Chapter Twenty-Four
Foot Rubbing
“They didn’t get rid of men, they just didn’t make any more—let them grow old—final-destination footmen.”—Footmen’s latest jokes
As the secretary began to sweep up the confetti, Alice moved to the curtains, adjusted what was broken, and waited for a reaction. When none came, Alice moved to the table, hovered for a bit, then let out a small cough.
“Okay, thanks Alice . . .”
“Good ball, Alice . . .”
Alice pulled oil from a drawer and silicone from another, then squirted the two into the slit of the table. After a small hiss, the slit closed and Alice produced another memo.
Operator One read it. “She said leave the screen for two hours and it will be set.”
“Show-off.”
“And we’re to follow.”
“Follow? What does she mean? Where? Why?”
Alice bobbed towa
