- Author
- 01/01/2024
- 1,495 Words
- 881 Views
- 25 Comments
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Converse - 1. Chapter 1
“Hi.”
“Hmm?”
“I said, ‘hi’. Wretched weather today. Nearly got soaked just crossing the street from the bus stop.”
“Hmm. Dry enough in here.”
“Yeah. … Don’t think we’ve met. You going to the eighth floor? That’s social media and customer interactions, isn’t it? Still finding my way around. Anyway, I’m Andi – from HR. A newbie. Only started last week.”
“…”
“The inside of this lift’s very bright. Maintenance are evidently keeping on top of the small jobs. Good to know. These brushed chrome panels don’t help with the bling effect though.”
“Excuse me?”
“You closed your eyes for a moment or two. Avoiding the glare, I thought. Headache?”
“…”
“I can offer you paracetamol or aspirin. Ibuprofen’s more for muscle strains. … This bag’s my lifeline -- phone, make-up, snacks, and yeah, pills. Don’t know what I’d do without it. There’s a regular pharmacy going on inside.”
“…”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve an unopened bottle of water somewhere. Swallowing pills dry is such a bitch.”
“...”
“Trust me. I’m the voice of experience.”
“If you say so, Andi.”
“We seem to be stopped at this floor longer than usual. … Why isn’t the door opening?”
“Maybe maintenance aren’t so great after all. Not that it’d happen on the directors’ lift. Not a chance. Couldn’t give a shit about the workers though.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. On my induction, they said--”
“...”
“They-- We’ve a perfect Health and Safety record. Something to be proud of, I’d have thought.”
“Doesn’t take much to change that. If you even believe it in the first place.”
“...”
“...”
“You’ve closed your eyes again.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not that keen on small enclosed spaces either. Try pressing the button for your floor.”
“...”
“OK - I get it. Eyes closed. I’ll just lean over and press seven again - that’s my floor.”
“...”
“Nothing’s happening. … How long since this lift last moved? It already feels like an age. Shouldn’t we consider raising the alarm?”
“Tried that last time. And the time before. No-one answered. The emergency phone isn’t connected. Still convinced we’ve a perfect health and safety record?”
“Oh. … It should’ve been mended by now.”
“It’s fine. The phone’d only break down again. You get used to the pauses after a while. The wretched thing moves when it’s ready.”
“...”
“Think of it as a time-out. I’ve spent many a session in here getting my head on straight. This time, I’m trying to visualise how a ravening pack of shapeshifters would go about dismembering their first victim.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m a writer in my spare time. Pretty good one, though I say so myself.”
“…”
“It’s my first go at writing about lycans. Know what those are?”
“Yeah. Gave up on werewolf shit when I was fifteen. It’s formulaic, predictable, and an excuse for hiding lazy writing.”
“I disagree.”
“... You still haven’t introduced yourself. As I said earlier, I’m Andi.”
“Leo--”
“Hi, Leo.”
“Though that’s not the name I write under.”
“...”
“Anyway, I was just imagining the four wolves.”
“...”
“You shouldn’t be so dismissive. There’s some great fantasy writing out there. This novel of mine’ll be one of them someday. Just you see.”
“A-ha?”
“In real life, the pack leader’s a politician on the national stage. A rising star. He’s married to an Aussie lawyer - the pack’s second-in-command. One of the other wolves is a singer. Not sure about the fourth yet. See? Nothing stale. Nothing predictable. These guys are real. Flesh and blood.”
“Except they’re werewolves.”
“Who knows what’s hiding in the shadows?”
“...”
“And, if you haven’t realised it, they’re gay. Well, the singer might be bi. That’s another thing I haven’t settled yet. Need to spend some quality time on the background stuff. … I imagine this isn’t your kind of thing.”
“Pardon?”
“Violent, politicised, sexy-as-fuck shapeshifters. Though the violence is always righteous -- never without reason. They’re always on the right side.”
“And that makes it OK?”
“What?”
“The fact that the violence is righteous - to use your description.”
“Wolves will be wolves.”
“...”
“I mean, the pack leader spends much of his time demolishing the baddies with ideas and words. It’s what politicians do, if they’ve got anything about them. But… there’s always going to be times when that doesn’t work.”
“And that’s when you recommend vigilantism? Extra-judicial murder.”
“… Blimey, Andi, this has suddenly gone deep. It’s fiction. Fantasy. Readers of were-wolf stories want blood, slavering jaws, and all that inter-pack rivalry. As well as sex, of course. … They’re amazingly loyal.”
“Who? The wolves?”
“No. My readers. Fans, you could call them.”
“You have fans, Leo?”
“No need to sound so surprised.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
“They, not this poxy, brain-rotting job, are the reason I get out of bed some days. My fans are amazing. Sometimes I wonder if I write only for their comments. They live the story--”
“Not literally, I hope?”
“...”
“That was a joke. Sorry.”
“Books change people, Andi.”
“I agree with you, Leo. One hundred percent.”
“...”
“I do. But equally, I’m entitled to my opinions about what I’ve read. If they offend you, tough shit. Grow a thicker skin. Write a shifter story that’ll drive BookTok wild and make me change my mind.”
“Book what?”
“Leo.”
“What?”
“Really. I’ll leave you to discover BookTok for yourself. … Shouldn’t we bang on the lift doors? Someone’ll hear us, surely?”
“You can if you want. Vent your frustration. Won’t make any difference.”
“Me hammering on the door and yelling my head off won’t make any difference?”
“…”
“Why are you shrugging?”
“Everyone knows this lift, Andi. If someone actually calls out the fire brigade, they’d arrive to find the lift working perfectly. It’s as if the wretched thing knows.”
“Isn’t that a reason to call?”
“Maybe. Look, it’ll be five minutes, or less, before we get going again. One -- there’s no phone signal here--”
“Two -- we’re having such a great chat--”
“...”
“Aren’t we, Leo?”
“You seem to think so.”
“So did you until I disagreed with you. Again.”
“...”
“OK, Leo. Let’s hear more about why you think your book’ll shock me.”
“What? I didn’t--”
“Debauch me. Turn me queer. Or even, shock, horror, make me into one of your story fans.”
“Hey, now. I didn’t say anything of the sort, Andi.”
“...”
“I didn’t.”
“...”
“...”
“And yet, Leo, you were at pains to emphasise the sex, violence, gore, and queerness.”
“Well, it’s just that--”
“Yes? I’m curious.”
“Women, straight women, are usually into gay romance. Love and sex without the violence and politics. You know, it’s either meant to be a fuck the patriarchy kind of thing, or they like reading about guys who aren’t afraid to show their emotions. However rugged our hero’s exterior, it conceals a heart made of marshmallow, or ice cream, or some such rubbish.”
“OK.”
“I read somewhere that eighty-something percent of commercially-produced m and m romance readers are female. And so are many of its authors.”
“Really.”
“There’ll always be exceptions, Andi--”
“How gracious of you to allow for individuality.”
“...”
“No, I was more questioning your initial assumption.”
“My initial--”
“That you think I’m a straight, cis woman.”
“Ah, well, yes--”
“...”
“You’re wearing--”
“A skirt, yes. Strange how clothing comes with its own assumed gender. If I was wearing jeans today, would you assume I’m male? Take a few minutes sometime, Leo, and Google how many cultures dress their men in something other than trousers.”
“I didn’t make any--”
“Yes, you did. How up-to-date are you with your equalities training?”
“I err… I’m usually excused the LGBT segment. Otherwise, I’ve done the usual online, tick box bollocks.”
“You’re excused the LGBTQ training? Interesting. I wonder who signed that off. OK. This isn’t usually a question I’d ask outside a training session or a 1-1, but how you identify, Leo?”
“Pretty bloody obvious, I’d have thought.”
“Unlike you, I don’t like to make assumptions. Let me go first. A show of good faith. I identify as enby. My pronouns are they / them. My sexuality is queer. Oh, and I really like strong, opinionated, well-muscled queer guys. In books, in real life - I’ll take them where I can find them.”
“...”
“TMI? Sorry. Maybe I should expand on enby. It’s short for non-binary. That mean anything to you?”
“Only that it’s part of the alphabet soup people insist on using nowadays. Four letters - LGBT. That’s quite enough.”
“Alphabet soup? Move away from the binary, Leo. Let yourself embrace queerness in all its kaleidoscopic glory.”
“...”
“I think I’ll recommend you for the in-depth LGBTQ training. It’s really good. I did it last week as part of my induction. … You know, Leo, we are having a great chat.”
“Aren’t we just.”
“I’ll look to see you on the staff Rainbow network. Wait -- the lift’s moving. At last!”
“Yes, thank fuck.”
Comments, outspoken or otherwise, are always welcome. If you enjoyed this faintly left-field tribute, please consider leaving a recommendation or even a short review.
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4
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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