Redemption is a Harsh Mistress
Epilogue
The alarm rang.
I got up and threw it out my window. From now on, I could get up when I got up, and the world could just wait for me. I never wanted to see an alarm clock ever again.
I’d just managed to put aside my disdain this one last time, and set my clock this morning. I still had to hide the obnoxious thing behind my bedside lamp, or I’d have never gotten to sleep. And I think I still had a nightmare or two. I can’t remember any details of the bad dreams, but I’m pretty sure that ticking was involved. Disturbing, but a distinct step up from dreaming that you’ve ruined somepony’s life.
I needn’t have bothered. I was too excited to sleep in. Not on the first official day of my new career. I had to get to work, at my new office.
My office. Not an office my boss had assigned me. Not a room at the corporate headquarters. My office. All mine.
I’d just been kicked out of an opulent corner office suite that I wasn’t half as pleased with.
Scooter was already there. He always did beat me in to work. Scooter was behind the front desk, organizing his things. Before he noticed me I saw him try three different positions for his mug. I guess he wanted the first thing any visitor saw to be the words “Merry’s Right Hoof And Wing.”
“Aren’t you a little eager?” I said. “Considering we have no appointments.”
“I wanted to make sure the painters spelled your name right,” Scooter answered. He indicated the window on the office door. In fresh paint it announced “Merry Fairweather – Things Done, Arrangements Made.”
“How do you feel, Merry?” asked Scooter.
“Better.” And I did feel better than I’d felt in years. Maybe someday I’ll be able to answer that I feel ‘good.’
I took the mug of hot tea Scooter had ready and waiting for me, and went to settle in behind my desk.
Almost immediately, Scooter stuck his head in the door. “Merry, there’s a ‘Mr. Smith’ to see you.”
“A client? Already?”
Scooter shrugged. “I guess Fred gives good word of mouth.”
The stallion Scooter led into my office was kidding himself if he thought wearing civvies fooled anypony. If he wasn’t with the guard I would eat my hat. Well…my second best hat.
My new customer stiffly took the seat opposite my desk. And I do mean stiff, he managed to sit at attention. I was dying to hear why this officer and gentle colt needed my services.
Not that I wasn’t sure I would take the job. If regular channels fail you, then I might be able to help through ‘alternate means,’ discretely and at negotiable rates. That was the service I was subtly advertising on the street.
Just convince me that your sob story is sincere, and I would gladly be the bad guy for your good cause. I hoped for a long career. Hopefully long enough for me to one day start thinking of myself as one of the good guys.
I leaned back in my chair, put my rear hooves up on my desk and crossed them, and folded my fore hooves behind my head (I understood this to be the traditional pose of those in my line of work).
“Please, ‘Mr. Smith,’” I encouraged my new client. “Go ahead and tell me what’s troubling you.”