Part 2

One could argue that until Book's identity is revealed they're fictitious, at least when applying Schrodinger's Logic. With no evidence beyond the propaganda about the supposed "CoL study" who's to say if Book is a real person at all? They're an idea. A figure meant to be feared, to scare the masses into obeying the government.

"Do what we say or Book will come get you."

You don't have to be afraid.

Book doesn't exist, my friends.

- Jack Hamner AM Blog 07-12-2039

A little after three in the afternoon Andrea leaves work. She drives two hours across town to a different office building. This one's much larger than where she works. It will be much more difficult for me to hone in on particular voices from the outside. Signs at the parking entrance indicate the main company housed here is Work/Space, which specializes in short term office rentals. There's also a law firm, therapist, and psychic in the building.

Ten years ago I would've rolled my eyes at that last one but currently I'm a walking long-range microphone with a built in meat speaker. Views change. I'm a little more open minded now.

At least I don't look like a parabolic mic.

I wait for Andrea to go inside before locking my helmet to my bike and approaching the building. She's climbing a tall angular staircase when I enter the main lobby. Some potted trees decorate the area. A large artistic mobile hangs from the extremely high ceiling. Large abstract paintings with geometric shapes grace the walls. A receptionist wearing a charcoal gray suit, only one arm in their jacket sleeve, has their back to me as they operate a computer. They're stationed behind a very large curved desk with the name "Work/Space" on the front.

Gods, I feel like such a fucking stalker.

I look around the lobby as I listen to Andrea's feet. She climbs a few flights before switching to an elevator. It's hard to tell how many floors she goes up before leaving the car. The sounds become muffled by the ambient noise of the building so I can't tell what anyone's saying.

"Can I help you?" A familiar voice asks from the reception desk.

What the fuck? Why is he here??

I turn around and do my best to not look like I've been following a woman I don't know all day long. Like I'm supposed to be here. Because I am. Just for what feels like increasingly creepy reasons.

"Yes, yes you can," I say and approach the receptionist desk.

Thunderskull is in Basic, his fluffy dark hair is brushed and pinned back with a couple small metal clips to keep it out of his eyes. He's wearing a charcoal gray suit jacket half draped over his right shoulder thanks to the pink cast on his right arm, the reason for the empty sleeve. I can see my signature on the front next to the foam strap keeping his arm against his chest.

He hasn't recognized me.

"I was wondering what's on the...uh...," I pause to listen while pointing up, "...seventh floor."

"Do you have an appointment?" He asks.

"Do I need one for the seventh floor?"

"You do," he says. "First six are Work/Space offices. They can be rented hourly, daily, weekly, or monthly as needed. Seventh and up are dedicated locations for a variety of businesses that require an appointment. No walk-ins."

It's nice to see he's this matter-of-fact and professional at work. He wasn't just talking this way when he helped me on a case a couple months ago. Thunderskull was a seven and half foot tall skeleton with horns and flaming eye sockets at the time, his preferred form. I can see why it wouldn't be conducive to appear that way while working as a receptionist. Though, it would certainly help cut down on the riff raff if he did.

Oh my gods. I'm the 'riff raff' today.

"May I get your name?" He asks.

"Uh..."

I have always been shit at making up fake names.

That's why Dr. Hailu chose 'Book' as my pseudonym for the study instead of using my given name 'Page.' Book is also the name Thunderskull insisted I sign on his cast. It's right there in bold black marker. Staring back at me.

"About that..."

He studies me for a moment before raising his eyebrow. "Oh. I see. Nice look."

"Yeah."

Thunderskull is damn sharp when he's not drunk.

"Now you know where I work," he says.

"Seems that way."

"You here on a job?"

"Also yeah."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you. I could get fired."

"Oh, no. I totally understand."

"I also can't let you sneak up to the seventh floor," he says firmly. The look in his eyes tells me he would try to stop me even if it cost him another arm.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I say with a forced smile.

"Sure you wouldn't."

"Is there a problem here, Vincent?" A loud masculine voice says from behind me.

"Vincent?" I mouth.

Pretty sure his names are 'Vicente' and 'Thunderskull,' I think to myself.

He seems to prefer 'Thunderskull' which I can't fault him for because it sounds rad as fuck. It's the first name that comes to mind when I think of the guy even when he's not sporting the skull look.

"No, sir," Thunderskull says. "I was just telling my friend here that I can't give him access to the seventh floor without an appointment. Work/Space takes client confidentiality seriously. We respect the safety and privacy of the companies with long term leases just as much as the short term ones."

"Your friend?" The man, who I presume is Thunderskull's boss, asks. He's in his sixties, balding, and four inches shorter than me.

"Thunderskull and I live in the same building," I explain. "It's fine. I totally understand and was just leaving."

"Wait, what was it you want to know about the seventh floor?" The boss asks.

I glance at Thunderskull before looking to his boss.

"Because there's a law office up there and a divorce attorney," the boss explains before I can open my mouth to stop him. "And a marriage counselor across the hall from them. That, uh, that woman Andrea with the paranoid husband's been seeing them about this time of day, right, Vincent? She's cute. She come in yet?"

"Boss?" Thunderskull asks nervously. "We can't give out that information. It's against company policy."

"Which one of us is in charge, Calavera?"

'Calavera?' His given name is literally 'skull?'

"You are, but it can be dangerous to give out personal information like that, Sir. Especially when we've been warned about a possible threa-"

"You're fired."

The room becomes dead silent. All I can hear are the muffled noises of the floors upstairs and heartbeats. Thunderskull's is pounding.

"What?" His voice cracks with the question.

"I said you're fired, Vincent," the boss says cheerfully. "Pack your things and go see Wanda. She'll help you fill out the termination papers."

Oh my gods, I've just ruined Thunderskull's life. Shit.

"Whoa, you don't have to fire him for following the rules," I protest. "Thunderskull was just doing his job."

"Vincent knows I make the rules," the boss sneers.

"Odio este trabajo, de todos modos," Thunderskull says under his breath.

"What was that?" His boss asks sharply.

He says he hates this job anyway, I think to myself.

"I'll get my things," Thunderskull says before leaving.

I want to say something. Throw my weight around. I could probably scare his boss into not firing him but that would only make things worse. Would this guy be even more of an asshole to Thunderskull if he stayed at this job? Would he tell someone Book threatened him? I'm trying to fix my reputation, not make it worse.

There are no good options here.

"Sorry about that, Mr...," the boss lets the title hang.

"Bell," I say. "Adrian Bell."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Bell," the boss says before extending a hand for a shake. "Jeff Simmons."

WE HAVE THE SAME LAST NAME?! NO!

I shake his hand and manage not to throw up.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Simmons."

"Quite a grip you have there," he says with a wince.

I release his hand before I turn all his bones to putty.

"Well. I will be going now," I say stiffly.

"What? Let me show you the seventh floor, first."

NO.

"Okay."

I hate this.

Mr. Simmons leads me to an elevator connected to the lobby. He uses a keycard to access it and up we go. I really hate this. If my jacket was shiftable I'd have become invisible by now just to get away from the guy. They'd probably search the building for me but I'd just be noping right out of this job instead.

"Here we are," Mr. Simmons says.

Really, really hate this.

I follow him around while he explains the different offices and subsequently continues breaking just about every security and confidentiality rule the company probably has. This place is officially off my list for when I need to rent office space.

"And here's the law firm, Simone and Jacob's. They specialize in divorce cases mostly, as well as other domestic issues," Mr. Simmons says. "As Vincent said, there's supposedly some kind of threat against one of their clients, Andrea, but we haven't seen any signs of her husband showing up."

Troy's a CoL. If he was a Class A he could be here right now, you fool, I scream in my own head.

"Uh huh," I say.

The door to the law office opens. Andrea thanks someone on the other side profusely. She even bows a bit. It's evident she's flustered and has been crying. She freezes when she sees us in the hall blocking her way.

"Andrea," Mr. Simmons begins. "You look good. How are you doing?"

"I..."

That's it. This has to end. Thor on a bike, what the fuck?

"Nope," I say out loud before shutting my eyes. "I can't do this. It's obvious she's been crying. What is wrong with you? Thunderskull was right, this is a gross violation of privacy not to mention building security. What the Hel is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Mr. Simmons asks loudly.

I pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment then gently clap my hands together before me. "My name isn't 'Adrian Bell.' I didn't even want to come up here. I was ready to leave."

"Who are you then?"

"Simmons."

"What? I'm Simmons."

Oh gods, I hate this. This is what I get for taking this job.

"My name is Page Simmons," I clarify. I gesture to Andrea who is barely keeping it together. "Her creepy-ass husband hired me to tail her but it's obvious he's the problem."

"You're..."

"Detective Page Simmons," I say. "Book. The one who signed Thunderskull's cast."

I do not add that I'm the reason he's in a cast.

"Troy hired you to spy on me?" Andrea asks.

I bow to her. "He did. I am so sorry."

"I don't understand," she says in disbelief. "He hates CoLs. Why would he hire one to follow me? Especially you?"

"I have a feeling we really need to talk, Mrs. Smith," I say.

"I have a feeling you need to get out of my fucking building before I call security," Mr. Simmons says sharply.

Andrea walks over to me and nods. "I'll walk them out."