Lunch

From The Village Wiki

[edit] Notes From The Wiki Founder: Lunch by ConcernedCitizen 20:36, November 5th, 2009 (EST)

Yesterday I bumped into Ana outside work. She asked if I’d like to grab a bite to eat with her. I think I said yes before she even finished her sentence.

We ended up grabbing coffee and sandwiches at a small place she knew around the corner.

She seemed a little bit more at ease outside work, but she still kept conversation to trivial matters. Eventually I asked her again if she knew anything about The Village, and told her about the pictures I’d found. I did not mention the wiki at all.

“Look,” she said, leaning forward over the table. “I know it’s something. But I’m not going to lose my job over looking into things that aren’t worth it.”

“You’re not even in the slightest bit curious?”

“It’s none of my business,” she said. “And who can afford to be looking for a new job these days? It’s not like we’re some super secret section of a repressive country’s secret police. We work for a research company. Don’t let it get to you. Unless you stumble across proof of something really dark, just take it easy.”

I was briefly annoyed. I wanted to ask her if she’d ever heard of a place called Bhopal. Or paid attention to Blackwater over the last decade.

But then, she was right. I hadn’t stumbled over anything really creepy.

Well, other than that photo of a man with a hood over his head.

But that might not have even had anything to do with The Village.

We talked about other things, and then Ana’s phone rang. She looked up. “I have to go, that was my son. I’m sorry.”

“You have a son?”

She didn’t answer, but grabbed her purse and left me alone with half a coffee for the rest of lunch.

I didn’t see her back at work for the rest of the day, so it must have been some sort of emergency. It was the first personal thing she’d told me all this time.

Back at work, Mark’s desk area was completely cleaned out and bare.

This morning it was occupied by a new worker. I didn’t introduce myself. I wondered if this was someone new to rifle through my stuff like Mark had.

I asked Ana about it, worried that Mark had been fired. He may have been spying on me, but I didn’t want someone fired over anything I’d said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “He was transferred to another floor.”

A floor, it turns out, I have no access clearance to go to, to see for myself.

Today the program I have turned up this picture. It looks similar to the bus photo occupants.

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