Ray Sullivan SciFi Zone: Project: Evil

Project: Evil Chapter Six - The Funding Meeting

O’Feld did the introductions.

‘Right, first off, please welcome the new funding controller for the – what did you say the project was called?’

‘SHAG,’ answered Daw before Brian could. O’Feld nodded approvingly.

‘I assume it means something suitably obnoxious,’ he said before resuming his discussion of the new funding controller. ‘The Finance Director’s wife washed his trousers the other day, resulting in the total loss of the company accounts. So I’ve decided that a megalomaniac organization such as this needs its finances to be on a more formal footing. Hell, we may even pay some tax,’ he suggested, with nobody really believing him.

‘So this is the Economic Variable Investments Liaison Officer. His job is to work with the Corporate Remuneration Applications Programme to secure funding when requested by the Technology and Weapons Acquisitions Team. Through you,’ he said, looking directly at Brian.

‘So I request funding,’ started Brian, interrupted by the new funding controller.

‘Using the Standard Higher Investment Transaction form, unless it’s for petty cash amounts,’ he said. Brian stopped scribbling his notes, restating his clarification question.

‘So if the SHAG TWATs need funding, I get it from CRAP, using a SHIT form submitted to the EVIL Officer?

‘In triplicate, please?’ asked O’Feld, adding, ‘One copy for the project file, one to the EVIL Officer and one to Miss Bigtits.’

‘Miss Bigtits?’ asked Brian, confused. A hand waved from the back of the room. Brian noted the low cut version of Corporate Wear, particularly the teddy logo on the breast pocket that barely covered the breast. It would have been called a midriff pocket if the Corporate Wear extended that far down the torso.

‘I’m doing a research project for Mr O’Feld into wasted administration. I receive a copy of every document generated by the organization so I can produce a report in three years time to decide if we need to continue the study.’

‘She works from my office,’ explained O’Feld. ‘Now, what will a SHAG do for me?’ he asked Brian.

‘You don’t know?’ he asked, looking at Miss Bigtits.

O’Feld blanked Brian, which caused Brian to shit himself – the sight of O’Feld pulling a pistol out and pointing it directly at him was bad enough, but the sound of the blank going off capped it, literally. O’Feld laughed maniacally, however he did that on a regular basis, several times an hour in fact.

‘Listen, I like the sound of a SHAG, so what is it?’ he asked. Brian swallowed hard as he understood the request.

‘It’s a Super Heated Antimatter Gun,’ replied Brian. O’Feld looked surprised.

‘Super heated? That sounds expensive, given the cost of gas and oil.’ Daw leaned towards his boss.

‘Once you control the planet you can negotiate reasonable terms for them.’

‘I knew that,’ huffed O’Feld. ‘So, where do we get the antimatter from?’ Brian shuffled awkwardly.

‘That’s proving to be a tad problematical. We’ve tried all the local builders’ merchants and they seem to be out. Ebay has some, but I hate all that fastest finger malarkey. I never seem to win.’

‘You’re obviously not bidding enough,’ grumbled O’Feld. ‘Can’t we make it ourselves?’

‘It’s very unstable and dangerous, we could easily destroy ourselves and the rest of London just trying to make a small quantity,’ said the Head of Health and Safety.

‘Excellent,’ declared O’Feld, ‘that’s the matter sorted. So now I can have a SHAG,’ he added.

‘We’ve got to overcome some serious technical issues first,’ replied Brian.

‘Well, get on with it,’ replied O’Feld, get your TWATs working up a design, file a SHIT form and lean on the EVIL Officer. In the meantime, like I said, I’m going for a SHAG. Miss Bigtits, my office,’ O’Feld declared. Miss Bigtits looked up.

‘Our office, you mean, Mr O’Feld?’

‘Whatever,’ answered O’Feld, leaving. Brian realized, once again, that the meeting was over. As O’Feld left, the EVIL Officer turned to Brian.

‘If you think your TWATs can provide a spec for the antimatter then let them fill in the SHIT form, but be warned, I’m not as much a pushover as my job title suggests,’ he said, following O’Feld out of the room.

‘Christ, where did they get him from?’ asked Brian, suddenly aware that Daw was standing next to him.

‘Kicked out of the British National Party for being too right wing. A bit of a catch, really. Just don’t send any uninhabitants to his office with a request. Or a woman, come to think of it,’ he said, sipping his tea. Brian nodded.

‘Do you think he knew that door leads to O’Feld’s office?’ asked Brian.

‘He didn’t have a clue,’ smirked Daw.

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The characters, companies and places referred to in Project: Evil are fictitious and any resemblance to people, companies, businesses or places is entirely coincidental

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