A snipet following "Welcome", in transition.
|She awoke from the boredom induced trance to snow. “Why can’t they at least afford DVD?” she muttered to herself as she pressed the long awaited REWIND button on an archaic VCR console; and right she is indeed. If the plastic ribbon wound video cassette is obsolete as a technology, just imagine how dated the recorded training material and role-play scenarios must be. She wonders if these tapes, those outdated and atrociously portrayed scenes of unrealistically nice customers and overly thoughtful employees knowing just what to say and saving the day with scripts, is a preview of what Hell might be like. “I think I need to start going to church more often,” she whispers to herself.|
“Feeling suddenly religious?” She jumps at the voice behind her. “I mean, that’s great and all. I’ve just never heard of those tapes provoking a spiritual reaction out of anybody.” The figure is tan, muscular, with green irises surrounding pitch black pupils and breeze-sculpted cascades of chocolate mahogany hair. The figure is perfect.