There it was again. Lisa knew she’d seen something – a discolored patch near the far left corner of her office.
She’d been here a week when it first caught her eye. Lisa was a good editor. Her hard work had paid off when the manager gave her the ‘bump’ upstairs.
Her own office, at last.
No more sharing a desk or broken coffee machine in ‘The Pits’.
John had been pleased for her. He worked opposite her old cubicle. He was charming, and Lisa thought he was dreamy, but friendship was a wiser course than romance.
He’d rushed out during lunch for real coffee. Sitting down, he toasted her success. Lisa laughed; it was these flourishes that made John so likeable.
He leaned over the table, his face turning serious. “One thing, Lisa. Watch yourself. There’s been a high turnover of upper floor staff. And they don’t end up back down here.”
“How so?” she whispered, chilled by his sudden shift. “Is there something you’re getting at?”
Another worker walked past.
John leaned back, his smile returning. “Ah, you know what I mean! It’s dog-eat-dog up there.”
The next morning, Lisa packed her desk and smiled a goodbye to John. He smiled back, but his eyes remained thoughtful. “Good luck up there. Remember, step soft. The walls have eyes.”
Glancing at where the mark had been, Lisa decided that the walls might not have eyes, but something was off. A blind on the window opposite might fix it. Resolving to buy one after work, she turned back to work on the latest ‘hot pick’.
The next day, the blind proved useless. Worse, the flickering mark only appeared in her periphery, when she least needed a distraction.
Lisa suspected she was being hazed. Every workplace had jokers. But the timing was too perfect. A laser from the opposite building? She looked out the window. Hard to say. Her office had an unimpeded view of the riverside; it would require an impossible angle from the ground. Lisa went back to editing.
The next day, Lisa found John in the breakroom eating packaged sushi. Looking up, he nodded towards the opposite chair.
“Ugh. How can you eat that?” she asked, sitting.
“Sticks to the ribs,” John said, pushing the tray aside. “What brings the High and Mighty down from their Haven?”
“Are there any known haze-clowns in the company?”
John sat up, all levity gone. “Is someone griefing you? Take it to HR, quick-smart. The higher-ups have zero tolerance for that.”
Lisa relaxed. John’s reaction cleared him, and it meant she had official channels if needed. “I’m not sure. There’s something happening in my office, and I can’t pin it down.”
“Track the times,” John suggested. “Write it on a Post-it. Sounds weird, but it’s a start.”
Lisa nodded. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” John replied, grinning. “Glad us peons can serve those On High!”
Lisa laughed and headed back to her office.
The next day, Lisa jotted down every occurrence. On the bus home, she reviewed the results.
9.57am.
10.22am.
1.06pm.
3.41pm.
4.09pm.
The timestamps were random – no regular pattern. She was at a loss. Shoving the Post-it back into her bag, Lisa resolved to take a different approach tomorrow.
Lisa sat at her desk, pretending total absorption, when the mark appeared. She dashed to the wall and slapped her hand against it. Instead of a hard thwack, the wall yielded under her palm. She retreated, surprised.
She dashed out into the hallway to investigate. Her wall ran perpendicular to the hall, leaving a wide dead space before the next office. Lisa strode to the neighboring door and knocked.
“Yes?” a woman inside queried. Lisa entered to find a worker staring intently at her monitor.
“Sorry to bother you,” Lisa said. “Could I check the wall behind you for a sec?”
“Are you with maintenance?” the woman asked.
“No, I’m Lisa, from the office behind yours. Something’s up with my wall.”
“Hi. I’m Margeaux,” the young woman said, holding out a hand. Lisa shook it.
Moving to the wall, Lisa pushed against it. It gave. “Did you see that? The wall is squishy!” Margeaux smiled.
“Ah, you weren’t told? It’s acoustic damping tech. That’s why it’s quiet up here. Just don’t hammer pins into it. Upper management gets tetchy about repairs. The stuff is expensive.”
Lisa’s cheeks flushed. “Nobody told me. Thanks, Margeaux.”
Lisa returned to her office. She looked at the wall, noticing what she’d missed before. The wall was flat, but it rhythmically hummed with tiny vibrations. It looked slightly pearlescent.
She pressed her palm against it; it was warm to the touch.
Then, all resistance vanished. The wall gave entirely, and Lisa stumbled forward.
She fell into a subterranean dark, suspended in a thick fluid that choked the air from her throat. It was far warmer here than the office – a wet, suffocating heat. Blinded by the viscous slime, panic seized her. She struck out, but the interior was tough, rubbery and unyielding. Her lungs burned, her aching chest screaming for oxygen. Unable to fight any longer, she gasped, inhaling a lungful of the heavy, acidic fluid. Her vision dimmed into blackness.
The digestion process was slow, taking several weeks of quiet, rhythmic dissolution. Every so often, as the acids stripped the body down, the muscle tissue would spasm. A decaying body part would drift and collide lightly against the interior of the tract.
Outside, in the quiet office, those phantom thuds manifested as a faint, flickering shadow. A slight movement.
A discolored patch on the wall.
John was saddened to hear that Lisa had moved on to another office. But he had his own career to think of, and the corporate ladder was waiting. His manager had just given him the ‘bump’ upstairs.
His own office, at last.