Kit Sunrise

The darkness was absolute.

The darkness flashed to white.

The white melted away into reality.

He awoke in the driver’s seat of an old, parked, silver hatchback. He blinked his eyes to the bright sun as it rose over the building in front of him. He raised his hands to shield it and then rubbed his eyes, trying to become alert. His eyes finally adjusted and he had the sudden thought that he was late for something. Then, even more worse, he realized he had no idea who he was. In a moment of panic he pulled the sunscreen down on the driver’s side, searching for a mirror. There wasn’t one in this model, so he turned to the rear-view mirror. He nearly ripped it off of the windshield in an attempt to see his whole face.

The face that stared back was somewhat familiar, but he still couldn’t quite grasp it. He couldn’t think of his name. He then realized couldn’t remember at all where he was. What country, even; his parents, where he went to school, his girlfriend, wife… kids?

“What the hell is going on?” he whispered, almost comforted by at least knowing he could speak. Was that an accent? Yes, he thought, that’s an English accent. Am I in England? No, the driver’s seat is on the left. “Okay, calm down, Jeff. No, not Jeff. George? Jason?”

He was close, but they weren’t ringing any bells. He looked to his right to the passenger seat to see a briefcase with a yellow sticky note stuck to the top. He knew it was meant for him. The word ‘James’ was written on the note in big, fat, black letters.

“James,” he said, testing it out. He felt a twinge, he was uncomfortable saying his own name. That’s how it was for some people, he thought. It flooded back, that was one of his things. His own name was one of those words that made him feel cringey to even speak it. James. Even if someone else had the name or he was discussing a movie with an actor who shared that name, he disliked saying it. James. Such a common name but given uncomfortable weight by ownership. It sounded neurotic, but he was sure he was right. He wondered if he was the only person in the world who felt like that.

He sighed and turned the briefcase so that the latches faced him. He tried to click open the latches, but it was locked. Combination locks. Four digits for each side. Another shovelful of fear was dumped into his chest; was this important, was this a thing? Be logical, he thought. If your name is on it then it’s meant for you. But what if he couldn’t remember the combination? What if this was significant and he couldn’t get into the freaking briefcase?

James closed his eyes and drew a long breath and held it for many seconds. He opened his eyes as he exhaled and turned back to the briefcase. He reached back down and used his thumbs to turn the small, metal, numbered wheels of the locks. He closed his eyes as he turned them. If he didn’t know the numbers, seeing them would make no difference. He felt ridiculous trying to will the briefcase to open. If it fails, I could smash it on the ground it if need be, he thought. While he entertained the thought, the briefcase clicked and the latches flew open.

James looked down at the numbers. 9446 - 0116. He chuckled, leaving his face in a smirk. The numbers meant nothing to him, but they were supposed to. He knew they were. Didn’t matter. He opened the briefcase to see a large envelope. He lifted it and stifled a squeal when he noticed the matte black metal of the handgun underneath.

“Ohmygod,” he said, “What… why?” He was confounded. He’d never touched a gun before but felt compelled to pick it up. He looked around, nothing but parked cars all around him. He was in an above-ground parking garage. The sun came through the open concrete slats around the perimeter. He had no idea how many floors up from the ground level he was. James looked more closely, the building he had seen the sun rise over was a skyscraper, and he was level with that. It didn’t make sense. No buildings had parking garages this high, did they? Did they? James fought the urge to pick up the gun. Yet.

He opened the envelope and pulled out a small photocopy of a photograph. It was a woman; a random photograph of a random woman. She rang no bells for him whatsoever. Looked like black hair, but hard to tell since it was a black and white photocopy. It could be brown. Dirty blonde. She was a little overweight, but not much. She was attractive, but not his type. Did he have a type? He turned the paper over and dropped it upon seeing the word ‘Target’ at the top. He put a hand over his mouth, what was he involved in?

He picked the paper back up to read the information. Her name was Theresa Dale. She worked on the sixtieth floor. He was a new hire and he was meant to show up here today for eight o’clock and meet with her for orientation. And then he was meant to kill her. It made perfect sense. Clarity broke through the fog in James’ head. He had to be sure of himself. Yes, this is why I’m here, he thought, this makes sense. He couldn’t recall anything outside of this, though. It was like having a scary doctor’s appointment and not being able to see anything beyond it. A moment where you’ve messed up and there’s this slow-motion fog enveloping you and you can’t think of anything but that. That’s the only thing in the world… that’s the only thing that matters. Yesterday is in the past, forgotten completely, and tomorrow doesn’t yet exist. There is only now.

James put the photo back in the envelope and let it rest against the wheel of the car. He looked back over to the gun and reached for it. It was heavy, definitely real. Instinct took over and he racked the slide, making sure there were no bullets inside. He turned it over, there was no clip inside. He looked back into the briefcase to see the clip, the small black magazine full of ammunition. Next to it was a small black cylinder; a silencer. He picked up the magazine almost by rote. He looked along the edge to see that there were about ten rounds. He slid the magazine into the bottom of the gun and pulled back the slide again. He picked up the silencer and attached it to the barrel of the gun. Safety on, he placed the gun back into the briefcase and closed it. It was too easy, like putting on pants or making toast.

After a couple of quick breaths he stepped out of the car, the briefcase in his hands. The envelope fell out of the car and landed at his feet. He turned to lock the car door but realized he didn’t have any keys. James laid the briefcase on the hood of the car and checked the pockets of his suit. I don’t even own a suit, do I? He found a lighter, a set of car keys, no wallet. No cash. Nothing else. He thought twice about locking the car door, acutely aware that he might need a quick escape. He picked up the envelope and walked to the front of his car, to look out from the ledge into the city below. It was clad in smog, he couldn’t even see the ground. The tips of other buildings poked through the gray like needles.

James took the small, metal lighter out of his pocket and opened the lid and flicked the wheel, sparking it to life. He looked at the flame, it didn’t waver; there wasn’t a single puff of wind. He lit the corner of the envelope and held it as it burned away to bits of crispy black paper and ash. He looked at his watch, noticing it was on his left wrist. He realized he was left-handed. It made sense, that was the hand he’d used for the lighter. It was starting to make more sense now.

“7:56am,” James said aloud. He was going to be late.

…

He found the entrance into the building from the parking garage. As he’d walked past all the cars that were parked around him, he noticed how clean they were. He also noticed how alike they were, but all in different colors. Almost as if everyone who worked in the building had been given some sort of deal on buying this one brand of car. They were a model he didn’t recognize, but a brand that looked higher-end than the silver hatchback he’d awoken in. He’d followed the exit signs and was now standing in a lobby and reception area. Again, that sensation, the out-of-place lobby this high up. James assumed the company only existed on this floor. Didn’t matter. He approached the receptionist who was sitting behind a large slab of a brushed steel desk. She held a finger up to him to show him that she’d be with him in a moment. She was on a call using a small device in her ear. He’d seen them before, most people used them. He’d never bothered to get a cell phone, let alone a smartphone… let alone that ear-bug thing. He didn’t like being that connected. He smiled as he realized he’d remembered something else about himself.

James stood at the desk, waiting for the receptionist to finish her conversation. She spoke low enough that he couldn’t quite eavesdrop. It felt like something was preventing him from making sense of any of the words that did come through. Like a face in a dream that you can picture but can’t describe.

He looked at the company logo behind her. It read ‘Kit Sunrise United.’ It meant nothing, that combination of words. The logo was a neon sunburst with big bright red and orange and yellow letters. Other than the red of the receptionist’s hair, everything else was made up of shades of grays and silvers. Beyond the receptionist, windows. He could see people walking around back there. It appeared to be a very large, open environment. The open space was broken up only by a scattered frosted pane of glass, barriers between offices. He could see right through to the other side, the sun shining in towards him once again.

“James, is it?” the receptionist said as she stood, her voice finally coming through to him. She didn’t have the same accent as him.

“Um, yes,” James replied, wishing she would have called him by his full name, so he would know what it was, “That’s me.”

“You’re late,” she said, but perfectly cheery.

“Yeah,” he said, “Terribly sorry about that, I had a pickle of a time finding a spot.” The lie came easy.

“It’s okay, it happens,” she said, “First days are tough sometimes, I get it. I’m Wendy, by the way.”

James nodded, as she hadn’t extended her hand to shake. She was clutching a clipboard to her breast and smiling at him. She turned away from him and his eyes drifted went to her rear. Wendy… Wendy was definitely his type.

“Come with me,” she said over her shoulder as she reached the glass door, “I’ll get you situated.”

…

A half hour later he was sitting in a cubicle. Wendy had given him the nickle tour. There wasn’t much to see. This place was a cubicle farm with offices lining the glass hallway outside. He could see everyone apart from the few hidden by frosted glass. Everyone looked like typical cubicle rats. Their heads were down, faces in the screens of their computers. Their actions were hidden but it was clear they were working. James could hear the buzz of the office: people talking, machines whirring. After a few seconds it almost felt like he could hear a pattern. There was a distinct ebb and flow. Almost like singing a child’s song in a round, except in a language you can’t put your finger on, even though you know it. It didn’t take him long to realize they were all reciting different voice commands.

There was a computer in front of him with no mouse or keyboard. The screen was off. A small ear-bug device like the one Wendy was wearing lay on the desk. She hadn’t said anything to him that gave him any insight into what the company did or what his role was. He still had no idea who he was supposed to be. She had shown him the bathroom, the lunch room, and he’d stared at her face when she spoke, her body when she walked. He felt dumb for not looking around more as they walked, he hadn’t been thinking with his brain. All he’d been able to think of was how stunning she was to him. Like, perfectly stunning.

The last thing she’d told him once they got to his cubicle was to wait for the orientation call. She said that they liked to do one-on-one interviews with new people and to wait here patiently. So here he sat. His eyes darted to his briefcase every few seconds. He had a secret. He had a gun in there and he was here to kill someone. He tried not to think about what he would do once he was finished. He never even questioned whether he could kill someone or not. That felt like a foregone conclusion. He’d convinced himself that this is what he does. This is his thing. He shouldn’t fight it, regardless of his doubts.

The ear-bug on the desk vibrated and a small green LED on it lit up. It made a buzz against the desk as it vibrated a second time. James picked it up and put it to his ear the way he’d seen Wendy wear one before. As it settled in his ear it stopped vibrating. The screen on his desk came to life, the logo of the company brashly twinkling onscreen.

“James?” a voice said in his ear.

“Yes?” he said after a few seconds pause.

“This is Theresa from upstairs,” she said. His heart jumped in his chest. It was her. Target. “Hi, Theresa,” he said, worried that he would have to hunt her down to kill her, since he had no idea where she was. “Welcome to Kit Sunrise,” she said, “On your screen you will be presented with profile creation. I need you to verify all the information for me as soon as possible. Once you have that completed, make a hard copy and bring it to me. I am legally obligated to inform you that you will be monitored through the screen and earpiece. This is strictly for the purposes of training and security. The screen is passive. It will only track the keywords and items that apply to the operations of Kit Sunrise tech. So no worries about personal information being stolen, okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” James said, not completely sure. Her voice almost sounded robotic. He assumed she had this speech committed to memory. She’d never added personality of her own to it. Flavorless, so to speak.

“If you have any issues or questions,” she said, “don’t hesitate to alert me. My contact will be onscreen at all times, all you need to do is ask. Since you are a new hire your options will be limited for now. Feel free to skip the introduction; we can talk about that later. Just think the keywords, adapt, and all will go smoothly. The tech is new, but it’s intuitive and it works.”

“Okay, great,” he said, confused. The connection severed and he looked at the screen. A small black dot was on the bezel, a camera, he thought; a sensor of some sort. He stared at the company logo, wishing he had a mouse or keyboard, something to navigate with. He reached up to touch the screen, touch screens were popular, perhaps that was it. Nothing but the slight static of the screen as he drew his finger across it. I need a menu, he thought. As he did, a delicate male voice spoke into his ear, “Menu, go.” The logo disappeared and the main menu of the system opened onscreen.

“Think keywords,” he whispered, getting it. He’d never seen this level of tech before. What is this place? He read the options on the screen, two of which had a line through them. He assumed those were the ones Theresa referred to when she’d said his options would be limited.

1- Introduction to Kit Sunrise United

2- Profile Creation

3- Skills Assessment/Learning Paths

4- Kit Sunrise Database

5- Support

6- Log Out

Profile Creation, he thought. The male voice said in his ear, “Profile Creation, go,” and the screen changed once again. This tech was quite remarkable. He wondered where stuff like this was when he was growing up. Then he remembered he still had no idea what growing up felt like. He didn’t even know his last name for God’s sake.

Before the next screen came to life, a red beam shot out from the dot on the top of the screen and into his eyes. It wasn’t bright enough to make him wince or blink, but it did startle him. As he moved his head away, the light adjusted course and followed him, finally locking into his eye. After a brief moment it had done its job and disappeared as quickly as it had come to life. On the screen he now saw his face, and a litany of information listed along the side. It almost looked like a crisp, clear mug-shot. James was excited with the prospects of finally learning concrete information about himself.

Name: James Philip Gardiner

Date of Birth: July 30, 2021

Education: Gradua

Wait, wait, 2021? That can’t be right...

He couldn’t remember much, but that date seemed all wrong. It felt like the future to him. That didn’t make sense at all. 2021 felt like the future, and he appeared to be in his late twenties, then it would have to be around 2045, at least! That couldn’t be right. He shook his head, more confused than before.

“Everything okay, Mr. Gardiner?” Theresa’s voice clicked back in his ear.

“Uh, yeah, yes” he replied, lying through his teeth. This was far from okay, “Just… just having a hard time focusing, that’s all.”

“Kit Sunrise tech can be disorienting at first,” Theresa said, “But you’ll get used to it, I’m sure. Is all the information correct?”

“Seems fine to me,” he lied, “So what’s next?”

“Make a copy, sign it, and bring it to me,” she said. James started to get excited, he would finally be face to face with his target. It dawned on him the tech he was wearing, mixed with the confusion of the date... could they be reading his thoughts? No, no, that’s ridiculous. But still, despite the disclaimer she’d given him, could they? Did she know why he was here?

He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He stared at the screen and tried to think word combinations that result in a hard copy. ‘Hard copy, please.’ Nothing. ‘Print?’ he thought.

“Print, go,” the male voice said in his ear. There was a soft hum from the screen as a narrow piece of paper emerged from a slot at the bottom of that screen. James now understood the difference between a thought and a command thought. When one thinks to one’s self, it’s not in words. One doesn’t really think to get a print made, but when he thought it to this device, he got a response. He was reeling over this technology.

The paper slipped from the screen and rested on the desk in front of him. It wasn’t much larger than a receipt from a drug store, and the paper felt similar. Thermal paper, that’s what it’s called. There was a click at the top left corner of the screen as a pen popped up about an inch from a compartment. James reached up to take it and then craned his neck above the screen. He looked at the right side of the screen and saw that there was a similar hatch there as well. The pen had emerged on the left because the technology knew he was left-handed. Nice touch, he thought, but if it could read that from him, what else did it know?

He shook his head, giddy but cautious about how far technology had come. He signed the paper on the line at the bottom without reading any more of the information contained on the page. He was already confused enough, and all these details were pointless. It all felt like ephemera of a life he didn’t care to know anything about right now. He knew that he had a job to do and that was all that mattered. Signing his name felt weird, another task in a long line that tallied to today being the strangest one he’d ever had. It occurred to him that it was moot, as this was the only day he could remember ever having.

“Theresa? You still there?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. He would never get used to someone being with him at all times, and he wondered how people here managed it.

“I’ve got the file for you,” he said, “Where can I find you?”

“Your SunPod will lead you,” she said, “I’m activating the guide now.”

He was nervous, this was way too unfamiliar for him. He knew what a GPS was, sure, he knew about smartphones and RFID chips, but this was new. The device, the SunPod in his ear, went back to the soft, delicate male voice.

“Guide set, Theresa Dale’s office, please exit cubicle,” it said. James opened his briefcase enough to slip the paper with his information on it inside and closed it. He spun the wheels to lock the combination. He stood and stepped back from his desk. The screen on the desk dimmed and then went dark, sensing he was leaving. He turned around and the voice spoke to him again. “Turn left, walk forward until further instructions,” it said. James started to walk, following the voice as it gave him gentle nudges in the right direction. As he walked around, it felt like the office had become a bit of a maze. He again wished that he’d paid more attention as Wendy had showed him around. At least he had the SunPod to guide him, though. He felt confident that it would at least bring him to his target. He assumed he would have to rely on himself for his escape, but it didn’t matter. He had a job to do, and he was doing it well so far.

He spared a few glances into other employees cubicles as he walked past them. They all sat in their chairs, hunched over, colors and images blurring on their screens. He never caught a solid look at anything but noticed the thrum and repetition of the busy office. Noises melded in a song of employment. He emerged from the cubicle farm to a long glass hallway. At the end of the hallway, a large onyx slab was embedded in the wall.

“Walk forward until you reach the Black Door,” the voice said. He did, taking glances into the offices along the way. Some of the windows were frosted, others were not, but the scene was the same in each one he looked into. A person at a desk, talking to their screen. Relaxed, routine. Sedate. There was no personality here. No one dressed up their workspaces. There were no photos of family on the walls, no action figures clinging to the edge of their screens. No doodles on sticky notes. No flowers on desks. No cups of bad coffee getting colder by the second.

“You have arrived,” the voice said, “Please await entry. Guide complete.”

The large onyx door slid open to the side. Behind it, a staircase leading to the next floor. Grey anodized metal covered everything. He walked up the stairs and the black slab slid closed behind him. He began to feel the weight of the situation. This office was one of importance. Theresa was important. This wasn’t a random killing, this was an assassination. A corporate assassination. He had a flicker in his mind, a glimpse, he worked for someone, a competitor. They needed Theresa dead. This was his job.

He reached the floor and the room loomed around him, huge and cold. It was dimly lit, but the small amount of light reflected brightly in spots, leaving no shadows. There was no natural light here. The woman, Theresa, sat behind a giant desk. No drinks, no photos or art. No vases holding plants. Only the giant desk, a steel block for him to sit on in front of it and Theresa Dale.

“Have a seat, James,” she said as he approached. There wasn’t anything unusual about her. He felt like he knew her, like she was someone. He tried to attribute it to having looked at her photo earlier, but that wasn’t it. She was famous for whatever she did. She had to be, otherwise no one would want her dead. He sat on the block and set the briefcase on the floor beside him.

“This place is quite impressive,” he said, referring to her office.

“Thank you,” she said, and smiled. He hated that she smiled. He needed her to be as non-human as possible; it would make it easier to kill her when the time came.

“I have the form in my briefcase,” he said, “do you need it now?”

“Not yet,” she said, “Let’s talk a bit first. I’d like to get to know you. I don’t have another meeting until noon, so I’m here to answer any questions you have. I’d also like to lay out our plans for you over the upcoming months.”

“No problem,” he replied. That suited him fine. He could do the job, leave, and no one would even find the body until he was driving away.

“James,” she said, “I’m not going to bore you with the history of Kit Sunrise. There’s not a man, woman or child on this planet that don’t know who we are or what we do. The tech you were using, the tech you are using, is obviously not on the market yet. So that’s rule number one with us. Our tech is our life. The NDA we’ll have you sign is a big one.”

“Yes, I can certainly imagine,” James said.

“To be frank, I’m tired of talking about the history of Kit Sunrise. You can read all about it on your own time if you wish. I’m not interested in giving you the standard orientation crap. We both know you know the business. I want to let you know that we head-hunted you specifically because we know how damned good you are at what you do.”

James almost chuckled at hearing her say ‘head-hunted’ because she had no idea why he was here. He also found humor in having no idea what the version of him she thought he was was supposed to be doing here.

“I appreciate you leaving Dawn Marathon for us,” she continued, “I’m sure it wasn’t easy; I’m sure they wanted you to stay. They fought for you, whether you’re aware of it or not. We had to pay them for the rights to offer you a job, did you know that.”

“No, I did not,” James said, the first real truth he’d spoken today. But what made him so special to her? What made him so special to Dawn Marathon, whoever the hell they were? Didn’t matter. He had a job. His job was her. Theresa. Kill Theresa Dale.

“I won’t tell you how much we spent to bring you here,” she said, “but I don’t make enough in a month to cover it, and I own the damn place. No pressure, huh?”

“I’ll do my best, glad to be here,” he said.

“We have a seventy-five percent market share right now,” she said, “That’s huge. Unheard of. And we’re on track to reach eighty within the next quarter. FY ’46 was huge for us and FY ’47 will be even better with you on board.”

“I appreciate the confidence you have in me,” James said. He himself was feeling confident, buttered up, but utterly confused, “So what next?”

“I suppose I should take that paper from you,” she said as she opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a large, red apple. She took a bite from it. It seemed so out of place; a perfectly human thing seemed odd to him in this environment. He took pause to watch as she chewed. He smiled. She continued after swallowing, “It’s a formality, we’ll make sure the T’s are crossed and the I’s are dotted.”

James leaned over to pick up his briefcase and put it on his lap. He took a deep breath and entered the combination. He opened it, the lid obscuring her from seeing the gun inside. With his right hand he took the paper and with his left he clicked off the safety as she took another bite of her apple. He stood quickly, the briefcase spilling off his lap. Without even thinking about it he leveled the gun and fired a quick shot. The silencer worked better than he’d expected. The noise amounted to nothing more than someone popping a single piece of bubble-wrap. The bullet tore through the apple as she held it to her mouth and exploded out the back of her neck. It put a large hole in her seatback. The force of the shot forced her from her chair and she fell out of view behind her desk, hitting the floor with a thud.

James breathed heavily and stared ahead at the chair she’d been sitting on. The wall behind her was spattered with blood. He got his wits about him and picked up the briefcase and the contents and started to put everything back in order. He wanted to leave nothing behind. He stood and looked at the chair again. He tucked the gun in the back of his pants and pulled his suit down over it, and turned to leave the office.

“Whhhhhhyyyyyyyyy….” a voice came from behind the desk. He stopped dead in his tracks. It had been low, moaning, but feminine. He turned and looked back at the chair.

“Whhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyy….”

A hand slapped on the desk from below, pulling itself up from the floor. Theresa. Bits of apple clung to her face. There was no indication that she’d just had the back of her head blown off other than the blood on the wall behind her. Fear gripped James, this wasn’t right. It flew in the face of logic, biology and reality. She pulled herself to a standing position, glaring at him, emotionless, hands by her side. Hey mouth lolled open.

“Whhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy would you dooooo thaaaaaat?”

James pulled out the gun and fired another two shots at her head. She made no attempt to move and they hit her right next to her nose and another in her forehead. The bullets entered and exited as before, but this time she didn’t fall, not right away. James could see the shots enter as if the world had slowed down. The bullets emerged, carrying with them blood and viscera and brain matter out the back of her head. The wounds on the front had already closed. It was like throwing stones into mud, distorting it for a second and making a slight bloop. She fell again.

“What the hell is going on?” James said aloud. He stood for a second, motionless, listening.

“Whhhhhyyyyy wouuuulllld yooooooou….. doooooo…. thaaaaaaaaa…..” the voice came again from behind the desk, deeper, cold. James jumped up onto the desk instead of walking around it and leaned forward to see her lying face down. She was slowly pushing herself up off the floor. Her neck twisted and craned up, looking at him with wide eyes and gaping maw. She looked inhuman but still perfectly fine all at once. “Whhhhhyyyyyyyyy….”

“To hell with this,” James said as he fired, this time emptying the whole clip down into her head. Pop… pop… pop pop pop pop. He was terrified; this couldn’t have been a part of the plan. She lay still for a few seconds, and then once again she stirred.

“Whyyyyyyyyy….”

The gun clicked dry, he was out of ammunition. He tucked the gun in his pants again as he jumped off the desk. He had to run, there was no choice. He’d failed his mission, the consequences of which would have to come later. His new mission shifted laterally to escape. He needed to get the hell out and to find out what was going on as soon as he was safe. This building could potentially be a labyrinth, he just needed to find his car.

James spared a glance over his shoulder as he reached the stairs down out of Theresa’s office. She was now standing on her desk, then stepping down off of it, gracefully, casually, arms by her sides. She was still moaning, her mouth still agape, her eyes wide. She was coming for him. James ran down the stairs, praying for the large onyx door to open. It did, all on its own, and he ran out into the glass hallway. At the end of the hallway, employees, dozens of them, crowded together, blocking his way. He couldn’t get back to the cubicle farm that way. He had no idea where he was, the only time he’d been here before he was being guided by his SunPod. He tried it, hoping to use it to his advantage.

“SunPod, Exit, go,” he said, hoping the combination of words would work. Nothing came back but feedback and static. James reached for the SunPod at his ear to pull it off but found he couldn’t. There was a shrieking, stabbing pain in his ear canal as the pod felt to be worming it’s way inside. Only a little, just enough to take hold. Fear overcame him as James tried to wrench it off his head, but it wouldn’t budge. He would have to figure it out later. The static continued in his ear, but it balanced out once he stopped grabbing at it, and he had to focus.

James looked left and right into the offices. The employees were now standing with their faces pressed up against the glass, all eyes on him. They were motionless.

“What do you want from me?” he yelled at one through the glass, then at the group at the end of the glass hall, “What the hell do you want?”

“Whhhhhyyyyyyyyyyy…..” Theresa’s voice came from behind him as she came down the stairs. He had to run. James pushed through the office on his right. There was another door on the other side. Through the office glass he could see it led to another hallway, which looked to be unoccupied. He ran past the office’s occupant, a man who’d been watching, who turned as James ran past to observe his every move. As he got to the second door he turned to see Theresa follow him inside. No one else was coming. He and Theresa were the only people moving. He figured she would be the only one he would have to worry about. Everyone else was just bearing witness passively.

James ran down the second hallway of glass. Faces of employees of Kit Sunrise United watched through windows the whole way. He needed an out, an exit, something. At the end of the hallway he could see a familiar door, the door to the reception area where he’d first met Wendy. He ran as hard as he could. From the sides of the hallway more employees came from seemingly nowhere to crowd in front of the door. James stopped in his tracks, the employees made no other moves for him. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, blocking him. He turned to see Theresa at the end of the hallway, emerging from the office, still droning.

James looked around in a panic through the offices to see if he could see something else familiar. A glint of neon green caught his eye through many panes of glass: an EXIT sign in the corner. He hoped it led to a stairwell. He went through another office, running past another standing employee. He burst out the other side door into the lunch area. There were about a dozen more employees there, all standing now. Plates of food sat on the tables in front of them, untouched. It was like they were only there for show. James zigzagged around them to reach the door with the exit sign above it and was relieved when it opened. On the other side of the door was a glass encased stairwell on the corner of the building. The view saw right out into the city, into the fog. James ran down the flights of stairs, two, three steps at a time, dropping down three floors in only a few seconds.

As he rounded the corner of the stair landing, he could now see more employees on the landing beneath him. He stumbled down the stairs as he tried to stop his momentum, but caught himself before falling. He stopped in front of them, face to face with them.

“MOVE!” he shouted. He felt like a rat in a maze, being forced in certain directions, a complete loss of choice. The faces in front of him stared, they wouldn’t move. They were so tightly packed together that he couldn’t possibly force his way through. He pulled his gun out and pointed it at them, hoping to intimidate them into stepping aside. They didn’t even flinch or acknowledge the gun. They’d called his bluff, he had no ammunition left and the gun was a mere prop now. He thought about dropping it, but instead tucked it back in his pants.

“Wwwwwwhhhhhyyyyyyyyy….” from above him. He turned to see Theresa at the top of the stairs behind him. She was coming faster now, at least it seemed that way. She was tumbling at him down the stairs with reckless abandon. At the last second he lurched to the right and shoved her away as she passed. She pinwheeled to the floor and landed with a sickening crack on her head. Any normal person would have had broken bones, a concussion, or even been killed. Theresa, however, started to get up right away, still whole, still moaning.

James didn’t stop to soak it in and instead started vaulting back up the stairs, taking two at a time. As he rounded the corner of the first landing, his head was filled with white noise, static. Was it coming from the SunPod, or was he in a state of panic? He couldn’t tell, but it was a distraction, and he had a hard time thinking. Decisions were being made for him now, paths were being blocked. His hand wasn’t necessarily being forced, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was on rails. This path was set and he had no way to flip the script.

His feeling was confirmed as he got to the sixtieth floor once again. As he got to the landing and the glass door, he saw more employees standing behind it. Their noses were pressed to the glass, watching him. He tried to push the door open, to push through them and get back into the Kit Sunrise offices, but they wouldn’t budge. He cursed aloud and yelled at them. He turned, there was only one way to go, up.

He ascended the stairs again, passing floor after floor. He saw more and more employee faces on every level, blocking the doors out. As he launched himself up each successive staircase, he could see the outside world. Still gray and foggy, the tips of skyscrapers lower than him. He had no idea how many floor he’d ascended, but it had to be close to twenty by the time he finally reached the top. Every floor looked identical. He kept seeing the same emotionless faces, the same glass doors. The same inescapability.

James reached a final door, there were no more stairs to ascend. He burst out onto the roof of the building and slammed it behind him. He vomited with exhaustion, lurching forward, struggling to remain upright. He realized he was still holding his briefcase, and he dropped it, disgusted at feeling the weight. Disgusted at the representation of it, the impetus of his task. It was a totem of the begging of this nightmare.

He looked around, his eyes not needing adjustment anymore. A large group of employees, at least thirty of them, stood around the door he’d emerged from. They were close to fifty feet away from him in a semicircle. They watched him, standing side by side, motionless. Exasperated and without ideas, James ran at the first gap he could see, directly in the middle of the circle. As he approached they closed ranks and completely blocked his way. He ran into them and was taken off his feet, falling hard on his back, having bounced right off of them. There had been no shoving, no fighting, no real movement, he simply hadn’t the strength to break through.

James slowly started to get up, his body aching, the acid in his legs zapping like electric shocks. His lungs were on fire, his throat burned. The squelching in his ear... he was a mess. And then he heard it, from behind, rising above the feedback of the SunPod.

“Whyyyyyyy wooould yooooou dooo thaaaaaat…”

Theresa had managed to get to him, looking exactly the same; not short of breath and not even a hair out of place. She started to approach him as he was still down on one knee. He couldn’t even bring himself to stand. He felt like giving up completely, the terror falling away to acceptance. He had nothing left to give. No. I’ve got something left. This can’t be it, he thought. He pulled the gun from his pants again, another attempt at scaring them off. But it had been so useless, and now it was empty, was this instinct? He tried to let go to whoever he really was. To the person he must have been once. Surely he’d been trained for this. Let that take over. Let it do it’s thing. The body will follow. The body knows.

He pointed the gun at Theresa but she kept coming. Her hands reached out to touch the gun and as it made contact there was the loudest squelch in his ear, his SunPod. “Whhhhhhyyyyyyy….”

The static and feedback noise crippled him and he screamed and dropped back down to his knees. He could feel the gun disappear warmly in his hand. It was as if it melted away, leaving nothing but a clenching fist. The noise in his head, compounded with the situation had left him disoriented. He hadn’t even registered that the gun had dematerialized in his hands when Theresa touched it. It was simply gone. James held his fist to his head, praying that the static would stop.

“Whyyy woooooould…. yoooooou….”

The words stretched in a deep drone, far longer than any human lung would allow. It was maddening, this cacophony.

“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!” James screamed, tears falling from his eyes.

Stillness. Sudden, absolute stillness.

The static had stopped, and the pain melted away. James opened his eyes to look up into the face of Theresa. She was inches from him, frozen in position, staring at him through wide eyes, her mouth still gaping. The final vowel of her repetition lost. He slowly backed away from her and got to his feet. He turned around to see the semicircle of employees had gained a new member, Wendy. She was smiling at him. She looked different than the rest of them. She looked normal, beautiful. He realized she was the only one who’s hair seemed to be blowing in the wind. She stepped forward towards him.

“Why would you do that, James?” she asked. The question he’d been hearing from Theresa over and over now finally asked to him in a normal manner. He had no idea what to say, so he said nothing.

“We had high hopes for you, James,” she said. He felt the crash of a cliche on his brain. High hopes? What was she talking about, he was simply doing his job… at least what he thought his job was supposed to be.

“I don’t understand,” he said, “I don’t even know who I am… I don’t remember anything before this morning, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I know,” Wendy said, “It’s okay. But why would you do that?”

“Why would I do what?” he asked her.

“Why would you leave me?” she asked, “Why would you leave me behind?”

It had nothing to do with Theresa’s question, there was nothing cohesive about all of it. There was no line to follow, he was utterly baffled. He didn’t know Wendy from Eve, he knew nothing about these people. This was all wrong. This was insane.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“They tell me you’re done,” she said, “It’s time for you to leave.”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” he yelled.

“Goodbye, James,” she said, a single tear falling down her cheek. He didn’t know what to do. She seemed upset, but he had no idea why. Before he had even a second to think, the employees advanced on him, closing the circle. He turned to run from them but Theresa was there; but now there were multiples of her. Ten Theresas filled the gap left by the door coming onto the roof. Ten of the same person. His brain nearly broke as he tried to process. As the circle closed he waited. He decided he wouldn’t go down easily. When they were close enough he started to throw punches and kicks. He hoped some deep-seated knowledge of martial arts would come through and take over for him. Nothing. The punches had no effect; the kicks did more damage to him than anything else. He was engulfed and lifted above the crowd as they carried him towards the edge of the building.

James screamed himself hoarse, pleading with them. They were undeterred and reached the edge. James turned left and right, looking for Wendy, but she was no longer a part of the group. She was gone, he was deserted. The employees heaved James off the side of the building. He fell into the gray fog below, his ears filling with static and the sounds of his own, dry screams. His last thought was that there should have been wind. But there wasn’t. He didn’t even feel like he was falling.

Everything was static.

The static turned to white noise.

The white noise melted into darkness.

…

“Subject 94460116: fail. Aneurysm,” a machine voice said aloud. The room was pristine, white and shiny, brushed steel and sterile. James lay unconscious in a large device, a modified MRI machine. Black cables were attached to him; monitors and mechanisms. The cables were bound into a giant bundle that went across the room into a computer against the back wall. Three people stood at the computer, none of them looking at James. They read information as it danced across their screens.

“Okay, someone please explain what the hell just happened,” Scientist 001 said from behind a white mask. She held a digital clipboard that monitored brain activity. Everything flat-lined across her screen.

“That, my dear, was a fail,” Scientist 002 replied. He had his arms crossed. 001 could almost see frustration through his mask.

“But that’s not fair,” 001 said, “The program is corrupted, the vectors went off the rails.”

“Not our concern,” Scientist 003 chimed in as he typed, “I’ve alerted I.T.”

“Of course it is our concern,” 001 said, “We can’t continue like this. We can’t gloss over what happened with the Wendy vector.”

“Keep calm,” 002 said, “The glitch allowed his brain to fill in gaps, we’ve seen it before and we’ll rectify it. Hell, we had a glitch two days ago.”

“Yes, but not that badly,” 001 said, “He’s a vegetable for God’s sake. We can salvage nothing.”

“He was weak,” 003 said, “He couldn’t adapt. No matter how much you complain about the test, he’s done.”

“There isn’t a precedent for that level of engagement with the software,” 001 persisted.

“It makes no difference,” 002 said, “As you said, there’s nothing to salvage.”

“We should pursue this,” 001 said, “He was doing fine until Dale glitched out. It’s not fair to call that a failure for him.”

“What should we mark it as?” 003 asked.

“The system failed,” 001 said, “We can’t restart without a new build. Period.”

“Not an option,” 002 said, “Pass, fail, death; that’s it. I recommend S.U.D.”

“This doesn’t fall under the parameters of Sudden Unexpected Death,” 001 said and paused to wait for a reply. Getting none, she sighed, “Fine, S.U.D. But no more subjects until the program’s fixed.”

“No can do, we’re moving on,” 003 said as he pressed a few buttons, swapping the software, “You know it’s not our call to make.”

“What do we tell his wife?” 001 asked, knowing the answer already, knowing that she was pushing too hard. She knew she was verging on insubordination.

“The same thing we always tell them,” 003 said, “She’ll be compensated.”

“You mean the same BS we always tell them?” 001 asked.

“Does it matter?” 002 asked.

“You realize this is going to be an issue,” 003 said, referencing 001’s dissent.

“I know,” 001 sighed, and turned to look at the man in the machine behind them.

“Do you need a minute or can we proceed?” 002 asked as 001 looked at James, brain-dead and motionless in the machine.

“No,” 001 said. She never really looked at the subjects. They couldn’t let issues like fairness play into their work. They would continue like they always did, though she might lose her job for her outburst of empathy. It didn’t matter, they would persist. Always searching, always training. “I’m okay. Go ahead. Next.”

“Removing 94460116 from the program,” 003 said, pressing some more buttons, “Sayonara.”

The machine holding James shuddered to life. All but one of the cables automatically disengaged from him, leaking fluids and gases. They left gaping holes in his flesh. The three scientists watched as James convulsed for a few seconds and finally died. The surface beneath his corpse became a conveyor and the body was drawn into the wall behind the machine. A door slid open to collect him. The body moved down a series of slides and tracks and into a plant below to be processed and repurposed.

“Dial extension 244, go,” Scientist 001 said as she called the holding cells on her SunPod. It was replete with a Kit Sunrise logo glowing on the side, “Bring us Subject 94460117 when you’re ready, please.”

…

The darkness was absolute.

The darkness flashed to white.

The white melted away into reality.

She awoke in the driver’s seat of an old, parked, silver hatchback. Se blinked her eyes to the bright sun as it rose over the building in front of her. She raised her hands to shield it and then rubbed her eyes, trying to become alert.