The lift hissed closed behind me. I was on the first floor, in the lair of The Architect. At least according to the filthy fingered Bin-Raker.

It was still ridiculously early, way before nine. The first-floor office was a large open plan affair and empty. No signs of life. I snorted with contempt. Didn't these people know that the early bird caught the worm or some such shit?

Still, I should be careful. As someone famous once said, Don't shit in a mouth until you have seen the whites of its eyes. I think that's a metaphor for war or something.

Bin-Raker had said The Architect was to be found up the back near where the photocopiers were so that's where I headed. It was darker up there. There were clumsy looking partitions erected which took all of the open out of the open plan.

I clutched at my sharpened Shit-Stick and vaguely wondered how often I could use the word shit when describing things.

As I walked past one of the Photocopiers it whirred into life and I whipped round to face it, my Shit-Stick brandished before me like a murderously pointy weapon smeared in a terrifying excrement.

The Photocopier stopped it's whirring and issued a soft bleep. A sheet of paper slid out from the side into the collector tray.

It bleeped again.

I moved over to it. Cautiously stretching a hand out to the sheet of paper that had been printed. Quickly I fished it out and looked at it.

Behind you.

It stated in Calibri 32 point type.

I spun around and drew a sharp breath.

Can I help you with something?

Looming out of the darkened shadows was a horrifying sight. A woman dressed in odd pastel tweeds that were far too tight for her slightly plump frame. in her late fifties by the looks of it. She had silly glasses that were thick framed and far too large.

I was looking for The Architect, I was told his office was up this end?

I decided to play it safe, even turn on a bit of the charm. Maybe get this old filly's dead fish-head frothing.

I winked.

She twitched as if her son had started dating a lady from Cape Town.

The Architect... Do you have an appointment?

She scampered slightly closer to me. I fancied I could hear the snick-snick of an insect's mandibles. I prayed I was wrong and it was her kitten heels.

An appointment? No. I didn't think I needed one to see him?

The old insect woman laughed and lifted an overly jeweled hand to pat at her hair which looked crunchy, like dried farts.

Him? Him? You men. All the same, who said The Architect was a man?

The Shit-Stick fell from my suddenly numb fingers and landed with a muted clatter on the floor.

Wait... You are The Architect?

The insect woman giggled, parts of her large frame rippling and wobbling under her tight tweeds.

You can call me Sarah if you prefer?

I gulped. Things were getting out of hand. Did this woman know that my favourite chick-name was Sarah? Did she know that even now I was getting a chub on? How could she know these things? Did she have a direct pipeline into my head?

Leave your little stick on the floor and come with me. Come.

It wasn't a request.

I followed her and tried not to look at her overly large bahoomph swaying back and forth under the yards of tweed cloth that made up her skirt. It was no use though, something primordial stirred within the swamps of my undercarriage and I felt slightly faint as the blood in my veins made its way down to my manaconda.

We entered her office and I sat across from her.

She watched me hawk-like.

Boom-Dawg, isn't it? What can I do for you?

I gazed back at her. My head was muddied. Confused. Why was I here again? I wasn't sure now. Everything seemed so complicated.

The Architect smirked and tugged slightly at her tweed skirt. Again I felt a pulsing in my nethers. Frantically I tried thinking of rubbish things, boring things to defy my physical reaction to her presence. Nothing seemed to be working.

The Architect smiled wider as if sensing my discomfort.

Suddenly I had it. Blockchain! The very thought of Blockchain tech instantly relieved the pressure in my nethers and made my head clearer.

Did you hear about the server room shenanigans lately? It has caused quite the stooshie.

The Architect's face darkened, her smile dissipating into the ether.

Yes, I heard about them.

She admitted grudgingly.

Well who decided to put all of the servers in a room with no air-con and limited power? In fact, sod that. Who makes all these kind of decisions? Why are things done the way they are done here? Who is behind it all? Is it you? Why are things so fucked up?

The Architect flinched.

Men. They always think they know best. But they know nothing. Nothing!

He voice rose to a high shriek.

It is time for you to leave. Shoo, off you go.

She waved a hand dismissively at me. She had calmed and now had an odd smile on her face.

I got up to go. Although more confused than ever, I knew there were no answers to be had here.

As I turned, I noticed that there were two doors behind me. I wasn't sure which one I had entered through. I looked behind me to the smug and smiling face of The Architect.

Which door will you choose, BoomDawg?

She hissed. Her smile a fearsome thing now.

Ah, a lady issuing both a choice and a threat. Not a good lady but a lady nonetheless. I was relieved. I knew where I stood now.

Whichever choice doesn't kill me I suppose.

The Architect's smile froze.

All choices kill you in the end.

She stated. Her voice empty and cold.

I smiled and tipped my Fedora at her.

Just the way I like it, sweetcheeks. See you on the other side.

I left.

Via the door.