No!?! What is this abomination?!
I cried, shielding my eyes from what lay before me.
Beyond the door, the office space was open and bright with odd garishly coloured graffiti-style art daubed on the walls.
There appeared to be no desks. Just a collection of tables and strangely raised platforms. A number of brightly coloured bean-bags and cushions lay strewn around as if they were crumbs dropped by giants.
Among the bean-bags and tables, a rabble of identical, pale-faced, grey-suited men lounged, tapping away at funky looking tablets.
The whole place had a casual air as if it were a childrens play area.
It's a bit different up here, eh!
Fannybadger beamed proudly.
I tried to speak but all that came out of my mouth was a series of rasps and clicks as if I were crocodile about to ejaculate.
Don't worry. Everyone experiences it. It's such a different culture here. I am surprised it doesn't make people go a bit mad!
Fannybadger giggled as if he had already gone mad and made his way into the room beckoning me to follow.
This way, I will take you to your pod...
My fucking what now? My pod? Was I a dolphin? I followed him through the hordes of identikit grey-suits. With a start I realised that some of them had skirts on and were actually women.
In my head I had already categorised them...
The Greys.
Some of them watched me as I walked among them. I could see them weighing me up. One in particular rose from his chair and gave me a sneer as I walked past him.
I accidentally jostled him with my shoulder, hard. He hissed like an overly microwaved pie and sat back down.
I resolved to be on my guard. I did not belong here and it was quite plain that that feeling was not just my own.
Fannybadger stopped before three men chatting at a table.
Guys, this is the Test resource we asked for. I have given him an overview but perhaps you want to convince him of our aims?
The oldest of the guys looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had hair like a seagull's wing and piercing blue eyes lurking behind a ridiculous pair of red plastic glasses. Or rather plastic frames as the detective in me noted his glasses had no lenses.
He stood and held out his hand limply curled as if for me to inject my flaccid penis into it. I would probably have to shove it in with the help of a finger unless the wind changed.
Slater.
He stated confidently.
Saltyboz, I thought, definitely Saltyboz.
And these guys are, Sinclair and Kathrin.
I looked at the other two dubiously. Sinclair I decided should be Slippytits. Kathrin... Well, that was confusing. What was it with blokes and ladies names these days? He had very shiny eyes. Like a fox. That was settled then, he could be Bushy-Tail.
I shook their hands vigorously to remind them of what being a man really was and then looked them in the eye.
So tell me then, what are we doing here. What is the aim?
Saltyboz laughed delightedly.
Well BoomDawg...
He flung an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the exit.
Let us begin by telling you what we don't do!
I allowed myself to be steered back toward the door. The other two, Slippytits and Bushy-Tail following behind us after hastily grabbing their tablets.
I tell you what though? Why don't we do this over a coffee? Have you tried the new artisan place over on Kyle St? Simply divine. I'm buying!
A new coffee place? Artisan did he say? And I hadn't known of it. Hmm, it ticked all the right boxes for me.
I walked out with them. This sounded like a great project so far. Something tickled at the back of my head. Like someone screaming a warning but I dismissed it. I mean, free artisan coffee...
Who could refuse...
