[center][b][h2]Night Before Orientation[/h2][/b][/center]

Sitting with his back to the [url=http://www.bookatable.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2014/04/hutong-london.jpg]view[/url], William Stephenson held a large manilla envelope in his hand. He used his butter knife to open it from the side and wiggled the photos out onto the plate in front of him. Each picture was a snapshot of a person going about their day at an airport it seemed. None were connected or had any specific perspective other than they weren’t looking at the camera. In fact each seemed blissfully unaware of the photograph being taken. Looking at each one carefully and then flipping them to look at the back he saw a multitude of numbers.

It looked through them as if he were reading them. He quietly put them back in the envelope and then set it on fire using a candle. The action seemed to catch no one’s attention as the clamor and chaos of a busy high end restaurant ran around him. A few minutes later he was joined by a woman in her mid 50’s. Her elegant [url=https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/61JVksanqtL._SR500,500_.jpg]black and white dress[/url] matched his suit and tie perfectly with an obvious touch of coordination between them. “You never could stop with the theatrics.” She said after she saw the ashes from the burnt paper on the white table cloth. Her accent was a mix of South African and something else that was hard to hear if you didn’t know her. 

“Yes, well, this time it isn’t me who seems to be the ringleader…”  Stephenson let this thought linger as the table fell into silence. When he finally continued it was only after he saw no movement in his tablemate to break the silence. “The Academy has been mine to oversee for the past 7 years. I see no reason that the recent incidents should reflect on me.”

The woman seemed to break as she looked down at her purse and then back at the man. “You may see this as an overreaction; however, you would do well to remember that this pet project of yours is not viewed so highly. It took more than a few tense conversations to allow you to continue as overseer.” A phone in her purse started to ring. She gave a polite smile and pulled it out. 

“I am needed in Istanbul. I trust you will see things as they are and understand what position you are in.” The woman then stood up gave a curt nod leaving Stephenson just as food was being brought over to the table. He silently watched her left and then accepted his meal while sending her plate back. The rest of the night he was lost in his own thoughts…

[center][i]In this world you always know what position you are in… even when you’re dead.[/i][/center]