Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Holiday (Fiction, Surrealism)

     I stood alone in the elevator. It vibrated gently as it rose to my floor. I would be the only one working. To other people, it was a holiday. Time to go home, to be with family and friends. To me, it was the opportunity to catch up enough on work to go home a little early for a couple of weeks.

     When it got to my floor, the door opened only partway. I had to push my way through. My briefcase caught for a moment as they tried to close on it. I decided to take the stairs when I left.

     I flipped the switch. The lights came on with a flicker and that buzz that only seems to happen when I'm here alone. The alarm beeped. I entered the code and turned it off. I looked around and shivered. Heat was next.

     I set the briefcase on my desk and started my computer up. While it started up, I took my lunch to the breakroom and put it in the fridge. I started the coffee. I didn't like the coffee here; it was too strong and bitter. But free beats tasty. The machine started up, a with a pop, a whir, and a footsep. Footstep?

     "Is somebody there?" I asked. Nobody. My ears and mind playing tricks on me.

     I let the coffee finish and took it back to my desk. I took a light blanket out of my briefcase. I'd never use it while people were around, but it would also be warmer then. I took the warm cup in my hand and breathed in the scent of coffee. A small sip to get the day started. And...

     In position.

     Files opened.

     People's work reviewed and summarized.

     Data compiled.

     All caught up - late lunch.

     I still had half a cup of coffee left; I finished it off. If I had any after lunch, I'd be up all night. I rinsed my cup out and got my lunch. Turkey sandwich. I thought it would be appropriate.

     As I lifted the sandwich to take a bite, the lights went out.

     "Who's there?" I asked. Nobody answered.

     I went and flipped the switch back on, glad it wasn't a fuse. I went back to the breakroom, with an eye over my shoulder. I sat so my back was to the wall. I still had that creeping feeling, but I could be sure there was nothing behind me.

     There was nothing behind me.

     I finished my lunch. Juicy tomatoes and green spinach on the sandwich. Crunchy carrots on the side, and a cranberry cobbler for dessert. I could probably do with fewer desserts.

     I rinsed out my containers, dried them off and put them away. I looked over at the coffee machine. I'm so much more productive when nobody's interrupting me. There should be more holidays. I went to the bathroom.

     The heat of the water rushed over my hands. I scrubbed my hands and, as I was finishing, I found myself staring at the water. I looked up and saw someone else in the mirror. I spun around, but they weren't there.My heart pounded in my chest. I turned back to the mirror. Nobody there, either. Deep breath.

     Definitely too tired. I decided to have that second cup of coffee. I'll just work later tonight and sleep in tomorrow.

     I set another cup up to brew. I went back to my desk and started some music; it's been far too quiet today. I opened the reports and checked my work. A couple minor mistakes; I must not have been paying close enough attention.

     As I made the corrections and triple checked the most crucial parts, the words and numbers began to float off the screen. They took the form of people and began to dance in circles around me. Something sat on my shoulder. I turned my head. There was a text man that looked like this:

   :)C-<

     Something like that, depending on your font. His grin spread into a D, like this.

   :DC-<

     "What are you doing?" I asked.

     "My job. And I do it well," he answered.

   :oC-<

     He blew a blast of air into my eyes. I flinched.

     When I opened my eyes, the words and numbers were back on the screen. There was no textman on my shoulders. I grabbed a tissue and wiped drool from my mouth. The lights were out again; light was coming through the window from a streetlamp. How long had I slept?

     I stared at the screen. None of it made sense any more. Time to go home. I stood, put the blanket back in my briefcase, and set the alarm. Then I was out the door and down the stairs. Halfway down, I remembered the coffee machine was still on. I headed back up, unlocked door, flipped the light switch, turned the alarm off and went to the breakroom.

     There was a six foot tall text man there, drinking my coffee. He smiled and waved. I slapped myself. Hard.

     I was awake.

     "I need sleep and a psychiatrist," I said.

     Test man shrugged. "I do what I can," he answered.

     I backed away slowly. I turned on the alarm before I left; if he was real, let security deal with him. If he wasn't, I didn't want to report him and have people think I was crazy. I ran down the stairs, tumbling on the bottom step and slamming against the wall. Definitely awake.

     "I'm staying home tomorrow," I told the door as I left.

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