grinding her teeth.
“I’m sure they do,” she replied just as easily, though her knuckles turned white on her briefcase. “That’s why I want to get the facts straight.”
Drenin huffed, almost appreciatively of the way she’d side-stepped his jab about the news segment. He fumbled for a second, and then emerged with a handful of holographic papers.
“Here. They were written a few hours ago.”
“Perfect,” Celeste said, forgetting about their break up for a second. She reached for the papers. “Thank you, Minister.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not at all,” she turned to leave, but the hot, shaky feeling in her stomach suddenly got the better of her. “Actually yes, there is. Who’s this Sylvia?”
Drenin raised a dark eyebrow at her, a move that would’ve previously made her heart flip.
“Jealous?”
“No,” she replied coolly, though her hands shook. “Curious.”
“She’s my new... secretary.”
“Right,” Celeste snorted. “You moved quicker than I thought you would, Drenin.”
“What’s it to you?” he shot back, getting angry. “You’re the one that refused me.”
“You’re the one who knew my stance on marriage before we were even involved!” she shouted back, heat making her cheeks flush.
“I thought you loved me!” he replied, his voice getting louder. Outside, Celeste could hear people beginning to mutter.
“Not here, Drenin,” she said quickly, and turned to leave.
“Run away, Celeste. That’s all you ever do, isn’t it? Whenever something starts feeling real, something you can’t control, you run, don’t you?”
“Leave me alone, Drenin.”
“But it’s true.”
“This isn’t professional.”
“Neither was our relationship.”
“Argh!” she threw her briefcase to the floor. “You’re such a child. Just let it go, Drenin! Just stop! We aren’t involved anymore. This is over. So just leave me alone!”
His features twisted into an ugly snarl, and suddenly she saw her whole career flash before her eyes.
He can’t, she thought desperately. He knows I’ll take it to a Tribunal, and as the more Senior employee, he’ll get the backlash for our relationship.
Seemingly, the same thought had occurred to Drenin. Instead, almost white with suppressed rage, he sat back at his desk.
“Those reports, to the media, by midday,” he said quietly. “And Celeste?”
She picked up her briefcase but didn’t look at him.
“You’ve made a grave mistake.”
She couldn’t help but snort derisively at that.
What a villain! She thought, and almost giggled.
The comfort of her office was almost beyond belief. She closed the door, quickly making herself a cup of coffee before switching on her holo-screen. She worked quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she translated the reports into something worthy for the media and emailed them to several stations. As it was, she was almost back to normal when there was a small tap at the door.
“Come in,” she called absentmindedly, reading a reply from one of the stations. Her heart sank when she saw Sylvia pop through the door.
“The Senior Minister wishes to tell you that a government employee needs to be sent to Lower London to deal with this situation.” Sylvia said almost gleefully.
“I thought so,” Celeste said, already thinking of someone. “I’ll draw up a list of candidates... it’ll be dangerous, so they’ll need guards-”
“Actually, the Senior Minister has already nominated you to go. And,” Sylvia’s grin grew more pronounced. “He says you’ll have no guards at all.”
Celeste determinedly kept her eyes on the elevator, the hissed rumours flying around her. Desperately, she stabbed at the call button of the elevator, feeling a cold sweat break out over her brow.
It’d been hard enough convincing the other government employees to trust her; not that she really cared of course, but it did make reports come in faster and responses to her requests approved more often. When she’d started dating Drenin, the trust had increased, to the point where she’d even bothered making a few friends. But after last night...
That damn segment on the news! She thought angrily, hammering her fist on the call button, which dinged desperately for the elevator to come and stop her assault. Why was it even on there? It was no more news than any other piece of gossip!
She knew that wasn’t true though. Government employees were the cream of the crop; ordinary citizens had to be obsessed with them. It was the only way they’d ever upgrade their status. As it was, government reps were almost celebrities, as there were the ones with the power to hand out upgraded Cards.
The belated elevator dinged sadly, sliding its doors open for her. She started in, and almost stopped when she noticed she was faced with a whole elevator-full of disapproving looks. Only her momentum and ability to control when she blushed kept her going.
It was the most awkward elevator ride of anyone’s life. Celeste could feel their eyes on her, filling their little heads with gossip and lies to spread to their nasty friends. Celeste was shaking so hard that her legs trembled.
Finally they reached the floor where her office was situated. As the elevator doors opened for her, she couldn’t resist a parting line.
“This was fun,” she told the startled group, and even gave them a jaunty little wave as the doors slid closed over their stunned expressions. Just before they closed, she saw everyone latch their EarPods to their ears, eager to share the news that they’d ridden in the elevator with Celeste Monroe. Yes, the Celeste Monroe!
Celeste began down the hallway, her mind already turning to her work.
I need the official report about the rioters in Lower London. She groaned as she realised who would have it.
Better sooner than later, she thought wryly.
Still carrying her briefcase, she stopped by a certain office just outside of hers.
“Senior Minister,” she began formally, and broke off as she saw the young woman perched on the edge of Drenin’s desk.
“A moment, if you will, Sylvia,” Drenin said, and the dark young woman slid off of his desk, winked at him and brushed none-so-gently past Celeste. “Yes, Junior Minister?”
“I need those reports on the Lower Londoner’s from last night,” she said, keeping her eyes on the lamp on his desk and not his face, trying to ignore the hot, sweeping sensation in her stomach. “Damage control. You understand.”
“Of course,” he replied easily, wheeling himself over to the digi-printer. “Media really can blow things out of proportion, right, Celeste?”
Bastard, she thought, grinding her teeth.
“I’m sure they do,” she replied just as easily, though her knuckles turned white on her briefcase. “That’s why I want to get the facts straight.”
Drenin huffed, almost appreciatively of the way she’d side-stepped his jab about the news segment. He fumbled for a second, and then emerged with a handful of holographic papers.
“Here. They were written a few hours ago.”
“Perfect,” Celeste said, forgetting about their break up for a second. She reached for the papers. “Thank you, Minister.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not at all,” she turned to leave, but the hot, shaky feeling in her stomach suddenly got the better of her. “Actually yes, there is. Who’s this Sylvia?”
Drenin raised a dark eyebrow at her, a move that would’ve previously made her heart flip.
“Jealous?”
“No,” she replied coolly, though her hands shook. “Curious.”
“She’s my new... secretary.”
“Right,” Celeste snorted. “You moved quicker than I thought you would, Drenin.”
“What’s it to you?” he shot back, getting angry. “You’re the one that refused me.”
“You’re the one who knew my stance on marriage before we were even involved!” she shouted back, heat making her cheeks flush.
“I thought you loved me!” he replied, his voice getting louder. Outside, Celeste could hear people beginning to mutter.
“Not here, Drenin,” she said quickly, and turned to leave.
“Run away, Celeste. That’s all you ever do, isn’t it? Whenever something starts feeling real, something you can’t control, you run, don’t you?”
“Leave me alone, Drenin.”
“But it’s true.”
“This isn’t professional.”
“Neither was our relationship.”
“Argh!” she threw her briefcase to the floor. “You’re such a child. Just let it go, Drenin! Just stop! We aren’t involved anymore. This is over. So just leave me alone!”
His features twisted into an ugly snarl, and suddenly she saw her whole career flash before her eyes.
He can’t, she thought desperately. He knows I’ll take it to a Tribunal, and as the more Senior employee, he’ll get the backlash for our relationship.
Seemingly, the same thought had occurred to Drenin. Instead, almost white with suppressed rage, he sat back at his desk.
“Those reports, to the media, by midday,” he said quietly. “And Celeste?”
She picked up her briefcase but didn’t look at him.
“You’ve made a grave mistake.”
She couldn’t help but snort derisively at that.
What a villain! She thought, and almost giggled.
The comfort of her office was almost beyond belief. She closed the door, quickly making herself a cup of coffee before switching on her holo-screen. She worked quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she translated the reports into something worthy for the media and emailed them to several stations. As it was, she was almost back to normal when there was a small tap at the door.
“Come in,” she called absentmindedly, reading a reply from one of the stations. Her heart sank when she saw Sylvia pop through the door.
“The Senior Minister wishes to tell you that a government employee needs to be sent to Lower London to deal with this situation.” Sylvia said almost gleefully.
“I thought so,” Celeste said, already thinking of someone. “I’ll draw up a list of candidates... it’ll be dangerous, so they’ll need guards-”
“Actually, the Senior Minister has already nominated you to go. And,” Sylvia’s grin grew more pronounced. “He says you’ll have no guards at all.”