The Sundered Floor

“What do you think we do down there, anyway?” Hythlodaeus wondered.

“Who knows?” Hades replied as he buttoned up his work shirt. “The entire point of the sundered floor is that we have no idea.”

“That doesn’t mean we cannot wonder.” From behind him, Hythlodaeus’ arms snaked around to his front and helped him with his buttons. “Helped” him. He misaligned them and Hades had to fix them. “Perhaps we work together. Ooh, maybe we’re embroiled in a scandalous workplace romance!”

“I should hope that we’re both more professional than that!” Hades sputtered.

Hythlodaeus chuckled. He rested his chin on Hades’ shoulder. “Who knows? The entire point is that we have no idea.”

When Emet-Selch feels a body draping over the back of his seat and a pair of arms snaking around his shoulders, he doesn’t even have to look to know who’s there. “Raphael,” he says with carefully-controlled indignation. “Oughtn’t you be in Concept Review?”

“We would have more to review if Concept Development worked harder to meet their quota.” Raphael continues to lean on Emet-Selch as he peers at his monitor. “There.” He points at a set of opaque symbols in one corner. “Those ones. You’re welcome.”

Emet-Selch huffs and scrolls until those symbols are off-screen. “You haven’t been trained in Concept Development.”

“No, but I’ve seen enough of your work from my end that I know what it looks like.” Finally he stands up, his lavender braid brushing against Emet-Selch’s cheek. Emet-Selch swats it away.

“Oh, hello, Raphael!” Elidibus smiles at him. “Is there aught we can do to welcome you to our little abode? Would you like some sunflower seeds from the vending machine?”

“Oh, no, I…” Raphael pauses. “You have sunflower seeds?”

“You don’t?” Fandaniel asks.

“Would you like to see our lunch room?” Elidibus stands and gestures.

Emet-Selch sighs, but at least Raphael is now somebody else’s problem.

“Fandaniel attempted suicide again last night.”

Emet-Selch sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know that, as I’m the one who found him with his head in the sink and then performed CPR.” Fandaniel plugged the drain with paper towels, then held his face under with a frankly incredible strength of will until he went unconscious.

“As the senior concept developer,” says Athena, “it falls on you to ensure your coworkers are having their needs met. How did you miss this?”

“I…” Emet-Selch hadn’t missed it. Fandaniel makes no secret of the fact that he wants to kill himself and his outie both, and cause as much trouble as possible for the company in the process. There is only so much one senior developer could do. Only so much anyone could do.

Athena huffs in irritation. “The cost of the excess water used in his attempt will be docked from your outie’s pay. Further, as Fandaniel’s outie is currently in hospital, you will be responsible for meeting his portion of the quota until he returns.”

“H-hi there.”

The face on the video is Fandaniel’s, but not. He looks tired, defeated, broken down in a way that Fandaniel himself never is, no matter how many shifts he spends in the break room.

“I got your resignation request,” not-Fandaniel says. “Again. I’m sorry you’re so unhappy down there. Really, I am. I wish there was something I could do, but…” His voice gets quieter. “I really need this job. Before I got hired by Lifestream, I was… I was fired from five jobs in the span of a year.” He looks away from the camera. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I need… ______ needs this.” Where he might have been saying someone else’s name – a lover? A child? — Lifestream censored it, leaving only a blank. “Your request is denied.”

The TV screen goes dead. Emet-Selch, Lahabrea, and Elidibus chance a glance each at Fandaniel, who just stares forward in blank horror.

“They can wake us up,” Lahabrea hisses.

“I’m sorry?” Emet-Selch’s brow furrows in confusion.

“After we went home last night, I found myself somewhere else. In my home. Athena was there, demanding to know what I had done with the piece of contraband Fandaniel planted on me after our visit to Concept Review. She called it the ‘overtime contingency’.”

The visit to Concept Review that Emet-Selch had insisted upon. Before he can get defensive, though, something occurs to him. “Wait. Athena was there? Why would she be the one to do such a thing? Would that duty not be more within Hegemone’s purview?”

Lahabrea pauses. It seemed he hadn’t considered that. “It would, wouldn’t it? I was a bit too flabbergasted at the moment to take note of that.”

“The important thing,” Elidibus cuts in, “is that we are not strictly confined to this place. If we can but formulate a plan…”

“We can get out of here,” Fandaniel finishes. His face contorts itself into a broader smile than Emet-Selch has ever seen on him.

“You’ll stay behind?” Elidibus asks, concerned. “Aren’t you the least bit curious what your life looks like on the outside?”

Emet-Selch shrugs dismissively. “We’ve speculated that Lahabrea has some personal connection to Athena; it would be a shame if he were unable to investigate. ’Twould be cruel to deny Fandaniel this opportunity. And, though I mean no offense, Elidibus…”

“I am too short to reach both switches at once. Of course…”

“And as supervisor to the lot of you, it falls on me to take responsibility when our little scheme is eventually uncovered,” Emet-Selch continues. “I will not place that blame on anyone else.”

Fandaniel stands in the entryway of… somewhere. Someplace small, cluttered. He’s halfway through shrugging off his coat, or putting it on, he doesn’t know which.

“Hermes!” exclaims a high-pitched voice that he’s never heard before. “W-w-welcome home!”

He cranes his neck around the nearby doorway and sees a teenaged girl standing in the kitchen, pulling a microwave dinner out of the freezer. She flashes a bright smile at him that almost changes his mind.

But only almost.

Because now Fandaniel knows exactly how to make Hermes pay.