Team Work (standard:science fiction, 3203 words)
Author: Gavin J. Carr	Added: Jan 31 2005	Views/Reads: 3705/2279	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
You have to be ruthless in business. A future corporation comes up with a unique way of creating cut-throat employees.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

the city streets, cars and trucks wedged nose to tail in one long 
snaking jam.  From above, it looked for all the world like a circuit 
board – the police flyers whizzing above the traffic like electrical 
impulses. 

I leaned back on the padded seat and closed my eyes.  The steady hum of
the flier's engines was lulling.  Gradually, I felt my eyes grow heavy 
and my head sink to my chest. 

I was dreaming.  I stood in a gently rolling meadow.  All around was
sweet grass and delicate blooms nodding in the warm summer breeze.  In 
the distance I could see a great lake, its dark waters sparkling in the 
sunlight like an iridescent jewel.  Beyond the meadow, and bracketing 
the lake, were woods, the trees a unique and vibrant shade of green.  
And beyond this glorious sight were mountains, their graceful sweeping 
ascent like divine punctuation separating the heavens from the earth. 

I began to move through the meadow.  My footfalls released seedpods and
disturbed plump insects as they gathered pollen.  I reached out my 
hands and touched the petals of flowers.  I felt at peace, as thought I 
had always been here and always would be – as permanent and unshakable 
as those mountains in the distance. 

Suddenly I was aware of a change.  It started with a sound – a far-off
hooting or bellow like the call of some fearsome beast.  I froze in my 
tracks and looked around.  The wind had shifted.  The warm summer 
breeze had disappeared, replaced by the searing heat of a blast-furnace 
and the greasy smell of oil. 

Something was coming. 

The bellow sounded again, this time closer.  It moved the grass in a
tidal ripple and drove birds from the trees.  As I watched, an 
iron-shod hand parted the branches of a mighty spruce as easily as I 
had parted the grass a moment before.  A pair of red eyes looked at me 
from above the tree-line, shining like lamps.  They peered into my 
heart and I felt my soul shrivel and die under their scrutiny. 

I opened my mouth and tried to scream, but nothing came – only an
inarticulate croak.  The figure strode forward and snapped the top off 
a tree.  I looked at its face and saw it was grinning, row upon row of 
chrome teeth, as sharp and savage a scimitars, winking in the sunlight. 


The creature opened its mouth fully and I covered my ears, sure it would
bellow.  But instead it laughed - a grating, screeching sound like 
twisted steel.  And then it spoke. 

“Ruthless,” it said in a curiously gentle voice.  “You have to be
ruthless in this business.” 

I was dimly aware that I had begun to cry.  Salt tears soaked my cheeks,
ran over my lips. 

The creature turned its head and spat fire onto the woods.  They burned.
 The meadow burned.  The flowers burned.  In the distance, the lake 
boiled and the mountains erupted.  The world was turned to fire and 
black ash.  The creature simply laughed. 

I opened my eyes to find Syed looking at me. 

“Bad dream?” she asked.  “You were groaning – moving about.” 

I blinked and sat up straight in my chair.  “God, I'm really not looking
forward to this.  I'm having bloody nightmares now!” 

I felt the flier slow as we pulled up to a massive building.  It was
pyramid shaped, landing lights blinking in the darkness, beckoning us 
inwards. 

I craned my neck as we approached and could see an illuminated sign –
‘Temple Leisure' it read, and below, ‘Life is what you make it'. 

“A leisure centre,” said Syed.  “Maybe Fitzsimons's not so bad after
all.  A nice game of Grav-ball – good team sport!” 

“Let's hope,” I said, although I didn't think Grav-ball was the bosses'
style – it wasn't bloody enough for Fitzsimons. 

* 

The receptionist gave us a smile and pushed a button on the desk as we
filed in.  I didn't like that smile.   There was something unpleasant 
and predatory about it, as though she was thinking of what was in store 
for us and relishing it. 

“Galaxy Finance, party of eight?” she asked. 

We nodded and shuffled uncomfortably. 

“Mr Dobson will be with you soon to show you the way.” 

We paced the lobby and looked at the pictures on the wall.  They showed
smiling, happy families snorkelling in Temple Leisure's indoor reef; 
another showed a sexy blond just about to reach the summit of Temple 
mountain; a third picture depicted three leather clad motor cyclists 
racing around the centre's track. 

All good wholesome fun.  Then why did he feel as though they were in for
something unpleasant, as though they were being lured into a false 
sense of security? 

I pulled my eyes away from the pictures and looked at my work mates.  No
smiles there.  Even Wakefield, who had been filled with  enthusiasm the 
day before, wore a frown on his face.  He was pacing up and down the 
lobby, arms clasped behind his back, staring at the floor. 

A pair of glass doors opened at the end of the lobby and a man stepped
through.  He was dressed in a matt back suit, his face curiously blank 
as though he were an amalgam of many faces, jumbled up to make a 
featureless whole.  Surgery, I thought.  Lots of surgery. 

“Good morning,” said the man.  “I'm Max Dobson, the manager of Temple
Leisure.” 

We nodded in acknowledgement, forcing smiles on our faces. 

“If you'd like to follow me, I'll show you to our briefing room and give
you a rundown on what's in store.” 

We followed him through the glass doors and down a carpeted hallway. 
There were more pictures on the wall, antique inspirational prints – 
the kind that used to hang on office walls to motivate the workers.  I 
gave a low whistle; they had to be worth a fortune.  I glanced at one 
as we passed.  It was a photograph of a tiger in mid-leap, underneath I 
could just make out the faded words: ‘Determination.  We have the power 
to succeed'. 

Dobson led us into a dim side room.  There was row upon row of foldaway
seating like you'd find in an old theatre.  At the end of the room 
there was a raised dais with a holo-rig set behind it. 

“Take a seat please.  Make sure you're comfortable.”  He stepped nimbly
onto the dais and took up position centre stage. 

He rubbed his hands together like a market trader.  “It's great you
could all make it.  I'd just like to take a moment to welcome you all 
to Temple Leisure.  Have any of you been before?” 

We looked at one another and shook our heads. 

Dobson laughed as though it were absurd that this was our first time in
his Leisure Centre. 

“Let me tell you a bit about ourselves,” he said.  “We specialise in
tailoring life-affirming experiences for our customers.  I know what 
you're all thinking – They all say that.  They promise the moon and 
never deliver.”  He reached into the pocket of his suit and produced a 
small ball about the size of grape.  “The difference here is that if we 
promise you the moon, you get the moon.”  He squeezed the ball and the 
room instantly changed.  The dim briefing area was gone, replaced by 
the scarred and pitted surface of a lunar landscape. 

Dobson laughed again.  “Don't worry folks, don't be alarmed.  It's
simply a high grade holo.”  He paced up the isle between our seats, 
kicking puffs of moon dust into the air.  “We have invested in the 
latest technology to ensure that our customer has the 
most...comprehensive experience available.  What you see here is good, 
but it's just a demonstration.  Our executive facilities are state of 
the art – a million times better than this.  In fact...” 

He looked around, as though he were sharing a secret with us and didn't
want to be overheard.  “If you can tell the difference between our 
holo-packages and real life – well, we'll triple your money!” 

He turned around and headed back to where the dais had been.  “Anything
you desire, folks.  Want to take a trek in the Amazon – we can do it!  
The Amazon may be gone in the real world, but not here!  Want to see 
the lost city of Atlantis – not a problem; we'll even fix it so you 
don't have to worry about bulky diving equipment.  Or how about a visit 
to an alien civilisation – nothing could be easier – in fact that's one 
of our most popular packages.” 

There was an excited murmur in the room now.  Each of us was caught up
in Dobson's pitch, considering the possibilities. 

I felt Williams punch my shoulder lightly.  “What about that then?” he
said, a grin on his face.  “Anything we desire!” 

I had to admit it was a heady thought.  I felt a grin crack on my own
face. 

“Yes, folks, Temple Leisure can deliver,” Dobson continued.  “We know
what our customers want and we make it a reality.” 

He squeezed the ball and the landscape bled away until we were back in
the briefing room.  I felt suddenly depressed, as though released from 
a wonderful spell. 

Dobson smiled at us – the same predatory smile the receptionist had worn
a while ago.  “I've spoken with your boss – Mr Fitzsimons -and he's 
told me what you need.  You know, from our perspective it's an 
interesting problem.  The technology is quite new and this is the first 
team package we've ever put together.” 

My enthusiasm burned away like morning mist in the sunlight.  For one
wonderful moment I had thought we were to choose our own holo-package.  
I should have known better – Fitzsimons was a control freak, there was 
no way he would leave it up to us. 

“You need a goal,” said Dobson.  “Some specific task that you can work
together to achieve.  Mr Fitzsimons also stressed to us the importance 
of a single-minded approach in your business.” 

[I]Ruthless.  You have to be ruthless in this business.[/I]  I shuddered
at the thought of the quiet, mechanical voice. 

“Well, I'm happy to say we've come up with something.  I'm not going to
tell you what it is – you can discover that for yourselves – but rest 
assured, once you've experienced this all of you will have the 
necessary qualities to go forward in the cut-throat world of business.” 


* 

The room was uncomfortably warm.  Along one side there was a glass booth
full of complicated looking machinery and techs in white coats.  On the 
other, ten squat boxes that looked ominously like coffins.  Each of 
them had a U-curtain rail like you see around hospital beds. 

“Here we are,” said Dobson, encompassing the room with a flourish. 
“Hardly sumptuous, I know, but fully functional.”  He motioned to one 
of the techs behind the glass.  A tall, well-proportioned man stepped 
out of the booth.  “Let me introduce you all to Geoff Fryel – he's our 
chief tech and will be controlling the simulation.” 

“Thanks, Max,” said Fryel.  “Everything is prepped ladies and gentlemen,
and I don't propose to hold you back.  Please rest assured that there 
is no physical risk whatsoever in this procedure.  I helped pioneer 
this work in the military and commercial sector and it's totally safe.  
There's absolutely no need to worry.” 

Dobson looked annoyed.  “Of course it's safe – and damn good fun too. 
Right Geoff?” 

“Oh.  Yes, damn good fun.” 

“Great.  Let's get going then.” 

We were each led to a box and told to undress.  I pulled the curtain
around the box and stripped off.  The floor felt horrible and gritty 
under my bare feet.  I stood there, feeling vulnerable and slightly 
ashamed. 

There was a pneumatic hiss and I stepped back in alarm as the top of the
box eased itself open. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you'll find a jar of gel in the box.  Please
apply it to all exposed areas.” 

All exposed areas?  I was naked for Christ's sake. 

I cleared my throat and shouted: “Everywhere?” 

“Yes, everywhere.  The gel helps conduct electrical impulses which are
essential to the simulation.” 

I opened the jar and scooped a handful of the gel onto my palm.  It was
pink and warm, trembling sinisterly in my hand.  I took a deep breath 
and rubbed the stuff on my chest, working my way through the jar until 
it was empty. 

After I had finished I put the jar on the floor next to the box and
wondered what came next.  I felt funky – my hair dark and matted to my 
head like a newborn. 

“Please climb into the box,” said Fryel.  “Watch your step, that gel's
slippy.” 

He wasn't kidding.  I almost broke my neck with the first step I took. 
Somehow I managed to remain upright long enough to squelch into the 
box. 

“Okay, great.  We ready to go?” I heard Fryel ask.  “Relax everyone –
the fun's about to begin.” 

The door lowered itself down gradually and I felt a wave of panic.  For
an instant I felt like screaming and leaping out of the box.  But the 
image of Fitzsimons flashed into my mind and I managed to suppress my 
fear.  If I was to back out now I'd be out of a job. 

The door closed with a click.  Inside it was completely dark.  As dark
as a man's soul. 

* 

The ground was a twisted sculpture of agony.  It had once been a
quagmire, a churning mass of mud that had frozen in jagged divots. 

I looked up and saw my own breath billow out in front of me.  It was so
cold.  I stamped my feet and shouldered my rifle, blowing on my 
reddened hands. 

Towards my left was a small wooden hut with a single window and a tin
chimney trailing a ribbon of smoke.  The door of the hut opened and 
Syed stepped down, leading Kaiser – the German Shepherd she had grown 
so attached to over the months we'd been here. 

[I]Months.[/I]  Could that be right?  I knew it couldn't be.  The
rational part of my mind knew that this was a simulation - that we'd 
only been here a few hours.  But still, subconsciously it felt like 
months and I had the whispy half formed memories of my time spent here. 


“There's another load arriving,” said Syed.  “I just got the call. 
Better get the rest so we can get this done.” 

I nodded and tramped my way back to the gate.  Behind it stood
Wakefield, smoking a roll-up. 

“Another load coming through, Wakefield.  Better open up the gate.” 

Wakefield produced a key and fumbled with the padlock.  I suddenly
noticed how bad he looked.  His face was pale and pinched, devoid of 
his usual joviality. 

He looked at me through a pall of tobacco smoke and blinked.  “I'll be
glad when this is over,” he said.  “God.  Yesterday was terrible...I-I 
never thought...I mean...God!” 

I saw that he was crying.  The cigarette dropped from the corner of his
mouth and died on the frost.  He raised his hands and covered his face, 
sobbing hopelessly. 

I stood watching him, not knowing what to say.  After a moment he seemed
to compose himself.  He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and hiccoughed. 

“I'm sorry,” he said.  “It's this place.  It's everything.  That bastard
Fitzsimons.” 

“That bastard Fitzsimons,” I agreed.  In the near distance I could hear
the sound of an approaching train.  The next load. 

“W-Why?  That's what I want to know,” said Wakefield.  “What good will
this do?  What's the point?” 

I turned and watched as the engine eased in, steam puffing like
fairy-tale clouds. 

“Why?” I said.  “I'll tell you why, Wakefield.  Because you have to be
ruthless.” 

I left him and walked towards the train and it's loaded carriages. 
Behind me the chimneys of Auschwitz belched their evil black smoke. 

THE END. 


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