Ray Sullivan SciFi Zone: Project: Evil – The Site Progress Meeting part 2

Project: Evil – The Site Progress Meeting part 2

‘Lurch’s dungeon is creating a few challenges,’ said Brian, resorting to management speak. He’d found a glossary of management bullshit phrases in the back of the PRINCE2 manual that he fancied trying out. He added, ‘We’re a few days behind schedule, which gives us an opportunity.’ O’Feld snorted.

‘Challenges, opportunities, bloody fancy management bollocks,’ he said, adding, ‘If NASA had been a PRINCE2 organisation at the time that I sabotaged the Apollo 13 mission, they would have insisted on saying “Houston, we have an opportunity”,’ he ranted. Brian sighed again before completing his sentence.

‘An opportunity to look for additional screwdrivers. As I reported last week, we only found two in the packs supplied for the secret lair, which will slow us right down once the groundworks are complete.’ O’Feld nodded for the EVIL Officer to continue.

‘Food is becoming a bit of an issue,’ he said. There was a lot of awkward shuffling around the table as everyone with private access to the kebab stall tried to avoid the EVIL Officer’s stare. ‘What? You haven’t noticed supplies running low?’ he asked, trying to catch the eye of anyone, failing miserably. Brian broke the silence.

‘Doctor Froshdu is taking more of our resources than we expected,’ he explained, slipping his kebab-stained napkin under the table. O’Feld noticed the manoeuvre and followed suit while regretting not having the tiresome bastard killed back in blighty. The EVIL Officer weighed up Brian’s answer before continuing.

‘Fair enough, he is a big fellow,’ he said economically, causing O’Feld to spit out a mouthful of donor kebab onto the table in surprise. The EVIL Officer continued: ‘And I still can’t get a signal on my TV,’ he said, looking back at Brian. O’Feld felt safer on this subject.

‘I agree, I’ve missed my daytime TV for a few weeks now, surely there’s something you can do, Brian? Mrs O’Feld is missing the adverts for the cat food; I shouldn’t encourage it as they feature naked male cats, which is technically feline porn, but the sex afterwards is great,’ he said, embarrassing everyone in the tent. Brian was about to explain the technical difficulties of receiving TV signals on a remote uninhabited island without a transmitter within two hundred miles when the EVIL Officer interrupted.

‘And the noise that dyslexic rapper makes is so intrusive. I’d like to move tents, or at least change room-mate,’ he demanded. O’Feld’s monocle popped out and ended in the part masticated donor kebab on the table.

‘Slippy Doggy Doo’s alive?’ he asked, staring around at the group, fixing finally on Brian. Daw looked disdainfully at the project manager.

‘That flush,’ he pointed out, ‘has just cost us another royalty payment to Kew. I’d love to know how they came to steal our idea and charge us for the privilege,’ he added, causing Brian to flush again.

‘For God’s sake, Brian,’ shouted O’Feld, ‘it’s bad enough you’ve overspent the budget by fifty percent on a ring of magnets that we don’t need without you feeding the Secret Service social fund as well,’ he ranted.

‘Talking of Secret Service,’ piped up public sector man, ‘has anyone heard the warning klaxon?’

‘Which one?’ asked Daw, adding, ‘you seem to have one for every emergency – fire, farts and Frisbees,’ he said. Public Sector man huffed.

‘A carelessly thrown Frisbee can cause a lot of damage,’ he answered, defensively, adding, ‘but if Bund finds out our location I can’t guarantee that there will be any warning. The whole security setup has been compromised by budget cuts, misdirected technology and the strap has bust on one of my sandals,’ he said, holding the damaged sandal up. O’Feld furrowed his brow.

‘Why would Bund find out about our location?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘You did do that interview for local TV before we left,’ pointed out Brian.

‘And the Daily Telegraph article you wrote mentioned our location,’ added Daw. O’Feld shrugged.

‘Your Facebook page has a map of the island with a timetable for the public transport,’ noted the Head of Facilities, adding, ‘which has caused a bit of a problem as I haven’t finished sifting the tenders for the bus-stop.’ O’Feld just ignored that one.

‘You’ve enabled location ID on your Google page,’ said the EVIL Officer, holding his smart phone up to show the meeting. Slippy Doggy Doo pushed the play button on his recently returned boogie box.

‘And yo sent a message, to the man.

Listening in, from his van,

Using a member, of staff, I ain’t lyin’,

The traitor you’re looking for, is named...’ Slippy looked up angrily as the boogie box stopped suddenly.

‘We need those batteries,’ said Brian, tipping them out of the box and slipping them into his pocket.

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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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