The one to his right had a suit of a different cut and a pin on his lapel. If Smythe had to guess this was a representative from back home, the one that would address this perceived slight publicly to save face with the host nation.

The one in the middle was the man with one of the offices in this complex. Grey hair, glasses, and a meticulous appearance. Even the data pad before him was precisely placed, and that cup of earl grey as judged by the scent had been brought in. The other two had plastic water bottles of different brands. They aren’t important enough to be served.

“Ah, Commander Smith,” the man on the left said. “Let’s–(get started shall we?)”

“It’s S-my-the,” Smythe responded.

“What?”

“It’s not Smith, it’s S-my-the.”

There came a pause, giving him ample opportunity to study the men further. All three wore suits, but their bearing implied either military or at least someone who functioned within the structure often. The one to his left was the youngest and the one to probe him initially. The fact Smythe managed to throw him off would have been noted.

The space was large, wood panelled, with two large oak desks on either side. Sitting at them were administrative assistants. Right behind those desks were doors, which he assumed led to individual offices. Dead ahead there were two massive oak doors, with flags that did not fly over the land he grew up in. I left the country?

“They are ready for him,” a young man with a military bearing said, in accented English. It sounds French, but not from France or her former African colonies.

With the press of a button the two large doors opened, showing a large conference room. Inside there were three waiting. Brutus must have gotten impatient, because he nudged him forward towards the door. Fortunately, they stopped at the threshold and stayed off to the side as though he was a security risk. Who needs enemies when you have allies like this?

Smythe was being led through a series of long concrete corridors which brought him back to that training situation. That explains a lot about why those scenarios were being run before they even woke me.

He did not have the contact lens in place, so without the overlay he was not precisely sure where they were going. This wing had more doors, all of them open and filled with bull pens within. This was obviously the working spaces, typically administrative in nature, located on the outside of a structure. Whereas the scenarios were taking place near the central nexus critical to the day-to-day operations.

Which was pricey why he signed up for the Ark programme. Smythe knew he would never have a chance on getting a spot on one of those luxury stations orbiting the planet. It also meant there was the slim chance he would wake up to a better world… other than one going to shit.

Instead of dwelling on this grim reality, Smythe thought back to his training. Why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can rack out? With that in mind, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Instead of wasting his time, he looked out the window and barely recognised the surface. In his youth flights were interesting, as it gave him a birds-eye view of the Earth’s ecology. One moment he could be looking at ships over the ocean, another forests, cities, plains and mountains. It was the latter that always humbled him, because when on the ground the Rockies made you feel small and insignificant, but that flipped when viewed from the air.

Now there was little to see other than a dense rusty fog. When the cloud dissipated enough to see through it the terrain itself was different. He remembered vivid blues, greens, and browns, and gold, now it was decayed and dull. The world is dying.

Smythe barely had the time to pull his gear from storage, before they escorted up to the surface to grab a flight to wherever they were going. The two agents barely said anything to him nor enlightened him any further on where they were going.

This re-enforced his initial opinion of them. Their role was purely security bordering on the role of a mob-enforcer without the mandate to shake down business owners for protection money. Since they were tall with dense musculature a trait he often associated with gorillas. I think it’ll call them Ursus and Brutus.