Blindy staggered out toward the stairwell.
The smokers, seeing the absolute apocalypse behind them, had already bailed.
He muttered, gasping for air:
“Zeros…”
Zeros replied, retracting the flamethrowers and letting his arms shift back into normal form.
“Yeah?”
“I guess… nah—
I’m pretty sure we—
WE—just… just saved the damn planet…
from an apocalypse…Yeah…
we’re fuckin’ saviors…Like… officially…
Some medal or shit would be appreciated…”
Zeros snorted.
“Don’t give a shit.
Let’s keep moving.
Madeline’s waiting.
Maybe you’ll pull something fun again upstairs.
Nothing left to do here.”
They started climbing again.
Blindy, full huff-puff mode:
“You don’t get it…
we might’ve…
saved the whole galaxy…
zombie outbreak…
that shit spreads…you saw ’em…
the moanin’…
the hands…that’s how it starts…
first one floor…
then the building…
then the planet…
then—BOOM—galaxy…”
Zeros growled:
“I SAID I DON’T GIVE A SHIT.
MOVE.”
And they kept climbing,
reducing Quince’s workforce
by ninety-seven employees.
Blindy dragged himself up the final steps
almost crawling, gripping the railing
like a man who had gone through Arnold Schwarzenegger’s journey…
without legs.
Zeros reached the door
and just slammed into it
so hard that a panel designed to let people out
suddenly decided to let them in
under the laws of brute force.
Blindy somehow straightened up.
His calves shaking, knees vibrating, spine swearing in every known language.
“Alright—okay—
not a rag… not a rag…
I got this…”
Zeros ordered.
“Right, piece of shit. Stand up.
Next to Madeline,
you better look cool.
STAND.”
Blindy’s eyes widened with a surge of baseless confidence.
“Right—buddy—I—
not just stand straight…Yeah. I’m alpha…
COOL alpha…Top-tier alpha…
not some—
regular one…”
From around the corner,
a woman stepped out
wearing a perfectly pressed suit.
Badge:
QUINCE INC.
SENIOR WELLNESS & MENTAL HEALTH OFFICER
[senior officer for employee mental stability]She looked at them
like they were two bug reports
she really didn’t want to open.
“Uh… you guys need something?”
Blindy exhaled:
“Thank… Great De Grass…
she’s not a zombie…okay… good… good…”
The officer removed her glasses.
Exhaled.
The question in her voice was purely formal:
“Jeez… what happened to you?”
She did not care about the answer.
Not even a little.
She turned
and started walking ahead
with that confident corporate stride:
the kind that says
“I must be polite or HR will deduct it from my wage.”
“By the way,” she added in a professional tone, “you may encounter some of our employees who are… slightly not themselves.
Don’t worry. They’re in an NSC state.”
Blindy frowned.
“In a what?
Like—what the hell is that supposed to mean—?”
The woman stopped,
turned exactly twelve degrees,
and gave him a look that said
you are wasting my time, biological error.
“It’s a corporate cognitive core reset.
NSC—Neural Suppression Cycle.Once a week, employees take a pill
that temporarily disables emotional centers in the brain
to increase productivity.Side effect:
a few minutes of… temporary personality loss.”
Blindy shouted in horror.
“Like—LIKE—
their brain just… shuts off…?
No brain—
TOTAL off?!
Like—nothing in there?!”
She nodded
like she was explaining the weather:
“Yes.
But it’s normal. And legal.
Improves performance by 12.7%.”
Blindy swallowed.
Zeros shrugged.
As always, he did not give a single shit.
“M-m-man…
they—THEY…
weren’t zombies…?What have we—
—no—
what did YOU do?!”
Zeros thought for a second.
“Eh… Fuck ’em.”
The woman suddenly stopped.
Turned toward them
and pointed at a massive door:
CEO OFFICE—EXECUTIVE LEVEL
“Today… the Marketing Department is undergoing a corporate detox reset.”
She paused briefly,
like she was choosing her words carefully.
“Do not pay attention to anyone.
In a few minutes,
five hundred exhausted employees will become…
five hundred of the best specialists in the multiverse.”
Blindy blinked. Then again.
Fluttered his eyes like he’d just come out of an NSC cycle himself.
“Heh…
yeah…
I… highly doubt that…”