Tech Gods

by David

Lem stepped off the elevator and realized he didn’t have any change. He slapped his pockets, looking for something smaller than a 10. Margie would kill him if he blew $10 on an elevator ride. She didn’t believe in propitiating the gods anyway. “They wouldn’t have given us this technology if they didn’t want us to use it,” she always said. This attitude was why he hadn’t been promoted beyond second-grade, he was sure, but try telling her that!

Someone nudged his arm. It was Jenelle, the new IT specialist whose office was still being painted. Someone had forgotten to propitiate the God of something or other and the painters had refused to work until it was taken care of. Jenelle was holding a nickel.

“Oh thanks,” Lem said. He dropped it in the brass dish, muttering “Thank you for this lift.”

“How is your office coming?”

She frowned. “I’m still camped in the coffee room.”

“Share my office,” he said. That evening on his way home, Lem put $10 in a streetside kiosk dedicated to Libidos, patron of deceivers.

Margie was not affectionate, even downright cold. Could she read his mind?

Lem helped Jenelle carry the old wooden desk into his office. He moved his desk over so hers could fit in front of the window too. He emptied one drawer in his file cabinet for her. He couldn’t help staring at her whenever he thought she wouldn’t notice. As the days passed, her attire seemed skimpier and more transparent. All he could think about was her flesh moving under her blouse and skirt. In his fantasies, she wore nothing underneath.

One day they both stayed late. The floor was deserted. He closed the door, leaned on her desk. He looked her in the eye. “You know what I’m thinking,” he said.
“I’ll draw the curtains,” she replied, and did.

—

“This was a high-dollar job,” the inspector said. “The blood has been completely drained. Not the work of your standard succubus. He moved the extra desk into his office about three weeks ago?”

The office manager shrugged. “No one else wanted it. More room in the lounge. No idea why he wanted it in here.”

The inspector rubbed his chin. “Any change in his behavior? Apart from the desk.”

The office manager shook his head. “Nothing beyond staying late alone almost every night.”

The office manager reached out to catch the inspector’s sleeve as he turned to leave. “Who called the succubus?”

“It’s usually the wife. That’s where my money is.”

End

The System

by Jon

This isn’t what I’d wanted.

You hear things, y’know?  You chat with everyone you bump into, swapping names and a laugh to try and make a connection that’ll stick, so they’ll tip you off if they hear something.  It’s what you’ve got to do these days.

And here I was. I’d finally almost made it. All I’d done was to go and make a little space for myself, a place for me and mine, where I could do things the way I wanted to do them.  Live on my own terms, y’know? Maybe meet someone, raise a family.  That’s what it’s all about, after all.

But they don’t care about that.  They don’t care that you’re not harming anybody but just sitting there, they just want you gone, like you were trash.  So you hide when you can and how to fight when you can’t.  You get hold of things you might need and put them away for later on, y’know? Crazy preparedness.  That was always my motto.  Planning, scheming, conniving, you do what you have to do.  And usually it’s enough.

But not this time.  I can hear them coming.  This time they’re willing to take everything down just to get to me.  Burn it all down and start over.  Fucking nihilistic bast—

***Service work order #230086G-23: Customer reported heavy infestation of AI-E1 worm virus.  Hard drive reformatted and OS reinstalled.  Work order closed.