Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Death by Overtime
There were exactly three things Evelyn Parker wanted in life.
Money.
More money.
And enough money to tell her boss to kindly, professionally, and legally go to hell.
She was making excellent progress on two of those.
---
At twenty-five years old, Evelyn had successfully acquired:
- One Business Administration degree.
- One corporate job.
- Three chronic back pain locations.
- An unhealthy emotional attachment to Microsoft Excel.
She considered that a fair trade.
Mostly.
---
New York City.
2:53 A.M.
Every sensible person was asleep.
Children were asleep.
Doctors were asleep.
Lawyers were asleep.
Even the pigeons had apparently decided that whatever humans were doing at two in the morning was none of their business.
Meanwhile...
On the twenty-sixth floor of Parker & Sullivan Consulting—
The lights were still on.
Not because someone had forgotten to turn them off.
Because Evelyn Parker refused to go home.
"...Almost."
She mumbled without looking away from the monitor.
Cell F284 was wrong.
Not catastrophically wrong.
Not "the company will go bankrupt" wrong.
More like...
"This number offends me on a spiritual level."
Three keystrokes.
Enter.
Balanced.
The spreadsheet sighed in relief.
Or maybe that was the air conditioner.
---
PING.
Outlook.
Evelyn looked at the notification.
The notification looked back.
Subject:
«URGENT :)»
"..."
Corporate smiley faces should've been classified as psychological warfare.
She clicked.
«Hi Evelyn!
Tiny request!
We need to rebuild the financial forecast before tomorrow morning.
Shouldn't take long 😊»
Evelyn stared at the email.
Then at the clock.
2:53 A.M.
Then back at the email.
"...Tomorrow?"
She leaned closer.
"...Sir."
"...It is tomorrow."
---
She typed exactly one word.
«No.»
She stared at it.
Smiled.
Then sighed.
Deleted it.
Rent existed.
Unfortunately.
---
Someone knocked lightly against the cubicle wall.
David.
Looking suspiciously awake for a functioning human being.
"...You're still here?"
"So are you."
"I left."
"I noticed."
"I went home."
"Congratulations."
"I slept."
Evelyn gasped.
"...Without my permission?"
"...What?"
"You experienced REM sleep."
"...Yes?"
"Must be nice."
David blinked.
"...When was the last time you slept?"
"I blinked for eight seconds around lunch."
"...That..."
"...That's not sleep."
"It was emotionally refreshing."
---
David slowly placed a breakfast sandwich beside her keyboard.
"I bought an extra."
Evelyn looked at it.
Then looked at him.
"...Free?"
"...Yes."
She immediately accepted it.
Scientists had long debated whether free food actually tasted better.
Evelyn already knew the answer.
Absolutely.
Calories consumed at someone else's expense contained approximately forty percent more happiness.
This fact had yet to survive peer review.
---
David watched her unwrap the sandwich.
"You know..."
"You make enough money to buy your own breakfast."
"I know."
"So..."
"...Why are you eating mine?"
Evelyn looked genuinely confused.
"...Because this one costs zero dollars."
"..."
"...Fair."
---
Five minutes later...
David made the mistake of glancing at her desktop.
"..."
"...Why do you have a spreadsheet called..."
Coffee Cost-Benefit Analysis.xlsx
Evelyn didn't even look up.
"I was comparing café prices."
"...Across Manhattan?"
"...Across New York."
"..."
"...Why?"
"I refuse to be exploited by overpriced cappuccinos."
"..."
"...You spent four hours making a spreadsheet..."
"...To save twenty-five cents?"
"It was thirty-two."
"..."
"...I don't know how to help you."
---
Her phone vibrated.
Unlike work emails...
Bank notifications were sacred.
She unlocked it immediately.
Current Savings
$497,843.62
Her eyes sparkled.
"So close..."
Only another two thousand dollars.
Maybe two months.
Three if Kevin touched another spreadsheet.
Then she was free.
No more overtime.
No more Outlook.
No more pretending to enjoy "team-building activities."
No more replying to emails that started with
"Hope you're doing well!"
when everyone involved knew perfectly well that nobody was doing well.
---
The office slowly fell silent.
David finally went home.
Again.
The rain outside softened into a gentle drizzle.
Computer fans hummed quietly.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead with the enthusiasm of an employee working unpaid overtime.
Evelyn saved the report.
Saved the presentation.
Saved the financial model.
Saved three backup copies.
Then saved another backup because trust was earned.
The file sat proudly on her desktop.
BusinessPlan_FINAL_v18_REALFINAL.xlsx
She stared at the filename.
"...Liar."
Everyone knew it wasn't final.
Tomorrow there would be Version Nineteen.
Then FINAL_FINAL.
Then FINAL_FOR_REAL.
Then PLEASE_USE_THIS_ONE.
This was simply the natural evolution of Microsoft Office documents.
---
She stretched.
Her neck cracked.
Her shoulders cracked.
Something near her spine made a noise that definitely required medical attention.
"...Ow."
Maybe...
Just maybe...
She deserved five minutes.
A tiny nap.
A microscopic nap.
An economically efficient nap.
She folded her arms on the desk and rested her head against them.
"Five minutes."
That was all.
Five minutes.
Corporate history would later identify this as...
An overly optimistic forecast.
---
Darkness.
Not dramatic darkness.
Just...
Sleep.
Deep.
Comfortable.
For the first time in weeks...
She wasn't thinking about spreadsheets.
Or quarterly projections.
Or startup costs.
Or Kevin.
Especially Kevin.
Everything became warm.
Soft.
Peaceful.
...
...
...
"...Huh."
That was strange.
Her office chair had never been this comfortable.
Actually...
Why did it feel...
Wet?
And...
Why was someone yelling?
"MILADY, PUSH!"
"..."
Evelyn frowned in her sleep.
"Push what?"
"My Queen! I can see the head!"
"..."
"...Whose head?"
"..."
"...WAIT."
Silence.
One terrifying realization slammed into her consciousness.
"Why..."
"Why am I the head?"