SOCK DUTY - PART VII

“So it was the janitor? Hmm…” I catch up with Chris after the Mind Control Memo mission to probe him for more information. For a change, he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk, and props his head up on his fists. Real professional. “…poor kid. Least no one was hurt.” 

“Well…” Meganie was so upset that she got caught out talking to some of Bob’s dolls and let slip her real name, “someone’s pride got a little knocked, so she’s holed up in her room.” 

He nods in sage like understanding, if not a bit mechanically, his chin pivoting on his knuckles like a reverse POZ dispenser.

We talk about her progression for a bit. How best to get my peer mentee mission-ready. Mostly circling back to the fact it’s just going to take time to build her confidence. 

“Speaking of janitors,” Chris breaks the theme to ask about my own work, “how did things go with the, err… scrying orb?” 

“Oh! I got fired.” 

His usual calm expression freezes for a second with alarm, then melts straight into laughter, “I can see it now, man… well played!” the head of the Head of HR bobbing like his droopy lotus plant.

He says that, but at this point I’m sure he can just pluck memories out of my head.

Due to Meganie taking sick leave, I’ve had to cover a couple of follow-up missions for her.

This last one had me locate a magical item that’d literally rolled into a technologically advanced timeline out of an evil warlock’s lair. Some big corpo, in what could only be described as a classic cyberpunk dystopia – towers for the wealthy rising out of smog banks, while everyone else slums it in the thick fog of pollution and crime below – had not even noticed he had a new paperweight on his desk. Let alone that it was a dense swirling crystal capable of seeing anything, anywhere, anywhen. 

“How’d you, like, do it then?” Chris’ shoulders still shuddering with snickers, knowing full well what I did to conclude things. 

“Meganie had already made fake ID chips, so I signed up at a Temp Agency that had a standing order for cleaners at the building the orb was located in. I just made sure I got put on the rota for the Executive’s office.” There’s really not much to say other than I abided by the laws of the land and did an honest day’s work.

That is, until I accidentally-on-purpose bumped into the guy’s desk, knocked the prognosticator onto the floor, and got screamed at by a trillionaire for shattering something he’d only just noticed he had. “By the time I was finished cleaning up the last few shards, he’d already called the agency, so I was fired as soon as I left the room.”

Which in turn forfeited my pay for the day – not that money in a world with hyperinflation is worth very much for very long – and got me black listed from both the cleaning company and CYBER-GLOBAL-UBER-META-TECH, as well as all its subsidiaries.

“Never gonna be able to work in that town again…” I jokingly lament to another round of subdued guffaws from the Head of Human Resources. 

As he wipes what would be a tear from his eye, if he were not so relaxed that I’m sure the tides change more quickly, Chris brings things back round to my ex-supervisor. 

“So, I put together the employee profile on Meganie for you, dude. As her peer mentor, I was able to wriggle enough clearance for you to get access to some more information, like, the kind of personal details you’ll not find in myths and legends.” His tone hushed and furtive. He passes me a large white envelope – must be out of manila – then leans back in his beige throne. 

I look up from the vast brown canvas to check it’s OK to read here, but Chris has already rotated his chair away from me, an implied blind eye on the handover, so it’s probably best I leave. Can’t have Human Resources be officially linked to a data breach, after all. 

* * *

I’d asked him to do it as soon as our initial debriefing was over. Meganie only there for as long as she had to be before escaping back to her quarters.

Memories of Bonny feeling a need to decontaminate herself and hide away after a particular kids’ party echo in my head. Regurgitated milkshake from too much running around seeping through the clown costume to her cute combinations below. Her leaving them littered on the lockeroom floor... ahem.

But, after Bob, I’ve determined to put the past behind me.

I have a present to protect and a future to prepare for.

I have a co-worker I need to help.

I can’t imagine how much of a violation it must have been to be played with like a doll, but considering it was only to let someone live out a childish fantasy of actually attending school, nothing grim or scarring... I just don’t know.

It’s not like Meganie should have any memories of the events after the mind control powers wore off, but there could still be an uncertain feeling about what went on. A gap in her memory that makes her uneasy.

You can wonder about things till the cows come home, but you’ll never get an answer unless you ask. Hence, the background check, as ass backwards as that might sound.

My friend is hurting.

I need to know if there’s something that can help, or if a part of her past makes this worse for her, and she’s in no fit state to talk about any of it.

Hell, even this might be another violation, but… What else can I do?!.

It is not easy reading. 

I feel sorrier for Meganie than I did even Bob. 

Lives spent without feelings of worth; aspirations crushed before they could even be grasped for. 

She was never meant to be a hero. 

I regularly tap at her door to check in. 

I make, reheat, pour out, and remake cups of coffee of varying levels of sweet and milky.

All left untouched. 

Her isolation goes on for over a day, my time. I have no idea how long she let the hours or weeks trudge by behind her locked door.

I could use one of the Returns Agency’s transporter options, some magical portal into her room, or a Janus doorway, but I don’t want to add to whatever feelings of defilement she’s trying to process.

I can’t impose myself on her just because I am worried, but I also can’t not do something. 

I’m responsible...

I post up in the hallway to rest, exhausted from the back-to-back workload. In the blink of an eye, I find myself waking to an unfamiliar weight and warmth.

...when did I fall asleep?

I’m sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, right outside Meganie’s room. Another frigid mug of extra rich mélange still untouched at my side.

From being propped up in such an awkward position, I have the beginnings of a crick in my neck, and my left arm feels a bit dead. Hard to move- 

Meganie is curled up next to me. 

Her face squashed against my shoulder; cheek flattened to balance the weight of the rest of her head. She’s gripping my arm tightly with both of hers. All wrapped up in a blanket, a portion draped over my side as well.

Strands of lab mouse white hair occasionally tickle the side of my face, and the thought that, ‘if we were lovers I’d kiss her awake, hold her to my chest, and probably cry things out right about now’, tantalise my brain.

Instead, all I can do is let my friend do what she needs to. I let her rest. Holding onto her colleague for security.

The adrenaline of waking to the first girl beside me since innocent early childhood sleepovers, or my Mom looking after me while I was sick, is too much for me to fall back asleep.

With my free hand, I skim the dairy skin off the top of the decadent coffee I’d made hours ago, and sip at the cold caffeine for as long as it takes for Meganie to wake. 

I think it’s time we talk things through.