Tony's Job

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"We really need a railing here or something. You know Mike's kid wandered up here last week? Could you imagine the shitstorm that would erupt if he had fallen off?"

Charles had been complaining all morning about his rotation. He was the security guard for this level and so it stood to reason that he'd probably catch hell if somebody died up here, but maybe if he were better at his job, there'd be no fucking toddlers around.

Hey, that was good! Say it out loud, dummy!

"Hey, well, if you were better at your job then-"

My voice was drowned out by a passing sentry craft, making me look like a complete douche.

"-around." Great.

"What?"

"Forget it, Charles," I sighed, turning away. Fuck you, Charles, I thought. I happen to know you're getting fired next week anyway. "Hey Tony, are we done here? What are you looking for, anyway?"

Tony didn't respond. He wouldn't; he was a quiet guy, especially when he was working. What the hell did he do, anyway? Why did he have those robot eyes on? It occured to me that I didn't know exactly WHAT his job was; just that he came up here every month, put on the robot eyes, scanned the horizon, and went back inside. Plus, he was always wearing his hood up. Why was that? Was he hiding bad hair? Did he have hair under that thing?

"So what's with the hood, Tony? Got any hair-"

Another sentry craft zoomed by. Shit! SHIT!

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