Margo Report

Margo is wearing a ¾ length black wool coat today and mod little bangle earrings. She got a haircut, which if possible makes her even more beautiful, like a cross between Ann Margret and the Dick-Van-Dyke-Show-era Mary Tyler Moore. She comes into my office unannounced and slumps heavily in a chair with a deep sigh. And I thought I was dramatic.

"Mackenzie," she says. "I am bored."

"You should develop an Ebay habit like me, it sucks up a lot of time," I say. "I just got a kick ass clock last week."

She’s slumped back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling. "I’m bored on a more profound level than that." She looks up at me suddenly. "Mackenzie, you ever get the impression that this QuantumWorks thing will never launch, that we’re running through the motions here? I mean, I’ve been doing stupid busy work for the past two months. It’s driving me fucking crazy."

I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear before.

"Hey," I said. "You swore."

"I mean, the job pays well and everything, I’m not complaining about that. But I mean… I mean… fuck!"

"You swore again."

"Yes," she sighs. "Yes, I swore. Are you hearing me, Mackenzie?"

"I am. I hear you. I don’t have shit to do either. It’s like, why bring me up here unless there’s something for me to do?"

"Exactly," she says, and goes back to looking up at the ceiling. Her neck is smooth and graceful. "It’s like they just want to have us around on retainer or something. Clarke and Bradbury keep telling me that they’ll have more for me to do once the beta testing is done, but they won’t give me a time frame. The whole thing is very weird. And where is John Quentin? What does he do, anyway? I’ve seen him a handful of times and he’s supposed to be the VP in charge of the project. Nobody outside of the Project has even heard of him."

"It’s cause they’re a bunch of fucking supervillains," I say, then instantly regret it.

Margo’s head snaps up. "What? Why would you say that?" She seems suddenly intense.

Crap. I try to pass it off as a joke, waving my hand dismissively. "Ah, you know. They’re all secretive and shit." I turn a little in my chair, taking a keen interest in the container ships offloading at the docks.

She lets it go. "Right," she says. "I don’t know, maybe I should just count my blessings. I mean, they’re paying me, and it’ll look great on my resume. Still…"

I look at Margo for a while as she stares up at the ceiling. She closes her eyes. I sit in my chair, enjoying the sun coming through the window. We just sit there for a few minutes in a warm, comfortable silence.

Again, I want her to be my Lois Lane.