Chapter 10

Around one in the afternoon, the atmosphere turned hot again. Thomas returned to the editorial office with a flushed face and cloudy eyes. As if in a hypnotic trance, he took off his jacket, tossed it casually on the back of his chair, sat down at the computer and began typing.

He didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. He looked like a mad scientist making a discovery of life that would revolutionize the views of all mankind.

His friends tried to ask him about his impressions of the ride, but to no avail. He didn't answer. He didn’t even react to the taunts. The outside world did not exist for him. He was in another dimension, in a creative trance.

After an hour, unusually beaming and still flushed, he got up from his desk and went to Nicolas' office. He only managed to close the door behind him, and Michael immediately appeared in front of them. Ignoring anyone, he tried to eavesdrop, but from what he heard, he understood very little.

Concepts, yes, were familiar to him, but he only heard scraps of conversation. 

“Bi-xenon lamps with pressurized headlamp washers, electric front and rear windows with one-touch up-down control, airbag monitoring system ARTS, ESP, CATS, DSC, Conti Teves High Performance, ACC active cruise control, trip computer, integrated navigation system with 7'' touchscreen…”

“Damn! What are they talking about?” Michael commented out loud.

“Are you playing a spy?” Alex said, just passing by. “How's that about what? About a new car from the jaguar stable.”

"Sure… Jaguar!" He said ironically. “Does this car have a Conti Teves High Performance Braking System?” Michael whispered, keeping his ear right next to the door.

“It's packed with electronics to the max! A dynamic stability control system, i.e. Traction Control with Dynamic Stability Control, traction control and correction of the path. This system works in the event of both understeer and oversteer, both can be deactivated by the driver.” Alex paused to take a breath and continued:

“In addition, it has an airbag monitoring system, a trip computer and an integrated navigation system with a touch panel. Plus the super V8 Soft Grain Leather package, sixteen-way control seats with driver's seat memory, individually adjustable seats, headrests, the lumbar support. Leather, best quality wood, chrome, automatic six-speed gearbox. Full grazing!” He recited in one breath.

“How do you know so much about it?”

"We rode this gem yesterday." Alex confessed but seeing the grimace on Michael’s face, he realized that he had shot a blunder. “But do you know how much fuel this gem burns?”

“What?” Michael was pissed in rage. “ What do you mean? How come did you drive it yesterday?”

"I have important matters to attend to..." He said, leaving as quickly as possible.

Michael was confused. He didn't understand how it was possible that Alex was driving the chief editor's car. Impossible. And yet? The young fellow was not lying. After all, he clearly said ‘we rode this gem yesterday’. He said ‘we drove’. With who?

He knew that Alex always tells the truth. He doesn't know what a lie is, even for a good cause. Why would he lie? To piss him off? The loss of a warm job, he expected to be his, had upset him enough. He said they drove yesterday. When? Only Thomas left the editorial office just after work. Alex was sitting next to him all the time, so when could they ride? They all left together late in the evening.

Even more puzzling was the fact that the new chief editor had an idea not only about the methods of effective terrorism, extortion, the art of persuasion, but also about the automotive industry. Devastated by the excess of technical parameters and electronic terms, he concluded that he was hearing what he wanted to hear,  and not the chief's conversation with Thomas.

He returned to his seat at the collegiate table and scoured rival magazines for sensation. However, he found nothing of interest. He then reached for the daily newspapers. Nothing notable happened either. It was only Wednesday that day, and cheap sensations appear most often after the weekend, so one won't find them in the middle of the week. There was also no good material for his column.

The editorial team didn't feel like playing bridge or poker that day. Everyone, except Michael, sat at their workstations and wrote, or at least tried to maintain the appearance of strenuous mental effort - they made strange faces, then scratched their heads.

Some wandered between the editorial rooms and the kitchen. Alex just made his fifth coffee, which he made his way to the newsroom with.

“Alex! Friend! What's wrong with you?” Michael was interested in at least the strange behavior of a usually calm friend. He knew Alex was overly concerned about his physical condition and health, that's why he hardly drinks coffee.

Silence answered him.

“Alex!” He shouted right behind his friend's head, making him jump up and spill the coffee he was carrying.

Alex's white with blue diagonal stripes, perfectly ironed shirt, had a large brown stain that would otherwise have been a cause for war. This time, however, there was not even the slightest hint of indignation on the face of a pedantic friend's exaggeration.

He didn't understand that anymore.

“Shut up, please. I have a headache!”

He didn't look very well with a sullen expression, but Michael saw no signs of fatigue, just despondency. He thought he was partying all night like most of the boys. He had a hangover himself, too, but he didn't feel bad, he was used to it.

“What's wrong with all of you? Is there an atmosphere of fear in you too? You're not going to let this witch terrorize you? Do you?” He asked worriedly.

“Shut up, Michael!” He said and thought for a moment. “What is the atmosphere of fear again? What are you talking about?” He was looking at Michael as if he hadn't seen his buddies pretending to work, hiding in the corners like rats.

“Has our editorial witch made a positive impression on you?” This time Michael gently tried to find out if that was the cause of his friend's strange state. Seeing that nothing would help with that tone, he blurted out: “Do you like it? Nice ass huh?”

“What do you mean?” Alex was irritated by the question. "You're the one going for her, man! And you don't even try to hide it.”

“I just want to know if you like her?”

“Man, what are you talking about? You're still only about women!” He did not hide his indignation. “I have more important things on my mind than chasing all beautiful asses!” He looked regretfully at his friend, whose main pastime was breaking women's hearts.