He stared at his apartment door while he ate and checked the outside temp: 134° air quality: lethal, inside 70° air quality: good. Chelsea cat rubbed against his shins, looked up at him, her long white whiskers trembling, and meowed a little too loud.
Lucille really got under his skin.
He opened his closet door and dropped his robe. He pulled on shorts, a tee shirt and wiggled into his ADS suit. On pure instinct, he reached into his nightstand drawer and closed his hands around his house keys.
“I’ll be back,” he said to Chelsea and Lucille. Neither responded.
The corridor looked longer than he recalled, or maybe it was just weird walking in a clumsy suit. The elevator came more quickly than he anticipated. Magnus walked in and pressed lobby. The piped in music was atonal without beginning or end.
The doors opened and Max took a deep breath and proceeded to the front door. It had a motion sensor and opened immediately. He looked through his goggles at the greenish mist. Somewhere, across the river was Queens, Brooklyn, Long Island and the ocean. It made him nauseous to think of all the open space outside and all the tunnels below surging with rodents, Nutria’s, giant rats and others of unusual size.
Magnus turned back and went to his apartment. He took off his ADS suit and hung it carefully in his closet. He gave Chelsea extra long pets and was nice to Lucille all day.
He was fine really. No need to leave. The trophy was just another thing to collect dust. What would he buy with all that coin? He had everything he needed.
Sex was overrated anyway. He knew better than anyone else what made him feel good.