Company - Max Barry [42]
But she feels happy. Last night Megan was channel surfing, zapping from one stupid show to another from the comfort of her sofa, when she hit a motivational speaker on an infomercial. “Your goals are within your reach,” the speaker said, the squareness of his jaw brooking no argument. Megan's finger hesitated on the remote. “The only thing holding you back is you.”
Lying alone in bed that night, Megan wondered if that wasn't true. Why is she, a reasonably intelligent twenty-four-year-old woman, spending forty hours a week sitting at a desk against a wall with nobody to talk to and nothing to do more interesting than rearrange ceramic bears? Why is she keeping careful notes on the movement of Jones (who is away from his desk a lot lately; she hopes he doesn't have medical trouble), instead of talking to him? Yes, Sydney makes her sit away from everybody else, and yes, people in Zephyr Holdings are generally oblivious to the lives of PAs, but Megan has the power to change this. If she was more confident, she might get into more conversations. If she lost some weight and bought some better clothes . . .
This was fantasy. But the man on the TV said the only thing holding Megan back was Megan, and if he's right, then Jones is within her reach, too.
She can't even think it without flushing like an idiot. It is ridiculous to imagine that Jones could fall in love with her. He is young and dynamic and surrounded by girls who are effortlessly more attractive than Megan, people like Holly Vale (blond, slim, athletic) and Gretel Monadnock (beautiful) and Eve Jantiss (depressingly beautiful). Megan has stood in the shadows of girls like that all her life, as they tossed their shiny hair and flashed their perfect smiles, touching their necks as they laughed at the jokes of all the boys Megan has ever liked. She knows how it works. They flirt, even though they already have boyfriends (they always do, and always the best ones), and whether they mean to or not they exert a gravitational pull on every man around, reminding them that this is what a desirable woman looks like, this, not like fat, bespectacled Megan, who might as well belong to a different species.
She heads into the gymnasium shower room. Every step hurts, but her body feels as if it is singing. Megan is amazed. So this is why people exercise! If it works like this, instead of being a constant battle against pain and exhaustion, well, Megan can see herself doing it. She could run to work every day. She could (eventually) become one of those people like Holly, who is thin and attractive and—emerging from a shower stall right in front of her.
Megan stops dead. Holly, wearing just a white towel, sees her and blinks with surprise.
“Hi,” Megan says, but only her mouth participates: her throat fails to get organized enough to supply it with sound. She clears her throat to try again, but thanks to the jogging emits a thick, wet noise that sounds like someone blowing their nose. She is too mortified to speak.
“I didn't know you worked out.” Holly walks to the bench, puts one foot up on it, leans forward, and begins to dry her hair with a second towel.
“I'm just starting.” Megan's voice comes out strained. She cannot bear to stand here and watch the muscles work in Holly's tan shoulders—shoulders that look nothing at all like hers. The idea of walking past those shoulders to the showers is so daunting that it takes her a second to force her body into motion. Her hand grips her bag of work clothes so hard that her fingers ache.
As she's squeezing past, Holly says, “Well, good for you, Megan.”
Megan is shocked. It sounds like Holly really means it.
Level 14 is split into two halves: Training Sales when you turn right from the elevators and Training Delivery when you turn left. They are exact mirror images. Most of Zephyr is like this, and there are several amusing stories of burned-out employees wandering into the wrong