Stories of Siv Spencer Theophane

For Siv to try to have things his own way would be like telling a yeti to charm an orchestra. They couldn't understand him and solely trying to instruct was beyond his capability. Not a very intelligent affair – Siv thought to himself while trying to keep his face neutral despite the silly puns and witty phrases that had just entered his mind from this visual. The man seemed to keep looking down at his folder despite the pedantry that all men had towards details when it came to the rules that kept everything together between the men. Unintentionally and fortunately encouraging isolation. He had been told growing up that infections and diseases were always available within the most clean of workplaces. The man continued to look in his folder, typically avoiding eye contact. Siv observed the workmanship of his writing, he saw the shapes of numbers and letters. This triggered his mind to mutate into algebra, he gave himself a simple equation that contained negative integers parallel to his situation while his face was looking calculated as his answer rockets past the negative numbers and became a small positive. It was unambiguous. From this Siv could deduct that something good was going to happen, though not immensely good.

“Just where do you think your going seventeen?”
A man came from behind him, Siv attempted not to smile at the way each man parrots each other without intention. This man was younger than the other one, instead of silver hair this man had chestnut brown. Thoughts were starting to backlog faster than Siv could process them. He had never heard conversation behind room seventeen, it was surely rare to have three men interacting in a corridor. The corridor looked very simplistic, with less personality than a dentist's workplace. It was tall and white with nothing inhabiting the walls. One would have better luck finding their way to the centre of a maze. This new man seemed to have established the convenience of their authority toward the adopted male 'slag' because he went to stand beside the man that had said nothing for a while. They had no authority and they knew they didn't, but men like to make-believe they had power, and Siv refused to be like them. The triumph seemed to drag between the eyes of the two men, but no intimidation was shown in Siv's face, though in his mind the background had faded away and the only things in front of him were these two men attempting to control him, neither seemed able to break him. This hadn't stopped Siv thinking that once he was free he would make sure they died slowly, maybe in a ditch somewhere, where they could die of famine in a place where their gradually quiet voices could not be heard. They would be thrown in alphabetical order, so it was crucial he learnt their names.

“Good evening gentleman, may I enquire about your names?”