by Steve Turbo

Tom sat down in his black chair in his new white cubicle. He shuffled some stationary from his briefcase to the empty space on his new desk. He turned to his computer and, with his finger hovering, he searched for his prey, the power button. His hunt was successful. As he pressed the button, he froze in order to prolong his satisfaction. As the computer gave off a warm hum and some small clicks, Tom straightened his tie. The screen faded to a light blue and started to display carious unfamiliar icons. Tom squinted at the screen in his 8’ by 8’ workspace. He suddenly got nervous. He fidgeted in his chair for a moment and adjusted his tie again. He went to stand up, then froze halfway to standing up. As Tom was in a position halfway between sitting and standing he looked down at his hands clutching the armrest. They were a pale white with red tinges. He exhaled the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in. He leaned back to sit back down, then abruptly stood up all the way. He saw his workplace in full. Endless lines of cubicles filled with men and women talking on phones to each other, printers shooting out documents and memos like a chaotic orchestra of machinery. His nervousness turned into relief as he realized he was a small speck on a canvas of nonsense.

He made eye contact with the young woman in the cubicle next to his. She half-smiled without even looking at him. Tom gazed around her cubicle for a second. Just a few pictures of god-knows-who, a computer and pink paper clips. It didn’t look like she was busy. In fact, he heard her playing a shoot-em-up video game on her computer. Since she was not busy, he decided to make his first connection with a co-worker. He straightened his tie again and took a deep breath.

Her eyes were locked on the screen of her PC. “Hi,” he said, “My name is Tom.” He stretched out a hand. She did not unlock her gaze upon the screen, as she shot down what seemed like hundreds of zombies.

“Yeah?” It came across as disinterest. Now she was fighting a goat demon that seemed to laugh off the hundreds of bullets being shot at it.

Finally, she died. She sighed and looked up from the screen at Tom.

“My name is Dorit,” she said a little more politely then before. Tom’s awaiting hand was finally shook. Dorit shook it so hard and quick that it made a slight slapping sound. “I take it you’re new?”

Tom nodded in agreement. He was at a loss for words. Dorit noticed that he was awkwardly eyeing the giant room their cubicles occupied.

“What brings you here?” Dorit wanted the conversation to move along.

“Well, I always saw this building on the way to my old job. The people filing out in the afternoon all looked the same, but not in a bad way. They seemed content. While I was leaving my job sweaty and tired, they all seemed refreshed. They were on cell phones making plans for the evening and smiling. My plans after work consisted of sitting in front of the TV simply because I was too exhuasted to do anything else. So, I went to night school, majored in business and, well, here I am.”

“Ah.” Dorit had gotten more then she bargained for. She decided to end the conversation. As she restarted her game, she quietly mumbled “Nice meeting you.” Tom nodded and said “You, too.”

He sat back down. His computer had finished starting up. He stared at the screen. In one swift movement he stood up and leaned back over the cubicle wall in order to ask Dorit one last question.

“So, what do we do here?”

There was a moment of silence, then Dorit died again. He could tell by the descending tonal beeps. Without turning her face away from the screen she rolled her eyes towards Tom.

You’re lookin’ at it.”