Small Spaces
folder
Original - Misc › Science Fiction
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,270
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Science Fiction
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,270
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Nora
With the friendly nods and sparkly-eyed stares of the atrium dwellers behind him, Jacob searched the housing corridors for his room number.
"1220...1221...122-" His eyes fell upon the rather nondescript white door, just like all the others he had seen leading up here, and he briefly considered knocking, before tossing the silly notion aside. Instead, with a swift swipe, the plain door opened before him; the room beyond was quiet, the lights very dim. Had he not known better, he would have thought the room completely deserted. That is, until he heard the excited whisperings of two female voices.
"He...he's here."
"Really? Have you seen him yet? Whas'ee look like?"
Jacob cleared his throat lightly, slipping in through the tiny foyer, and fully entered the apartment. Once his eyes had adjusted to the low lighting level, he allowed himself a quick sweep of the room. It was basically one living space; a door to his left must have been the bathroom. After years of cramped cleansing stations with barely enough room for his gangly frame, Jacob couldn't wait to test it out.
A cozy kitchen area, divided by black-tile counter tops, was tucked away to his right. Beyond that, there was the wide expanse of white walls; two lofted beds lined the far wall, the heads of which backed up to their adjacent corners. Under them were two desks, similar to the one in his old apartment. But the most striking, and abnormal, feature was the spacious bed that was sandwiched between the ends of the two lofted bunks. It was adorned with white pillows and blankets; perfect for two...
"Hello."
Her voice was soft, warm. Mellow. Jacob's attention snapped in her direction. She'd been standing to his left, just out of his view from the doorway. He coughed.
"Hello," he mirrored her greeting, unsure of whether to shake her hand. And in the few moments of silence that followed, that is when the two members of The Program, pair 1222, sized each other up.
Jacob began at her feet; small, delicate black shoes led to dainty ankles. Her legs were not long, and her hips were abundant, though not overly so. She wore plain black slacks and a black sweater. While not tight, the ensemble was just form-fitting enough for him to get a good look at her. In her left hand, which appeared to be soft and also small, she held a video communication device, and the image of a curious girlfriend was peering up at him, trying to see more clearly who it was that her friend was trapped here with. The woman in front of him had a fine, shapely waist, small but befitting breasts, a suitable neck. And her face was pleasant, with pretty pink lips and wide brown eyes. But it was her hair, brown and curly, and utterly unruly, that was the most unappealing thing about her.
"I'm Nora," she said, when she was finished looking him over, as well.
Nora, he rolled her name over in his mind, let it slide, mentally, off of his tongue. Jacob and Nora. Nora and Jacob. The result was agreeable enough.
"Jacob...128," he cringed at his automatic use of the numbers. Those damned numbers.
"Oh, I'm Nora 7. Pardon my laziness, but I do think those numbers are highly unnecessary."
If Jacob had been a passionate man in any sense of the term, he just might have kissed this woman. Instead, he merely nodded, his fist coming up to stifle a nearly silent cough.
"Nora 7. I suppose that would be so. I've not met any others."
"What can I say," she smiled at him, revealing straight, white teeth, "I'm almost one of a kind."
"1220...1221...122-" His eyes fell upon the rather nondescript white door, just like all the others he had seen leading up here, and he briefly considered knocking, before tossing the silly notion aside. Instead, with a swift swipe, the plain door opened before him; the room beyond was quiet, the lights very dim. Had he not known better, he would have thought the room completely deserted. That is, until he heard the excited whisperings of two female voices.
"He...he's here."
"Really? Have you seen him yet? Whas'ee look like?"
Jacob cleared his throat lightly, slipping in through the tiny foyer, and fully entered the apartment. Once his eyes had adjusted to the low lighting level, he allowed himself a quick sweep of the room. It was basically one living space; a door to his left must have been the bathroom. After years of cramped cleansing stations with barely enough room for his gangly frame, Jacob couldn't wait to test it out.
A cozy kitchen area, divided by black-tile counter tops, was tucked away to his right. Beyond that, there was the wide expanse of white walls; two lofted beds lined the far wall, the heads of which backed up to their adjacent corners. Under them were two desks, similar to the one in his old apartment. But the most striking, and abnormal, feature was the spacious bed that was sandwiched between the ends of the two lofted bunks. It was adorned with white pillows and blankets; perfect for two...
"Hello."
Her voice was soft, warm. Mellow. Jacob's attention snapped in her direction. She'd been standing to his left, just out of his view from the doorway. He coughed.
"Hello," he mirrored her greeting, unsure of whether to shake her hand. And in the few moments of silence that followed, that is when the two members of The Program, pair 1222, sized each other up.
Jacob began at her feet; small, delicate black shoes led to dainty ankles. Her legs were not long, and her hips were abundant, though not overly so. She wore plain black slacks and a black sweater. While not tight, the ensemble was just form-fitting enough for him to get a good look at her. In her left hand, which appeared to be soft and also small, she held a video communication device, and the image of a curious girlfriend was peering up at him, trying to see more clearly who it was that her friend was trapped here with. The woman in front of him had a fine, shapely waist, small but befitting breasts, a suitable neck. And her face was pleasant, with pretty pink lips and wide brown eyes. But it was her hair, brown and curly, and utterly unruly, that was the most unappealing thing about her.
"I'm Nora," she said, when she was finished looking him over, as well.
Nora, he rolled her name over in his mind, let it slide, mentally, off of his tongue. Jacob and Nora. Nora and Jacob. The result was agreeable enough.
"Jacob...128," he cringed at his automatic use of the numbers. Those damned numbers.
"Oh, I'm Nora 7. Pardon my laziness, but I do think those numbers are highly unnecessary."
If Jacob had been a passionate man in any sense of the term, he just might have kissed this woman. Instead, he merely nodded, his fist coming up to stifle a nearly silent cough.
"Nora 7. I suppose that would be so. I've not met any others."
"What can I say," she smiled at him, revealing straight, white teeth, "I'm almost one of a kind."