Erica stepped onto the sidewalk and waved at an oncoming taxi. It pulled over right in front of her, almost screeching to a halt. She grabbed the door handle, still holding the aluminium case under her right arm and slid onto the back seat. "Richardson Airfield, please."
The taxi pulled away unceremoniously, the driver glancing at Erica in his rear-view mirror with a bored expression in his eyes.
She looked down at the case in her hands, then tightened her grip on the rubber handle. What was Andrews thinking? He knew how close she was. The taxi turned a corner, a huge construction site appearing on the left. The skeleton of what looked like at least a 20-storey building rose promisingly into the sky. Erica leaned closer to the window and peered up at level after level of structure in progress. On the lower levels, there was little activity, but as she moved her eyes upwards, the flurry of workers became denser. Scaffolding rose up the front of the building like a mass of tree branches. Steel tubing was being carried around, sparks flew off the blades of grinders, three cranes hovered overhead; the closest of which swung a pallet of what looked like bricks directly over the taxi, at least 8 storeys up. Erica flinched slightly at the sight.
The fact that Andrews didn't even want to look at the latest data seemed very odd. It wasn't like him; he was - although often oblivious to detail - at the very least usually open to listening. One couldn't call him ignorant. Ignorant. Erica repeated the word to her herself under her breath. She could stand arrogance, that characteristic which was so often cited in one-sided arguments. Even conceitedness was occasionally acceptable, given irrefutable facts. But ignorance? Ignorance was the vilest form of insult she knew. There was no thing as morally wrong as complete disregard for something. Something could be negative, could be unwanted, could be something which sent shivers down her spine. It could be something that proved to her that she was wrong about everything she knew, about everything she thought was right. It could be all these things to her and yet be nothing compared to her being ignorant about it. Everything deserved a chance for proof within reason. Nothing was immune to consideration.
The taxi shook slightly as a pile of bricks collapsed to the left, one of the construction workers steadying himself against the scaffolding as he jerked his neck backwards with a startling stutter. A terrified look suddenly appeared on his face. Erica watched in calm horror as a black steel drum tumbled from above, bounced off a concrete beam and smashed down into a barrier constructed out of orange plastic safety netting strung between a series of steel scaffold tubes protruding at 45 degree angles upwards. The drum stretched the netting down a meter, then bounced back slightly before settling into a suspended state, caught like a fly in an industrial strength web. The web was merely a couple of arm lengths above the worker's now frozen figure.
"What was that?! Did you hear that?" Erica grabbed the headrest of the front passenger seat and looked into the rear-view mirror, hoping the driver would acknowledge her and at least make eye contact. Instead, he simply slowed the taxi to a crawl as they approached the traffic light.
He looked bored. "Guess they're just blowing things up with dynamite or something. Don't they always blow up the ground around big buildings? I'm sure they do."
Erica looked at the worker, who still had his gloved hand on the scaffolding. He was staring at the drum in a way that revealed just how relieved she only imagined he could be. As he looked up, she could see in his eyes that what had just happened was very far from expected. He looked at her with the stare of a man suddenly alive, without much expression on his face, but with a sense of energy that was undeniable. The taxi pulled away with a jerk as the traffic light turned green.