Company

by Max Barry

  “Blake?” Eve says. Jones sees her reflection in the glass wall. “I know you're pissed and all, but let's not do anything that will make it impossible to work with each other, okay?”

  Blake makes a noise that sounds like he's chewing his own tongue. “I'll leave you two to it.” His voice is wet with contempt.

  Eve closes the door behind him. She comes around and squats in front of Jones. When she enters his field of vision, she is sharing a wide, beautiful smile with the two techs. “Okay!” she says to Jones. “Let's get coffee and talk this thing out.”

  Jones starts to laugh. It pops out of him without warning and escalates into something uncontrollable, where there are tears in his eyes and a stitch in his side. Eve watches him, her smile growing fractured.

  “You,” he says, “are unbelievable. I mean that.”

  “Thanks. So what do you say—”

  “We're not going for coffee.”

  “Ah.” She rocks back on her heels. “So it's like that.”

  “What you said in there about sacking people, was that just for Alpha? Or did you mean it?”

  She says softly, “Jones, this isn't a company. What you've done . . . it's sweet. It really is. But it's not workable. You still think there are such things as good companies and bad companies, and there aren't. I'm sorry.”

  Jones stares at her.

  She holds up her hands. “Okay, let's get this straight. I did not pretend to like you. I am not some kind of corporate whore who uses sex to get what she wants.” Jones starts laughing again. “I mean it. I care for you. Look at me. Jones, I adore you. What happened in there, that's business. It has nothing to do with you and me.”

  “It has everything—” he chokes on the word. For a second he thinks he's about to cry.

  Eve doesn't say anything for a moment. “It will be easier if you help, Jones. You can save a lot of jobs.”

  “If you sack a single person, I'll tell the whole company about Alpha.”

  “Jones,” she says patiently, “that would only force me to sack all of them.”

  “You won't do that.”

  “I will. In a heartbeat. We already have everything in place; all it takes is a phone call. And after what you've done, it might even be easier to start from scratch.” She puts her hands together, as if in prayer. “But the best solution, Jones, is to go back to the way things were before. Your friends can keep their jobs. I won't have to move Alpha to a new city. Everyone's happy—well, you know what I mean. Please, think about it. It really is the best outcome.”

  “I should have told everyone about Alpha the second I found out.”

  Eve bites her lip. “Jones, you have this idea that they will be glad to know the truth. That they'll thank you for telling them. They won't. They'll hate you. I'm telling you the truth right now, Jones, and are you grateful? No, you're angry and upset and you probably hate me a little. I don't want to threaten you, because I know you're emotional and you're not thinking logically, but if you want to stay friends with any of those people, you won't say a word about Alpha. You'll convince them that they need Senior Management back.”

  “So that's what's in my best interest. To lie. To keep lying.”

  “Yes.”

  He looks around. “Where's that ethics tape? The one you play for nervous investors?”

  “Um . . . I think—”

  “I'm joking.”

  “Oh.” She smiles, but her eyes flick up and down his face. “Well, that's good. You should laugh about this. It's just business.”

  This makes him feel like crying again. He forces it down. “If I tell the workers about Alpha, they hate me. And they lose their jobs. If I help you, nobody gets fired.”

  Eve hesitates. “Actually, I will need to fire certain key people.” She sees his expression. “But we can talk about that later. Jones, I know this is tough. But one day you'll look back and realize this was a huge step forward for your career. I have so many ideas for Alpha—I shouldn't tell you this, it's still in the early stages, but I think I can get financing for a village in Virginia. We can build a town, Jones. A town for Zephyr. It'll have a school and a mall and every home will have broadband and an inbuilt meeting room and we'll give them everything, everything they want. All they have to do is live in the town. You say we've been stealing pieces of people's lives, and you're right, you're exactly right. But in our town there won't be a difference between work and home, because everyone will be at work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and at the same time they'll be home. You see? They'll work, not because we force them to but because their town depends on it, because that's how they improve their quality of life. Because they're proud patriots of the company.” She squeezes her hands together, her eyes shining. “You see, Jones, you can't end things now. We have so much left to do.”

  Eventually, Jones says, “I need to think about this.”

  “Of course. Of course you do.” She nods. “I'll give you some time. Alpha meets again at noon. Come along, okay?”

  Elizabeth sits up. She pushes her hair back from her face. She shifts her butt, which feels as if it is stuck to the top of Roger's desk. She begins buttoning her blouse.

  Roger squeezes her shoulder. “That . . . was . . . incredible.” He shifts to look up at her, and she can see his gleaming smile without even having to face him. “Don't you think?”

  “Mmm.” She looks around for her panties.

  “I want to apologize. I've been a bit of a shit to you lately, I know. It's just, sometimes, Elizabeth, I get so focused on the politics. You know what this place is like.”

  She realizes that they are hanging from her left ankle. She bends forward, dislodging Roger's head, and tugs them up.

  “I mean, if I'm going to be brutally honest, it's insecurity.” He laughs. “You probably don't believe me. But it's true. You made me nervous. I always felt I had to prove myself to you.”

  She stands and begins fixing her skirt.

  Roger sits up. “I guess what I'm trying to say, Elizabeth, is I want to take this further.”

  She looks at him. She shakes her head.

  Roger blinks. “What? What do you mean?”

  “I don't want to.”

  “You don't want to what? Have sex again?”

  “You.”

  “You don't want me?”

  Elizabeth shakes her head.

  “Why not?” His face pinches. “What's the matter? Was something wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Then what's the problem? For God's sake, what do you want?”

  Elizabeth thinks. “Gherkins.”

  When Jones arrives back at Staff Services, he finds himself in the middle of a hockey game. He stands in the doorway, watching people clamber over desks and knock aside chairs. One man bumps a cubicle wall and sends a row of manila folders tumbling to the carpet. His foot lands on one, tearing its cover, and he runs off without looking back.

  “Jones!” Freddy comes over, looking happy and excited. “We're playing hockey.”

  “So I see.”

  Freddy peers at him. “What?”

  “Well,” Jones says peevishly, “we didn't overthrow management to play games.”

  “Aw, come on. It's the first day. We're just having fun.”

  “Freddy!” someone yells. Jones looks around as Holly streaks past, knocking along a rubber ball with a cardboard tube.

  Freddy glances apologetically at Jones. “Things will settle down. They're good people.” Then he runs after Holly.

  Jones walks to the Training Sales cubicle, which is empty. He sits down heavily and puts his head on his arms.

  At first he thought it would be impossible to convince people that they need Senior Management back. Now he thinks it's inevitable. Eve was right: this isn't a company, it's a party. And they will all realize that, sooner or later: they will see nobody is working as hard as they used to, and understand what that means.

  “Hello?”

  He lifts his head. It's
Alex Domini, the man he hired to coordinate the rewiring of the Zephyr computer network. Alex has a sheaf of papers in his hand. Apparently he is the only person actually working in Zephyr today. Of course, Alex is on contract.

  “Sorry to bother you. Is this a good time? I have a little problem.” He comes into the cubicle, looking sheepish. “The thing is, I can't get to level 13. There's no button 13 in the elevators, and the stairwell doors are locked, so . . . I don't know what to do.”

  Jones stares. “Why do you think there's a level 13?”

  “The wiring. I hooked in a laptop, and there's definitely a network there, between 12 and 14. I just can't . . . find it.”

  Jones swallows a couple of times. “Level 13 is hard to get to. I'll take you there.”

  “Ah! Thanks. Geez, I thought I was going crazy.”

  “It's not you. It's this place.” When they reach the elevators, he says, “By the way, how's the rest of the network coming along?”

  “It's basically done. Even level 13—I don't know what's there, but it's wired in to everything else now. We more or less just need to turn it on.”

  “Interesting,” Jones says.

  Jones is in the level-13 monitoring room when the Alpha agents begin to return. Eve is first to arrive: she walks past the glass wall, heading for the meeting room, then sees him, stops, and beckons. Jones closes the door behind him. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How are you doing?”

  He shrugs. Together they walk toward the meeting room. “Okay, I guess.”

  She nods. “I don't want to push you, Jones, but—” This is the point at which she opens the door to the meeting room and reveals Alex sitting at the great table. Eve looks at him, then at Jones, then back at Alex. “Who are you?”

  Jones says, “He's working on the network.”

  “What's he doing here?”

  “I let him up. He needs to splice some data cables or something. I don't really understand the details.”

  Alex says uncertainly, “Sorry . . . should I go?”

  “Thanks, yeah,” Jones says. “We need this room now.”

  Alex stands. Two more agents arrive on level 13 and come up behind Eve and Jones. Eve doesn't move, so there's a logjam: Alex waiting to get out, agents waiting to get in, and Eve blocking the doorway. Her eyes flick between Alex and Jones.

  Jones says, “Well?”

  “We're not going in.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because,” she says, “you're trying to be clever.”

  “What's going on?” says Mona.

  Jones says, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “I'm relocating the meeting.”

  “What?” Jones yelps. “You think he bugged the room or something?”

  Eve says, “This is not a good start to our new working relationship, Jones.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Everybody out. And someone get this guy off level 13.”

  On the way back to the elevators, Eve grips Jones's arm just above the elbow. She whispers, “You know I was looking forward to sitting in the big chair.”

  Eve inspects two meeting rooms off the lobby before she finds one that satisfies her. She pulls the blind over the little window in the door, eyes the security camera in the corner of the room, then calls level 13 on her cell. “Just so we're clear,” she says, “until you hear back from me, nobody is to be in the monitoring room but you. Nobody.”

  “This is nuts,” Jones says. “Klausman wouldn't have made us traipse down here. What if someone barges in?”

  Eve hesitates. “Mona, can you wedge a chair against that door?”

  Mona looks startled. “I'm not sure . . . okay, I'll see about that.”

  “We have a perfectly good meeting room on level 13.”

  “Jones,” Eve says, “shut up.”

  Blake says, “Eve, as much as I hate to agree with Judas here—”

  Eve slaps the table with the palm of her hand. Everyone jumps. “We're here. We have a meeting to get through. Let's go.”

  Freddy is passing by his desk when he sees something weird on his computer screen. He detours into his cubicle to peer at it. For the last few months, Freddy's desktop taskbar has sported a little computer with a red cross through it. Now, there's a yellow balloon with the message: ZEPHYR INTRANET IS NOW CONNECTED. SPEED: 100.0 MBPS.

  “Hey,” Holly says, coming in. “I thought you were getting me a coffee.”

  “Check this out.” He reaches for his mouse. But before he can activate his e-mail, a new window pops up. First it says STREAMING UPDATES, then it says COMPLETE, then it disappears and something else comes up.

  “What . . .” Holly says. She trails off. They stare at the screen.

  “In terms of regular projects, well . . . do we still want to go through these?” Tom Mandrake looks at Eve, who doesn't react because she is watching Jones. Then she realizes and nods sharply. “Okay. Well, Project 442 is the study on how removing reminders of the outside world from the workplace affects worker productivity. You might remember, there were some interesting early results in this area.”

  Mona nods. “They stay at work longer.”

  “We're also seeing downtrends in personal calls. Unfortunately, I ran some of this by one of our psychologists, and he said it sounded like some of our subjects could be developing dissociative identity disorder.”

  Blake says, “They're going schizo?”

  “It's not schizophrenia. It's more like split personalities. One for work, one for home. We've had a few, well, slightly alarming incidents. People getting calls from their family and not recognizing their voices. That kind of thing.”

  There's a moment's silence. Then an agent on Jones's left says, “Well, that could be anything. These people could be predisposed.”

  “I'm not saying we should pull the study,” Tom says. “It's just, I think it could be a serious medical problem.”

  Jones feels Eve's eyes crawling over him. And suddenly it's all he can do to keep from laughing.

  “Step one, talk to our insurer,” Blake says. “We need to make sure we're covered if anyone goes postal because of this.”

  “Stop,” Eve says. She's still looking at Jones. “Stop talking.”

  A few minutes ago, Staff Services was filled with shouting and noise from the hockey game. Now it's silent. Throughout the department, as on the floors above and below, people cluster in cubicles and stare at computer screens.

  Blake says, “What's the matter?”

  Eve doesn't answer. But she's worked it out. Jones can see it in her eyes.

  “Okay!” Jones says. “My turn?” He adjusts his tie. “First up, I'm pleased to report that the network is back.”

  “What are they doing?” somebody says from behind Holly. She can't answer. She can't breathe. She has worked for Zephyr for four years, and in all that time the company never made sense. She thought it was her.

  The words tear themselves from her chest. “We're a study.”

  “One of the reasons this is good news,” Jones continues, “is you can now access Alpha's project files from any computer in the building. They're on network drive R. Another is you can get a live feed from the cameras without having to visit the level-13 monitoring room. There's sound and everything. I'm told the picture's a little jerky, but still—” This is as far as he gets before Blake drags him out of his chair.

  Freddy clicks through drive R. At first he gets nowhere, because everything is organized by project name. Then he finds a directory of employee files, which contains one called CARLSON-F. Inside is a cross-reference of every project Freddy has apparently been involved in. There are five. The first, Project 161, is titled WITHHELD REWARDS AND MOTIVATION. Beneath that, in INSTRUCTIONS, it says: BLOCK ALL PROMOTIONS REGARDLESS OF PERFORMANCE.

  It's Gretel's first day back at work. She is feeling a lot better; people aren't hammering the switchboard today. She has a feeling that she might even be able to sneak out for a proper lunch.


  The board blinks at her. “Good afternoon, reception.”

  “Gretel? It's Holly Vale, from Staff Services. Can you come upstairs?”

  “I'm on the phones.”

  “I know. But there's something you need to see.”

  Elizabeth emerges guiltily from Roger's office. Her body is tensed, ready for the accusation: What have you been doing in there? But it doesn't come. In fact, the department is curiously quiet. She looks up. There's nobody in sight.

  She does a double take the first time she passes a cubicle. There are five or six people crammed in there, clumped around a monitor. None are making a sound. Curious and a little bemused, she comes up behind them and stands on tiptoe to peer over their shoulders. She sees the screen. At first it makes no sense. Then it does, and her hand creeps down to her abdomen.

  Blake gets Jones by the shirt lapels and shakes. Jones's head bounces against the carpet. “What have you done?”

  “Let him go,” Eve says, on her feet.

  Blake takes his hands back as if Jones is infectious.

  “This is what we're going to do,” Eve says. “We're going to level 13, right now. We'll take it from there.”

  Freddy discovers a file for Megan, and inside is her home phone number. He pushes through the crowd of people to get to his phone and dials.

  “Hello?”

  “Megan? It's Freddy Carlson.” There's a pause, so he adds, “From Zephyr?”