Company - Max Barry [33]
They don't. He looks up. The elevator screen says 4, and even as he watches, ticks over to 5. Alarmed, he reaches for 2 again and realizes it's not illuminated. He presses it: it lights up, then goes dark. He tries 5, then 6, then he runs his hand up and down the columns of buttons. All illuminate for no longer than a second. He puts his hand on the elevator wall to steady himself. Is this thing accelerating? In a flash he realizes that this must be how Zephyr disposes of employees who are no longer useful: the elevator free-falls them into the basement.
He feels the elevator begin to slow. So maybe not. The screen shows 11. That winks out and is replaced by 12. It appears he is headed for 14: Training Sales. He exhales in disgust. Security is probably waiting for him there with all his possessions in a cardboard box.
The number 12 blinks out, and the elevator comes to a complete stop. There is a curiously long pause. Then two things happen at once: the elevator goes ding and the screen shows 13.
Jones looks at the button panel, just in case he has recently lost his mind. But no. As he thought, there is no button for 13.
The doors slide open.
The first thing he notices is the lighting. It's not fluorescent and stabbing at his retinas, oh no; this is a soft, muted light that glows from invisible recesses in the ceiling. Second: the carpet is not the usual violent orange but a gentle, soothing blue. Third: the elevator opens onto a corridor—no surprise there—but this corridor is made of glass, and beyond it Jones can see glass-walled offices everywhere, offices with walls. These are the things that really grab his attention. It's only when he has recovered from the shock of these that he notices less significant things, such as the group of people standing in front of him. Front and center is the janitor. Beside him is Eve Jantiss.
“Mr. Jones,” the janitor says. “I'm Daniel Klausman. Welcome to Project Alpha.”
“Standard procedure, of course, is to throw you out of the building.” Klausman is still wearing his gray overalls, but it's his shock of steely-gray hair that Jones can't stop looking at. That's enough to convince him that this man really is the CEO of Zephyr Holdings: he has management hair. Klausman puts a hand on Jones's arm and steers him down a corridor. “We'd be spreading the word that you'd been caught stealing a computer and that'd be the end of you. Wouldn't be the first time.”
Jones glances at Eve, who smiles brilliantly. The sight of all those gleaming teeth makes him more nervous.
Klausman stops walking, and, dutifully, so does everybody else. “But there's something about you, Mr. Jones. Something special. We noticed it right from the start, didn't we?” He looks at Eve. She nods, then, when Klausman turns away, winks. “But this roof thing clinched it. Nobody's ever made it that far before. Curious fella, aren't you? We like that, Mr. Jones. We like it a lot. It would have been interesting to study you. But since that's no longer possible . . . we're going to make you an offer.”
“You pose as a janitor,” Jones says. He realizes this is not particularly insightful, but he needs to establish some facts they can all agree on.
“Some executives, they make a big show of working on the front lines every now and again. You see those McDonald's managers? They flip burgers one day a year, taking breaks every five minutes to call back to the office, and think they're getting frontline experience. I, Mr. Jones, live in the front line. No one's closer to his employees than me.” He smiles, as if expecting Jones to say something appreciative.
“And Eve is not really a receptionist.”
“She is as much a receptionist as I am a janitor.” A smile twitches around the corner of Klausman's lips.
“She is a receptionist, but she's mostly something else.”
“Keep going.”
Jones looks around. Through the glass walls, he sees banks of monitors, displaying pictures from around the company. “You're