Contract


=====


    There was a crisp knock at the door.  "Yes, what is it?" I snapped, pawing
ineffectually through the accumulation of papers on my desk.
    The door opened, and some guy...oozed in.  That was the first word that
came to my mind.  I couldn't help staring; his perfect black suit, trim goatee
and short hair styled *just so* made him stick out like a sore thumb.
Everything about him gave the impression of exquisite neatness, the product of
a great deal of time and money.  Neither of which were in any great supply
around here.  And neither was neatness, to be honest.  That receipt had to be
around somewhere...
    "Mr. Jackson," the man said.  The voice fit the hair perfectly; dark and
oiled.
    "How'd you get past my secretary?" I asked idly.
    "There was no secretary."
    "Hm.  I guess she finally got tired of not being paid."
    "And that's exactly why I'm here today, Mr. Jackson."  Hm, he was smooth.
"It's obvious your business is in trouble.  And the, ah, people I represent,
think that's a shame."  I took a moment to look up at him and frown.  Was this
guy serious?  He sounded like a bad movie, but looked earnest.  Which was
important, as I'm sure you know.  "Therefore, we would like to become
investors, to try and get you back on your feet."  He raised a briefcase, put
it on the desk, flipped the latches and--
    I stared again.  No, it wasn't full of money.  That would probably be
*too* cliche.  But there *was* a bundle of hundreds.  And if that bundle was
as thick as it looked...
    I cleared my throat, and looked into the guy's eyes.  He seemed amiable,
but unreadable other than that.  "All right," I said, "What's the catch?"
    "The catch?"  He chuckled softly.  "Oh, there is a price, of course.  But
I hardly think you'll find it too...difficult to pay..."


=====

by John Evans
jevans@alum.mit.edu

The Sunburst Project, Week 3
http://www.chaoseed.com/btr/sbp/
3/23/00