“Oh, spare me your blasted platitudes, Number Four! I haven’t the time for childish rantings, not at this point!” Number Two was livid, and in fine form as he threw the handful of papers down on his desk. “I’ve had quite enough of your insubordination and …”
“Insubordination?!” Number Four shouted. “You’re the one transgressing! The regulations clearly state proper procedure, it’s not a matter of opinion!”
“I am doing what needs to be done, and new regulations shall be written based on these actions, not your idiotic opinions!” Number Two had walked around his desk, was now standing directly in front of Number Four, and looked as if about to burst a blood vessel. “I am finished coddling him and this conversation is over!”
Number Four turned and walked towards the door. But he wasn’t finished. The last word, in more than one way, would be his. “We’ll see,” he said to Number Two as he turned to face him one last time, the doors sliding open, “we’ll see who is insubordinate and who is loyal to the cause!”
“OUT!!” Number Two screamed. And as the doors closed, leaving him alone in the circular control room, he said to himself, “This isn’t over. By morning we shall have a new Number Four and Herr Doctor will have experimental tissue.”
“He’s power mad I tell you.” Number Four walked briskly along the beach as he talked with Number Twenty Six.
“And you really think you can make this work?” Number Twenty Six raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yes. There are more than enough people in position to make this thing every whit possible. And,” he smiled to himself, “when it’s over we will both be heroes in the eyes of Number One. No one will be able to stand against us.”
“And the charge of treason against Number Two, you’re sure?”
“I’ll stake my life on it.” Number Four was very confident, but it wasn’t Number Four’s life that Number Twenty Six was worried about.
Number Two strolled leisurely through the Village. After his experience with Number Four that morning he needed to relax. Leaning against a retaining wall he saw Number Six, the proverbial thorn in his side, playing chess with Number One Hundred One. Yes, later, later he would pluck out the thorn and crush the bush it sprang from. And not so much later either. The thought, while not calming, did make him feel better. With the sun to his back and a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea he walked briskly now back to the Green Dome. His day had brightened, his mood bettered.
Turning the corner, almost skipping up the steps, he was walking to the door when he nearly ran into it. It hadn’t opened.
“What the … ?” There was no answer to his knock, the surveillance camera slowly turning towards him. There was only silence, the breeze, and a closed door.
Part 2 … Later.