“There is no kind of idleness by which we are so easily seduced as that which dignifies itself by the appearance of business.”
--Boswell's The Life of Johnson
It had been three weeks since anyone had gotten a paycheck. Six weeks ago, the company had been delisted from the stock exchange for under a dollar for a month. Now, there was talk from marketing that the company credit cards were being rejected at restaurants and travel agencies.
Paul blinked again. Geoff cocked his head to one side. A moment peeled itself like onion skin and passed.
“I think you’re going to have to work through lunch today, Paul.”
Zip. Zap. Zorbit. Neurons were in spasm directly behind Paul’s right eye. He started walking towards Floor 23’s portal. “I’m sorry Geoff,” he started to say as fast as he could, “But I really need to get to my desk. I’ve been late a lot recently, you know…”
Paul dialed lasagna on his omnitrex and aimed it at his plate. the beam lined the plate back and forth in it's odd fashion, 'jetting condensed matter in waves upon waves, layers upon layers on the dinnerware, itself having just been trexed out just five minutes ago. A real nice earthenware piece, too. Genuine licensed Frankoma reproduction. Infrared from the trex was heating up the lower layers of noodles and sauce even as it was developing more noodly goodness. Gawd, did it smell good and wasn't Paul's mouth watering when>ding!<