One day at lunch Jan said, “Isn’t it amazing how exciting going to lunch can be when you dare to escape the iCon campus? I feel like a bootlegger just being here at The Airship!”
Dina agreed. “No one in my department ever tells me I have to stay at my desk over lunch, but people look at me like I’m fixing to rob a bank when I say I’m going out for lunch. If looks could kill, I’d be a goner for sure!”
“I can believe it,” Mia said. “I get those same ‘how dare you’ looks. I’m surprised an iCon security guards hasn’t been assigned to follow us and monitor the subversive things we say.”
“They didn’t need to send a bodyguard after us. They bugged our table!” Jan laughed, pointing at the slim white vase holding an artificial poppy and fern.
Dina leaned forward to speak into the mouth of the vase. “Greetings, iCon snoops! To help you all get your records straight, I’m ordering The Airship special today. What day is it? Tuesday? That would be lasagna and a salad with Italian dressing.”
Jan said loudly, “Because everyone knows The Midnight Airship has the best lasagna!”
Mia smiled, pointed at an overhead light, and speaking very loudly said, “Today, I will be having a DNA enhancement with a side order of microchips.”
They all laughed together, then stopped thinking about iCon and focused on enjoying their lunch, chatting about more essential and interesting matters.
“Do you know what I just learned?” Mia said. “The phrase saber rattling came from an actual incident in the 1920s. Fifty officers from the army in Chile, led by a guy named Marmaduke Something-or-Other, went to a meeting of parliament because they were unhappy that they hadn’t gotten an increase in pay for years. Just by being there, they intimidated the legislators who soon ordered them removed. And on the way out, they started rattling their sabers to show they weren’t at all happy with how things were going.”
Dina laughed and said, “Mia! You are always picking up these random stories! How do you remember them all?”
“Haha, I don’t know!” Mia laughed too. “Guess it’s because I like learning new things, true stories from history. And because this one’s a story about sabers and involves a guy named Marmaduke!”
After a pause, Jan said, “Can you imagine? The nurse brings in your baby boy, wrapped in a blue blanket. You take one look at him and say, ‘Well, son, you sure look like a Marmaduke to me’!”
“Wasn’t Marmaduke that comic strip about a Great Dane?”
The three women laughed together as the conversation turned to people who look like their pet dog or cat.
The rest of the two dozen people in the Corporate Communications and Investor Relations Department only rarely left the iCon campus during lunch. Each and every day, they all made a trek to the iCon café on the basement level, traveling to and from together as a group. Then back at the large Communications conference room table, they ate their sandwiches and salads together while gossiping about who had been drunk last weekend, drinking what alcohol, or what was happening with their favorite celebrities. Often, Mia would join them at the conference table, but her lunch was usually something she brought from home, not purchased at the iCon café. (To ensure she never ate anything she was allergic to.)
On occasion, Chase Amunson, the executive vice president of Communications, would join them for lunch. When he ate with the group, he dominated the large conference room, sitting at the head of the table, two chairs on either side left empty. In between bites brought to his mouth by silverware that looked tiny in his gigantic, six-fingered hand, the immense auburn-haired, black-eyed man told stories about the flaws exhibited by other executive vice presidents, which departments weren’t meeting their quotas for sales or production levels, who was in danger of not getting a bonus or maybe even fired. He specialized in stories that made the subject seem beyond idiotically inept. As he talked, Andie and Gretchen would preen for him and make duck lip faces at him.
About two weeks earlier, near the first of April, Mia had been visiting Jan in her cubicle on the third floor. On her way back to her own cubicle in the Communications area on the ground floor, she heard Chase’s voice, angrier and booming louder than she’d ever heard it before, coming from a manager’s office in the Customer Care department. She stopped to read the notices posted on a bulletin board next to the elevator in an adjacent hallway so she could hear what was going on. The week before, Mia had heard that there had been an incident with one of iCon’s retail products, an e-book reader that had purchased from an overseas manufacturer and then offered at retail outlets during the holiday shopping season. The problem was with the power cord for the charger — if left plugged in too long, the cord would overheat. Severely overheat. Many of the electronic readers had been damaged, and a few of the power cords had even caused a fire. This is what the yelling was all about.
Trying to state her case, Marlys Dahlberg said, “We are told by senior management in Customer Care that we are authorized to do whatever it takes to make the customer happy. That is what I was doing by providing new power cords to customers who were unhappy with their purchase. Replacement tablets too, if they asked for one.”
Chase roared, “You made that decision after the Executive Vice President of Marketing specifically told you to stop providing replacements! Don’t you ever — EVER — think that you have the opportunity to decide what is right and what is wrong when someone higher up has handed down a directive concerning an issue. Whatever they decide becomes what is right for you. PERIOD. You do not have the privilege of thinking for yourself and disagreeing with those decisions. EVER. Anyone higher up in pay grade has the power to make those decisions for you, and that will be the final ruling on it. Why? Because they are better than you are. So you need to learn your lesson and do what you’re told. Exactly as you’re told. If an executive vice president tells you to stop wasting company money by offering replacements to customers, and you don’t comply because you have some idealistic notions of compensating customers, then you have over-estimated the value of your opinion. Unless you’re told by an executive it’s true, customers haven’t been damaged in any way, no matter what they say to you. It’s not up to you to decide what action you’ll take. You will do what we tell you to do. YOU GOT THAT?”
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Mia jumped. The elevator door opened and iCon’s automated interoffice mail delivery robot exited, horn beeping and yellow light flashing to warn all humans to move aside. There was an invisible chemical trail painted on the carpet that guided its twice daily route making deliveries to and pickups from each department throughout the HQ (worn wheels marks defining the track), and she was standing on its pathway. She stepped back. Rattling its contents, the three-shelf-tall computerized cart lurched forward. Mia decided it was time to return to her desk, so she took the elevator down to the ground floor.
Thinking about the confrontation she’d seen walking past the door to Marlys’ office, Mia could tell that the woman inside felt scared and threatened by Chase, and not simply due to the prospect of losing her job. Mia thought, “How truly terrible! Chase was so harsh, overbearing, and underhanded! And to threaten her like that. How awful for her! Of course iCon should replace the power cords. That’s the very least they should do. So much for his big speech about doing what’s right for you as an individual because you need to act in your own self-interest. And safeguard your value to the universe. What a joke. And a lie! Evidently only the people in charge and at the top have the privilege to do what they think is right and to safeguard their value. Too bad for you, minions!”
Later, Mia heard that Marlys had quit and cleared her desk out that very day, right after Chase had confronted her in her office.
When she got back inside the glass door to the Communications area, Mia heard Skip telling Andie, “Lay off making any more Jimi Hendrix memes. He was a guitar player, not a philosopher. People are starting
to question how many genius ideas he could have had. Try using Ghandi or Grover Cleveland instead. Maybe Jack London or Jane Austen. We don’t want to cross the line on how stupid people really are, and find out they’re starting to notice what’s true and what’s not.”
Taking a seat in her cubicle, Mia thought, “What a messed up place I’m working at!” However, as bad as they were, these incidents didn’t move her to give notice at iCon or start looking for another job. And after being so upset at what was going on but still doing nothing about it, she felt more stuck than ever.
The next day (Wednesday) Gretchen emailed Mia an invitation for an informal get-together after work at the Barrow Heights American Grille in the Darisford Inn. At first glance, Mia was happy to receive this friendly invitation — until she realized it was for that very evening. The last-minute timing conflicted with a trip out of town she had already planned. In fact, her suitcase was already in the trunk of her car. Grant Hartwig had gotten a part-time job teaching at a college in La Crosse, and he and Tess had invited her to participate in a fencing tournament there tomorrow and to stay with them and Madison for a few days. “Frack it! I’m not giving up any more of my life for these people!” So she emailed back that she would be unable to attend due to a prior commitment.
So when Gretchen came to her cubicle to personally re-issue the invitation, she looked very surprised that Mia was still set on refusing. “You won’t be coming? But you are needed there.”
“No, I’m sorry — I have already made plans to travel, to visit friends out of town.”
“But you’re the reason for our get-together.”
“I’m sorry, but those plans were made without checking with me first.”
“Of course. However, there are a lot of people involved in this impromptu get-together. Since it’s just you that’s traveling, I’m asking you to change your plans. For everyone’s convenience. Changing your plans would just involve one person, you see — you alone. It would cause so much less trouble if you would do what is best for the everyone else. You can see that, can’t you? It would be so much better if you stay here with us. We’re so looking forward to having you there with us tonight. We all love you, you know.”
This last statement crossed a line for Mia. To make such false and untrue statement in an obviously blatant attempt at manipulation in order to control her behavior made Mia very angry. Gretchen had moved beyond being an irritation and into “I’m a liar” territory. “We all love you” — really? Did they really think that a lie as transparent as that would prompt her to change her plans? How stupid did they think she was? As if she was so emotionally desperate she could be swayed by such a transparent deception! And to think she had gotten to a point where she thought iCon people could actually be friendly. There was no way now that she would be going to the Barrow Heights American Grille in the Darisford Inn tonight — or anywhere else with anyone from iCon. The only place she would be going this evening was to La Crosse, as planned.
Her face turning red and the pitch of her voice raised a full octave, Mia said, “Really. Is that so. Well, in that case, certainly you will all understand that my prior commitment makes it necessary for me to be elsewhere, and given your warm regard, you will all respect and support my decision. I won’t be changing my mind, even if there are dozens of people involved, especially since I was never consulted about my availability. Please offer my regrets to the group for me. I won’t be able to join you tonight, having already made arrangements to take a couple of days off and take a trip out of town. I’ll be back on Monday.”
Gretchen was still standing in the entry to Mia’s cubicle, as if she planned to physically block her exit. So Mia repeated, “That’s my final word. I won’t be going.” Gretchen still didn’t budge. Mia checked the time on her computer — seven after five o’clock. Totally energized by angry feelings of rebellion, in a flash she decided she was leaving right that minute. Unpaid Overtime early, but after five o’clock. She closed all the files on her computer, picked up all the papers on her desk and put them into their folders, filed the folders, put everything else away, then picked up her fencing equipment bag and purse, and turned to leave. Gretchen was still standing in the doorway of her cubicle. Mia said, “Good night, and have a great evening at your get-together,” then side-stepped around her (an obstacle blocking her way), and left the HQ using the forbidden, non-lobby side door. In front of everybody in her department, and anyone who had status enough to have desk by a window, Mia walked down the sidewalk and across the parking lot to her car. She was the first one to leave, the only person escaping iCon’s team spirit of cooperation.
As she crossed the parking lot, she felt a glare directed at her from behind by someone, the intensity of it burning into her back. She turned and looked up. Standing in his sixth floor office next to the pane glass window behind his desk, Chase was frowning, his black eyes glaring at her. She gave him a salute, as if she was holding her sabre before a duel, then turned and kept walking to her car. “Frack you too. I’m leaving.” Resistance might be futile, but Mia hadn’t been assimilated yet.
15 | Want
In the days following her return to work, Mia didn’t notice any negative consequences for skipping the last-minute, so-called “essential” afterwork get-together that Gretchen had insisted she must attend. Nothing changed. No one gave her the cold shoulder treatment, no one reprimanded her for her non-cooperation or lack of team spirit. No one even mentioned the incident at all. Everyone in the Kewl Kidz club was still making an effort at charming her, collecting her, trying to change her into an admiring minion connected to the Hive Mind. But their efforts had no chance of working because the inexplicable weirdness surrounding her life continued to disturb her peace of mind, and iCon always seemed to be at the center of the weirdness.
The next week, Mia was putting away a folder when she suddenly realized that someone had gone through the tabbed folders in the back of her file drawer. In February, she had transferred a couple dozen files from her Edgestow College office, but had never used them since that time. So they were — or they should have been — pristine and untouched, tabs all even and undisturbed. But that was no longer the case. Now, the folder tabs are all at different heights, neatly disarrayed. Obviously, someone had gone through the files, removed and read them, then returned them one at time. She looked around the Communications Department. Who would have been snooping around in her cubicle? Her glance around the room stopped at Skip. She’d heard him brag about reading archived files in Chynna’s desk, so why not hers as well?
This invasion of her privacy was a small thing as things go because there weren’t any secrets in those folders — just research and ideas for publishing academic articles. But the invasion of her cubicle added to Mia’s overall sense of vulnerability and pushed her even deeper into a miasma composed of feelings of being frustrated, helpless, paranoid, fragile. And angry. There wasn’t anywhere where she felt safe and secure anymore.
Entirely fractured — that’s how Mia felt. As if she was completely falling apart. And like Mr. Dumpty, she didn’t know how she could put herself back together again. Even the trip to see Grant, Tess, and Madison in La Crosse hadn’t helped for long. She didn’t know if it was due to not sleeping well, but her mind was slowly being overcome by a return of muddled thinking and headaches. An inability to focus exactly like the days of her undiscovered soy allergy, but she knew that the brain fog wasn’t caused by her diet. Lately, every night when she would start to fall asleep, her body would jerk as if experiencing an electric shock, her spine arching and jerking in a flash and then just as quickly, returning to normal. Or her foot would rattle back and forth rapidly under the covers several times. Or her arm would suddenly jerk to the side on its own volition. Being asleep wasn’t any better. Almost nightly she had strange dreams. Not nightmares exactly, but disturbing, unsettling dreams.
Two days ago, one hour before the usual
time for the alarm to ring, she had a dream that seemed so vivid, so real — more like the memory of something experienced, not like a dream at all.
The dream: She was asleep in bed, struggling to wake up, desperately trying to raise herself up off the mattress, but her eyes wouldn’t open. The most she could do was partially raise herself up onto one elbow, but then her head became too heavy to hold up, and she sank back down. The reason she wanted to stop sleeping, open her eyes, and wake up was that Skip Morrison was leaning over to speak in her ear, demanding over and over that she tell him the password to her iCon work computer.
Even in the dream, Mia didn’t trust him. The weasel was trying to force her to give up her password so he could harm her by using her computer in some sneaky way. Instead of complying, she kept struggling (without success) to claim control over her body and wake up and get away from him. She would never give in to his commands because to obey him would be unthinkable, beyond foolishness to even consider. What wouldn’t he do if he could get into her computer at work!
Skip kept repeating, “Tell me! What’s the password to your computer?! Come on, cough it up. Tell me what it is!” She was able to resist his demands by keeping silent, but she couldn’t wake up or even open her eyes.
After several minutes of this contest of wills, the head of iCon’s Security Team, Ralph Bardolf, joined Skip in her bedroom — at least that’s what it seemed like in her dream. She didn’t see either one of them, because her eyes were still tightly shut (in the dream), and she couldn’t see a thing. But she could hear a new voice, Ralph’s voice.
Ralph told Skip, “Stop that right now! You have no business trying to get her password this way. This isn’t a game.”
After this statement, it seemed that all of her senses fled away, and she immediately dropped into a senseless state of unconsciousness.
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