Company - Max Barry [82]
She's heard of women craving odd foods while pregnant, repulsive combinations like ice cream and gherkins. Well, Elizabeth craves Roger. She aches for him to wrap her in his arms. Just thinking about it brings a whimper to her lips. Elizabeth has been in love more times than she can count, but until now she never felt desire as a physical force. Right now, if Roger asked, Elizabeth would strip naked and make love to him on the orange-and-black carpet.
Sitting at her desk with her hands clenched into fists, she tries to talk her body around. There are many logical reasons why she should not desire Roger, and she silently argues each one of them. But none of them stick; all are washed away by the rich, red hormonal tide within her. The rational part of her, the part that sold training packages, bobs helplessly adrift on an emotional sea. What do you know about anything? the ocean says. Look at your job. Look at your priorities. Thanks for the input, but I'll take it from here.
She has to admit that her body makes a good point. But Roger! Why, why, why Roger? Does her body see hidden depths to him? She can't. She pleads with it to change her mind.
Getting the network back turns out to be easier than Jones expects. He starts by thinking about which department should logically control Information Technology, and decides it's his: Staff Services. So he knocks on Roger's door and pitches the idea. Roger listens in silence, then turns his chair to face the window for a while. Jones doesn't know whether Roger is thinking deeply or simply striking a pose, but he doesn't mind waiting. After a minute, Roger swivels back. “You're asking for a significant capital investment on the part of this department.”
“I guess.”
“You know I'm trying to make individual employees more accountable for expenses. This runs contrary to that paradigm.” He presses his fingers together. “I'd need to basically loan you the money.”
Jones blinks. “How would I pay that back? What, you mean I personally would bill other departments for network usage?”
Roger smiles. “Let's not get carried away. I'm externalizing expenses, not revenue.”
“Then—”
“What I am prepared to do is pay you a royalty on network billings, up to a certain ceiling.”
“So . . . I'm responsible for all the costs, but only get a percentage of the revenue?”
“We can negotiate the exact numbers,” Roger says. “But frankly, if you don't like it, I have a department full of staff who would kill for a job like this.”
“Hey,” Jones says, bristling. “Setting up the network is my idea.”
“That's why I'm giving you first bite at it.”
Jones opens his mouth to argue, then realizes he's not here to earn a salary from Roger. He's here because Alpha wants a network. “Okay, okay.”
“You'll need help. A big job like this. You should subcontract to other Staff Services employees.”
“I will.” Jones has no intention of fooling around with wires and computers.
“Don't just give the work to your friends,” Roger warns. “You'll get better value by making them bid for it. Just a word of advice.”
“Thanks, Roger,” Jones says.
He gives Freddy the task of scouring Staff Services for anyone who knows anything about computers, and settles down at his desk to phone IT consultancy houses. After each call, he puts a line through their name if they tried to sell him something he didn't ask for or used the word “solutions” more than three times. An hour later he finds a guy called Alex Domini who, he suspects, heads a one-man shop, and makes an appointment to see him the next day.
His voice-mail light is blinking, so he dials in to find a message from Sydney. “Ah, Jones? Can you—yes, I will get to you in one minute. Just—just stay there, all right? Jones, come down to reception, there's a package for you. Now look—” The phone clicks.
Jones puts down the phone. Surely Sydney isn't working the phones in reception? But one elevator ride later, he discovers she is: almost lost behind the great orange desk, she is fending off half a dozen waiting