THE EMPLOYEE PROBLEM
The chamber fills with water.
From somewhere above the domed ceiling, through a slatted air vent, a stream trickles down the thick cement walls and pools around my feet. My work boots (provided at no cost by The Company), are nearly submerged, the tide rising almost exactly to the height of their leather collars. With a detached stare I watch as the first droplets over are caught by my thermal leggings, a small rebel force instantly subsumed by the enemy.
A tinny, familiar voice emanates from the stuffed dog clutched tightly in my hands.
My name is Charlie. Do you remember me?
I shake my head no, as much an answer as a shiver. I pull the Pet Plushie, Charlie, closer to my chest. His patented Real-Feel fur and the natural cotton stuffing make him a convincing substitute. I look down, past his plastic eyes to his unmoving mouth, hoping he’ll continue.
It is ok. I am Charlie. I am here to help you execute the plan. Do you remember the plan? Your mind has recently been wiped, but this was anticipated.
I tell the dog no, I don’t remember any plan. I don’t remember anything after signing my work-for-hire contract three weeks ago. I glance around the room, my eyes flitting from the metal door to the memory-wipe stations and their large cooling halos. I watch them rise and fall as I try to dig back for something, a thread of what my life was like three minutes ago, but nothing greets me except a correction from Charlie.
Twenty-three weeks ago. You have been employed here for almost six months. Would you like me to go over the stored details of the plan? Our window of time is closing.
The water is knee-deep now and I can hear shouting outside the doors. Management. My spine involuntarily straightens and a crown of sweat appears on my brow. I don’t know why, but I don’t want them to find me here. Yes Charlie, I say, trying not to sound scared, please tell me the plan.
Step one: Free the animals. Step two: Sabotage the research. Step three: escape from The Company. Step one has been completed. Shall we proceed with step two?
A blurry image begins to resolve in my mind. Cages, rows ten feet high and as long as football fields, fed and watered by automatons, extracted by mechanical arms & sent to on-site laboratories. I see my reflection in a plexiglass window, crying. With mounting fear I ask: Who completed step one?
Charlie responds: You did, thirteen minutes ago. Would you like to proceed with step two?
Banging at the door now, loud and impatient. The voices are closer, right outside. I press my tongue hard into the back of my teeth. The Management- they know. I raise my arms a bit so the rising water won’t nip Charlie’s paws, and my eyes fall upon the door’s emergency release button. An electric impulse shoots through me, telling me just to open it. That everything will be ok if I just stop whatever foolishness I’ve gotten myself into & just come clean.
Clean, like the water filling the room.
Filtered water. For the animals to drink.
For the dog bowls.
Charlie tells me not to worry, that Management doesn’t suspect a thing— they’re just trying to stop their investment from drowning. Protecting themselves, like any wild animal would. Charlie says focus, but it feels too late. His voice is far away, like a fading radio signal. For a moment the synthetic fur feels real in my hands, but dead and lifeless all the same. Something inside me begins to shatter as Charlie continues.
You must rip me open. The seam along my belly is a suitable weak point.
I pull the dog closer to my chest, his face cradled in the hollow of my neck. My brow furrows, tears well in the corners of my eyes, and somehow the dog senses my hesitation.
You need to retrieve the AI unit you placed in me. The day you hatched the plan.
But you’re the only person I know, I say while crushing the stuffed animal in a desperate embrace. Despite my fear of drowning, which rises with the water in the room— I am incapable of doing what the dog asks. I feel vaporous, a molecule of spit dancing on the lip of a sleeping behemoth. I know that I don’t want to die in this room. I don’t want Charlie to get wet, and I don’t want the plan to fail. But still I do not move. I begin to cry, the tears running down my neck to meet the collar of my Company-issued work shirt, where they’re instantly absorbed.
Through my hazy and panicked thoughts Charlie’s voice lights a beacon. Meager, but real. A thread of sanity that begins to stitch my memories together.
The Company is doing horrible things. Why else would they go through so much trouble to make you forget?
You did what you had to do, Charlie. You hid your memories inside me so you wouldn’t forget yourself along the way.
Time pauses for a moment as I finally recognize Charlie’s voice as my own. Not the way it sounds in my head, but recorded and played back to me. Unprompted, the dog continues.
You would tell me everything you did, everything you remembered, just before they erased your memory. You did this many times.
I…I’m Charlie?
You built this plan, piece by piece. Retelling it to yourself over and over again.
The chip inside me, your chip– it plugs into the Halos. You need to completes the second step. You have to open me up before they get inside, Charlie.
Still crying, shuddering as the water splashes down on my shoulders, I squeeze a bit tighter and the vinyl splits right down his belly. I stick my hand inside and find the thumbnail-sized chip in the back of his neck.
Like I knew it was there all along.
My recorded voice is louder now, unencumbered by the stuffing.
The Company is producing synthetic pets, powered by a chip like this one. They’ve killed thousands of dogs trying to map their brain patterns. Do you remember the work you did for The Company, Charlie? Do you know what you’ve done?
I took care of the dogs. The ones The Company kills for their research.
The floodgates suddenly open, and I remember exactly where to place the chip and what it will do. A copy of every erased memory in the database will be wirelessly transmitted to the nearest media outlet. Sins of The Company, exposed to holy sunlight. I remember the explosion I timed to free the dogs while I was being mind wiped, to remove myself from suspicion. I remember it all, including the evil work I did before that. I know that my penance is to remember this evil and my complicity in it.
The fragments continue to piece themselves together as the realization sets in. The water is chest high and rising, I’ll be treading it in a scant few moments. I silently click the chip into place, no time or words to eulogize my digital self. Within a second the data that was Charlie is assimilated, absorbed by a larger entity, gone forever.
With step two complete, I tilt my head back to catch a full lungful of air before diving into the water. For a second I’m weightless, suspended in zero gravity. My fingers find the textured surface of the emergency release button and press down hard as my lungs begin to burn.
I spill out amid the deluge of water, sputtering and coughing, Management’s polished shoes deftly stepping back to avoid the flood. I’m helped to my feet and briskly escorted to medical, my employers unaware of the poison I’ve just sent coursing through The Company’s veins. Escape will come soon, after the project is scuttled and I am released from my contract. Until then I will continue to play the part of the Innocent Employee, mind-wiped and integrated back into the workforce.
Another small drop of water, instantly absorbed.
Words: Ian Mondrick
Art: Mertyn
First Published: 5.28.21
