“Do you think he suspects?” asked the voice of a young woman barely bothering to mask her indifference.
“Not a thing,” rasped Emperor Mong, “it’s all going exactly as I had foreseen. Vimto’s obsession with that ridiculous prophecy is all consuming. He is heading directly for BZT173690-HRW373028 as we speak.”
“And the Workplace?” asked the woman stretching an arm out as she yawned.
“Decommission is well underway. Preparations for a full and complete relocation are on track to come in on time and under budget. The Def Jam Super Star will deliver its fatal Hipperty-Hopperty Annihilator Beam soon enough and Vimto’s redundancy will be complete.”
The young woman, dressed in sumptuous satin robes, nodded nonchalantly, “right,” she said as reached up to caress her trademark furry earmuffs, “I suppose that’s a good thing then.”