Setting: Regional office, 4th Floor
Date: Thursday, May 4th, 1995
I hate this place.
It was a thought that ran through Alex’s head every day. He tapped on the side of a stack of papers with his index finger until they formed a flawless right angle against the plastic casing of his CRT monitor. He moved the pen an inch to the left, then to the right. It still didn’t look right. Nothing looked right. Not when it was bathed in the blue glow of the monitor that turned everything cold and lifeless.
Alex shoved the pen away, ruining the last half hour of ‘work.’ Sitting still wasn’t an option, he needed something to distract himself. As he pushed himself to his feet, his shirt partially untucked itself, but it didn’t really bother him. It’s not like anyone took him seriously enough to care if he looked unprofessional anyway.
As he peered across the vast grid of indistinguishable partitions, he wondered if there was a purpose to the way office buildings were designed: beige walls, the gray fabric of the cubicles, and the artificial yellow that flooded the room from the fluorescent lights overhead. If there was a purpose, it was probably to suck the motivation out of the workers so they wouldn’t have the energy to throw themselves head first out the window of the fourth floor. Or, the more likely possibility, compare their salaries to the new hires and realize they’re getting paid less than a fresh college graduate. But that was the less entertaining version of the reality Alex had constructed in his head.
The small glimpse of sunlight that managed to sneak its way through the window shutters was the only thing that convinced Alex he hadn’t died and been sent to an office purgatory.
On the far wall, he saw the vibrant motivational posters that upper management had plastered across every inch of the walls. Perseverance. Teamwork. Loyalty. But his least favorite of all was the framed picture of a cat dangling from a tree branch with the words: Hang in there. Maybe the higher ups thought that it was supposed to encourage them? He wasn’t really sure. But in a place like this, they felt less like suggestions and more like commands.
A printer whirred into life a few rows down, punctuating the noise of shuffling paper. Standing in front of it was a portly old man in a wrinkled dress shirt. It was Albert Finch, the Operations Supervisor, and his direct boss. He was a grumpy old man who didn’t really seem to appreciate Alex’s presence. Or really much of anything at all. But he reacted, and to Alex, that was really all that mattered.
It finally managed to cough out a single sheet of paper, which Albert promptly picked up and scanned with a heavy sigh.
Alex adjusted his loosely hanging tie, stepped out of his personal grave, and strolled down the hallway, leaning against the partition of Albert’s cubicle.
“Hey, Al!” he called out.
Albert’s scowl deepened further at the sound of Alex’s voice.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop with the stupid nicknames?”
“How about Muhammad Ali?”
Albert stared at him, his expression as flat and unyielding as the partition behind him. Albert looked at his wrist, making a point of checking his watch, though Alex knew he wasn’t actually checking the time.
“What the hell do you want, Alex?”
Alex pushed off the wall and stepped closer, invading Albert’s personal space. He spread his arms, holding his hands out.
Albert recoiled. “Why do you keep trying to hug me?”
“You don’t have to hurt my feelings like that just because one of my nicknames sucked.”
“They all suck.”
“You all suck. And stop distracting me. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget my birthday’s this week.”
Albert scoffed, turning away to head toward his desk. “How could I? My migraine comes back at the same time every year.”
Alex fell into step beside him, undeterred by the rejection. “So…? What’d you get me?”
Albert stopped at the entrance to his cubicle. “Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder. “I put as much effort into your present as you did mine.”
“What are you talking about, old man?” Alex scratched his head. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday.”
The warmth in Albert’s face vanished. “Then you know what to expect in the mail.”
Alex stared at him for a moment, unable to process the sarcasm. So instead, he shifted his attention downward, to the perforated paper Albert was clutching to his chest.
“What’s up with the papers, Bossman? I thought we hired interns so you don’t have to do work anymore.”
“We hired interns to pick up your slack,” Albert grumbled. “Besides, John needs these on his desk by five, and I’m not trusting an intern to get them there.”
“Wait, you’re taking those to John?”
Albert didn’t respond, warily eyeing Alex’s hands as they edged closer to the pile of papers.
“I can take them,” Alex said, extending a hand. “I need to stretch my legs anyway. Sitting in that box is killing my back.”
“Fine,” Albert said. He shoved the stack toward Alex. “But if you tell anyone that I pawned this off on you, I’ll write you up. I was never here. And you saw the papers on the counter and decided to be ‘helpful.’”
“Me pretending to be helpful is probably the most suspicious thing I could do.”
“Just go,” Albert grumbled, turning back to the safety of his cubicle.
Alex tucked the pile under his arm, and made his way deeper into the cubicle maze.
***
A few of his coworkers cast wary glances as he came into view of their cubicles, but he kept his attention ahead. He started to whistle the melody of a song that he just came up with, trying to come off as natural. But that earned him sidelong glares from the nearby coworkers, annoyed at being subjected to his impromptu concert.
Sheila from accounting was in the breakroom, leaning against the counter. She looked like she was running on three hours of sleep. She held a steaming coffee mug in her left hand and a lit cigarette in her right. Distracted by a passing conversation, she brought her hands together. Instead of tapping the ash into the heavy glass ashtray, she plunged the lit cigarette straight into the brown liquid of her mug.
With a sharp hiss, a thin curl of steam and smoke rose from the cup, spiraling upward.
Alex turned his head away in disgust. Not because of the scene itself, but because he hated the smell of smoke.
When he finally arrived at the large cubicle at the end of the row, he peeked around the corner. John’s fingers slammed into a keyboard as he moved with a quiet focus, only pausing every so often to take a deep gulp from a steaming mug of coffee. His shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, exposing a tattoo that didn’t belong on the arm of upper management.
A dragon, whose scales were once a shimmering crimson, had faded to a dull rust. It stretched the length of John’s arm, tail coiling stubbornly around his wrist in a desperate last attempt to cling to his skin. On the far corner of John’s desk sat a nameplate: John D. Meeker - Regional Operations Manager.
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Beside it sat a framed photo of a woman, smiling into the camera. John stood next to her, his hand on the curve of her stomach. And an ultrasound picture was stapled to the wall of his cubicle, with the words Do it for her, written at the top.
Alex dropped the pile onto the desk with a heavy thud. John jerked back, his eyes darting around in panic, until his gaze landed on Alex. And his signature frown slowly settled on his face.
“You ready to be impressed?” Alex asked.
“With you?” John’s eyes flicked to the papers. “Did you set a new record of HR complaints this week? Because there’s only so many of your problems I can solve at once.”
Alex shook his head. “Don’t worry. We can deal with that next week.”
John raised his eyebrow as he grabbed one of the papers to inspect it. “They put you on the Jenkins report? Why?”
“It almost sounds like you think I’m some sort of slacker.”
“That’s exactly what you are,” John muttered. As he flipped from one page to the next, his eyes widened further. “It’s so well organized, and there’s even timestamps on each revision…”
A static crackle pulled both of their attention upward.
“Attention all employees,” The intercom droned. “There will be an unscheduled meeting in Conference Room B in five minutes. Please make your way there promptly.”
John looked at Alex. “An unscheduled meeting this late?”
“We’re probably stuck with another We’re all family speech for the next half hour.”
They joined the rest of the weary tide of their coworkers heading for the conference room, enveloped in a haze of burnt coffee, cigarettes, and a mustiness barely masked by heavy layers of perfume and cologne.
As they walked, Alex kept his voice low. “Sarah hasn’t shown up for a few weeks now. Did she finally get some sense and run screaming?”
“No. They just finally forced her to take her maternity leave.”
“That’s fair. It’s almost her due date, isn’t it? Have we decided on what to name our kid yet?”
“Our kid? You’d be lucky if I even let you be her creepy uncle.”
John smiled, but it felt off to Alex. John’s thumb brushed against the edge of his wedding band like a nervous tic, before dropping back to his side.
But, before Alex could say anything, he was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of something shattering on the other side of the partitions. Alex and John both stopped, glancing between each other.
“What was that?” Alex asked.
“I’m not sure.”
The rest of the group kept moving forward, unfazed. No heads turned. Not even a startled pause.
“Why didn’t anyone react to that?”
John’s eyes stayed forward. “For the same reason we shouldn’t have. We don’t have time to worry about it.”
They continued for a few seconds, but John was starting to lag behind now.
“I thought you said we didn’t have time to waste.”
“I did.” John’s voice was quieter now. “But this is probably the only time I’ve been alone with someone other than Sarah in a month.” John hesitated, his eyes darting to the receding coworkers, before turning back to Alex. “Alex. Can you be honest with me right now?”
“No,” Alex answered immediately.
John stared up at the lights, searching for an answer, or at least a momentary distraction.
“Do you think I’m ready to be a father?”
Alex put a firm hand on John’s shoulder.
“No one ever is.” Alex patted John’s back. “Just love them enough to want to spoil them every day, but care enough to keep them from being spoiled, and your kids will be better off than most.”
Neither of them said anything after that. The sounds of distant office chatter and hurried footsteps faded into the distance.
“Where’d that come from?” John chuckled. “Did you practice that one in the mirror this morning?”
Alex opened his mouth, but John shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You know what? I think I know what happened, actually.”
“What?”
“Giving advice on children is pretty much home field advantage for someone who’s spent their whole adult life acting like a child.”
John let out a short chuckle that he quickly tried to cover with a cough. It was clumsy. But to Alex, that cracked, stifled noise was the most honest thing he’d heard in years.
It wasn’t the polished sound he used to hear through his bedroom wall. The sound of his mother practicing until she found the right pitch that manipulated people the best. Her laugh was a mask she used to hide the terror screaming silently behind her eyes. But John’s?
It was just a laugh.
“Alex?”
John’s voice snapped him back. They’d been standing long enough that the hallway was empty now. Everyone else had already reached the conference room.
Alex swallowed. “Don’t worry about it.”
John studied Alex for a few seconds, then chose not to dig. He fell into step beside Alex again. They rounded the final corner. The rows of framed achievements along the wall warped before Alex’s eyes, their gold seals turning a tarnished brown. He blinked, rubbing his eyes.
When he looked again, everything had returned to normal.
“I worked as a lifeguard for a few years,” John said suddenly.
“Is this your way of bragging that you know how to swim?”
“No. Just… you see people drowning, and your instinct is to jump in. But if you reach in while they’re still thrashing, they’ll pull you in with them.”
“And? What is that even supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying you have to let them tire out. Let them stop fighting the water so you can actually… you know. Reach out.” John shrugged, looking annoyed by his own sincerity. “Anyway. Just stop trying to do everything on your own. You’re not the only one that suffers when you’re drowning.”
They walked the rest of the way without speaking. The only change to the otherwise stagnant scene was the occasional flicker of the lights overhead.
When they reached the door marked Conference Room B, John grasped the handle and tugged.
“Wait,” John said. “Why is it locked?”
He knocked a few times, before peeking through the frosted glass pane. The room beyond was pitch-black.
And silent.
“Maybe they moved the meeting?” Alex offered.
“Without an announcement?” John tried the handle again.
“Maybe this is a test.” Alex said. “And whoever’s willing to stand around the longest, looking like an idiot, gets a raise.”
“If that’s the case, then you already—“
The lights cut out.
For a few seconds the hallway plunged into darkness. The lights snapped back, a buzzing, blinding white.
“And a power surge on top of it all?” John said.
“Or maybe it’s a sign from my old man. He’d always turn off the TV if two men started talking about their feelings unless they were wearing helmets.”
“Your dad’s probably got more important things to worry about in hell than spying on you.”
Alex shot him a look. “Man, you really hate my dad, don’t you?”
The lights flickered again, stuttering between darkness and bursts of light. But each blackout lingered a few seconds longer than the previous. Somewhere far off in the distance was the shrill ring of a phone. But it sounded strange to Alex. “Why does it sound so far away?” Before Alex could think further on it, the ringing stopped abruptly. He was left in complete silence. Not even the hum of the lights was audible anymore.
“What’s going…” Alex started before the words died in his throat.
He was alone.
“John?” Alex called.
Alex took a step forward, his footsteps echoed loudly, which made the walls feel like they were closing in from every direction. Streaks of shadows crawled across the ground like tiny arms, reaching out for him.
“Am I getting pranked right now?” he tried to joke.
But only darkness answered.
Alex hesitated. He peered down the now-empty hallway, hoping to hear the sound of a footstep, of anything besides the sound of his own heavy breathing.
“Alright,” he said, louder. “You got me. Now come out, say boo and get it over with already.”
A shape moved at the far corner; something that was a deeper shade of black than the shadows themselves, and barely visible in the light.
Relief washed over him. “Jesus, John. I thought you were going to wait until I peed my pants to come out.”
He sprinted around the corner.
It wasn’t John.
The hallway in front of him was devoid of anything besides darkness.
But it wasn’t empty.
It was a mass of writhing shadows. The shadow curled like smoke, folding in on itself as it started to mold into something. A shoulder? A waist? It was hard to tell. But then, suspended in the churning darkness, a shape Alex couldn’t mistake took shape. A mouth, with glossy red lips, and curved into a knowing smile.
Then the face disappeared.
Alex stumbled backwards, but after a few steps his back hit something solid. He reached behind him without looking, expecting a fabric partition. But the wall was freezing cold.
And he felt something wriggle between his fingers.
He jerked his hand back, realizing he was trapped in a box whose walls were made of living shadows.
An appendage lashed out from the center of the mass, stopping inches away from his throat. When it touched, he felt the warmth drain from his flesh. But beneath the cold was a sensation even more terrifying.
It felt familiar.
~Hush.~
The word wasn’t spoken. It was a thought in his mind.
But it wasn’t his thought.
~It’s okay. I’m here now.~
The tendril brushed his cheek again gently.
~It’s time to come home.~
The tendril pushed him off balance. He instinctively raised his hands, shielding the back of his head, bracing for the impending impact. One that never came.
He was still falling. Not down, exactly. But away. It looked like the office was shrinking in the distance. The ceiling, the lights, the cubicle maze dwindled until the office became a speck.
Alex tried to scream.
~Save your breath,~ the voice soothed. ~You don’t want to let the others in, do you?~
The void surged forward into his open mouth, filling his lungs with a bitter mixture of cigarettes and cheap wine.
The void threaded deeper, seeping into him, cooling his blood from the inside.
((Why is he fighting?)) another, softer voice asked.
<
Alex squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find a thought that was his own, but they were slipping away. The fear remained, but the anchor holding it was gone. The surface, the hallway, even John felt like a distant memory now. The darkness wasn't around him anymore.
It was inside, smothering every spark of him until nothing remained but us.
A dull comfort seeped into him, smothering out the panic that had been building in his chest.
~See? It doesn’t hurt~, the first voice soothed, blending seamlessly with Alex’s internal monologue. ~Why were we fighting so hard? It’s… exhausting, isn’t it?~
Am I… Are we falling? a new, confused voice asked. There was no reason to be afraid, not when we couldn’t remember why we were scared to begin with. We let our body fall limp, drifting freely in the suspension.
We weren’t scared anymore.
No… we were never scared in the first place.