Down the Rabbit Hole

*

Jeremy retreated to his cubicle, pondering Mrs. Hartz’s response to his question. If you don’t pay attention, nothing happens. True enough, in general.

He sank down into his office chair, wondering if it was supposed to be a meaningful message, like something that should be helpful. He gazed at his screens. Was sitting in this box surrounded by his virtual life considered paying attention? The others all seemed to think so.

It was good in one way. He could contact people, maintain his work, make sure people didn’t think he was dead so his life wouldn’t be a total mess if he ever got out of here and back to it. Which would be when? How long could he have purely virtual relationships before his real life started breaking down? He couldn’t even consider the question without freaking.

Had Macy really done this to him?

Okay, he was crazy. Macy couldn’t have done this to him, because it was clearly some psychotic episode going on inside his brain. It couldn’t be real. And if it wasn’t real then Macy couldn’t have done it. Not that he believed she would have even if she could.

But she could have been the reason for his psychotic break. How could he have gotten things so wrong? He’d thought they were . . . falling in love.

What a sap he was for getting choked up. He stood up and bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, then brought his hands up to boxing position and jabbed at the air, once, twice, threefourfive. Get a grip. Be strong. You can get over this—over her. And hopefully that’ll get you back to reality.

He reached for his phone again, then rolled his eyes at how slow he was to break the habit when he knew it wasn’t there. It was like constantly flipping light switches when the power was out.

He decided to leave his cubicle—Mrs. Hartz be damned—and, on a whim, started to jog. He sprinted for ten cubicles and slowed for ten, going back and forth between the two while keeping an eye on what was inside each cube as he passed. Which was still one hypnotized person after another. But the exercise was invigorating, made him feel more like himself, so he continued running.

Jeremy’s heart was just beginning to race again with anxiety when a break in the wall suddenly opened up on his left. He stumbled to a halt in front of it and found himself looking into a marbled alcove that housed a bank of elevators.

“Yes.” He moved swiftly to the call buttons, pressed the down arrow, and looked above the sets of doors for illuminated numbers. Nothing, he thought, figures. Still, elevators went to ground floors and ground floors led outside. If he could get out onto the street, he could figure out where he was.

After several minutes with no change in elevator status, Jeremy pressed the “up” arrow so that both were lit. Immediately he heard movement behind one of the bays, the familiar lurch and roll of an elevator car moving in the shaft. Finally there was a ding and the far left doors opened, the up arrow shining red in the dim alcove.

Squelching a moment of fear that this might not be an improvement over his current situation, he boarded the elevator. After all, any change would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t going to get anywhere trapped in that cube farm with the Queen of Hartz breathing down his neck.