Chapter Text
It was dusk, and it was cold. A bitter wind blew in from the east, the twilit sky cloudless and tinged with a dull, tired orange.
Mahsa pulled her silk scarf tighter around her neck and looked at her watch. If he was late, she would leave.
Airplane engines roared dully in the background, the airport close to the empty parking lot in which she waited. A solitary street lamp flickered and buzzed. She continued to look up and down the small service road that led into the parking lot. No cars approached, no sign of headlights. There were no other cars in the parking lot. The small, beige, nondescript office building that the parking lot served was dark and empty. A sign right outside the entrance bore the vague name Lightstream Communications.
She briefly touched the pepper spray in the pocket of her fine wool jacket.
Another glance at her watch told her he was late. She turned to unlock and open the car door. When she glanced behind her one more time, he was there. Standing several feet away, he was difficult to see clearly in the rapidly-gathering darkness. She already knew about the mask: angular, dark, and covering everything from his upper lip to his forehead. However, his staggering height, his glittering eyes, his dark hair—none of the earlier descriptions had done him justice.
She closed the door and turned back around to face him. He crossed his left arm in front of him and gave a very slight, somewhat-condescending bow. For a moment, she was tempted to laugh.
“You’re late,” she said instead.
“My watch shows eighteen hundred hours.”
The descriptions of his voice had also not done it justice. It nearly made her shiver. However, she replied, “It’s four minutes past.”
A few moments of silence followed. The breeze blew harder, bringing with it the sickly smell of fuel and exhaust from the airport.
“Perhaps you would like to leave, then,” he said. “Since my apparent discrepancy is so inexcusable.”
An airplane thundered down the runway. The sun had set fully, taking with it the dull orange that had lingered on the horizon.
She said, “Come closer. Stop lurking.”
He remained completely still, and his immature obstinance made her roll her eyes. She walked closer to him, his image coming into sharper relief. The dark mask was custom, that was plain to see. It was perfectly shaped and angled around his face, no gaps between the material and skin.
“Are you going to make me stare at that ridiculous thing the whole time?” she said.
“It is the preferable alternative,” he said.
“What, do you think I would run away screaming like a little girl? Besides, you know you’ll have to show me eventually.”
He made no move to remove the mask. “We will save that happy occasion for a later date.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Amin told me enough, anyway.”
“Ah. Amin. He so loves to help, doesn’t he?”
“He did insist you’re perfect for what I need,” she said, briefly looking over his tall, dark frame. “Tailor-made, you could say.”
“You will hire him,” he said. “Give him some well-paid, meaningless executive position.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I said so. And I so love to help.”
“Perhaps you misunderstand the nature of what our relationship will be,” she said. “You will not tell me what to do.”
“Perhaps you misunderstand the nature of this…relationship,” he said quietly. He suddenly seemed much taller, towering over her.
“Enough,” she said, taking a few steps away. Her hand again brushed over the pepper spray. “Don’t use your Halloween theatrics on me. It doesn’t work.”
“Doesn’t it?”
She walked back to her car, pausing once to turn to him and say, “Come to the office Wednesday night. We can work out the details then.”
She didn’t tell him the address or how to contact her otherwise. She was positive he already knew.
He was perfect.
Five Years Later
The burned toast should have been Christine’s signal that the day was going to go badly.
Not only that, earlier she had noticed a suspicious-looking brown fuzz in a corner of the bathroom. Whatever it was, it would have to be dealt with later. Along with everything else. She was late. Again.
After choking down the lump of charcoal bread, she wiped the crumbs from her shirt onto the cracked linoleum floor, wrapped herself up in her thickest coat and scarf, and hurried outside, the frigid air stinging her face.
It was still dark, the horizon a prelude of a cold winter sunrise. This year’s winter had been horrible, crueler and colder than normal, or so everyone said at work. It was all anyone seemed to talk to her about: the weather. It was very boring, but then again, weather was always a safe, neutral topic. Besides, there wasn’t much else to talk about. It wasn’t as if she had much in common with the people in her office.
Christine picked up her pace, trotting down the road, the gravel crunching under her boots. The bare trees were ugly and lifeless as they loomed over her, black and twisted. The area wasn’t that bad-looking in the summertime. The lush foliage and overgrown greenery distracted from all the potholes in the road, the boarded-up windows on some of the houses, and the weedy front gardens decorated with rotting cars. The winter brought into sharp relief the state of the street. The state of her life.
After ten brisk minutes, red tail lights appeared on the corner, and she hurried over, anxious for the hot, airless interior of the minibus. She climbed aboard, a bit out of breath, flashing her badge to the driver, who barely looked her way. There were the same dozen or so other passengers on the bus, all of them wrapped up in coats and scarves and hats, dozing in their seats or scrolling away on their phones with glazed eyes. She took an empty seat near the back as the bus groaned forward.
Christine slipped on her headphones, mostly to drown out the dull roar of the engine, and leaned her forehead against the chilly window. It was a thirty minute ride to the complex, and she hummed along softly to the music, her singing drowned out by the roar of the bus. The landscape changed from fields and woodland into suburbs and then eventually into the industrial area of a good-sized city.
The bus pulled up in front of the complex right on schedule, the icy January morning sun illuminating the large, impressive-looking building. EskanPharma hung over the entrance in huge, shiny silver letters. Christine shuffled off the bus and inside the building with the others. All of them were low-level employees, just like she was; janitorial crew, security, administrative workers. There was an unspoken stigma that came with taking the shuttle. None of the high-level staff or scientists took the shuttle. Most of them lived in the city or commuted from nearby well-to-do suburbs. The employees who took the shuttle lived in the rundown, dilapidated hamlets. Crack houses. Meth dens. Good for nothing welfare recipients. That’s what people said, anyway.
Christine scanned her badge and went through the turnstile, her fingers stiff from the temperature. It was always just a touch too cold inside the building, something that matched the interior. Gray paint, beige flooring, bare walls, heavy black doors. Christine had gotten lost many times in the strange, limbo-like hallways during her first few weeks.
Before going to her desk, she ducked into a small break room, joining the crowd around the hot drinks station. While no one was looking, she grabbed a few packages of salted almonds from a nearby basket and stuffed them into her pocket. The provided drinks and snacks were free, but she had a feeling it would be frowned on if anyone found out she was taking things home with her.
Armed with a hot tea in one hand and a black coffee in the other, she at last made her way to her desk. The office in which it was situated was equally nondescript and gray, a small window the only thing that provided some variety. A few desks were clustered together in the center of the room, and beneath the window was a bland little couch. Christine had tried to spruce up her own desk just a little with a small potted plant, her rose quartz crystals arranged next to it. She had thought about putting up some pictures of her and her father, but she had eventually decided against it, not wanting people to ask questions. Her boss was annoying enough as is.
He emerged just as she was putting the coffee on his desk, coming out of the small, enclosed office of the department supervisor. Christine forced herself to smile, knowing it probably looked pretty fake.
“Morning, Christine!” he said, walking over and picking up the cup. “Thanks for this. I always need a little pick me up in the morning, especially with this weather.” He gestured to the window. “Bad, huh? Nearly slid off the road driving in this morning.”
“Yeah,” she said, draping her jacket over her chair. “It’s cold out there.”
He pointed to her desk. “Got any magic rocks that can make the sun come out? Or the snow melt faster?” He laughed. Christine tried to as well, gave a noncommittal shrug, and sat down.
Neil wasn’t a bad guy, she knew that. He was a divorced dad of two kids, and he acted like it. And he had hired her, which meant she should have been grateful towards him. But there was something a little grating about him, his laugh, and the way he teased. Maybe it was his habit of blowing his nose too loudly and too often. Maybe it was the fact that they had nothing whatsoever in common. Whatever it was, she was just glad that she wouldn’t be stuck here forever.
He took a sip of his coffee and then gave an exaggerated shudder. “Terrible, as always. You’re probably right to stick with the tea. What’s today’s flavor? Muddy grass?” He grinned.
“Er. I don’t know.” She made a point of facing away from him as she powered on her computer. “Maybe Earl Grey.”
“Sounds fancy.” When she didn’t respond, he sat at his own desk and began typing away.
Thank God.
The office filled up with a few more employees. Christine clicked around the screen aimlessly, trying not to stare at the little clock on her screen that was moving painfully slowly. She opened her inbox.
EskanPharma Welcomes the New Year!
Four Easy Ways to Stay Sunny this Winter
An Inspiring Message from our CEO about the Upcoming Quarter
Christine deleted them all without bothering to open a single message. There were two emails that needed her attention. Someone wanted to schedule a meeting with Neil, and someone wanted trip expenses reimbursed. It was horrible.
To try to motivate herself, she read her daily horoscope from a trusted website. Now is a good time for the Pisces to start making room for herself. Reignite your former passions and don’t let negative thinking hold you back. Today might be challenging, but don’t give up. Big change is coming!
Today had been challenging so far, and she was comforted by the validation. The promise of change was also reassuring. Big change was coming. She wasn’t going to be stuck at this desk forever. Soon it would be back to university, back to music, back to life. No more being trapped in this gray, miserable, music-less limbo.
During her lunch break, she went to the little break room and ate a packet of chips, a flavorless apple, and a somewhat-stale bagel, her trusty corded headphones back in. She resisted the urge to hum along, not wanting anyone to comment on her singing. Before returning to work, she slipped two granola bars into her pocket. Another email awaited her. Someone wanted the office number for the department supervisor, Neil’s boss.
When she asked Neil if she was allowed to give it out, he frowned a little.
“Amin’s phone number?” he said, glancing towards the closed office door. “Probably not a good idea to give his info to someone who’s not an employee. Just give them my number. I’ll handle it.” Then, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he leaned closer and said, “And between you and me, Amin probably wouldn’t answer anyway. I have no idea what he does all day.” He laughed, and it was obvious he expected her to laugh as well. So she tried, but it came out shrill and forced.
Neil then straightened and gave her a thumbs up. “But that was smart thinking to ask me, Christine. Nice job. Keep it up!”
The afternoon grew dark, and a glance out of the window showed heavy, dark clouds blanketing the sky. Neil caught her looking.
“Yeah, looks bad, doesn’t it?” he said. “I’ll probably take off. Try to beat the storm, you know. You can go early too, if you want.”
As much as Christine wanted to, she was stuck. The shuttle wouldn’t leave until the work day was over, which meant she wouldn’t leave, either. Neil gathered his things, pulled on his heavy jacket, and made a finger-gun gesture towards her.
“See you tomorrow, kid. Stay safe out there.”
The sight of Neil leaving early seemed to inspire the few others in the office, as one by one, they all trickled away, nodding or murmuring a goodbye to Christine as they left. Outside, it began to snow, heavy flakes falling straight down. The empty office seemed weirdly large and ominous, the unflattering overhead light creating creepy shadows in the corners.
When the storm worsened, Christine began to worry that the shuttle might not be able to make the drive through the storm. But there were plenty of other employees who relied on it as well. It couldn’t just leave them all stranded here.
She ate a packet of almonds, salt flakes fluttering down onto her lap and keyboard. To pass the time, she read her horoscope again. Reignite your former passions. She’d been so sad for so long. The funeral had been nine months ago, but it still gripped onto her like deadweight, dragging her down. Her father, cold and lifeless. Seeing him like that had felt wrong. Sometimes she wished she had never seen his body. That way she could remember how he really had been. The last glimpse of him wouldn’t have been a waxy, white corpse.
With shaking fingers, she pulled out her phone and looked through pictures. She hated doing it but couldn’t help herself. Her father carrying a moving box into her first dorm room. A selfie of the two of them in front of the university fine arts building. A picture of him in a hospital bed, giving her a toothy grin with crossed eyes, wanting to make her laugh. A few tears dripped onto her hands.
“Excuse me? Miss?”
Christine nearly jumped out of her skin, stuffing the phone down between her legs while whirling around. To her dismay, it was Neil’s boss standing behind her. So, technically, her boss as well. She’d only seen him a few times, typically coming or going from his office, but he’d never addressed her before.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he said.
She glanced at the storm through the window and then at the time on her computer. The shuttle was scheduled to leave in fifteen minutes. She had a few minutes and no more.
“Um. I guess,” she said. Then, remembering she was supposed to be professional, she said, “Of course.”
She stood and followed him into his office. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly. Was he going to fire her?
The little plaque on the office door read Amin Seyyed Kazemi, VP of Business Development. She had no idea what that even meant. The office itself was small, gray, but orderly, with a large window that was probably very nice in the summer. Now, however, the window seemed almost sinister, occupied completely by the storm. The man looked at it as well.
“A very bad storm, isn’t it?” he said, the lines next to his thin mouth deepening as he frowned. “Hopefully you don’t have too far of a drive home.”
“Yeah,” she said vaguely.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Miss…” He looked at her, wordlessly asking for her help.
“Christine,” she said. “Daae. Christine Daae.”
“Right. Sorry. Miss Daae. I’m not very good with names.” He sat at the desk and gestured towards his computer. “I’m having trouble approving this reimbursement.” Christine awkwardly shuffled around the desk to watch over his shoulder as he pulled up the software on his computer. “Normally Neil does this, but since he left early, I was asked to approve it instead. I can’t figure out how. I thought you might be able to help.”
Christine’s heart skipped a few beats. She supposedly ‘worked’ with this program almost every day. Mostly that meant Googling how to do everything, something she was terrified of anyone discovering. If Neil (and now Mr. Kazemi) found out how little she actually knew about how to do her job—if they found out how little she knew about what EskanPharma did—it would not look good. This was a job she couldn’t afford to lose.
So, trying to appear confident, she leaned over and clicked around, desperately hoping a big green button would appear that said APPROVE? Of course, nothing of the sort happened.
“I think it’s just here,” she mumbled, almost to herself. “Oh, wait. Uh—no, that’s not right. Maybe…? I thought I just had to find the account. But it’s not here either. Maybe if I—” She clicked on something, and the whole program suddenly disappeared. “Oh god. Oh. I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry!”
She stood straight and backed away, as if she would break the whole computer just by standing close to it. Her face was on fire, and she wished the floor would swallow her up. Was he going to tell Neil about how much of an idiot she was? Would they fire her?
Mr. Kazemi blinked at the computer screen, sighed, and shrugged. “Well, perhaps that’s a sign that we’ve done enough for today.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.
He glanced over to her, appearing vaguely surprised. “You don’t have to apologize. The software isn’t very intuitive, and it’s Neil’s job anyway.”
“I’m not—normally I can figure it out, I promise!”
Mr. Kazemi stood, holding out a hand towards her in a calming gesture. “Miss Daae, it’s fine. Really. Thank you for trying.” He pulled his jacket off a hook on the wall and shrugged it on. “To tell you the truth, I’m pretty computer illiterate. You got further along than I did. So don’t feel bad.”
“Shouldn’t you know all that stuff?” she said. “Since you’re the boss?”
She realized she had made a mistake when his eyebrows shot up, and she immediately tried to correct it. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I just…”
He laughed then, creases folding at the corners of his dark eyes. Christine hesitated, unsure how to take his reaction.
“No, you’re right,” Mr. Kazemi said. He began to gather his things. “I should know. Sometimes I wonder how I got this job in the first place.”
“Heh,” she laughed nervously. “I don’t know how I got my job, either.”
He chuckled and gestured towards the door, and she left the office, Mr. Kazemi locking the door behind them. She went to her own desk and began to pack her things, more than ready to be home.
“You’ll be all right driving home?” Mr. Kazemi asked.
She nodded, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “I’ll be okay. Er. Will you?”
He smiled. It made him look very kind, almost grandfatherly, with his graying hair and short beard. “Of course. Thanks again for your help, Miss Daae. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a small, friendly wave, he left.
It was only when Christine started to power down her computer that she remembered the shuttle.
Her stomach dropped, and she seized her belongings before darting from the office, uncaring if her computer had shut down properly. The shuttle left at the same time every day, no matter what. That time had been several minutes ago. There was still a chance that the storm had delayed it, and she raced through the hallways, choking on her scarf and sweating underneath her coat.
She held onto a faint hope that somebody on the bus had noticed her absence and asked the driver to wait for her. Yet she remembered, with another sinking feeling in her stomach, that she had never really spoken to anyone who rode the bus, so why would they know her? And if she ever happened to notice that somebody who rode the shuttle to work didn’t return with them, she always assumed that they had either left work early, had gotten a ride back some other way, or were working late. Never a cause for concern.
Which meant no one would be concerned about her.
Christine skidded through the turnstile and into the entryway, peering through the glass doors and to the small roundabout outside where the shuttle normally waited. There was nothing. No shuttle, no one waiting in the entryway or outside. She checked her phone, as if hoping someone had tried to call her. Where are you, Christine? We miss you, Christine! No notifications, nothing but the time showing up on her home screen telling her that she was late. She had missed the shuttle.
Panic immediately began to set in. She had never missed the shuttle before. How was she going to get home? She didn’t know anybody here. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to the security guard sitting behind the front desk. He was scrolling on his phone, obviously uninterested in her.
She clutched her phone tightly, thinking hard. There was no way she could walk home. It would take hours, and there was a blizzard raging outside. A quick Google search of the city’s bus system showed that they had stopped running due to the storm. With trembling fingers, she pulled up a rideshare app, typing in her home address. There were only two rides available, and the astronomical prices displayed made her heart sink. She couldn’t afford either option. Tears began to gather in her eyes.
For a moment, she was tempted to ask the security guard for help, but another look at his disinterested expression stopped her. If she told him she was stranded, he’d probably tell her that she wasn’t his problem and needed to leave the property immediately. Then she’d be locked outside in the snow.
Christine was sure that the longer she stood there, the more suspicious she looked. So, trying to control her tears and her voice, she turned and went back to the turnstile, saying airily, “Forgot something at my desk! Ha.”
The guard barely glanced her way.
Thankfully all the hallways were empty, and once she was back in her office, she sank into her chair. As horrible and depressing as it was, at least it was familiar here. For what felt like an eternity, she sat there, thinking hard, trying to decide what to do. No shuttle, no taxi, no one to call, no way to walk. She did have a car, an old brown station wagon that had belonged to her father, but it was parked at the house, useless to her. She used the shuttle to save money on gas. But now what?
Her eyes strayed to the couch under the window. She stared. It looked just big enough for her to curl up on it. Just for one night. She was sure it was against the rules to spend the night in the office, but this was an emergency. And if anyone discovered her, she could say that she was working late and had fallen asleep.
It wouldn’t be smart to try to venture too far away from this office, as she wanted to avoid any chance of running into someone. She still had some snacks in her pocket she had smuggled from the little break room, meaning she wouldn’t go hungry. Her coat and scarf should keep her warm enough, and early tomorrow morning she would freshen up in the bathroom and hope no one noticed she was wearing the same clothes.
After spending another long while sitting at her desk, just to ensure that everyone who worked nearby really had left for the night, she crept over to the couch, sinking onto it. The fabric was scratchy and smelled a little funny, but at least she wouldn’t have to sleep at her desk.
As the night progressed and she remained undisturbed, she relaxed little by little. She ate her sad dinner of almonds and granola bars while watching some music videos on her phone. After taking the risk to visit the nearby bathroom, she crept back to the couch and curled up on it, pulling her coat tightly around herself.
Lying there, staring at the ceiling, she hummed softly, trying to comfort herself. It was a song her father had taught her when she was little. She thought of him and wanted to cry.
Today might be challenging, but don’t give up!
Challenging was an understatement. She wondered if the horoscope website accepted feedback.
A nearby computer whirred quietly. Christine sank deeper into the couch, pulling up her scarf over her nose, her eyes drifting closed. Tomorrow she would tell anyone who asked that she had come in early to catch up on a few tasks. Neil would tell her how happy he was that she was so dedicated to her job.
She hummed one last song, another ballad her father had liked to sing. Her breathing slowed.
Just as she was about to drift off, a voice thundered through the room, furious and horrible.
“What are you doing here?!”