Part Two: And this is where you get off.
"Creative structures," sighed Bernie, reviewing the latest animations with undisguised contempt. "Basically, they're showreels for when they fuck off to Warp Zero. Or Blizzard. Or...anyone else who'll have 'em."
Mick nodded. "I hear your pain."
"The thing is," said Bernie, "I totally get why they're doing it. They know we're picking two of 'em to handle virtually everything Cutter wants done on the AV, and the rest of 'em will just have to float 'n' hope when they get the sorries and goodbyes."
"You realise that Cutter doesn't have much choice about it, right?"
"Doesn't stop me hating the system, but yeah. Powerless dickwad. I get it. Hang on, what the fuck's this?"
Mick glanced across at Bernie's monitor.
"Woo. What is that?"
Bernie checked his paper manifest.
"Sara Ryland. She submitted late. Jesus. That's...involved."
They watched for another ninety-six seconds in silence. Then it ended.
"Get her on the 'phone," said Mick. "Seriously. We need to bring her in."
"I don't think we've got her number," said Bernie, flicking through paperwork. "Shit. Just an e-mail address. Should we check with Cutter?"
"Come on," groaned Mick, "You know exactly what he'd say."
"Yeah, but...he's gonna want to see this."
"Then we'll show him," said Mick, "But first, run it again, and...send me her e-mail address."
"Really?" asked Bernie. "You want to take a shot at this?"
"Call me crazy," said Mick, "But I think this is one of those...divisional moments."
As they watched the animation for a second time, an element of psytrophic animensis passed through the accepted matrix into their perceived reality. Mick sensed it first.
"We need to talk to Cade."
"What? Who?"
"Huh?"
"Who's Cade?"
Mick shook his head.
"Jesus, I think I'm going to have to Google. That's never happened before. E-mail her, get her in here. I need to go and...sort some things out. This is good."
Bernie watched him leave, somewhat unsteadily.
"No argument here, dude."
To be continued...
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