Company (40 page)

“What . . .” Holly says. She trails off. They stare at the screen.

“In terms of regular projects, well . . . do we still want to go through these?” Tom Mandrake looks at Eve, who doesn't react because she is watching Jones. Then she realizes and nods sharply. “Okay. Well, Project 442 is the study on how removing reminders of the outside world from the workplace affects worker productivity. You might remember, there were some interesting early results in this area.”

Mona nods. “They stay at work longer.”

“We're also seeing downtrends in personal calls. Unfortunately, I ran some of this by one of our psychologists, and he said it sounded like some of our subjects could be developing dissociative identity disorder.”

Blake says, “They're going schizo?”

“It's not schizophrenia. It's more like split personalities. One for work, one for home. We've had a few, well, slightly alarming incidents. People getting calls from their family and not recognizing their voices. That kind of thing.”

There's a moment's silence. Then an agent on Jones's left says, “Well, that could be anything. These people could be predisposed.”

“I'm not saying we should pull the study,” Tom says. “It's just, I think it could be a serious medical problem.”

Jones feels Eve's eyes crawling over him. And suddenly it's all he can do to keep from laughing.

“Step one, talk to our insurer,” Blake says. “We need to make sure we're covered if anyone goes postal because of this.”

“Stop,” Eve says. She's still looking at Jones. “Stop talking.”

A few minutes ago, Staff Services was filled with shouting and noise from the hockey game. Now it's silent. Throughout the department, as on the floors above and below, people cluster in cubicles and stare at computer screens.

Blake says, “What's the matter?”

Eve doesn't answer. But she's worked it out. Jones can see it in her eyes.

“Okay!” Jones says. “My turn?” He adjusts his tie. “First up, I'm pleased to report that the network is back.”

“What are they doing?” somebody says from behind Holly. She can't answer. She can't breathe. She has worked for Zephyr for four years, and in all that time the company never made sense. She thought it was her.

The words tear themselves from her chest. “We're a
study.
”

“One of the reasons this is good news,” Jones continues, “is you can now access Alpha's project files from any computer in the building. They're on network drive R. Another is you can get a live feed from the cameras without having to visit the level-13 monitoring room. There's sound and everything. I'm told the picture's a little jerky, but still—” This is as far as he gets before Blake drags him out of his chair.

Freddy clicks through drive R. At first he gets nowhere, because everything is organized by project name. Then he finds a directory of employee files, which contains one called
CARLSON-F.
Inside is a cross-reference of every project Freddy has apparently been involved in. There are five. The first, Project 161, is titled
WITHHELD REWARDS AND MOTIVATION.
Beneath that, in
INSTRUCTIONS,
it says:
BLOCK ALL PROMOTIONS REGARDLESS OF PERFORMANCE.

It's Gretel's first day back at work. She is feeling a lot better; people aren't hammering the switchboard today. She has a feeling that she might even be able to sneak out for a proper lunch.

The board blinks at her. “Good afternoon, reception.”

“Gretel? It's Holly Vale, from Staff Services. Can you come upstairs?”

“I'm on the phones.”

“I know. But there's something you need to see.”

Elizabeth emerges guiltily from Roger's office. Her body is tensed, ready for the accusation:
What have you been doing in there?
But it doesn't come. In fact, the department is curiously quiet. She looks up. There's nobody in sight.

She does a double take the first time she passes a cubicle. There are five or six people crammed in there, clumped around a monitor. None are making a sound. Curious and a little bemused, she comes up behind them and stands on tiptoe to peer over their shoulders. She sees the screen. At first it makes no sense. Then it does, and her hand creeps down to her abdomen.

Blake gets Jones by the shirt lapels and shakes. Jones's head bounces against the carpet.
“What have you done?”

“Let him go,” Eve says, on her feet.

Blake takes his hands back as if Jones is infectious.

“This is what we're going to do,” Eve says. “We're going to level 13, right now. We'll take it from there.”