Lent

He rested on the seventh day (Genesis 2:2)

‘I’m giving a lecture on superficial and profound foundations two weeks from now in Madrid,’ Alejandro told me some days later. ‘You’ll prepare a script, around one hundred pages, and a PowerPoint presentation with two hundred charts. It’s for the Society of Civil Engineers, all experienced professionals, so don’t try to fool me with any of that Wikipedia bullshit.’

‘What about the projects I’m working on? Can they wait?’

‘Are you nuts? What would our clients think? You’ll prepare this after work.’

It wasn’t possible. No one could do it. That fucker was out of his mind. I fled from the office madhouse to the esplanade. I stared at the bridge pillars where I’d seen myself working as a real engineer with real pay, building the future of our city. But it had been ages since anybody had last worked on the bridge.

The cold north wind brought me to my senses. At least I still had a job.

I called someone I knew, placed my order and went to the candy shop that served as a front for the drug business. Maybe Alejandro wanted to reimburse me for this?

From that day on I lived at the office. At least I didn’t have to look for a room anymore. The pills kept me going and whenever they stopped working I slept under my desk for half an hour and then took more. Every other day I hurried home to shower and get some food. Rocío rang on the third day, wondering what had happened to me. I told her what was going on.

‘So you’re officially his slave now?’ she asked.

‘What can I do?’

‘Don’t know. Not this.’

‘I’ll make it up to you afterwards.’

She kept calling over the next few days, but when she realised nothing changed, the calls stopped.

I became a copy and paste expert. Most of the time, I had  no idea what I was putting together, but for once Alejandro was satisfied.