Night Shift

A sea of identical cubicles stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see, bright fluorescent lights rendering everything in blinding detail. Eric rubbed his eyes, the numbers on his computer blurring together. He just wanted to sleep. His eyes drifted closed. A knock came at his cubicle. 

Eric’s boss, an elderly woman by the name of Doris, stood at the opening of his cubicle. She always looked like she had been sucking on sour candy. Her beige pantsuit did little for her pudgy form, making her look like a misshapen boulder.

“Eric, I really do hate to repeat myself,” Doris said. “There will be no sleeping on the job. If your productivity numbers drop any more, I will have to report you to Disciplinary. Neither of us wants that, I’m sure.” 

Her smile assured him she wanted nothing more.

Eric gritted his teeth. “I know Doris. It’s just been so long since the last break.”

She scoffed. “Oh, I see. You’re one of those men that likes to take it easy. You’re not a union sympathizer, are you? Will you be asking for equal pay and time off?”

“No, of course not! It’s just been a while since I’ve gone to the bathroom.”

“You know how this works, Eric,” Doris said. “If you want to take a break, you must watch an ad. I do not make the rules, I merely enforce them. Next time you want to complain, I suggest you put it in writing and drop it into our suggestion box.” She crumpled up a piece of paper and threw into his waste bin. 

Doris left and he let out a sigh of relief. His screen flashed. The thing tracked his eye movement and would alert the higher ups he wasn’t working. The time on his clock read 1:23. Eric fell into a trance, the sound of keyboard crunching filling his small cubicle. He worked for what felt like two hours, but when he looked up, his eyes bloodshot, the clock read 1:32. 

Eric wanted to pull his hair out, throw his computer across the room, storm into Doris’ office and tell her exactly what he thought of her. Instead, he took a deep breath and pressed the button on the side of his computer. 

“Your job will resume after this brief word from our sponsors,” the computer said.

The monochromatic screen burst into color, showing a tall can with red and blue stripes. An A.I. voice came through the speakers. 

“Feeling sluggish, like you’re not meeting your nightly quota? Take a chug of Functional Fuel, the only drink on the market not engineered for taste but for productivity. Does it taste terrible? Yes. Will it get the job done? Absolutely. Functional Fuel has ten times the daily recommended limit of methamphetamines and caffeine, so it will put some pep in your step.” 

A digital actor with one too many fingers opened the can and took a sip. Their face scrunched up. “I’m ready to work.”

The ad ended, and a timer popped up, showing three minutes. It counted down. Eric rushed to the bathroom. He stepped into one stall and sat down on the toilet lid. The timer ticked away on his wristwatch, synced to his computer. A knock came on the stall. 

“Oh, come on,” Eric said. “I still have a minute and a half.”

“Open up,” came a deep, unfamiliar voice. Eric undid the lock, the door swinging open. 

A man with a bird’s nest for hair stood in the opening. He wore a tie-dye shirt and cargo pants.

“Oh, thank god,” the man said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Do I know you?” The timer on his watch fell below one minute, flashing red. 

“You could say that,” the man said. “This prison made it almost impossible to find you. It’s the most boring labyrinth I’ve been in. No Minotaur or nothing.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Eric said. “I need to get back. My break is almost over and if they see me socializing, they’ll send me straight to Disciplinary. I have no idea how you got in here looking like that, but it’s against the rules.” 

“Oh shut up, will you? Have you ever had an original thought, or do you just spout what they tell you to? I don’t have much time, so I need you to listen to me. None of this is what you think it is. It’s not real. You’re a slave to a machine called Industry. There’s an entire world outside these walls.”

“Well, of course there’s a world,” Eric said. “I just work here.”

“Then what does it look like?” the man asked. “When is the last time you went home? How did you get here tonight? Did you drive or take the train?”

Eric began to sweat. He couldn’t answer any of these questions. No matter how hard he searched through his mind, the only memories he could find were of sitting behind that desk. 

“Who are you?” Eric asked. 

The crazy man smiled. “I’m you, dipshit. Or at least a part of you. I could only get in because their security was falling apart. They have too many people hooked up, which means some people are bound to fall through the cracks.”

A banging came on the bathroom door. Eric realized the man had barred it shut with an umbrella. He took a step away from the madman. 

“What did you do?” Eric asked. 

“What I had to do to get a moment alone with you. They can’t hurt me, but they can do some damage to you. You need to hit me to cast suspicion away from you, then while they’re dealing with me, I want you to make a run for the fire exit.”

“Why should I trust you?” Eric asked.

The man reached into his cargo pants and brought out a single yellow flower. He handed it to Eric. It was the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Eric knew what it was, but couldn’t remember ever seeing one before. 

“This world is wider than your six by six-foot cell,” the man said. “I can’t force you outside. That part is up to you. Now hit me.”

Eric pulled back and punched the man in the face. The man fell to the tiled floor just as the door burst open, the umbrella snapping in half. Eric thrust the flower into his coat pocket. Something told him he shouldn’t let them see it. 

Two members of Disciplinary stepped in, their faces devoid of emotion, their black suits almost shiny. “Eric Grouper. Your break is over. We caught you colluding with a foreign body. Come with us.” 

“No, I hit him,” Eric said. “He’s a madman. He locked me in here. I just want to get back to work.” 

The two men exchanged a look. 

“Very well,” one of them said. “Carry on, and not a word of this to anyone. This man is an enemy of the state.” They grabbed the tie-dye man by either arm and carried him out of the bathroom. 

Eric stepped into the office. He looked to his left where his cubicle was, then to the right. At the end of a long hall, a door displayed a bright red exit sign. In the middle of the office sat a large glass cube from which Doris and Disciplinary could look out, but the workers couldn’t see in. The sound of screams drifted out of the cube, sending chills up his spine. Doris stepped out of the cube and frowned at him. 

“Back to work now, Eric.” She looked at her watch. “You’re already five minutes over. You will need to watch another ad.” 

Eric looked back at the exit. 

“Don’t even think about it, you limp dick unionist,” Doris said. 

“Oh, bite me, bitch.” Eric smiled at the shock on her face and loosened his tie. 

“Disciplinary,” Doris screamed, but he was already running toward the exit. Eric glanced behind him. Three men in suits were fast on his tale. He made it to the exit and pushed the horizontal bar. The door swung open, a gust of wind knocking him backward. 

“What the hell?”

Eric stood above a vast forest, the door leading to a dead drop of a thousand feet. Eric would fall to his death. He glanced back again. The suits were almost on him. Anything was better than this bullshit. He closed his eyes and jumped. 

The wind buffeted Eric’s hair, his suit jacket stripping off along with his tie. He opened his eyes and spread his arms wide. Instead of falling, Eric glided over the forest, his arms controlling his descent. He hollered. Had this always been here? Eric could see everything up here. A river ran through the giant forest, leading to a waterfall, not a cubicle or person in sight. 

A bird caught his attention, its head that of the tie-dyed man, unkempt hair streaming in the wind. 

“I told you,” the bird man said. “There’s an entire world outside that hell-scape. This is just the simple part. Now you have to remember.” 

“What do you mean?” Eric asked. 

“Wake up and remember,” the bird man said. The bird man opened his mouth to say more, but all that came out was an alarm. The forest and sky became the same red flashing light.

Eric woke up on a cold metal table, his head encapsulated by his dream visor. He shut off his alarm and checked the computer next to his bed. 

“How many hours did I clock?” Eric asked. 

“Five hours of work,” the computer said, “totaling forty dollars.” 

“Not bad,” Eric said. The Dream Center slowly woke up from its slumber, people all around him rising from their tables. Eric felt this nagging thought in the back of his head, like there was something he should remember, but it was slippery to the touch, evading capture. Eric sighed and walked to a nearby vending machine, unable to shake a sudden craving. He swiped his hand near it, the chip in his wrist activating its sensors. Eric selected a Functional Fuel and choked the horrid substance down. He’d need the energy for the day shift. 

Overhead, the rows of offices came to life, elevators taking workers to their daytime jobs. No windows marred the black metal skyscraper. The outside world wasn’t a pretty thing these days, or at least that’s what they told them. Eric had never been outside. He hadn’t worked long enough yet. One day he would earn his time in the sun, when the debt he was born with balanced out. Until then, he would work day and night in this hive of productivity. 

An engineer in overalls walked up to him. “Your machine needs maintenance. We noticed an error in the manifold. Until further notice, you’ll be in subdivision 19. The machines there are stronger. You’ll be able to work even longer hours.”

“Lucky me,” Eric muttered as he made his way to the elevator. His actual job awaited. He was lucky he got to work so much. The sooner he met his quota, the sooner he could get out of this place. 

Eric thrust his hands into his coat pocket. One of them wrapped around a small, soft object. He took it out. A single, yellow flower stared back at him, like something out of a dream. 

Eric didn’t know where it came from, but if anyone found him with it, he would get a one-way ticket to Disciplinary. Eric put the flower back in his pocket. He would think about it more when he had some time off work, if such a thing even still existed.