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[Protag] never really had adequate time to register anything around his job. It was errand after errand, ‘figure it out for yourself’ kind of mentality. That’s how it was for the interview— that’s how it was now. He’d hoped after being officially accepted into [THE COMPANY] they’d slow down the pace a bit to, you know, let him do his job correctly and be prepared for his position, but it’s capitalism; who ever slows down for anyone?
“The paperwork is supposed to reach another level up, just leave it to anyone there and they’ll sort it through.” Another one of his colleagues sighed out, as if [Protag] had done something wrong already. “Everyone on that floor is supposed to look at those documents and be formally sign them— I trust you’ll be able to do at least that, won’t you?”
The intern nodded, trying to hide the grit in his voice given that patronizing tone. “—Would that mean level 9?”
“No, genius, that would mean 3– yes, level 9. Do those glasses do nothing for your common sense?”
“What’s that supposed to—“
“Enough about this. Get those where they need to be. now.” With that, his colleague walked away without another word.
[Protag] cursed under his breath, having worked a couple months and the work environment not getting any easier to conform to. He’d be afraid of getting reported, but let’s be honest; nobody here actually knows his name. They’d have, both fortunately and depressingly, nothing to say at all. He swallowed whatever individuality he had left in him and turned his heel to complete the task at hand now; getting these to his interviewer. They were way too heavy to carry up several flights of stairs, so heading to the elevator first would be a logical (and reluctant) first step.
[Protag] could feel a slight shake in his body while entering the thing— and rightfully so; he was never given the opportunity to figure what the fuck happened his first day. Sure, he’d been back inside the elevator as a forced form of desensitization (it was simply faster to use, sadly), but it’s as if that altercation never occurred. The floors were typical, the yellow wallpaper covered steel instead of flesh— it was too normal. Nevertheless, panic was counterproductive. Against his will to live, [Protag] pressed the floor leading to—
“HOLD THE DOOR!”
…Deja Vu.
Almost parallel to his first impression here, a tall, blond man strolled into the elevator like he owned the place— just making the gap [Protag] hoped would have closed beforehand.
“Whew! Close one, amiright? Oh, Newbie! Long time no see, how’s it hanging?” [Coworker] asked, nudging an elbow into the intern’s shoulder. [Protag] sighed exasperatedly, smiling awkwardly at him.
“About as well as it can.” He replied.
“Oh— jeez, not even gonna sugar coat it, huh? Loosen up a bit, why don’tcha.”
[Protag] practically rolled his eyes at the mere statement.
“You’re heading up to your floor now? It’s 11, I thought you clocked in at 9.” [Protag] asked, adjusting himself a bit. [Coworker] shrugged, leaning against the wall in tandem.
“The way they schedule my work is really weird. I finish a meeting, then I’ve got nothing to do for like an hour before they need my input on confirming a project procedure or something. S’just boring sometimes.” He admitted, staring back at the intern.
[Protag] grimaced. “So…you just… walked out? Without consequence?”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda.”
A deep seated envy began to seep into [Protag]’s core; of course he got to get away with shit like that. He’s Bryce— Chase— Clayton— whatever the heck his name is. His associate’s eyes feel onto the stack [Protag] was carrying, and the same cocky grin the intern knew appeared on his face again.
“What’s with carrying the max amount of photocopies the printer can handle? Looks a bit… heavy, for someone like you.” He chuckled, looking off to the side as if that would make the comment any less backhanded.
“They’re for the top floor, same pla—“ Protag began, quickly being cut off.
“—hey, that’s where I’m going!”
“…Uh huh. I know.”
“Well how about this—“ [Coworker] started, checking his watch for a brief moment— “I’ve got a bit before Normal’s gonna come yapping to me about some new proposal down in finance. How ‘bout I pass the time by keeping you company? Think of it as a kind gesture from your favorite senior.”
“…mhm, favorite. Sure,” [Protag] parroted, giving up on hiding the sarcasm in his tone. His face brightened a bit at an offer for actual assistance, and he turned to [Coworker]. “Some help would be nice, thanks. could you take some of thes—“
“Ohheylookwe’rehere.”
Guess he misinterpreted that. “…yeah.”
The doors opened, and [Coworker] quickly walked past the intern with a bow, snickering.
“Ladies first,” he mocked, stretching his hand out.
“I— fuck you,”
“Take me out to dinner first, Newbie.”
[Protag] sighed, and stopped trying to do anything about his personality. There’s no winning against this cocky asshole— he began to step forward before realizing where he was; in front of a literal several hundred, maybe thousand, foot drop; this wasn’t right— all of the other floors returned to normal after his interview, why not this one? Jarringly, [Protag] froze in place, and [Coworker] noticed.
“Hm? What’s wrong? Got stage fright or somethin’?”
[Protag] stared at him in utter dismay. He couldn’t be seriously asking what was going on.
“You’re— You’re walking on thin air.”
Lackadaisically, [Coworker] looked down at his shoes, and back up at the intern.
“Uh, yeah. What’s the point here?” He asked, starting to sound bored.
Could he seriously not read the— maybe not. To be fair, there wasn’t any room to read; so perhaps whatever social cues he was supposed to pick up on were floating around as vapidly as his 5 brain cells struggling to work in his head. [Protag] stepped back a few times, eyes darting between his superior and the certain death beyond the elevator.
“I— I can’t… do— that.” The intern stammered, trying to not abandon his task here. How did they expect him to do this? He’s not even sure what [Coworker] is in terms of a living being, let alone how the hell he’s floating— but to extend that expectation to him? That’s was just insane! He’d died the last he thought walking on this floor was a viable idea; in hindsight, that was the only way that was going to happen, sure, but now someone’s basically asking him to jump off a building.
[Coworker] hummed. “Oh,”
Oh? What did ‘oh’ mean? Was he supposed to know this? This job wasn’t normal in and of its own, he knew that— but did he miss some sort of crucial information? Was he expected to just— figure it out??
The senior put a hand to his chin, thinking about the current situation. “You’re not a higher up, right?”
[Protag] shook his head profusely. There was no way he’d count as a higher up.
“Ah, shit. Yeah, you’ll fall to your death. Why would someone ask you to hand out things on the 9th floor when most of y’all can’t even see the hallway?” He said, pinching his nose.
[Protag] tilted his head. “Hallway?”
“Yeah there’s like a main interview section here that kinda looks like a living room and there’s like two corridors to the left— you know what, nevermind. Here. Look.”
[Coworker] walked over to the right slightly, turning an invisible handle and opening up the sky to reveal a normal looking office. [Protag] blinked, the whole thing seemed like an optical illusion. It’s just— sat there, like there was infrastructure and everything.
The blond scratched his head, not surprised at [Protag]’s reaction. “Yeah, trust me, it’s a lot less cool looking to me, Newbie.”
He started to walk near the elevator again, back into the intern’s vicinity. [Protag] was basically against the wall at this point, also trying to think of a solution as to how the hell— and why the hell— he’s going to do this. The latter was obvious; he needed this job. But in order to keep this job… he’d need some way to travel from room to room without falling. Piggybacking off of [Coworker] seemed like an option for a moment, but there were too many documents for that; it wouldn’t be very efficient. Maybe he could—
“Oh! I got something,” [Coworker] beamed, snapping his fingers. “Let’s go down to floor 6, yeah? The copy room.”
With that, he stepped back into the elevator and pushed the button for the 6th floor. It was same one [Protag] mainly resided on, his cubicle was there— not like he actually ever got time to fully decorate his like everyone else’s, though. About a third of that floor saw him as their own personal assistant, so he was always running to and fro places just to keep his position. So much for working on his own like his interviewer said.
During the ride down, the box felt… strangely silent. Just the sound of the suspenders brining them to their next destination; something was missing, but [Protag] couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
When the elevator number turned to 7, he’d figured it out what it was.
“Are— are you humming?” The intern asked, his colleague glancing in his direction.
“Yeah, they used to have speakers in here before you arrived, but then one of them exploded and killed a dude or something.”
[Protag] grimaced. “Christ, that’s—“
“Such a downer, I know. So, I add ambience myself.”
“…by humming elevator music??”
The blond folded his arms, shrugging. “Why not? Makes up for the long ass time thing takes to get from floor to floor.”
The intern nodded to himself. “I suppose.”
The elevator came to a halt as the doors opened again, and the two of them stepped out in way for the copier room. Before heading inside, [Coworker] briefly stopped [Protag] just before they came up on it.
“Okay, so— before I tell you my awesome plan to get all that shredded tree up to the 9th floor hallways, I’ve gotta ask…” he started, not meeting [Protag]’s eye contact.
“…yeah?”
“How fast can you do door to door sales? Like let’s say, if this company were timing you on… a paperboy kinda activity. Would you be good at it?”
That was an odd question, for sure. [Protag] hasn’t really thought about it— his reaction time’s decent he’d say, so…alright?
“I’m not sure. I’ve never really had a job like that, but I’d be up for—“
“Great!” [Coworker] interrupted, walking into the copier room without him. [Protag] attempted to retaliate, reasonably thinking that he should be let in on the idea first— but not before the nepo baby employee strolled back out of the place with a whole ass shopping cart.
[Protag] was, to say the least, taken aback by the random inventory pull. “How— where did— what??”
“They’ve got some in the back closet! No one ever goes to check there anymore, buuuut…” he ran on, shaking the cart a bit— “it’ll float on the 9th floor; I know it will because I crashed it into a fake plant once up there and they hated cleaning that up.” he said almost too confidently.
[Protag] walked up to the cart and inspected it for a moment, before sighing in agreement. It was actually a good idea— just— the execution of it… was odd.
“You’re… kind of onto something, but— you want me to get in it right after you told me that you crashed it into a plant? What if I fall out?” He asked.
[Coworker] shrugged, indifferent that falling out would literally be [Protag]’s death. “Nah, it’ll be fine, promise.” He assured. “Besides,”
“…Don’t you trust me?”
[Protag] froze.
Word for word, he’d heard that before. Same person, same question, same answer choices. Last time, he’d answered without words. He’s not sure he regrets it, but it’s definitely something he’d want to stop thinking about. They knew each other more as people this time; [Protag] can see past that cutthroat interview, and realize [Coworker] is more than just a fake or disillusioned idea of a colleague. For that, his cognitive ability is clearer— and maybe, just maybe, his answer will change along with his opinion of him.
“I… yeah. I trust you.” He admitted, repressing any doubt lingering in the back of his mind. [Coworker] grinned, clasping his hands together like he’d convinced [Protag] of something devious. And, in hindsight, he just about had.
The elevator slowly moved up, numbers glowing above the buttons in a subtle anticipation. Unenthusiastically, [Protag] sat in the grocery cart with the documents, now stapled together neatly for every higher up’s office required. Each one had a corresponding telephone number— basically the room it was supposed to go to. Leaning on the side of the checkered metal, [Coworker] nudged [Protag]’s shoulder and awaited the number to show a bright green 9.
“And you’re sure I’ll be okay,” The intern asked maybe for the 30th time now. His superior nodded, although halfheartedly.
“Yep, just gonna push the cart right through there and hand in all of the sign sheets. You’ll be fine.”
With small, sing-song tone, the elevator reached the top floor, and the doors began to open.
[Coworker] braced the handles. “Ready, newbie?”
“About as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good, because I’m gonna see how fast we can go.”
“I’m sorry what—“
Without warning, [Coworker] pushed off the back wall of the elevator, sending the cart flying as he stepped onto the shoe guard.
As if on instinct, [Protag]’s eyes narrowed before clinging to the sides of the now fast motioned ride; staring down at the drop suddenly just below him. He wasn’t exactly feeling great on the inevitably of the cart toppling over, either— therefore, the stare he shot to [Coworker] was a mix of pure fear and irritation.
“HEY WOAH WOAH WAIT— ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE!?” He practically screamed, a wind picking up from how fast they were going. [Coworker] disregarded the tone, pointing to a cracked open door in the vast sky.
“Number 912-709, paperboy!” He chuckled, making a sharp turn to the right closer to it.
Oh— That’s what he meant by that weird question earlier, asshole. He was planning to mess with the him like this since the second he got that idea, and the fact the intern was oblivious probably just made it ever the more entertaining to him.
[Protag], against his better judgment (and riveting anger at the moment), rushed through the packets and found the corresponding documents.
“912-709?” He parroted back to his superior, earning a nod in response. [Protag] waited for the office door to be at the right distance, before throwing it onto the floor inside. Though not looking very impressive from [Protag]’s point of view, it looked like something had delivered a couple papers in light speed from an idle perspective; not to mention the tediousness of timing. [Coworker] understood that, and silently praised the new hire for such a simple skill— turning a sharp left and earning another death glare from his acquaintance.
“Alright newbie! One down, 24 more to go!”
Numbers came and went in fast sequences— with [Coworker] having a residence on this floor, he’d leant to memorize it inside and out; regardless of how dangerously quick he was strolling the cart. [Protag] had begun to recognize a pattern within the numbers and the room corresponding to them— sometimes being able to find the next documents before the senior announced them to him.
“925-968!”
“914-565!”
“931-001!”
At some point, [Protag]’s jumpiness had withered away as he became more focused on his task at hand; anticipating turns and jump offs slowly felt pretty amusing, and the Newbie and Senior began to actually have fun with it. [Coworker] began to 180 and drift the cart down hallways— while [Protag] started to trickshot papers into their respective rooms.
Screaming and bickering morphed into jest and laughter, and the clouds around began to look a little… nice, or at least distracting.
“Alright newbie, 922-879!” [Coworker] yelled, watching [Protag] intently as he grabbed one of the only two packets left. As soon as the intern dropped off the papers, the cart suddenly came to a jarring stop— Or, most accurately, a crash.
Normal Guy haphazardly stood in the middle of the hall, taking the cart to the torso like it was a feather. The cart became unbalanced for a crucial moment; knocking [Protag] out of it and hanging onto the metal side for dear life.
“HOOOLY SHIT— HEY, HEY BRY— CLAT— WHATEVER?? A LITTLE HELP?!?”
Quickly scrambling out of his own floored position, [Coworker] grabbed [Protag]’s spare hand and pulled him up onto his shoes. The close proximity wasn’t ideal, but the other option was death, so..
The senior scoffed at the off-putting man. “Normal, mind stepping off to the side if you see a metal object moving towards you at high speeds? Almost cost us a guy here.”
Normal Guy’s smile, ever the permanent presence, became thinned— clearly not appreciating [Coworker]’s tone. “I believe you two were the ones being reckless.” He stared back at the toppled cart, unamused. “This is quite the unprofessional way to deliver important information, but I suppose if it works, it works. However, it seems the intern didn’t complete his task correctly. There’s still a file left.”
The monochrome businessman gestured to the final packet left in the cart, sitting melancholically alone on the side of it.
“I cannot take this as an acceptable way to behave around the workplace unless for efficiency. Unfortunately, I feel unless you can come up with viable reason not to, the new hire will have to take a penalty for workplace disruption.” He explained.
[Protag]’s heart dropped, and [Coworker]’s eyes widened a bit at the statement. There wasn’t any sort of reason his superior could give that would excuse the situation. However, looking down at the final packet left with contempt, the senior realized that maybe [Protag] could get away with efficiency (and his actions of nearly running someone over).
“921-923… hey, Normal, look.” He demanded, pointing at the numbers designated to the packet. “That’s my room number. Therefore, MY documents. Ya know what that means? The newbie did deliver each one efficiently, because every single document is with every rightful owner. So, hah, he can’t get penalized.”
Picking up the packet of sign sheets, the telephone number was in fact [Coworker]’s. Looking back at the two, Normal Guy nodded.
“I deeply apologize. It seems you two work well together like this. Well, no matter. My dear intern, we’ll discuss being given the ability to utilize this floor in future regards. As for you, Senior, escort him back to his respective cubicle. I hope to see you both in future,” and with that, Normal Guy turned his heel and walked away— more than likely on his way to inform someone of something else.
[Coworker] shrugged, picking [Protag] up and slinging him over his shoulder— “alright newbie, let’s go,”
“Hey wait woah— wow, thanks for the view of this terrifyingly big height,” [Protag] spat, trying to keep his glasses upright on his face and hiding the fear shaking his voice at its edges.
“No problem.”
[Coworker] set [Protag] down on the tangible rug of the elevator, stepping on the floor himself. He sighed, pressing floor 6– before staring at the intern awkwardly.
“Um, newbie, you can let go of my hand now. I’m done carrying you.” He nudged, causing [Protag] to acknowledge the fact he still hadn’t let go. he stammered an apology, barely comprehensible— but still, [Coworker] just waved it off.
“We should do this again sometime. But like, not in the sky. Think we could set up a lunch together?” The senior asked, brushing [Protag]’s forearm. Thinking about the offer for a moment,
he wasn’t opposed to it— that was the most fun he’d had in a while at this place; what’s the harm in meeting up again?
“Sure, where were you thinking?”
The door buzzed, leading to floor 6.
“Eh, we’ll talk over break. For now, just go back to doing whatever it is you do.”
Rolling his eyes ironically, the intern stepped out of the elevator and made a little wave at his acquaintance. He gestured back, classic shit-eating grin plastered onto his face— there might be a chance he could get a real smile out of him one of these days. For now, [Protag] would watch the doors close, anticipating another time he could hang out like that again.