Angel: “I think we’re done…”
Demon: “Hell ya! Randy, come here so I can cram this shit up your ass!!”
Randy: “So violent. Ok let me see what you’ve written.”
Demon: “No, bend over so I can start shoving-”
Angel: “There will be no…shoving of our story up any…orfice. Here Randy, please let me know what you think since I doubt Demon cares.”
Demon: “Damn skippy.”
Randy: “Alright, let’s begin…”
“Open your damn eyes, Richards!”
David listened in to Dr. Hester verbally lambast his colleague.
“How can you blame the father of our society for every human flaw? He wasn’t the first man in existence.” Hester pointed his finger at Dr. Richards’ face. “Tesen practically created us!”
“Yes,” Dr. Richards nodded, sounding unusually calm, “and he had thousands of years to iron out the wrinkles within the Structure, but he didn’t. Instead, he allowed our dysfunction to remain. We could be better than we are, and look at us, a shadow of our former selves, hiding among humans less powerful than us.”
David finished recording his historical findings while the two men continued debating yet another sensitive subject. Tesen was one of the touchiest subjects within the Structure – right along with politics and enlightenment. Tesen was the first known and recorded among humans to develop energy based powers. He was the one who created the foundation of their little dysfunctional society. David agreed with Dr. Hester, despite all the power the man held, he was still just human – imperfectly flawed.
“I give up,” Irene tossed her pen across the table. It skipped from book to book, before the ballpoint rested on a bed of research papers. “Who can concentrate with those two noisy idiots?”
David raised his hand.
“You hardly count. You have that military focus.” Irene sneered, before pushing back from the table. She stood and marched from the room probably to get a cup of coffee.
Because of the two arguing doctors, the team would be up all night once more. Every time Dr. Richards and Dr. Hester got into an argument it set the work back for hours.
Unfortunately, their disagreements were too damn frequent.
Dr. James, or DJ as he liked to be called, came from the lounge with his eyelids flying half-mast. Naptime must be over. He took the cigarette resting behind one ear and slipped it between his lips then patted his jean pockets for his lighter.
Too bad for him, David and Irene hid it under David’s mattress. The man smoked more than he worked. Even if he was irritable without it, the stench pissed off David’s nostrils.
“Fellas,” DJ held up his hands. The doctors silenced. “Calm it down. I want to finish this project before my daughter turns four.”
“Then tell this jackass, he’s wrong!” Dr. Hester shouted.
“Wrong? What proof do you have?” Dr. Richards stood from his seat.
As they started back up again, DJ shuffled across the room, slumped onto his seat at the round table, and landed his head on a history book. Facing David, DJ rubbed his eyes and said, “Go get my lighter, David.”
Damn. Never try to outwit a seer. Especially a prophet. David chuckled, got up from the table, and traveled to his room.