Communism Without Coffee
Copyright© 2026 by A duck named TEF
Chapter 3
“Lady Anders.” Director Giovanni de Sorona met Georgia at the entrance of the building, he had a slim file in one hand and a brief case held tightly in the other, “I find that I am once again in need of your lesser known skill set.” He motioned her towards the large, ornate doors.
Georgia stepped inside the building, followed by the Director. “Of course Director, I am honored you came to me. Shall we discuss the details now, or after you have completed your daily tasks?”
The older man nodded toward the lift that was reserved for the upper echelon, one that she was permitted to use only on the occasion she received a special assignment from one of her higher-ups. She stepped inside the posh lift, standing directly behind the Director as he input his code, scanned his badge, and pressed the button for his office floor.
“You look lovely today, Avril, as always.” Avril, the name that Georgia took on in this life, was inspired by one of her idols in the correct timeline. In fact she and her brother Denver shared an admiration of alt-rock and pop-punk of which the artist ‘Avril’ was hailed as the pop-punk princess. However every time she heard the Director address her by the name she felt a pang of disgust.
He was a man of twisted desires, but also one of cunning and cruelty. The accepted history taught that he had achieved the appointment of Director when he was a much younger man, having risen through the rankings through military prowess and a beguiling of his fellows. He could easily win the love and adulation of those around him, but he didn’t fool Georgia. Not many people could fool a psychic of her acumen.
Georgia’s mother made sure she had the best to instruct her in her psychic abilities, going so far as to take her to the so-called gods of past civilisations. She was given the opportunity to experience history as it was being made, an opportunity she valued more so because it was precious time she had with her mother.
“Thank you Director, your flattery is unwarranted though. I am but one of many daughters of our great society.” She finally replied with as much humility as she could feign. She despised this man, she didn’t need to know what exactly he was thinking in order to understand the intentions he held toward her. He was an intelligent man however, and wouldn’t do anything foolish with someone of a class so far removed from his own.
Despite the majority of society being run on the protocols and etiquette of communism, there were classes known to those who truly ran things. The Director was staunch for this class system and wouldn’t lower himself to indulgences of any kind with any of a lower class by virtue. He made a point for her to understand that she was nothing more than a tool for him, a beautiful tool, but nothing more than a tool to be used for the advancement of his ambitions.
The lift stopped at its destination, the doors unfolding to provide admittance to the bland office space of the Director. He didn’t have any decor to his space, he didn’t need shows of extravagance. Streamlined nothing was just fine and allowed for a better focus to his work at hand.
Georgia had been here on a handful of other occasions, she often wondered what the man’s house was like. Was it just as dead, or perhaps livelier than his office? Pondering that thought she dutifully took the seat that faced the front of the desk, back to the lift, the only exit she knew of in this place. The Director sat opposite of her.
He set the briefcase to his side and then placed the file on the surface of the desk, facing Georgia. He opened the file to an image of a man taken from the street.
“We need to find this offender. He is to be brought here immediately.” He said. Georgia took the file in hand, studying the photo of Denver.
She didn’t allow for any emotion to betray her thoughts.
“A man? Surely the enforcers would be enough?” She spoke with a tone of incredulity. The Director remained silent, studying the woman before him as she in turn leafed through the contents of the file, pausing once more on the only photo therein.
Georgia finally looked up to stare into the cold light blue eyes of the Director, “Capture of this man is of the utmost importance, there can be no error. Bring him here alive. Use any resources you see fit.” He then waved her away dismissively.
It would be best not to linger or question. She took a firm hold of the file and returned to the lift, scanned her badge, and returned to the main floor of the building.
“This is not good.” She said under her breath as she made her way to her own desk.
The rest of the day was spent completing her normal duties without incident. As soon as permitted, Georgia left. She hurried back to her flat, using the unusual storms to excuse herself.
Once at her flat she exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, sliding down to a crouch against the inside of the door as soon as she had closed it.
Denver sauntered over and knelt down to be face to face with her, “Rough day?” he asked and handed her a hand towel.
Georgia took the towel and wiped some of the rain off her face, “I don’t know how, but the wrong people know what you are.” She replied.
The reply began to echo around in Denver’s mind. He stood and made his way to look out the kitchen window. The rain was still falling, thunder and lightning still present as well. It had been like that all day, and it would only get worse. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did that someone somewhere in this communist hell would know who he was or rather what he was.
In every variance of time he managed to cause, the six bloodlines of power always existed. There were those who were natural savants, possessing an unparalleled genius. Next were those who possessed a physique capable of inhuman feats of agility, strength, and speed, each one able to heal faster than any normal human could.