Company by Max Barry Page B

it seemed obvious. There's no place in her career for a baby. But that initial reaction has tempered. A hidden, furtive part of her mind, the part that vetoed the condom, perhaps, is growing in influence. It is seeping into her marrow. Elizabeth is losing ground to it. It is a shocking process, or would be if it weren't so anesthetizing. She only glimpses the true extent of its power at moments like this, when she realizes that she is gazing across the aisle at Roger with her mouth hanging open.
    Roger catches her gaze. He blinks in surprise. Elizabeth snaps her mouth closed and wheels around to her desk. She clenches her hands into fists.
No! Please, God, not that!

    “I don't know why it's such a surprise to everyone,” Klausman says. He is seated behind the biggest desk Jones has ever seen. Two walls of his office are glass, and low-lying clouds drift by. Jones feels as if the building is in the process of toppling over; he keeps realizing he's leaning to the left, seeking balance. “I'm simply applying scientific methods of investigation to a business environment. We don't expect scientists to work on live human beings. They use labs. They experiment in controlled conditions. It's the exact same concept.”
    Jones says, “But you are practicing on live human beings.”
    “No, no, no. Zephyr Holdings is an entirely artificial company. It has no actual customers. Oh, wait, I see, you're saying the staff are live people. Yes, that's true. But it's not as if we're hurting them. We give them jobs—essentially pointless jobs, yes, but they don't know that. And when you get right down to it, most jobs are pointless. Pick any single position in a company and eliminate it, and the remaining staff find a way to cover. It's true. We proved it in Logistics.”
    “Still . . . isn't there some kind of ethical—”
    “In fact, Zephyr employees are better off
because
they don't have to deal with customers.”
    “What's wrong with customers?”
    Klausman laughs. The suits behind Jones chuckle. “Forgive him. He's young.” He leans forward. “Customers are vermin, Mr. Jones. They infect companies with disease.” He says this with complete solemnity. “A company is a system. It is built to perform a relatively small set of actions over and over, as efficiently as possible. The enemy of systems is variation, and customers produce variation. They want special products. They have unique circumstances. They try to place orders with after-sales support and they direct complaints to sales. My proudest accomplishment, and I am being perfectly honest with you here, Mr. Jones, is not the Omega Management System and its associated revenue stream—which, by the way, is extremely lucrative. It is Zephyr. A customer-free company. Listen to that, Mr. Jones.
A customer-free company.
In the early days, you know, we tried to simulate customers. It was a disaster. Killed the whole project. When we started again, I cut every department that had external customers. It was like shooting a pack of rabid dogs. Now, I'm not claiming Zephyr Holdings is perfect. But we're getting there, Mr. Jones. We're getting there.”
    Jones says, “This is a lot to take in.”
    “I wish I could give you a few days to consider it. But I can't. You're either with us or against us, I'm afraid.”
    “You're offering me a job? As what?”
    Klausman holds up his palms. “I just do vision. Eve, take Mr. Jones somewhere and fill him in on the details, will you?”

    Eve tips Klausman a wink on the way out, and Klausman says, “Be gentle with him,” and they both laugh, which concerns Jones somewhat. Eve slips her arm through Jones's and marches him down a corridor. “Want to get some sun? A few hours in this place at a time is about all I can stand.”
    Jones says something in response, but can't remember what, because Eve's left breast is snuggling up against his bicep. When she reaches for the elevator button, her honey-brown hair brushes past his face, and the