Arthur Miles had been a well-known politician, perhaps better known for his eccentricity than any actual work on policy. The man was only 35, even with his reputation; surely there was nothing he would have been able to accomplish by such an age. He was a man who took on his work at his own pace and came and went as he pleased. Often, the only place you can find Arthur Miles is in his elaborate study. In fact, he had moved his bed into the study, as he found it much more comfortable than falling asleep in his chair. However, even with as good a memory as Arthur Miles’ he could barely remember the last time he slept, which was last night, March 14th. Even the last time he managed to make it to nightfall, tonight seemed an eternity ago.
Perhaps the only thing that kept him going was his best friend, James Brighton, whom he had met just this morning, not one hour ago. The two men were currently walking halfway across a bridge in silence.
“Hey, Arthur,” James broke the silence, he always does that, the bastard, there’s nothing new to talk about yet. “Have you figured out what we’re supposed to do yet?”
“No, James, if I did I wouldn’t have to spend all of eternity with you today. Currently our only leads are today, this morning, and the existence of infinite possibility.” Arthur looked at James, “In fact, it might be useful to say that before we find out what we must do, we must first investigate everything. It would be a shame to squander an opportunity to do just that, wouldn’t it? That’s why the bureau doesn’t tell you what to do.”
“So, what, we’re just going to wander around and go to every place we can at the same time in an effort to find anything at all?” James threw up his hands in exasperation. “How are we even supposed to know what kind of hints we’re looking for?”
“We don’t James, that’s why we have to investigate everything.”
“Everything huh? I guess it would be a waste to squander this opportunity.” James slowed his pace and steered his friend towards a closed door.
“What is this place? Some kind of club?”
“Yeah, for gentlemen, obviously, just look at the sign there. We’re British and in suits, I think that means we qualify. Maybe we can ask other esteemed gentlemen here about… uhhh… everything.” James ushered his friend past the bouncer and into the smoky cabaret.
