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 Posted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 6:12 pm
Wallet? Check. Old outdated cellphone that probably heralded back to the time of the dinosaurs? Check. Bus pass? Check.
The door to the tiny, (white) bachelor's apartment closed with a small click.
This was everyday routine for him. It was routine, and he preferred routine, he had said so himself, his therapist had said so themselves. Every morning, at the local coffee shop, a bagel and a coffee (Sumatra, dark, no cream, skim milk, brown sugar). Toasted. Next a fourty-five minute bus route. The bus arrived at 6:45 am. It would chug around half of town before arriving in the downtown core. Disembark. Arrive at office. Check watch. Fifteen minutes before work started, technically thirty, but it was always good to be prepared exactly fifteen minutes earlier. Take elevator to tenth floor, check billboard for announcements, arrive at cubicle. Boot computer. Wait for load. Spend the time organizing desk, making sure not a single pencil, a single pencil shaving was out of place. Polish stapler. Stack papers. Arrange neatly in folders. After computer - an old Dell processor - had loaded, wait until exactly 7:59:45 and then punch in both name and ID.
Employer ID #152 325. Hit submit.
At this point most of the cubicles would have been filled. The phones would start ringing. It was, however, a lazy Wednesday. It seemed like even for a phone company - a few co-workers had tried to play the irony thing on him but it was entirely lost to his entire lack of an adequate sense of humour - business with their phones was slow today. So, of course, he did the only thing he could think of: sit patiently at his desk, polish his stapler, and review the A.T.W LTD Corporate Family Rules And Guidelines Handbook for the thirtieth time. All typos had been circled and he was still waiting for a revised version to come out exactly according to his submitted guidelines.
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Posted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 9:28 pm
Maybe, just maybe they wouldn't notice. It was a slim hope that was clung to with as much ferocity as a drowning man clings to a life preserver after being thrown overboard. Even then it was a lie. A small one, but one that would not go unnoticed as they clocked in a few minutes past eight. The sight of the clock was greeted with a strangled winced as they slumped in their chair, waiting for the computer before them to hum to life.
The late arrival frowned, sitting up before turning to the person that arrived earlier. "... Did you seriously organize my desk again?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 10:57 pm
A figure in Birkenstocks strode past security, fifteen minutes late, waving their Starbucks cup as the officer rolled her eyes. He did a little hand motion as the elevator doors opened to let him in. "Thank you, young Padawan," the man grinned at the young intern who had held the door for him. Taking a sip of his drink he gave a pleased sigh as he sipped his drink, "Man, I love it when pumpkin latter season rolls in. It's just the most fantastic time to be alive. When I started my yoga this morning it felt like I was inhaling the cycle of creation through destruction and man was it just magnificent."
The intern nodded tightly, trying to be pleasant but not exactly encouraging to the older man wearing sandals and a gaudy Hawaiian shirt over his company polo. "Ah, this is my floor," he announced, taking intern's shoulder in a bracing grip. "Be well, my new friend." He strode out of the elevator into the depths of the IT department, the muted chorus of Have you tried turning it off, and then turning it on again? ushering in his arrival.
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 12:08 am
"Thank you, and have a nice day." The sentence was pretty much punctuated with the sort of tone of one who took their job a little too seriously. The ignored their cubicle buddy until the window of conversation was more open, as per according to the rules and guidelines, article 63 dash alpha: conversation must be related to the work environment, and kept to a minimum, communication however related to work was necessary.
"You forgot to review the new changes to the guidelines of part time hours last Friday." He pushed up his glasses, the halogen lights reflecting just so off the lenses. "I was merely making sure you would make time in your schedule to review this instead of glancing towards your phone. The best time spent is time constructively applying yourself to further the company, article seven, part three. I and Circe insist."
Another call rang in, and he took the time to polish his bright blue stapler again. Embossed on the handle of the stapler were the words 'Careful Integration Requires Cohesive Emulation' (C.I.R.C.E). It was a pretty impressive stapler, needless to say, considering the length of the typography.
"- your call is appreciated. Thank you and have a nice day." Pause. "If you have the time, please visit our website at www.atwenterpriseslimited.com." He made sure to spell it out, just in case. The customer service representative was about to say something else, a reminder to his cubicle buddy that her choice of poster was too oversized, and exactly one quarter of an inch of its corner was peering out into his space, taking the time to check his corporate e-mail account. A new message.
All senior faculty members from the customer service representative and technical support departments are scheduled for a mandatory 11:00am meeting with the new sales head of our winter 2013 launch. It will be held on the 11th floor company room, 1106.
- R. Milne
It was currently 10:50am. The other calls would have to wait. "There is a meeting to introduce the new sales head for the winter launch in ten minutes. I took the time to order two new notebooks for you, as you conveniently misplaced your other one." He waited a little impatiently for his senior customer service representative co-worker to finish whatever it was she was idling with, and then did the courteous thing of heading off without her towards the elevator, binder, rules handbook, a notebook, ball point pen, and two sharpened pencils in tow. There was even just enough time to polish his stapler one more time.
Thankfully the wait at the elevator was long, it didn't help that two of the three elevators were busted and under maintenance, and it would be at least five minutes, more than enough time for his co-worker to make her way towards the queue to arrive.
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 12:58 am
Standing in the elevator, a middle-aged man in a Hawaiian shirt and yellow IT polo held the door for the oncoming sales reps with a sage nod, "Paying it forward, you know?" He scratched at his impressively well-groomed stubble in peaceful contemplation, "I see you're bucking those gender norms and rocking the long locks, bro. Good on you."
He held his fist up for the CS rep to bump.
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 6:52 am
The cubicle buddy rolled her eyes. "Right," she replied with the tone of someone saying something to somewhat acknowledging what the other person had to say but not willing to commit all the way, "Except that's for part time, and I'm --" She stopped, straightening up as as a call came in. For all appearances she looked like a model employee in that moment: good posture, upbeat attitude with politeness to match, all while wearing a smile.
As soon as the call ended the smile was dropped, the representative nearly slouching over in and on herself as her fingers tapped the remaining words into place to finalize the call. She reached for a coffee that wasn't there, shooting her cubemate an irritated look. It wasn't as if she didn't know about the meeting. As soon as the message came in she eagerly opened it, only to discover disappointment. It wasn't the desk move approval she was waiting for. But if not now, then maybe one day...
She carelessly dropped her headset to one side as she locked her computer down, reaching for the blank notebook he had considerately ordered for her. Her eyes slid over to his work station. Did she dare change his wallpaper to Nicholas Cage? No, that was too expected. Some sort of cute, fluffy cartoon mascot? No, he was probably into that sort of thing.
Ruefully, she shook her head and grabbed a couple pens, belatedly making her way over to the elevator. "Ugh. Your shirt's a little too loud for me this morning," she said in the way of greeting to the tech rep, shying away from the two in order to get in. "That aside, I don't suppose you have any additional info on what we can expect...?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 3:11 pm
"And I hope you're not referring to me-" this was prompted right after cubicle buddy's revelation about loud morning shirts, as he glanced at the Hawaiian shirt guy's shirt that clearly lacked a name tag -"sir. Not to mention, I hardly have long hai-"
- And then it occurred to him as he turned his head, he sort of did. And hadn't noticed. He made a mental note to talk to his therapist about this. His therapist was helping him through all sorts of things today, which was usually a good thing, but sometimes he couldn't tell. Like yesterday afternoon's session.
"-Don't really get it," he had said, while lying down on this incredibly uncomfortable, as it was called, sofa of healing. This did no wonders for anyone with potential back problems. "I just want people to respect me. There is no I in team. Work together. Mutually solve problems, while following all the required guidelines and rules. It's not hard."
"Well," said the doctor, Dr. A. X. Relic, according to their name tag, "Have you tried turning it off and then on?"
"What?"
"There once was a king, a Great King," continued the doctor, "and he had with him seven legacies. With them, he was able to unite all his knights of the land in one great round table, and change the world."
-"Or very exclusive parts of Europe," he had completed, annoyed now. "That's great and all, but I don't see what King Arthur has to do with any of this." He paused. "How much am I paying you for this again?"
The therapist-slash-doctor beamed. "It's free of charge. Like the Great King once said..."
He slunk back in his uncomfortable sofa of healing and reluctantly listened to the rest. There might have even been conversation about being as majestic as a swan in there at some point.
-"And thus, lastly, don't forget to look both ways before crossing the road."
"What?"
"And you need to stop doing that."
"Doing what? Asking questions?"
"Yes, that. Good day now."
The door slammed in his mental flashback the same time the elevator in present time opened, dinged, a new round of people entering, squeezing him, his cubicle buddy, and Hawaiian Shirt Guy to the very back. It was around then that his cubicle buddy fired some questions about additional information. "You shouldn't ask questions," he responded to her, "my therapist suggested asking questions is bad."
Pause. "But I have read all the available memos, and apparently we are getting a new director of sales from D.N & E Publishing, a bit of a jump if you ask me, but I have only heard good things about them."
Ding. Still not their floor.
"Also your shirt is unbuttoned, the top button," he gestured to Hawaiian Shirt Guy's shirt, "It makes it look uneven. I didn't catch your name, have we-"
Ding. Their floor.
He methodically got off, or well was shoved off the floor, which was good news in itself as a new round of workers methodically moved in to take over the vacant space. On the way to the meeting room, he managed, despite best efforts, to bump into no less than three people. A secretary, wearing an owl hairpin, a busy looking guy most likely from accounting with sharp spectacles and a three piece suit, and what looked like a lackey from IT wearing a pilot cap. For some reason just bumping into the last guy really pissed him off, he made a note to tell his therapist about this. Without using question formatting. Challenges, challenges were good. Challenges were-
-"And I am your new sales director!" Said a tall red-haired man, standing in front of a perfectly circular table (assuming where he was situated was the front, since it was hard to discern in a perfect circle exactly where the front should have been). "I'm sure you all have questions! Great questions! Important questions! What is most important to know is that I have all the answers. But first, after this presentation!"
A powerpoint slide started to play involving something about the company as a family and harnessing this power and the power of friendship to make this happen, something along those lines. There might have even been a slide about adventuring and finding priceless artifacts in there, just like Nicolas Cage.
"Now," Said advertising director guy, "Any questions?"
He didn't ask any questions because that was bad, though, it was to be noted that his cubicle buddy was to his exact left and Hawaiian shirt guy to this exact right. Or well, relative right, since it was a circle, and direct right would be something like the coat rack, hanging exactly three pieces of clothing and a worn had that seemed to have been left unclaimed for a long period of time, judging from the dust accrued on it. A few people behind him were sort of just muttering to each other, conversation seemed to have picked up back and forth in between.
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Posted: Sun Sep 22, 2013 4:22 pm
"And your therapist isn't here," she retorted as she always did when he brought it up. "Have you considered taking more risks? Or has your therapist advised against that too?" Poking him verbally was much like poking a tiger with a stick. It was strange; there was a warning in the back of her head suggesting that she shouldn't do it, and yet... Yet where was the risk with that?
Either way he had answered her question in his roundabout fashion. She glanced at the IT personnel, attempting to gauge his expression over the brightness of his shirt.
At last they had arrived at the meeting room. Her hand hovered over her notebook uncertainly, hesitating before she quickly flipped through it to check whether or not its pristine pages were filled with writing of any sort. Barely after a few pages did she realize the foolishness of the motion. Of course it would be blank. His therapist wouldn't approve of him doing anything. But there was still the possibility of someone else adding to it, so much so that she stopped at the first blank page that came up and clicked her pen into action.
By the time the meeting was done the margins were decorated with aimless swoops and curves, twisting into the barest semblance of shape. The center of the page was filled with a scrawl that quite often dipped into the straight blue lines, the words abrupt and crude form of shorthand. It was any wonder that she could read her own notes at times.
The call for questions prompted her to look up at her notes. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then looked across the table. Her brow furrowed as a puzzled expression overtook her features, the pen falling out of her hand.
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Posted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 3:14 am
The IT rep beamed warmly at his elevator buddies, "I like to bring the sunshine in with me, man. Plus today is luau day in the tech section, we're gonna have a roast soy-pig and pineapples, and there's even little umbrellas to put in our coffee." He inhaled deeply, "I just love the smell progressive employee engagement and that's what this meeting smells like to me."
As the elevator opened, he stepped out first, turning to waggle his eyebrows at the other two, "Time to step outside of the box, right?" Walking into the meeting, he gave tall red-headed man a high-five followed by some kind of elaborate handshake/fistbump before taking a seat at the table.
He somehow managed to perch on his chair in the lotus position.
Across the table, the head of security gave him a narrow look, eyes darting from his feet to his shirt and back again, as if wondering what to set on fire first with her intensity of her hatred. She raised her hand, "Eden Trucks, sir. Security. I was just wondering what sort of dress code you'll be enforcing."
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Posted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 8:35 pm
His expression had already furrowed into deep set brooding gaze at Hawaiian Luau Day's lack of introducing their name and why their shirt was still unbuttoned exactly one button. Things were about order, that there was no I in team, or unbuttoning on button in a team row of buttons, and his eyebrow furrowing had only gotten deeper at his cubicle buddy's lack of consideration for legible print. What if other people were reading this? What if, for example, other people were reading this now and just trying not to say anything. What if-
- "Ah, Miss Eden! Good question!" The Sales Director beamed, and then scratched at a scab on his face. "I got this in a fight with my pet cat, Noah can get quite vicious if you don't bring him out in the mornings. My cat I mean, not the question. Call me Allen, by the way, with an e. E for excellent! E for effort! E for enthusiasm!"
E for this meeting was taking an Extraordinarily long time and cutting into his stapler polishing time, thought the stapler polisher.
"Now, regarding this dress code of yours, Eden," winky winky, as if they were buddies or something, "I like to keep it fun in here."
'Oh', thought the stapler polisher, 'the manager was that sort of guy'.
"But, at the same time, make sure rules are kept in place! Proper dress conduct! I pride myself in it!"
'Oh', adjusted the stapler polisher's thoughts, a little more relieved, 'the manager was that sort of guy'.
"But, at the same time, it is entirely okay for you to be creative! Flex those creative muscles and wings!"
'Oh', thought the stapler polisher's thoughts, 'the new manager was freaking crazy'.
"Now, everyone is dismissed! Remember! A smile wins goes a long progress!"
'That doesn't even make sense', thought stapler polisher, 'And it doesn't rhyme either. And why am I so mad over this? And my name isn't stapler polisher, it's-
- Ding.
Twelve o-clock. Scheduled lunch time. They shared the lunch block with the IT support crowd, which usually meant it was the busiest time in the food lounge. The had sushi out today, all the good stuff, salmon eggs, fish brains, fish guts, fish things that people really shouldn't be eating. Seriously shouldn't they cook that stuff first?
As he stood in the middle of the line, in a line of a hundred people, waiting for anything on the menu that was not fish brains, stapler polisher guy wondered about his life. In the background, he could hear some familiar voices droning about schedules. He could see a flash annoying hair, their new manager, Allen or something, with an e for excellent/effort/enthusiasm, and maybe somewhere in the crowd was his cubicle buddy muttering about noisy Hawaiian shirts. The sound of the phones still droned on in the background feed of his head, and he could hear voices simply talking over, and over, and over. "Have a nice day! I'm sorry to hear about your problem. Let me get a manager for you to help out. You can also contact us at 1-800-2784-3228." That was it then. That was the sum of his terrible, no good, lif-
- "So you made a decision then."
"What?"
Doctor E. X. Relic tapped their pen on the desk. "It's actually Doctor, C. X, Relic. You need to stop doing that."
"Okay," he responded automatically, sinking back into the sofa of healing - "No wait! This makes absolutely no sense. Why am I even here? How did you get here?"
"This is your memory. Of course I'm here. You're having a flashback."
"It's not a flashback if I don't remember it."
"Well," said the doctor," a memory is only as strong as you remember. It's not about memory here, it's about roles. Who you do you think you are?"
"This is still not making much sense."
"All in due time then, all in due time. I would avoid photo copier machines for the time being."
"What"
"And you really need to stop doing that."
- "Next." The cafeteria server stared blankly at him, eyes dull and bored. "What do you want. Special is sushi. Comes with soup and salad."
"Photocopier!" He barked, "Avoid photocopiers!" Pause. "I'll take that thing. That, over there."
"You mean the apple."
"Yes, that."
A sigh. "That will be 1.99."
He sat down at an empty table and stared at the apple. This was complicated. He should have asked for a knife, but if he asked for a knife, that would require napkins, and if he asked for napkins, he should at least purchase a glass of water. This was a perplexing problem.
The apple stared back.
"Group table!" A red-headed guy, that would be Allen, with an e, suddenly appeared and took a seat. The sales manager flagged down a few other people, a brown-haired lady (Stapler Guy's cubicle buddy), the Hawaiian Luau Tech Guy, and the Security Lady, Eden Trucks. Together they formed a circle of five. He beamed. "And now, we are the knights of the round table!"
"This table is a square-" Guy With An Apple interjected, "You can't just-"
"We are the square hunters! Come! Herald me with mighty tales of your company, oh square hunters!"
For some reason, though neither Stapler Guy nor Allen With An E had realized quite yet, the crowds were thinning quite considerably. Actually, save for the five of them, it was quite empty.
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Posted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 10:33 pm
Hawaiian Shirt managed a credible bound lotus position in his seat, nodding pleasantly at the others, "My earthly name is Irwin Iam, but if we get to know each other better, one day I may tell you my true name." He didn't appear to be eating anything, "My energies won't need replenishing until 2:30, and if I eat early, my wife Marie will know. She always knows when I cheat." He didn't seem to mind, seemingly at peace with his wife's psychic diet powers.
Meanwhile, Eden was busy preparing a sandwich straight out of a cartoon. It was a towering monstrosity containing things that didn't look edible, and a few that looked sentient. "Does she know you put your dirty sandal feet on chairs because let me tell you, any husband of mine put his feet on my chairs and he'd be eating on the porch like the dog who's manners he's imitating. And I don't thing I like this talk of knights and hunters, Mr. Allan, sir. Don't want these cubicle jockeys running around like they're heroes when that what we have security for," she muttered, giving him a stern nod and patting her holster.
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Posted: Tue Sep 24, 2013 2:29 pm
"Group table!"
The sudden shout made her jump, shoulders hunched over the tray that threatened to spill its contents across the floor. She glanced over her shoulder, swallowing a grimace. It was too late to pretend to not hear them, what with the quick welcoming gesture Allen was making. She summoned a pleasant expression as she took a seat, freezing as the tray clicked into place. Did she have to sit next to --
There was a conversation going on. She wasn't that good at it, opting to keep to herself at breaks. It didn't feel right to just sit there either. Were they watching her? She should probably say something.
"I'm sure the security has everything under control," she began with a nod towards Edith, "But even then it won't stop me from carrying some bear pepper spray with me when walking to my car a night."
An amendment: she should probably say something that wasn't incriminating. The woman shifted uncomfortably on her seat, looking around for --
"Is it just me or is it suddenly too quiet in here?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 24, 2013 10:22 pm
OOC Get's a little violent here, for lurkers, just FYI
"Stapler!" He suddenly shouted, going up. "I mean, bathroom. Going to use it. While it's still too quiet." Quiet was nice. Too quiet was even better. Usually even the men's room had at least a small queue of employers hanging around it at any point in time, probably because the smoking lounge, which was also empty right now, was next to it. This was a good sign.
Allen, with an e, stood up too. "Then, I shall come with yo-"
-"No! I mean, with all respects sir, I will go. Alone. I insist."
Allen sat back down, suddenly understanding. Sometimes, a man needed to do the number two, and it was very private and he had to respect that. "Well, take as long as you need. If you have bowel problems, I have these," he pulled out some Tums from his pocket, "and, I'll even write you up an excuse." Winky winky.
"Wh-", no wait. He wasn't allowed to say that anymore. With a sort of a rigid nod, he headed towards the stalls, trying to retain the composure of someone who had some sort of bathroom-related urgency - and then bounded for the elevator. The one working elevator responded rather abruptly with a light ding, and the ride up transition was thankfully unobtrusive.
- "Thank goodness!" He grabbed the stapler (C.I.R.C.E.) and held the office utensil with both hands, and then dropped it, immediately regretting that action, quickly taking his cleaning cloth out from his breast pocket to carefully and methodically wipe off all the grimy fingerprints. Then, with equal carefulness, he picked the stapler up with the same cleaning cloth, making sure not to touch any part of its smooth metallic surface, and carried it (her) across the room, intent on bringing the object with him.
On the way out of his cubicle, he heard a strange flapping noise. Paper. Thick, cardstock paper. His cubicle buddy's poster flapping in the AC because she had forgotten to tape it down. Seriously, he had told her this morning. Annoyed, he moved to push down the corner-
- When a particularly strong gust of air conditioning blew the entire poster sideways, as it tore apart with a strong rippp. At the enter end were words, written in bright red.
HOW MUCH OF THIS IS REAL.
Wha- Wait, no questioning. Absolutely not. Who knew, who cared. Stapler still in both hands, he turned a quick 180 and walked the other direction. Sure, the usually busy room was abandoned, but that was because lunch break was over, and most people weren't that enthusiastic about their jobs. All normal. Normal.
The lights flickered and then turned off.
Right. Normal. Power maintenance, or something. Emergency stuff. Unannounced. It's okay, they would probably be done at 1pm. No need to set his schedule off or alarm him or anything. Absolutely no nee-
- There was a loud whirr coming from the end of the room. The room was glowing a bright green.
It was okay. That happened too. Probably some malfunction. Run over there, check to make sure nothing is broken, come back, fix his cubicle buddy's poster, take the elevator back to the cafeteria, loop to the bathroom, sit back on the table, get a knife, and finish his apple. Simple, easy.
The room at the very end said photocopier room.
There was a single person standing next to the photocopier. It was a gaunt, pale man. It was a gaunt, pale man wearing old, tattered clothing, with stringy black hair. The were simply staring at the wall while the photocopier whirred, copying what seemed like 200 copies of the same thing. 200 copies in full colour.
"Excuse me," Stapler Guy said, annoyed, "Did you get clearance to do that? You know how expensive it is to replace the ink cartridges, it says so right in the terms and conditions handbook, section thirteen, article three, and I would appreciate it if you - if you ceased and desisted."
The photocopier continued to run, though the stringy, pale, lackluster, horrible smelling excuse of a man turned his neck - rather unevenly, to stare at Stapler Guy. They were also missing an arm, and blood, or rather red ichor and pus was dribbling down the gaping mess.
"Now look here-" he wasn't going to take sass. Tucking the stapler safely under his arm, as he had two, he leaned over and pressed stop.
The missing arm figure, as he fully turned his head unnaturally sideways, was missing eyes entirely, sockets squirming with maggots. A spider crawled out of his nose cavity, due to lack of a nose, or flesh covering an upper third of its head.
"There." He picked up his stapler again and crossed his arms. "Also Halloween isn't for another month. Don't make me write you up, because I will."
"Brains," muttered the Eldritch horror, moving closer to distance the space.
"Seriously, are you done yet."
"Brains," continued the Eldritch horror, suddenly too closer. "ARM."
And then the visitor pretty much rammed into hapless Stapler Guy and took a very good bite of his arm.
"JESUS CHRIST!" Blood, his, unfortunately, was spewing everywhere. There was also this whole thing about this entire emaciated guy, who was actually quite emaciated and rotting, now that he got a pretty close look at it, attached to his arm by sharpened, yellowed teeth. "PHOTOCOPIERS REALLY ARE EVIL."
He tried flailing - which did nothing, unsurprisingly - then he tried reasoning - which also did nothing - then he tried to threaten them with a writeup - which also did nothing - and finally he had no choice but to pry - with a lot of screaming and swearing - which also did nothing until he finally grabbed a hold of his stapler -
- And bashed the brains out of the assailant. Literally.
Said brains fell to the floor with a wet slosh.
He wasn't too sure what traumatized him more, the fact that he had literally bashed someone's brains out with a stapler, or that his stapler was dirty again and required immediate cleaning attention. He should also probably deal with that arm thing. Maybe a cleaning pad of some sort.
*
"Huh," said Allen, with an e, after a good fifteen minutes. "You know, my brother's aunt's cousin had a problem once, ulcer or something. It was terrible. I hope your friend doesn't have an ulcer. That would be terrible." Pause. "I got a great idea! I'll go check on him!"
There wasn't really room for a yes or no, or any sort of response from anyone else, so he took that as a yes anyway and made a quick stride to the bathroom -
- Which was empty.
"Huh," thought Allen, for a second time. "Maybe he went to get his stuff. Maybe I should get my stuff too! Oh I know, I have more Tums in my office!"
In the elevator, there was an old man standing next to him. It was a kindly old man however, with a walking chair thing and all. Whatever those things were called.
"Fun day, isn't it?" said Allen, making elevator conversation.
"You could say that," replied the old man cordially, with a name tag that said B. A. XU. Relic. "I've been learning all sorts of new things myself, it has been quite the experience. I never knew about this movie thing, it is rather exciting. I spent an entire week lost to it."
"I know how that feels," agreed the Sales director.
"Well," continued the old man, "have you ever seen 'The Island'?"
"Which one? You mean the one with the bunch of clones, or the one with a bunch of mutated animals or the one with that crazy guy who was locked in an asylum or the one with a bunch of Hunters that lived on an island called Deus Ex and fought to save the world from evil creatures?"
"Yes, that one. What would you do if your life played out exactly like that and you were a part of it?"
"Oh cool! Am I an insane mutated clone that is an evil director, or a scientist dude with a crazy ego complex because that totally makes a huge different in my past trauma and stuff."
"Neither, I would say you were more, a hero."
"Awesome! I love heroes. I'm totally going to add this to my blog, you don't mind right?" The sales director took out his iphone 6c.
"Not at all," said the man, waving Allen goodbye on the elevator, "not at all. Also I would watch out for evil coat racks."
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Posted: Thu Sep 26, 2013 11:46 pm
Two were gone and three remained. If she watched horror movies perhaps now would be a good time for her to start worrying, to think rationally and stick to the other woman who had a gun. It was now only a matter of time before something would happen.
But she was getting ahead of herself, wasn't she? Finished with her meal, the woman stood up. "I have some paperwork left to file," she said in way of an excuse as she hefted her tray, holding it close to her as if it could physically separate her from the other two. "Have a good one."
She ditched the tray in the designated area, the actions automatic after her cubical buddy delivered her a rather lengthy lecture the one time she (temporarily) set it down elsewhere next to the area they were supposed to go in (as per section three, paragraph four, part two of cafeteria etiquette as outlined in the worker's handbook). An involuntary shudder shook her shoulders as she quickly retreated to the elevator.
If she had been paying attention she would have noted how unnaturally quickly the elevator came. How it obediently swished its doors open then closed them behind her, the single button she pressed lighting up as it whisked her away to the floor.
The light flickered, plunging the elevator into darkness banished by the soft ding as it arrived at her indicated floor. Her footsteps were echoed as her heels clacked down the hallway, muffled by carpet and by the person beside her.
"Are you quite sure you want to do this?" They asked, their pace matching her's almost perfectly.
"Of course," she replied as she pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out from her pocket. "I've been near him long enough. I have all the paperwork sorted out right here."
"Ah, but paperwork can be incriminating. Things like this will lead back to you, you know."
She looked puzzled. "Isn't that the point of paperwork? To make things official?"
"But is that really the best course of action?" The speaker persisted from beneath their black hood. "It won't be long until they find out. How do you think they will react?"
Something in the speaker's voice made her stop. "...What do you mean?"
"Let's just say that some things are better left alone." Overhead the lights flickered, the bulbs straining to stay lit. "You never know who is listening. Watching. Enemies are all around you. It is a matter of appearing to fit their expectations on the surface even if deep down you are plotting otherwise."
"Are you warning me?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. If I were you, I would watch where you're going. It wouldn't do you any good to wander around in circles. Or become ensnared in a downward spiral you cannot escape from."
Her reply was stifled as the lights overhead spat sparks down upon them as it belched a black smoke. The thin glass tubes shattered, scattering fragments of glass onto them both.
By the time she looked up the dark figure was gone. She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it against her nose and mouth, hurrying away from the smoking fixture as fast as she could.
She couldn't let the conversation distract her. Her time spent with the cubical buddy nagging her over mindless things and obsessing over his stapler were driving her mad. Clearly there had to be a solution, another place to go or something could be done about their current arrangement. All she had to do was drop the appropriate form off in person and ensure that they got it and processed it. It wouldn't be the first time she had considered doing this, and in all honesty the few times she did she made the mistake of leaving the form in the proper box. Anything could have happened to the paper: someone could have seen it and taken it and ensured that she would stay there. Or they could have switched it out in order to take advantage of her completed form by writing in their own name, thereby gaining the new seat she craved. But it wouldn't be just the seat, as with the seat came --
Movement on her left. She jumped, realizing that the smoke was increasing. Funny, she realized, Why hasn't the fire alarm gone off yet? And why doesn't it smell like smoke? "Hello?" It never hurt to be cautious.
A sound like a wet thump along with the sound of something heavy being dragged across cheap carpet answered her. One step back. Then another, and another until she ran into the cubical wall behind her. It shook on impact. Something grabbed her from behind.
"Let go! No! Nononon-"
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