Two
A blonde woman sits before a computer screen in a darkened room, her face given an unhealthy bluish sheen by the light of the monitor in front of her. It is difficult to tell what colour her eyes might be. Her hair is fashionably cropped and coiffed, swept up to the top of her head in a sleek, professional style. Jewelry glints at the pale earlobes and on the long, elegant pale fingers that tap efficiently at the console before her. She is relaxed and calm, smiling faintly. Occasionally she laughs, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning the text messages that are still the least expensive and most efficient means of communication upon and between planets.
Suddenly her face grows still. Disbelief flashes across her features, which quickly twist up in a rictus of hate.
“Not important!”
The woman’s voice is sibilant, choked with emotion.
“Of all the— that hateful little bitch, how dare—”
Her features begin to crumple. She takes one deep breath, then another. Her eyes dart around the room, not focusing on anything in particular, as she sits, hands clenched, breathing. In a few moments, she is calmer, but there is a tremor in her voice when she speaks.
“You’ll regret this, you arrogant bitch.” The eyes look up into the monitor, steely with hate and resolve.
She is silent for a long while, frowning in intense concentration, looking off into the distance. Occasionally there is a chime from the computer, indicating a new message received, but she ignores these completely, not even blinking when they occur.
Finally, she smiles.
“Yes,” she says, to herself. She stares again into space, tapping her chin, beneath a widening grin.
“Yes,” she repeats. “Let’s see you explain this, Yukiko.”
Flexing her fingers, she begins to tap at the keyboard.
Copyright
Elizabeth Bent 2005