(xlv.)

"Are you sure this is the best course of action?"

Pierpont sighed, heavily. "Yeah. Yeah it is."

Miss Taylor nodded. "So, you're just giving up?"

He nodded.

She surveyed the tiny office.

"You're just going to admit that you can't keep the company afloat? Just, 'sorry, we're bankrupt, that's it,'?"
"...yeah," he said, half-heartedly.

"You know, when I started working here, the Federal government was trying to shut down Omnivion. But we perservered. And that wasn't just some snivelling little shit who worked for a Senator, either. The President wanted to get rid of us," she nodded, and mumbled, "Truman hated us."

Pierpont's head snapped up. "Wait, what? Omnivion's been around that long?"

Miss Taylor giggled. "Of course it has. You can ask--" she paused. "Oh, well, no, I guess you can't ask her about that, but still--"
"Yeah, Lorelei knew all this crap like the back of her hand," he said, wistfully.

He stood up, and walked over to the filing cabinet. He crouched, and fumbled with the bottom drawer.

It opened, and he pulled out a bottle.

"Vodka?" he offered.
"Well, now, wait a second. Don't you think we should try just a little harder to keep Omnivion in business?"
"Why?"
"Well, if not for the espionage, at least for the cheap radios and flashlights."

He twisted the cap off the bottle, and pulled a glass out of the drawer.

"No one really gives a shit. If it's not the JCIIE trying to fuck us over, it'll be the SEC. And if it's not them, it'll probably be, I dunno, the Canadians."

He poured the vodka into the glass.

"You sure you don't want some?"


[chapter xlvi.]