Thermodynamics, Metaphysics, and the 5-year-old Mind
an excerpt

Annoyance. Annoyance is an interesting thing, spawned from people and objects around you that you just wish weren’t. Then it goes on to spur other emotions, like anger and hate and whatever the hell makes me want to toss this “ergonomic” chair out the bloody window. I set aside this urge when a knock came to my door. I couldn’t help but question, “Do people still do that?” The old act didn’t bother me as much as the fact someone’s knuckles were pounding into the glass. “Come in,” I shouted, scrambling to make it look as though I was actually doing something of importance on the terminal before me.
“Oh, I apologize for interrupting, sir…”
I looked up at a sturdy figure, unable to control my tact when I gave him a curious stare. The deep yet uncertain British accent and brown, well kept suit seemed wildly out of place next to a calendar showing off an athletic young woman taking off military-grade power armor. I couldn’t decide which was more peculiar – the worn wrinkles and shining spots of baldness on the man’s head, or the genuine guilt those shapes seemed to form on his face. The calendar, displayed directly from the partially opaque wall itself, changed from “May 2039” into a flashing “12 o’clock” before any of us spoke another word.
“Mr. Rosewater, right?”
I moved a finger over the air, pulling a document entitled “rosewater_c” to a projector icon. The wall behind me transformed into the large logo of the HCL Corporation, a white lion playing with a globe much like yarn.
“Please, just call me Charles.”
As he motioned his hand toward me for a shake, I could notice a distorted scar right under the cuff of his shirt. An old implant? Considering his age, a first generation implant wouldn’t be of any surprise. I dropped the thought and eagerly stood up from that abysmal chair, taking his hand and putting on my plastic smile. From this height, I could witness another annoyance – my name plaque with its glaring typo, “Jeremy M. Morrisson.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Morrison. Something must be bothering you this morning…”
I didn’t bother reminding him of the time. “No, I’m fine.” I stretched and tried to focus. “Thank you for choosing HCL Corporation, Mr. Rosewater,” I began robotically. “We believe that you will enjoy the packages we have available for you this season.” Text blinked over my view, detailed notes to follow as bright images flew on behind me. I stopped for a moment, pointing at a diagram of a red beam. “No matter which package you decide on, all of the beam-emitting sensors are of the highest quality.”
“I understand this, Mr. Morrison, but how about installation and warranty? Will there be sound detection as well? And what threats will the VIP version protect my busi-…”
“All in due time, Mr. Rosewater! Please, we’re getting to the meat.” I straightened my tie and adjusted the presentation for the interruption. “Every package includes free installation and limited warranty. Sound detection is not available with HCL Corp.’s laser tripwire security systems, but we will install compatible systems for a fee.” My mouth ran on its end as I covered services and warranties, sweetening my lips when advanced packages with hefty price tags glowed on the wall. “Any questions, sir?”
“Not at the moment…”
I could see the sweat collecting over his brow. I paid close attention to how it handled the ripples of his skin as though it was an exotic dance. A pop-up notified me that I was at my favorite part of the speech. This is the reason I had gotten this job in the first place – describe all of HCL’s well made, inexpensive security systems, and convince each customer to purchase the behemoth. The VIP model featured six horizontal and four vertical beams, all of which capable to move in a spiral pattern. If any creature was capable of passing through one hallway, it had to possess cybernetic enhancements illegal in over two hundred eighty districts of the Republic. It was the pinnacle of modern protection, a gold mine, and most of all, complete overkill. I grinned like the devil himself when I started the real presentation.
“Thank you very much, sir. You don’t need to continue, I’ve already made a decision.”
That last sentence echoed through my mind as he pulled up his own terminal, completing an order form. I stood as blank as a corpse’s face, not even counting how many times the time device behind Charles flashed. I could see him opening his mouth, telling me he submitted the form and payment to the system and bid me his farewells. He offered me his hand one last time.
“…what?”