Hi everyone, this is my first attempt at posting something on here, so apologies if it all goes wrong. This is a story I've written as a first ina series of short stories set in the future. Any feedback would be brilliant, cheers!

Entering the reception area, Adam was struck by the cool and clean air that met his lungs. With the door quickly sealed behind him, he was given a quick nod and took a deep breath of the artificial air as he removed the face mask from over his mouth. Sweeping the dust and sand from his shoulders, he was quickly whisked towards a tall device in the shape a doorframe, the insides aglow with dull red light, connected to a screen observed by another of the security personnel present in the lobby.

Each of the guards wore a helmet, a deep black like their uniform with a clear visor over their eyes. Adam saw the guard’s eyes narrow on scrutiny of the image now appearing on the screen in front of him but, having examined the pictures for a number of seconds, he gave a brief hand signal and Adam was allowed through.

Another of the black draped figures emerged to take Adam through a set of clean white double doors and up a wide staircase, lit by long, bright electric lights on the high ceiling. The guard, in full body armor and holding what Adam recognized as an M-16 rifle, pointed along the corridor and followed behind as Adam made his way towards the large, grand wooden door at the end, standing out comfortably against the white walls and tiled floor. Each step of Adam’s seemed to echo for an age, advertising his newly found presence in the building. Trying to ignore the lurking figure behind him, Adam took another deep breath as he reached the door. Now or never.

“Come in, come in!” came the hearty yell from within the office just as he had knocked on the door, the heavy set American accent carrying through the thick oak entrance.

Walking in and mumbling a hasty greeting of his own, Adam shook hands with the High Commissioner and looked upon him for the first time. The man was red faced and smiling, his body’s size not hidden by the uniform consisting of a thick, dark green jacket embroidered with gold stars and medals, accompanied by a cap and trousers of the same colour. His blue shirt and black tie were all perfectly kept. The man wore a satisfied smile as he leant back into the chair behind the grand, varnished desk, completely clear with the exception of a screen currently displaying four camera angles of the corridor outside. Adam took a seat opposite him and hastily pulled out a notepad, pen and pair of glasses from his bag.

“If I could just thank you, sir,” Adam begun, “for the opportunity to interview a senior member such as yourself so – “

“Nonsense!” the Commissioner interrupted him, “I wanted your people to know just how happy I am with how I am progressing in my new post! This interview is a pleasure; there is no need to thank me, Adam Mills. Feel free to take a sip of coffee, that mug there is for you.”

Adam smiled graciously and took a sip, two sugars, just as he preferred it. Having placed his mug back on the desk, Adam launched straight into his first question, ignoring the sweat forming on his brow. This was it, just stay calm.

“So, how would you say you have settled into your new role as Britain’s High Commissioner?” Adam asked, getting the paper’s approved questions out of the way first of all. He scratched one or two quotes from the Commissioner’s monologue onto his notepad, the sweeping references to a growing economy and an ever improving security situation.

“And what is your assessment of the campaign in the East?” he moved on.

“McCollum’s a good man, he’ll get the job done all right” the Commissioner answered, his smile dropping for a split second as he looked down at his lap, before raising his head and grinning widely once more.

“If I may ask Commissioner, is the party worried about the rumours of resistance movements in the midlands?” At this the Commissioner frowned and leaned forward slightly. Before answering, he took a sip of his coffee and coughed, now seemingly gazing into the corner of the room rather than directly at his interviewer.

“I cannot go into specific restricted information, Mr. Mills, though I’m aware you have a history of looking into rumours where your skills would be better suited following the genuine news represented by the party.” He took another sip of coffee, “I have heard there were rumours of Islamic activity… nothing more than hearsay”.

“So reports of a gunfight between the army and opposition groups are also a fabrication?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow and feeling his leg begin to twitch.

The man’s head snapped away from the corner of the room and fixated on Adam now. “That story is the work of an over-imaginative observer who has now been detained. One individual was shot by the cops having attacked members of the public. It is believed he was mentally ill. This is all I have to say on the matter. I fail to see how this is relevant to your article Mr. Mills.”

Determined to get more information, Adam pressed on, “how damaging are these rumours for your premiership so soon after your appointment?” He asked, his voice now raised slightly.

Now standing up, the Commissioner looked down at Adam, the redness of his face now exaggerated and the friendly smile gone. “I think that’s quite enough Mr. Mills, you are a reporter, your job is to report the success of the last few months, not to poison the minds of the public with insurgent rumours. You may leave.”

Adam stood up to leave, his face expressionless. He had gotten what he needed for the department, and felt cautiously pleased with the result of the interview. Having exited the room, he noticed that the guard who had followed him up was now nowhere to be seen. He headed down the corridor and descended the stairs. However, when entered the lobby he found it suddenly empty. The doors were closed and locked; the lights were out, the machinery shut down.

Looking quickly from side to side, Adam took a hesitant step forward. As far as he could tell the room was empty. He fumbled in his bag with his left hand, then reached for his inside pocket, but felt his arm pulled away from behind him. One man held his arms, and Adam felt his glasses fall from his face as a heavy blow to the back of the head met with blackness and the fading sound of shuffling feet.