What Would Ray Mears Do?

Pushing the headphones off his head so the plastic loop rested around his neck Martin looked round. Meerkat-like he peered over the top of his monitor. Had nobody else noticed?

The workmen had arrived an hour earlier. Shaven heads, faded tattoos. Little yellow logos on the blue of their management company issued t-shirts. He hadn’t paid much attention then, it was just the normal clattering, thick local accents, guttural chuckling. Doing whatever it is these guys do.

He hadn’t paid much attention when one guy had gone round the doorframe with a spirit level. Or to the drilling. Or the hammering. He was too busy, his schedule was full. New media, contrary to popular belief, won’t make itself you know.

Now though he needed a piss. And now he noticed there was no longer any way of leaving the room, just a smooth partition wall. The old six panels in worn off-white, and now one noticeably cleaner panel where the door had been.

Stephen looked up and leaving his headphones on (to deter anybody from hassling him) silenced iTunes. He listened. Had anybody else noticed? Why was Martin pissing in the corner of the room?