ALL MY CO-WORKERS ARE DEAD
ALL MY CO-WORKERS ARE DEAD
ALL MY CO-WORKERS ARE DEAD
ALL MY CO-WORKERS ARE DEAD

Jak Alam

There once was a place called the headquarters of Rotonda Transnational. It was in the middle of the city, nestled between the arteries of multinational trading and industry.

It was a place of diversity, modernity, equality, and integrity. At least that’s what was readily advertised.

This was what first drew in a drained, if still optimistic, young man named Abdullah Yousha.

But once again, like joining a university club with the expectation of proactivity and fun, he found reality wholly disappointing.

Underneath Rotonda Transnational’s beautified veneer, there was rot, every which way. Mismanagement, fraud, negligence, harassment, sexual abuse. Like a heap, it accumulated. The rot started as a small pile, things you can hide away in a single cabinet, but then it grew. Swelling into a flood, an ocean of sludge.

There was a vile stench that came out of it, and something picked up the scent.

“It” was attracted to the odor.

“It” dove head first into the whirling cesspool, and settled in, working its way into the fabric of the company.

Then one day, “It” got promoted.

That same day, Yousha had filed a complaint for workplace harassment and lack of vacations. Consequently, he found himself assigned extra unpaid overtime.

Clicking noises pervaded the office interior. Two employees typed incessantly on their mechanical keyboards. Sitting opposite one another was Mila and Yousha, both cubicles equally cluttered with files, both parties equally glued to their computer screens.

Mila dozed off now and then from exhaustion. She deleted sequential numbers of gibberish from reports she was to review, complete, and submit in an orderly fashion. And she woke up from time to time to find herself asleep on the keyboard.

Opposite her, Yousha was tired and drowsy; but fueled with copious servings of sugared-up coffee, he pushed through with speed and efficiency, never minding his migraines and pained eyes.

Mila leaned back from her computer and stretched her arms, letting out a noticeable yawn.

Yousha kept on his task, typing away at his keyboard.

Click, click, click, click, click.

Click, click, click, click, click.

Mila rose from her dazed state and looked up from her monitor. She turned her eyes to Yousha.

He sat with a straight back, a notepad in one hand and a calculator in the other.

Mila sensed this might be an opportunity to say something she had wanted to say. She straightened her back and tightened the satin tie around her collar.

She let out a slight cough and proceeded.

“So, is it okay if I send you the final draft of the Lafarge account tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sure, send it to my email by the evening,” he answered.

Mila went back to her computer screen, and a period of silence followed. Yousha engrossed himself in reading the contents of a manual.

Once again, Mila felt an urge to say something and she gazed at him once more.

“Hey, ar-are you free on Wensdays..?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Oh, when.. are.. you free, then?” she asked.

“I have work all the time,” he answered plainly, his dead eyes reflecting the monitor’s glow.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked him.

Turning over a page in the manual, he answered her, “No.”

Hearing his answer, her eyes widened and a semblance of a smile came upon her face.

“Can I be your girlfriend?” she asked.

Yousha put down the manual face down and grabbed his almost empty mug and took a sip from it. He then said to her, “Go fuck yourself,” and picked up the manual to continue where he paused.

“What, I’m sorry, I didn’t get that,” she said to him. Her eyes widened.

She smacked her lips and posed another question, putting on a dazzling smile, “Let me take you out to dinner first. I’ll take you out to lunch or dinner perhaps. I know a really good place that has killer fried rice.”

“No, thank you,” he said to her.

“I might not be much to look at right now, but I tell you, give me an hour to prepare and I’ll be looking like a sexy celebrity,” she said.

He didn’t reply. He kept on with his reading.

“Hey, come on, let’s not be rash. I’ll pay for everything, come on!” Her face blushed and she smiled faintly.

He didn’t say anything.

“I'll let you touch my nipples, I promise!” she said.

He didn’t react.

“You can fuck me in the ass in the bathroom right now, come on, go out with me! Just one time!” She begged him, as tears welled in her eyes.

Still he ignored her pleas and kept on with his reading.

She couldn’t hold it in anymore, she covered her face and let the tears stream down her cheeks.

Yousha finished his reading as Mila sobbed. He went back to his work on the keyboard.

Mila’s whimpers—and the clicking sounds of the mechanical keyboard—pervaded the room, and it was business as usual.

︎

An hour passed without any words.

Mila sat slouched in her adjustable chair. She looked at Yousha, who worked ever tirelessly on his computer, chugging occasionally from his one liter bottle.

She sneered at him.

“Why,” she asked, her voice cracked. Black streaks ran down her face.

“Why?” she asked, louder. “Why won’t you go out with me?”

Yousha didn’t move, he answered her without looking, “Because I have work to do.”

“Like hell! You aren’t the only one,” Mila scoffed. “Everyone around us has work to do, and everyone around has free time! Just tell me you have a girlfriend, or if you’re into guys.”

He stopped for a moment and finally looked at her, “Look around us and tell me who else is here.”

Mila, thinking it a joke, chuckled and turned her head to her surroundings.

Soon, she was faced with a revelation. Desks, tables, and chairs were all around her. All of them occupied by individuals lacking their heads.

“Guess it was so traumatizing that you made yourself forget,” Yousha said, looking around the room.

Decayed heads dotted the floor. Blood staining the carpet in brownish hues.

Mila stared confusingly. All there were cadavers, still in their work day best.

Yousha went back to his assignment. “Get back to finishing your work for the day, and go out to enjoy the vacation.”

“Va..ca..tion…?” She stuttered.

“Yeah. I’m done with mine,” he answered plainly.

The noise of an ascending elevator sounded from the hall.

The elevator stopped at this floor, its clunky doors sliding slowly open.

In the room, Yousha collected his things, shut down his computer, and threw scraps into the dustbin. While Mila sat in her chair, still processing the carnage around her.

The noise of footsteps, loud and heavy, replaced the familiar noise of clicking keys and papers. The footsteps grew closer.

Mila sat yet in her chair, unmindful of the racket of heavy thumps until a large shadow encompassed her.

She turned her head around to see. Her eyes widened and her breathing heavied. She looked up.

A being stood in front—with countless arms, a grotesque human face, horns where eyes should be, and a blubbery mass for a body.

“I got a situation. Wanna lop someone’s head off. Which one of you didn’t finish their work for the day?” It inquired.

Yousha stood up from his chair, jacket in hand, pointing his arm at his colleague.

“She hasn’t finished her work for the day and has failed to complete any of the tasks assigned to her in the past 6 months.”

He bluntly added: “Furthermore, she has been harassing me and verbally abusing me for declining her sexual advances. Along with that, I’d like to report that Ms. Barua has been pocketing money from the company, as well as embezzling for personal use.”

Mila looked on in shock. She rotated her head slowly to the entity that was now staring right at her. Into her very being.

Its expression had turned severe.

“Ms. Barua, I am severely disappointed in your actions. Not only have you feigned ignorance to your duties and conducted yourself in a shameless manner against the wishes of your fellow colleague, but you have also violated the sanctity of the trust that is instilled between employee and employer through the company charter. For such sacrilege against company values, I hereby terminate your employment. Effective immediately.”

“Wait, what?” she said, flabbergasted, her eyes still dazed.

A brief silence fell upon the space. The monstrous being cast its multiple protruding eyes onto Mila. She gazed into the gaping abyss, no sounds escaping her open mouth.

Yousha turned his face to the hanging clock in the distance, by the dozen or so desks to the south wall, where the computer monitors had a red, almost brownish tinge to their glow.

The being’s expression changed and gave way to a grinning smirk.

“Enough with formalities, off with your head now!” It swung one of its arms, which transfigured into the form of a blade.

Her head fell onto the floor, spilling spatters of blood on the furnishings. Her body remained on the chair. It will likely occupy it for many days to come.

“I got it in one fell swoop, nice!” the executive exclaimed.

It then reared its head towards Yousha and extended one of its arms, which materialized an envelope.

“Good job, Yousha. Here’s your pay and vacation bonus. You’ve earned it.”

Yousha put on his best smiling face, extendeding both his arms to receive the envelope. “Thank you, sir.”

“Also, I grabbed myself a few new pieces of meat, wanna join me? I got a premium thing, she got big lips, titties, you name it. Plus she’s 14. What do you say?” The executive’s multiple eyes scanned for even the slightest twitch in the star employee’s face.

Yousha kept on his bestest smile, resonating with the politeness of a Tier 1 salesperson, “Thank you for your generous offer, sir. But I prefer 2D girls. So I’ll have to pass on that.”

“Shame! Oh well, more meat for me for beatin’ and eatin’. See ya on the 6^th.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yousha then walked over to the elevator and descended to the ground floor. Proceeding to go on his long-awaited vacation.

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