Maxine

Well, your next destination's been decided. You're off to Fahrenheit City Appliances Incorporated's office building, where Maxine is now working as an office clerk in a dead-end job.

The building also happens to be 5 blocks in front of your apartment, so you take a leisurely stroll.

As you enter the office building, all around you is the evidence of listlessness, of stunted growth and development. The people walking around with expressions of lifelessness on their faces, bereft of hope, remind you of busy little bees in a hive, with every action controlled by the queen bee.

Lots of queen bees in this world, you think bitterly. I got off okay, but would it kill you folks to share some of the money with a city that needs it so badly?

You quickly realize that your thoughts, as often happens, aren't making any sense and cut yourself off. You walk up to the receptionist, a kindly old lady of 62 years.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm looking for a woman named Maxine?" you ask politely.

Surprisingly, the receptionist peers closer to get a good look at you.

"Would your name happen to be John?" she asks suddenly.

You blink.

"Why yes!" you exclaim. "How did you know that?"

"I take lunch breaks with this Maxine person," replies the old lady. "She's always talking about this nice boy she used to go to school with before she became an adult in her twenties and had to work in this boring place. John this, John that. John was the only one willing to sit quietly and read with me in the library. John made me feel big and mighty, like I could do anything at all if only I wanted it badly enough. John would probably be very handsome right now, the envy of men everywhere."

"Oh God, STOP! That's enough!" you exclaim, suddenly very embarrassed. Maxine ISN'T normally a talkative person. She has a soft, whispery voice, and is always quiet and introverted. You were the only person she had long, extended conversations with, and that was when she was in a good mood (which occurred, admittedly, more frequently when you were in her immediate vicinity. Such is the value of friendship). "Um, where exactly is she?"

"Working in her cubicle," the receptionist responds. "You're free to visit her; you just can't disrupt her work or her boss will throw you out."

You hastily promise you won't interrupt Maxine's job, and within mere moment's you're on her floor.

The employees look up from their cubicles with interest; it's not every day, apparently, that a strange man walks boldly down their hallways. "Their" hallways, ha! As if they really owned anything in a place that denies them any chance of promotion or a future.

You soon arrive at Maxine's cubicle, where she's busy typing away at her computer. You promised the receptionist you wouldn't interrupt her work, so you casually sit down in a spare chair and wait for Maxine to notice you.

She eventually sees you when standing up to get a pen from the other wall. Her reaction is subtle: her eyes widen, and she suddenly gets a huge smile on her face as though she had just received a massage.

"You came back," she says quietly. It is not a question.

You nod. Maxine isn't much of a conversationalist, preferring conciseness to meaningless small talk. You understand that; that's why Maxine made friends with you in the first place.

She's GROWN, too. She is now a full-blown woman, complete with impressive figure. You don't, obviously, point that out, although you do take extra time to notice her extra-long blond hair. Her glasses are on a side table; she does not need them when staring at something as close as a book or, in this case, a computer.

"Sit with me?" Maxine inquires. You slide your chair up next to hers as she continues working. A commanding presence that calls itself a "man" walks up to the entrance of the cubicle, peering into it for signs of anything amiss. Satisfied that Maxine's job performance hasn't decreased, he leaves you two alone.

It takes a full three minutes before Maxine speaks again.

"I presume you don't have a job like mine," Maxine ponders.

"I'm an escort," you reply. "That's about as unlike THIS job as you can get."

"True," Maxine concedes, as she finishes a report. Moving on to another task, she enters some numbers into a database. She speaks again as she works.

"Are any of your clients frequent readers?" she asks.

You shake your head.

"Unfortunately no; reading isn't as "cool" in a city where studying doesn't necessarily get you ahead," I point out.

"Mmmmm..." Now Maxine is saddened. "If only everyone else realized how bad things have gotten in this city."

Maxine is going to be depressed if you don't do something. So you crack a joke.

"Things haven't gotten bad at all in this city," you quip, "because I am currently next to an attractive woman who likes me."

"Tch...um..." Maxine blushes profusely. "Oh. You are joking. I apologize, I cannot often tell these days."

"In an environment like THIS---" you gesture to boring office around you "---jokes aren't allowed. I think maybe they don't have security clearance."

Maxine suddenly bursts out laughing, causing all the other employees to look up in confusion.

"You are funny," she states simply, "can you not stay a while longer? You are pleasant company."

You stop to think...