SWNOVELS Chapter CHAPTER FIVE
Inside the inner spiral of the Milkyway Galaxy, 500 light-years from galactic central point, can be found a space station like no other. It is nearly the size and shape of the planet you will know as Jupiter. This gargantuan station does not house visitors, nor does it contain any saloons or misanthropic strangers. No, this station has only one function; to guard the interests of the Milkyway Central Bank.
As well as playing host to the literal interests of the financial giant, it also ensures that the company runs smoothly. In a small office, on the northern pole of this planet-sized testament to greed, is situated the desk of one Bill Pickles. Bill is a human being and employee of the bank but, unlike many of his colleagues, Bill is no mere bureaucrat working for a fat bonus and a humongous pension. Rather, Bill has a much more clandestine function within the corporate world.
His demeanour is one of professionalism and general kindness. He is known for remembering the birthdays and anniversaries of his co-workers, always prepared with a card, cake, gift or even a kind word. Despite this, however, Bill’s position does not garner him many friends. This is not the result of some horrendous smell or even a monstrous visage, Bill is human, like 90% of his co-workers, and outwardly quite a plain specimen at that. No, Bill’s less than palatable reputation is the result of his job.
In your time, if you default on a debt you will have a debt collector knocking at your door, in the year 3,000 however, not paying your debts carries much graver consequences. Bill is just one such consequence, fore when a poor soul finds themselves in debt to a bank, an accounts settler will be sent out to handle the issue. An accounts settler’s job is simple, to kill the person who finds themselves in debt. Sure the bank won’t recoup its losses, but it sends a strong message to the next fool who would dare to steal from the financial service organisations. Bill took great pride in his work, regardless of its unsavoury nature, he put a lot of work in to the deterrence aspect of his chosen career path; making the examples not only noteworthy, but elaborately vicious. Although this didn’t make him popular at office parties, it did make him indispensable to the banking sector. Not least of all because of his flawless elimination record.
On this particular morning, Bill was on his way to the office, a fresh, piping-hot coffee in one hand and a satisfied smile upon his face. As always, he wore a clean, pressed black suit, with a thin silver tie. His hair was cut short and styled in such a way that it appeared to be nothing more than black paint on his scalp. He was heading in for what was sure to be another relaxing day of work.
Thanks to Bill’s baleful methods, there hadn’t been a single debtor in over a year. This was a great source of pride for him, he had taken the position when things had taken a turn for the worst. The Milkyway Central bank had poached Bill from the employ of a competitor, to handle the excessive debt problems they were facing. Within only 9 months, he had cut down and strung up every delinquent payer in the bank’s registry. This neatness pleased him deeply, Bill was a stickler for completion and having a clean slate was his raison d’etre. On this particular day though, Bill’s contentment was to take a major hit.
He made his way down the monotonous hallway that led to his comfortably sized office. As he did so, the people he passed scurried out of his way, doing all they could to avoid his gaze. This wasn’t the reaction he desired from his workmates, but it was an unfortunate side effect he had grown accustomed to. He had spent a year trying to cultivate even a single friend within the organisation, but had only managed to gain what at best could be considered a professional acquaintance. He smiled warmly to all those whose eyes he could catch, before they hurriedly escaped his presence, turning their heads away in fear and scurrying away as fast as their legs (or tentacles) could carry them.
Bill reached the end of the hall and entered the large, heavy door to his generously proportioned workspace. He let out a sigh, “there’s always tomorrow Bill,” he said aloud to himself, “perseverance and unflappable kindness, that’ll win you friends one of these days.” He crossed the room to his desk and retired to his soft chair that rested behind it. He spun to face the window behind him, looking out into the endless cosmos.
He enjoyed the tranquillity, he had no contracts to fulfil but no friends to share his bountiful free time with, it was his deepest regret. He turned back around to his desk and placed his hands upon the top. The holographic computer display in front of him came to life. It showed an empty workload list. If only making friends was as easy as murder, he thought to himself, this empty schedule might be filled with social events. He leaned back in his seat and stared up at his ceiling. What a boring existence, he would love something to distract him from the inaction that was his day-to-day life. He wasn’t really one for taking holidays. During his time at the bank he had not taken a single day off, hoping that some work might cross his desk. It hadn’t, instead he was given a high salary and left to his own devices until such a time as he was needed to lay down the law again.
Bill pressed a button on his computer and a glass rose from a hole in his desk, a faucet came up and filled the glass with water. This, he thought, will no doubt be the high-light of my day. He raised the glass to his lips and gulped down its crisp, cool contents. He let out a satisfied gasp and set the glass down on its crystal coaster. The faucet automatically filled it once more. Bill stared at his screen, perhaps if he stared at his screen long enough and wished really hard then a job would present itself.
He began a staring contest with the blank ‘inbox’ screen before him, any minute now, he thought trying his hardest to delude himself, any minute and that screen’s gonna be filled with people I need to visit. He stared, unblinking at the luminescent display. The tension was killing him. He clenched his teeth tightly, widening his fast drying eyes. He would not look away from the screen until he was blind or busy, that was the deal he’d made with himself.
10 minutes passed. Surely there was someone out there that was dumb enough to try and defraud the bank. 20 minutes. Maybe there was a problem with the uplink, that’s why he hadn’t been sent a contract to fulfil. 50 minutes. His eyes were stinging from the dry air around them and his teeth now felt as if they might chip should he bite down any harder. 1 hour. Bill stood up, his arms still pressed firmly to the table top. 80 minutes. Bill inhaled deeply, “WHY DON’T I HAVE ANYONE LEFT TO K-“
Before he could launch fully in to what would have been a most noteworthy rant, he saw something. He blinked, replenishing the moisture his eyeballs so craved. He rubbed them, surely his gambit hadn’t actually paid off? Yet, there it was; a fresh kill order, right there on his holo-screen. He felt a great warmth bubble up from inside him, his eyes began to well up with a joy he hadn’t felt in so long. He opened the work order, a gleeful smile filled his face; “I can’t wait to meet you: Atlas Van Morrison.”