You're seated at your office desk when the lift dings and like everyone else you glance towards it as the doors slide apart. Your gaze drops as a pair of well-dressed women emerge, their cold eyes sweeping over the floor, and you do your best to focus on your computer. All sorts are said about the Staff Evaluators on the 53rd floor, called the Terminators only when far from Grace Enterprises, and attracting their attention is never a good idea.
Your gut is in knots as the pair prowl among the cubicles, heads on swivels as they search for whoever bought them to your floor. You only peek at them, ducking each time one looks in your direction, but after a moment you feel a presence at your back, see the reflection of an olive-skinned woman standing behind you on your computer screen.
"Stephy Brooks. Junior analyst."
The voice that says your name is smooth, lingering on the soft syllables. You meet her gaze through the screen, trying to hide the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
The Staff Evaluator escorts you to one of the conference rooms, your colleagues averting their eyes as you pass, and she locks the door after following you in. The other is already present, high heeled-feet up on the table like she owns the place, and a smile appears on her face.
"Dear Stephy, dear, dear Stephy. It's come to the knowledge in Upper Management that we have just a few too many employees for the current climate and a lottery was held."
A tiny spark of proper fear grows in your now-pounding heart and you feel something poking into the middle of your back.
"Please no…"
The shot is muffled, just a phut in your ear, but the bullet races through your heart, neatly embedding itself in the opposite wall. You slowly drop to your knees as blood stains your blouse and the two Terminators look at each other, ignoring you as you die.
"Who's next?"
No comments:
Post a Comment