INTERMEDIO – An interlude between the acts of an opera, acting as a precursor to the main entertainment itself.

Larry’s mind whirled. The scene seemed tantalizingly familiar… then he remembered.

Marcus Hutton had joined the company as a result of Twilight’s acquisition of a competitor organization. While respected for his brilliance, most people considered him an asshole.  Reporting into Larry as part of the re-shuffle, Marcus had a dotted line into the CEO meaning that he could politically assassinate Larry with comparatively little effort.

Demanding beyond reason and suffering from a grossly exaggerated sense of self, Larry used to refer to his weekly one-to-one’s with Marcus as “the old Black Hole”. Marcus would question every aspect of Larry’s leadership, the way that the company was run, and whether he was sufficiently compensated for his unique contributions to the organization.

If he didn’t get his way at their meetings, Marcus would very publicly make his displeasure known to the rest of the board, making it clear that should he not be fully satisfied, then he would need to consider his options which would include, most regrettably, his moving to a rival company. The personnel file from his previous employer commented that offbeat and bizarre behaviour, including talking (and, indeed, singing) to himself, was commonplace, as was a widespread hatred of co-workers. The psychometric testing carried out at his on-boarding had also revealed some worrying facts: a complete inability to empathise with others, and a tendency towards megalomaniac behaviour. Larry thought little of it at the time, musing that it simply meant Marcus was well-suited to executive life.

Thus Larry was forced to placate on a weekly basis the member of staff that everyone had come to refer to in hushed tones around canteen tables and office coolers semi-jokingly as “The Terrorist”.

Marcus’ political influence grew further still with his perfection of a horribly expensive brand of genetic engineering made possible by the funding from the defence department. Every member of the board at the time had been forced to enter into non-disclosure agreements which indemnified the customer for any and all damages which may arise due to a breach of confidentiality. He had a feeling that losing his yacht and Ferrari may not be the only repercussion for failure.

The simple truth was that the calculations involved were so complicated and demanding that even Marcus struggled to process them. On several occasions he was found unconscious late at night, alone in his lab, security footage revealing that he’d simply passed out from a combination of mental stress and lack of sleep.

The customer’s desire for progress was voracious. The board was forced to acquire hundreds of acres of land at great expense, with the cost of fencing in and securitising the entire area alone having made the Group Finance Director visibly wince.

Early results had been... mixed.

Former military personnel with terminal conditions had signed up in return for a considerable amount of money being deposited in the bank accounts of loved ones. The minds of some disintegrated into madness the moment they arrived in their new bodies, others turned on each other savagely, tearing one another to pieces with bodies the Government classified as equivalent in effectiveness to an automatic weapon with unlimited ammunition. Most minds broke easily and quickly, despite the engagement of many of the country’s leading psychologists.

Yet some persevered. It was these individuals, highly trained and clinically efficient, that the customer vehemently believed would bear abundant fruit for future operations.

The strain on Marcus had been terrible. His usual ruddy wine-tinged complexion had become gaunt and haggard, and his portly frame had lost several stone. He took to locking himself within his laboratory where he toiled into the small hours to the accompaniment of his treasured collection of rare opera recordings.

The last day that he and Larry had crossed paths could hardly have been described as congenial.

The morning began with Larry “accidentally” reversing into the front of Marcus’ prized BMW. Marcus’ retaliation had been swift, with several key supporters of Larry contacting him that morning to let him know that they had changed their mind about backing his expansion into the European defence market. They had, they said, instead opted to invest their funds into a new classified project of Marcus’. At lunchtime Larry made sure to offer the diabetic Hutton several sugar-coated doughnuts, feigning surprise and offering heartfelt apologies when the scientist angrily reminded him of his condition. Hutton’s response was predictably vitriolic and highly detailed.

He remembered that much… and then… then what?

Damn! His office door! He hadn’t locked it. He’d left in a rush to make his daughter’s school concert. He was also pretty sure that he hadn’t logged off. True, he’d made similar mistakes in the past, but he’d never had such a bitter confrontation with Marcus before. If he’d wanted to the scientist could have accessed his desktop and, despite I.T. having recommended to him on several occasions to password protect his documents, Larry just hadn’t got round to it. Marcus could have accessed the fail-safes... which meant that they were all in serious danger.