by A.K. Meek
***
Ms. Pennyline leaned against her desk, a crooked smile on her ancient face. As Tim neared she opened the door to Mr. Hawksworth’s office. “You may see Mr. Hawksworth now. Go in peace.”
Her voice reminded him of Glen.
Tim had never been here before, never had a reason to visit Hawkworth’s office. These visits usually never ended well for employees. Tim nodded to Ms. Pennyline and stepped through the doorway. An overwhelming wave of insignificance swept over him.
A large oaken desk dominated the office. Matching bookshelves full of weathered volumes leaned against the wall, flanking the desk on each side. The desk rested on a plush, deep red carpet with intricate patterns along the border. The thin, rough carpet squares that covered the office floor, and even his apartment, did not compare to this red carpet.
Behind the desk, Mr. Hawksworth sat in a large leather chair and wore a brown hat tailor-made with the same material as his suit. He looked shriveled behind the desk. He beckoned with his arm.
Tim approached the desk. The red carpet gave under his feet, giving the sensation of being off balance, or losing balance. He looked for a chair to sit in so that he could steady himself. Mr. Hawksworth sat upon the only chair in the office.
The old man pressed a few buttons embedded in his desktop, and a virtua screen materialized above the desk. The two-dimensional, semi-transparent screen separated him from Tim. “Hollow, tell me what this is,” he said.
Tim recognized the report that projected on the virtua screen. “Sir, that’s my proposal for the manning distribution for Acme’s east side warehouse functions.”
“Yes, but look how you arrived to your conclusion.” Mr. Hawksworth raised his hands and manipulated the virtual display, sliding through datasheets with old, but surprisingly deft, hands. With a flick of his wrist, an algebraic equation turned red and expanded to fill the virtua screen. The rest of the report faded to the background.
“Wait,” Tim said. “That’s not the right formula. Something’s wrong.”
“You’re right. Something is wrong.” He tapped the floating red equation, and it flew apart into the individual calculations and measures used to create it. He pointed to a small calculation sheet, a small speck in the amalgamation of spreadsheets and raw data. “You accounted for discretionary workload.”
“No, sir, I didn’t, shouldn’t—”
“You’re right,” Mr. Hawksworth said, “you shouldn’t have. That’s a mistake I expect from a first year analyst, not one with your experience.” He swiped both hands across the screen and the virtua ended, fading away to nothingness. “This is big. If I didn’t happen to pull your report for a random audit, I’m afraid to think what could have happened. No, wait, I did think of what could happen. You realize Acme is our most lucrative customer. Your mistake could have caused them millions in credit and cost us our meal ticket.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know how—”
“You are removed from Acme’s account. You will be Gutierrez’s apprentice until I decide you’re not anymore. You’re fortunate I promised Agnes years ago that I would never fire anyone on my birthday. Guess what today is.”
“Your birthday, sir?”
“Well, at least you have some analytical skills left.”
“Yes sir. Uhm, happy—”
“Leave. Send Gutierrez in here.”
“Yes, sir.” Tim left the office. Ms. Pennyline still leaned against her desk, smirk firmly in place.
He took off his hat, rubbed his sweaty head, and walked to his desk. The uneasy sensation the red carpet gave receded with each step. Discretionary workload, how did that happen? How could he overlook something so basic, so simple? He had to look through his analysis. Surely, there was an explanation.
“Hey Tim, how did it go?” Gabrielle said.
Tim dropped into his chair. “He wants to see you.”
“Me? Why?” She grabbed her hat and worked it on top of her intricately styled hair.
“I’ve been demoted. I’m going to be your apprentice.”
“Really, wow. What did you do? I’ve never had an apprentice before.” She stood and ran her hands along her skirt, smoothing it. “Look at the bright side; we get to spend more time together. Like brother and sister. It’ll be fun. How do I look?”
Before he could answer, she was off to Mr. Hawksworth’s office, an extra bounce in her step. He turned to his desk.
Glen was asleep on top of Tim’s burrito lunch, mouth open wide. It appeared he tried eating the burrito, at least half of it. Several chewed bits of bean, cheese, and cellophane wrapping surrounded the burrito remains. Shiny drool covered the uneaten half.
Tim wanted to cry.
Disclaimer
An important message flashed on his profile inbox.
“May I read it to you?” his LX said.
“Go ahead.” Tim threw his covers off the couch and sat up. He called in sick for the first time since working at the District. Gabrielle would have to wait one more day for her apprentice.
The message text scrolled on the projection screen as LX read it aloud with a serious sounding voice.
As a registered purchaser of a Menagerie, you are receiving this message.
The Acme Corporation has received many questions regarding about an employee and an unfortunate accident, possibly tied to the Menagerie, Acme’s newest hit innovation. Several individuals have taken to the cloud to express unwarranted anger and distrust.
A member of the Acme family, Mr. Barron, lead developer on the Menagerie project, suffered a horrible and unexpected loss. The conjecture is his son’s untimely demise is tied to the project his father has spent the last five years perfecting.
There is no truth to this. Menagerie are safe. Redundant protection mechanisms are in place to prevent any problems.
Several owners have expressed a desire to ‘unlink’ themselves from their Menagerie. Even though this seems irrational, the Acme Corporation understands there may be a few that still desires to unlink, even after the commotion is found unwarranted. We will add this to our to-do list and explore whether it is beneficial to develop as a future software upgrade.
For now expect the latest firmware update soon. It fixes the jumping bug found in version 1.5 of the Rock Hyrax Menagerie and will correct the color change issue in all versions of the Domestic Ferret Menagerie.
Look for new animals being added to the Menagerie. Your forever friend awaits!
No need to worry, so the message said. However, it didn’t reassure him of anything, except that unlinking was not possible.
Glen awoke from his nap on the counter and crawled to the overturned, dented derby on the counter, his new home. He cleared the steep brim and shuffled the silk liner then dropped onto it, giving a low croak. Tim picked up the derby and pulled Glen from the hat. He sat on his couch and propped his forever friend on his shoulder.
“I can’t unlink you?” he said.
“We’re stuck. Boy are we stuck,” Glen said.
Tim sensed a tingle in his stomach behind his belly button, similar to the pain he had at Evergreen when he tried to abandon Glen. There was more to linking than he first considered.
“Okay Glen, you steered me wrong on the derby. You owe me. Tell me how—exactly—we are linked. Then tell me what happened that weekend at the party? I want you to tell me everything.”
Glen yawned and smacked his mouth.
“For starters, I’m a female... ”
###
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