0513485001343534196 christopher fowler (16 page)

'Thorough, that's the word. And not afraid to be critical. That's good.

It shows integrity.' Felix grew increasingly uncomfortable as Clark paced behind him. 'How long did this take you?'

'Three days. Well. Days and nights.'

'It's paid off. It really has. There's just one thing that bothers me. A silly thing. It's this, here.' He held the document close to Felix's face. Too close. 'Receipt. I before E except after C. But you get it wrong every time. Every single time. Look. Receipt. Receipt. Receipt.
Receipt
.'

Clark carefully removed his prized cricket bat from the wall, giving it a few test swings. 'A foolish, tiny, minuscule mistake. Ruining
everything
.'

He took a sudden high swing with the bat. The massive connecting crack against the back of Felix's skull knocked him clean out of his swivel chair, sprawling him face down on the carpet-tiles. Clark examined his unconscious subordinate, then dragged him out of the office by the lapels of his suit. 'There's simply no excuse for shoddy workmanship these days,' he reflected.

Imagine an incredibly complex computer program, a physical structure, skeletal at first, then gaining a dense musculature of electronic cabling, pipework and floors and finally, an exterior skin. A monolithic mirrored cathedral, towering over the city horizon. Below the postmodern fripperies of its entrance, down in the railway station at its base, a train discharged its next batch of commuters. They marched along the platform in regiments, financial warriors heading into fresh battle.

Ben Harper's tie was knotted too tightly. He tried to loosen the knot as he marched with the crowd. Feeling something sticking in his neck, he pulled a pin from the collar of his brand-new shirt. He had yet to notice the price sticker still on his briefcase. He checked his watch and glanced up at the sombre building, its windows darkening as clouds passed.

Ben had the hopelessly innocent face of a young man on his first day in a new job. He watched the other commuters for his cues, swallowing nervously and wondering why he had ever lied in the first place. Then he crossed the half-finished road to the Symax building and entered its pristine foyer.

The Olympian marble hall appeared to have been designed by Albert Speer. A cleaner shadowed Ben, carefully wiping away his wet footprints, removing all human spoor. To access the elevator he had to collect an electronic tag from the commissionaire, who punched in its encoded number. The guards looked like American police officers. Video monitors checked his progress as the lift arrived and he entered.

'Hold the doors!' An attractive young woman slipped into the elevator and smiled at Ben. She stood on one leg and removed her shoe, then belted the base of the door with the heel. The door juddered and shut.

'There's something weird with the electrics,' she explained. 'I should keep a hammer in my handbag.' She put the shoe back on.

Ben watched her, fascinated, until the doors opened on the 35th floor.

The reception area was a gleaming shrine to the work ethic, part space station, part rainforest. A large chromium sign read:
SYMAX. The
Future Is Now
. Beyond this a bank of TV screens showed corporate videos; images of wheatfields, dolphins and sunsets. The robotic blonde behind the desk noted Ben's colour-coded badge. 'Oh, new boy. I'll call someone.'

He watched one of the corporate videos. An avuncular voice intoned something about 'the first generation of environments that work for you. A Symax building is an infinitely adaptable stress-free workspace. Light, heat and climate are monitored by sensors that control your staff's constantly changing needs. One day all offices will be this way, because at Symax the future is here to stay.'

'Mr Harper.' A corporate-looking woman in her early thirties held out her hand. 'Diana Carter. We met briefly at your interview. If you'd care to follow me.'

She led Ben through the swing doors, past rows of extreme-technology work stations. The sky dominated, framed in the floor-to-ceiling windows. It gave the area a feeling of peace, as though they were on the deck of a liner coasting its way through the clouds.

Staffers had customised their work spaces in odd ways, as if trying to make them cosier and less efficient-looking. All sound was absorbed but for the clicking of keyboards.

'There's been a personnel change since we spoke,' explained Carter.

'Mr Felix left us rather suddenly. The PR department isn't fully functional yet. Things are a little crazy.' She handed him a manual. 'Company bible.

Read and believe. This desk was supposed to have been cleared. Mr Temple wanted to welcome you but he's not himself today. None of us are.' She gave a brief bleak smile and whizzed off, leaving Ben at his work station.

The girl from the lift was at the next desk. She looked over and smiled, appraising him. Feeling spied upon, Ben attempted to look efficient. Unfortunately, he couldn't find the switch to activate his terminal.

Perhaps it needed a key or something. He checked the desk drawers.

The first one contained a pair of damp socks, a bottle of painkillers and a hunting knife.

His watch had stopped. His chair-back appeared to be broken. He tried to fire up the computer again, to no avail. He studied other people for tips and got none. Amused, the girl finally came over. 'Try the button at the front.'

Ben sheepishly pressed it. The screen came on, but nothing else did.

'You've never used one of these before, have you?'

'I'm not familiar with this, uh, make,' said Ben.

She reached over and booted up the system for him. 'What are you doing here?'

He shifted awkwardly. 'I'm the new PR assistant to Mr Clark - '

'I don't see how. You obviously have no experience.'

'I've had dozens of corporate jobs.'

'Then go ahead and set your voicemail.' She sat back, amused. 'You can fool them but not me. You've never worked in a place like this before, have you?'

Ben was flustered. 'I thought I'd get a
bit
further before being found out. It's only ten past nine.'

'I won't tell anyone.' She held out her hand. 'Marie Vine. Let's cut a deal. Tell me what you're doing here, and I'll get you through. Nobody has to know.'

There was no point in continuing to lie. 'I needed the work,' he admitted. 'So I faked my CV. I was a teacher, do you know what that pays? I'm twenty-six and sick of never having any money. I can handle this. I know about people.'

'If you know so much about people,' asked Marie, 'why did you stop teaching?'

'I got fired for organising a student picket. I get too involved. This will be better for me, more - impersonal. It's just press releases. How hard can it be?'

She brought her lips close to his ear. 'Here's something for you to think about. This is the most advanced work environment in the world.

Yet it gives a job to a little red school-teacher with a faked CV. What does that tell you?'

At noon, Carter reappeared to take Ben on a tour of the floor. 'Over there,' she pointed to a thin man in a tight grey suit, 'that's Mr Swan.'

Swan's posture was birdlike and vaguely irritating. He slowly craned forward. 'If there's anything in the company manual that doesn't leap out at you, feel free to give me a tinkle.'

'Over there, Mr Carmichael.' Ben nodded to each of the staff in turn, but people were too busy to take much notice. 'Lucy, your shared PA.

Paula, word processing.' They passed another office. The huge shape of an arguing man could be seen through the glass. 'Mr Clark, the new department head.'

Marie passed with a sheaf of papers and interrupted in a manner that seemed to annoy Carter. 'Mr Felix was in line for the position, but he's gone,' she explained. 'Vanished like a summer rain.'

'Mr Temple is the managing director, as you know, but he's not often here,' said Carter. 'He lives on the floor above -'

' - but seeing him is like getting an appointment with the Wizard of Oz,' Marie cut in. 'Oh well, better get back to work. We're all on Candid Camera, you know. They record everything, and they're everywhere.

Even in the toilets.'

'I suppose Symax needs good security if it's developing systems no-one else has,' Ben replied.

'Exactly so, Mr Harper,' agreed Carter. Marie was disappointed that Ben had chosen to side with the management. Ahead, a crowd was gathering around one of the refreshment stations.

'It's happening again!' called one of the office boys. People were watching a half-filled water cooler that was emitting an ominous rumbling sound. The water inside swirled around in an impossible whirlpool, climbing the sides of the plastic jar. It whirled faster and faster, and suddenly the jar ruptured, spraying water everywhere. The secretaries squealed and jumped back.

Ben turned to Carter but found her place taken by Marie. 'A bug in the system,' she explained. 'Look, my little bogus friend, I know it's your first day but I'd like to speak frankly with you. You confided in me. Not here, though. The walls have ears and eyes. You have to be careful who you talk to. Over lunch.'

They crossed an acre of grey marble floor to the restaurant, passing a pair of security guards with vicious-looking guns in their belts. 'Private security firm,' noted Marie. 'Those things on their belts are tasors.'

'Is that legal?'

'This place is beyond the jurisdiction of the police,' she explained. In the restaurant there were vegetarian dishes, roasting chickens, trays of ham and beef. They shared a quiet table away from the chatter-filled main section.

'Three weeks ago Matthew Felix walked out of here and never even came back to collect his belongings,' she explained, talking through a mouthful of chicken. 'His car's still in its usual parking space under the building, but he's gone. He was my friend. And your predecessor.'

'What can I do?' Ben shrugged helplessly. 'I just got here.'

'The secretaries are always off sick. They say there's something in the air that makes you ill. At this height the windows can't be opened because of the winds. Then there are the phone lines. They randomly switch themselves around, like they've got poltergeists or something.'

'It's my first day,' he pleaded.

'The staff can sense that there's something wrong even if the management can't, but no-one - NO-ONE - is willing to talk about it.'

'This suit is brand new, Marie. And the tie.'

'I'm trying to find someone who's not just a management sheep.'

'I'm not a sheep!' Ben protested. 'I've been in the business world for four hours! Management must be able to do something. Temple, he's the boss-man.'

Marie speared a piece of asparagus. 'He won't see me. I've already had two official cautions from Clark. One more and I'll lose my job. They all think I like to stir things up.'

Ben grew more exasperated. 'I should stay away from you. I fought hard for this job and I'd really like to keep it.'

'It's not like I'm asking you to do anything illegal, just keep your eyes and ears open, and tell me if you notice anything strange. Do it before the place gets to you and you become like the rest of them.'

Ben lowered his fork. 'Which is what?'

'You know. Corporate.'

'What's wrong with that?'

'You're an individual.'

He thought for a moment. 'Maybe I don't want to be.'

Marie rose to leave. She was frustrated by Ben's attitude. 'Maybe you don't. But I think Matthew Felix is dead. The police found his cat half-starved. Maybe he had a heart attack and it was stress-related so they quietly took him away. Somebody here knows more than they're telling. For God's sake, look at them!'

'Why would they hide something like that?'

'This is a new company. Maybe they're scared of bad publicity. Oh, forget it. Just forget I said anything.' Ben watched helplessly as she rose from the table and left. He looked out of the window at the power lines which passed close to the glass. He could hear their eerie hum beneath the moaning wind. There were dead pigeons all along the window ledge, neatly aligned in a row. He thought,
I've entered the Twilight Zone
.

Aided by a bank of video monitors running interactive graphic devices, Clark was giving a talk to a group of potential Symax investors. Ben found a chair and watched his new boss in action.

'This is the first fully operational smart building in the United Kingdom.

Created by computer to minimise employee error and maximise profit potential.' On the screens behind, Ben could see diagrams of the building's nerve centre, the antiseptic, unmanned sensor room filled with gauges and cylinders. 'A Symax building is designed for every temperature, atmosphere and movement change. In a non-smart building, company staff have to find a way of fitting around the architecture. Symax systems learn from staff habits and adapt to create a unique environment for each company.'

As the meeting ended, Clark walked with the leader of the group, Ben following alongside, listening in.

'I want New York to see this,' said the client. 'I'll need a full presentation on Friday. Can you handle it?'

'I have no problem with that at all,' Clark replied, seeing him into the lift. After the doors had shut, he eyed Ben suspiciously. 'You heard him.

Four days to the biggest presentation we've ever had. This place is going to be jumping, and you with it.'

Dusk brought a lurid red glow to the windows, which automatically darkened to reduce the glare. Ben attempted to set up a stack of books on his desk, which appeared to be perfectly level, but each time he balanced them they shifted and fell over. He took a marble from his drawer and set it on the white melamine desktop. The little glass ball rolled first one way, then abruptly another. He tapped his teeth with a pencil and looked back at Marie, thinking. Nothing made sense here.

Was that normal in the world of big business? He knew he shouldn't get involved, that it would only lead to trouble, but decided to talk to Swan anyway.

'My predecessor seems to have left very suddenly,' he prompted.

'Mr Clark fired him,' Swan explained. 'They had a terrible row.'