Welcome to Utopia by Alan Atkinson

Author:Alan Atkinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Superheroes, Science Fiction, Non-Binary Characters, Social Issues, Crime, Romance, Family
Publisher: Alan Atkinson
Published: 2020-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

39 – Interviewing; Superhero Style

Contents

THE ELEVATOR STOPPED short of the half-mile mark this time, but only by about fifty yards. Jericho stepped out into the corridor, looking for the correct line to follow. It made itself immediately apparent, drawing his eye with sequential pulses of bright blue light, streaming down the corridor to the left. Taking a deep breath, he followed the flashing line around the ... circuit, that was what Transit had called it.

Normally, he knew, he’d be terrified. The very thought of facing up to an interview with the heroes whom he idolized above all else should’ve had butterflies the size of B-52 bombers breeding in his stomach in plague proportions. But instead he only felt a deep burning anger, aided and abetted by the fatigue now scratching at the back of his eyeballs.

The blue line led up to a closed door, which of course slid open as he approached it. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the doorway itself. Within was a large room. Peripherally, he registered a wrestling mat off to one side, but most of his attention was nailed down by the sight of Force Majeure. Sitting. Waiting. Looking directly at him. His nerves chose this moment to rebel against his resolve and he froze, staring into the room.

“Well, come in,” ordered a feminine voice impatiently. “We haven’t got all day.” Jericho blinked, and the blur of indecision resolved into seven people. Six of these were seated on the other side of a horseshoe-shaped desk, while the seventh sat back against the wall behind the others with her hands folded in her lap.

He recognized the one who’d spoken; he’d met her not so long ago, after all. That’s Independence. Jericho could see the hilt of her claymore beside her, the sword apparently removed for comfort and propped up against the desk. For some strange reason, that settled him slightly. It was such a human thing to do. The grip of the sword was wrapped around with alternating red and white stripes, while the pommel was dark blue with a single white star. Her assault rifle was nowhere to be seen; he surmised it was down behind the desk.

Stepping into the room, he moved forward until he stood in the center of the arc of the desk. Behind him, a faint whoosh signaled that the door had closed behind him, trapping him in the room with—well, with his heroes. The people he wanted most in the world to emulate. His nerves rose up, constricting his throat, while he fought to relax it again. The last thing he wanted to do was sound like an idiot in front of these people.

It didn’t help that he had no idea who the seventh person in the room was. The only one in the room not in costume, she wore instead a well-cut pantsuit and looked to be in her fifties. She returned his gaze appraisingly but did not offer to speak.

“Uh, hello,” he said, addressing the room at large.

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