Company

Company by Max Barry Page A

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Authors: Max Barry
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classifies the man in his head: Infrastructure Maintenance department—Clean Teams division, one of Jones's potential customers. Freddy leans close, bathing Jones in his smoky cigarette breath. “Don't you dare tell her.”
    “You send them anonymously?”
    “Of course! Have you
seen
her? She won't talk to me.”
    “I dunno, she seems nice enough.”
    Freddy shakes his head emphatically. “She can never know.”
    “If you're not going to tell her who they're from, why send them?”
    “Because she's beautiful.”
    “Well, that's nice, but I bet she'd like to know who sent her those flowers. They must have cost you fifty bucks.”
    “Forty.” He shrugs. “A week.”
    “A week?”
    “I've been doing this for a while.” He shifts his feet. “What?”
    “Freddy, you have to tell her.”
    “She'll probably be disappointed. She probably thinks it's from someone else.”
    “No, look, we'll come up with a plan. Trust me. She'll be thrilled to find out you've been sending her flowers.”
    “Hmm.” His eyes flick hopefully at Jones, then away. “I don't know about that.”
    Jones looks at his watch. “I'd better get inside. I want to catch someone from Senior Management before they start work.”
    Freddy takes a step backward in shock. “Senior Management?”
    “Yeah. I want to know what this company actually
does.”
    “Didn't you listen to the chimp story? It doesn't matter.”
    “But the company could be doing anything. What if it's unethical?”
    Freddy looks at him blankly.
    “I'd feel better knowing,” Jones says. “So I'm going to talk to Senior Management.”
    Freddy shakes his head slowly. “You're so different, Jones.”

    On level 17—which is to say, not far above ground level—morning sunshine pours through the gym's floor-to-ceiling windows. Holly, entwined in a machine that facilitates bicep crunches, has struck up a conversation with a communications manager from Corporate Marketing. The communications manager is about twenty-five and has a jaunty ponytail that swings from side to side as she power walks on a treadmill. Holly is enjoying talking to the communications manager, but she is becoming jealous of that ponytail.
    “First we had to cut out above-the-line advertising,” the communications manager says. “Then we cut advertising altogether. After that we were down to market research and PR. But lately we don't even do those.”
    “Then what do you do?”
    “Nothing. We don't have the budget.”
    “Nothing at all?”
    “Not since June.” The communications manager winks. “Don't tell anybody. So far, no one's noticed.”
    “Huh,” Holly says.
    “Before then, we were really under the gun. We got warned on expenses three times in a month. But now everyone's feeling really positive. Morale is way up.”
    “But what do you do all day?”
    “Oh, we're still working. We're working harder than ever. Every day we identify new ways to lower expenses. Just yesterday, we boarded up our office windows.”
    “You have windows?” Holly cries.
    “
Had.
Now they're covered in cardboard.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    “Infrastructure Management bills for windows. Covering them up cut our overhead by 8 percent. But we're just getting started. Today we're getting rid of our desks and chairs. We figure we don't really need them anymore, since we're not doing any marketing. And it's way better feng shui. We'll put the computers on the carpet.”
    “What do you use the computers for?”
    The communications manager's eyes widen. “Hey hey. That's the kind of thinking we could use in marketing. That's a great idea.”
    Holly stops crunching. “If you're not actually doing any marketing, aren't you worried they'll cut you?”
    “With expenses this low? Which company do you work for?” She laughs. Her ponytail swishes.

    Jones swipes his ID card through the elevator's reader and pushes 2, which is SENIOR MANAGEMENT. This is only Jones's fourth week at Zephyr Holdings, but he's heard

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