Two young women, interviewing, I’m sure, at the medical
school on top of the hill. One in gray business suit, a little
too tight in all the right places. She’d asked at 7:02 when
the shuttle was going to leave. As soon as Gene clocks in,
I told her, pointing to Gene, the only other person in the building
wearing the shirt I was, as he walked in the door. Instantly,
she was gone, and she did not return until 7:15, asking where
the shuttle was. The other candidate came down about 10
minutes later and said to the first, did you show up late?
Shouldn’t be long, the gray suited one said, citing me
with a point over her shoulder. They stood there staring
into their own reflections on the pre-dawn sliding glass door,
waiting as though our shuttle would transport them to some
new place, something entirely unlike anything they’d yet known.