A New Age Chapter 1: The Man in the Suit

Chapter 1

Roland looked up from his book to his phone buzzing on his desk. He was one of the only 22 year olds he knew that refrained from the technological age. Granted, he had some games on his mobile device, but they were simple affairs that he didn’t spend much time on.

Truth was, he didn’t feel like a typical senior in college, majoring in political science more because that’s what he was good at, the public speaking part, not because it’s what he liked. He was minoring in physical education, he figured that could be a good back up plan and it looked good on a resume.

He was a jack of all trades really, a bit good at anything he tried. He was average looking, a shade under six foot tall, 190 pounds, brown hair he kept in a medium fade (his hair was thick and course, not allowing for anything much longer) and his eyes were a hazel color. He prefered to wear what he was wearing today, all-terrain New Balance shoes, khaki cargo pants, a gray v-neck shirt under a navy blue half zip sweater. One would say he was unremarkable.

His father was an Army man, hauling he and his mother around the nation every three years, it hadn’t allowed them to put any roots down, which had caused Roland Jackson to not become close to anyone other than his parents.

His father had died just last year in Afghanistan, which had been hard. He made sure to call his mother every day he was gone since. It helped them both, as his father had instilled in him to be a man since as long as he could remember. It was the duty of a man. Nowadays there was so much about equality, yet there would always be roles to play. Roland had learned some from his father, some from his mother, and others on his own.

He’d learned that women were a treasure. They came in all shapes and sizes, all kinds of personalities and temperments. He was not a player by any means, his father had taught him about honor, that being a man meant owning up. Roland was either honest with the women in his life about not being exclusive, or he broke it off with the woman he was with if he felt the need to try something different.

Sometimes it went better than others, again, he’d learned.

He picked up his buzzing phone and looked at the text that had come in.

<Hello.>

Roland didn’t recognize the number, so he hit his sleep button and went to put it down. Before he could though it buzzed again.

<You should respond to me.>

“What the hell?” he said under his breath, looking at the phone with perplexity, again going to set it down on the table again, again feeling it buzz as he did so.

<Actually, it’s a bit complicated.>

Roland felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he slowly looked around for someone monitoring him. His father had taught him basic surveillance techniques as a game when they’d go to the mall and be bored when his mother was shopping.

“You can never be too careful. You can never be too prepared,” his father would say, “Now go see if you can get that woman to say that she has always wanted to own a cow.”



Stupid little games they’d play, but now he reverted back to them and what he’d garnered. Someone was playing a joke on him, had to be.

BUZZ

<This is no joke Mr. Jackson. I assure you.>

This ignited a mild flare of his temper, now bringing the response keyboard up.

<How are you doing this?> Roland asked.

“I’m reading your mind,” a voice said, way too close.

Roland jumped up from his seat, the chair moving only so far as to allow him to do so, Roland bringing the book up as a weapon. Across the table from him was a man, who looked like he could have been Rolands brother, with a slightly different face. Slightly more lithe. And golden irises. He wore a normal black suit tailored to be fitted, with a white buttoned shirt and slim black tie.

“Whoa whoa, easy there Mr. Jackson,” he said, inhumanly white teeth showing as he smirked. “Please, sit. While no one will mind at this moment, once I allow time to continue it might seem – weird, for a chair to suddenly skitter across the floor.”

“Time to continue?” Roland asked, looking around.

The seconds on the clock in the student union were fixed: 3:04.43.