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(Continued)
7:24 AM, Pacific. Los Angeles, California.
The final bell rang as the students settled down. A paper ball launched from the back of the room arched and hit Gideon square on the back of the head. He turned, his eyes darting between classmates. It wasn’t the first paper ball thrown today, and it most certainly would not be the last. All sat silently and waited as the teacher got out his notebook.
“Put your homework on your desk, I’ll be coming around to check it.” And he began his rounds.
8:24 AM, Mountain. Johnson City, Colorado.
Eugene tapped the 9mm impatiently against his leg, waiting for the teller to finish filling the bag. He felt someone pass behind him, and turned with his gun poised in the man’s face.
“Let’s not be a hero today. It’s not a good day to die,” Eugene said.
The man complacently backed away.
9:24 AM, Central. Dallas, Texas.
The computer monitor glowed to life, springing color forth from its single cathode ray tube. Amanda sank into her chair, pulled up a music program, and began listening to Mozart. Mozart always relaxed her. Ten seconds into the song, she decided it would be best to save him for when she was truly stressed. She looked at the Toolbar at the bottom of the screen and noticed John’s standard e-mail application was open.
10:24 AM, Eastern. Bangor, Maine.
Anderson’s footsteps fell quickly as he jogged down the hall towards the lift.
“Paging Dr. Anderson. Paging Dr. Anderson, you’re needed in the ER.”
He ignored it, never breaking step as he continued down the passage, smiling. Reaching the elevator, he hit the up arrow and waited for the doors to open.
7:25 AM, Pacific. Los Angeles, California.
The teacher reached Gideon’s desk and checked his paper. “Very nice work, Gideon. Excuse me, class,” he said, grabbing the student’s paper. “This is the proper way to complete a worksheet assignment. Do you see how he has all of his work shown? He even has a separate sheet stapled. You all could...”
8:25 AM, Mountain. Johnson City, Colorado.
Eugene eagerly grabbed the second bag from the teller.
“Thank you all for being so patient with me today. I assure you, your money will be well spent. Think of this as a donation to the ‘Give Eugene a Better Life Fund.’ I’m sure the government will let you write it off,” he said, nodding to the teller. “I’m not a bad guy, really.”
“And now, I bid you all adieu,” the young man thought as he headed for the doors. He was greeted by the sound of sirens.
9:25 AM, Central. Dallas, Texas.
Amanda clicked on the toolbar, bringing up the e-mail program. It was logged in as John Mansfeld, and his e-mail began to slowly load. She brought the warm mug up to her lips, slowly sipped some of the hot beverage, and waited. Maybe his e-mail could tell her if he would be home tonight. She certainly didn’t want to waste the effort on a delicious hot dinner if he wasn’t going to be home.
10:25 AM, Eastern. Bangor, Maine.
The good Doctor waited in the elevator what seemed like an eternity. He reached floor five and stepped out. This was his floor. This was where his office was. Anderson began walking down the hallway, preparing to file his latest loss.
7:26 AM, Pacific. Los Angeles, California.
“...Learn a thing or two from Gideon.” The rest of the students snickered while Gideon proudly pushed up his glasses. The teacher handed back his paper and waddled to the front of the room. He pulled down the projector screen, nodding to Gideon to start the overhead. It came to life with a small roar, Gideon taking his seat once again. “Everyone else was surely jealous of the teacher’s favoritism on me,” he thought to himself, gloating.
8:26 AM, Mountain. Johnson City, Colorado.
“Drop your weapon, sir!”
Eugene’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t the gun, but it was a step in the right direction.
“Drop your weapon NOW, sir!”
Eugene stood frozen. This couldn’t be happening.
“SIR! This is your final warning!”
Eugene began to walk towards the blockade.
9:26 AM, Central. Dallas, Texas.
The program finished loading and Amanda began to move the mouse, holding her coffee with one hand. She scrolled through the various new articles, smiling at the spam mail everyone got nowadays. Between the “Enhance your sex life now!” and “Free Porn Passwords!” e-mails, the heading “Thank you for a wonderful time, John,” caught her eye.
10:26 AM, Eastern. Bangor, Maine.
The office door let out a quiet squeak as Anderson entered. He meandered over to his desk, turning on his lamp. He took a seat, and opened the top drawer, pulling out a piece of hospital stationary. The mug full of pens on his desk was quickly overturned as he searched for a hospital brand pen. Finding one, he began his note.
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