Taking Stock by Scott Bartlett Page A

features another girl, holding another box of Borax? The idea is that it goes on forever—there’s an infinite number of girls, holding an infinite number of boxes. The Droste effect.”
    “If there’s a purgatory,” I say, “I bet it looks a lot like Spend Easy.”
    “I could have been working on the order, tonight, you know. But I volunteered to go fronting with you instead.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    “I’ve been reading the book you recommended. My Dad already owned it. You were right—it’s good. But I want to ask you something. King says to be a writer, you have to read a lot. So, can you recommend some stuff I should read?”
    “You mean, stuff that will help you write a book about a grocery store?”
    “Sure.”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Does he know yet?” someone says from behind us. Paul and I turn to see a guy with wide eyes standing near the end of the aisle. He’s clutching a tattered magazine against his chest. “Have you told him, Paul?”
    “Go away, Tommy. You need a hobby.”
    “He deserves to know. It concerns everyone.” Tommy appears to be in the process of going bald, though I’m sure he must still be in high school.
    “Know what?” I say.
    “Jesus, Tommy,” Paul says. “Why are you here? You aren’t even working tonight.”
    “I’m quitting.” He takes out a piece of paper tucked between the magazine’s pages and holds it up. “This is my letter to Ralph, notifying him of my resignation, effective immediately. I’m leaving it on his desk.”
    “What about two weeks’ notice?”
    Tommy shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. “You don’t get it, do you, Paul? Nobody needs to worry about their record of employment, anymore. It doesn’t matter how neatly the shelves are fronted. You don’t have to waste any more of your time doing society’s busywork.”
    Paul sighs.
    Tommy opens the magazine and holds it in front of my face. He points at a headline, which is printed in bright yellow block letters: “SUN TO EXPLODE JANUARY 12TH!”
    “That’s in 178 days,” Tommy says. “The sun will go supernova in 178 days, a lot sooner than science predicted—thousands of years sooner.”
    “Billions, actually,” I say.
    “Exactly. Thousands and thousands of years. Anyway. There was an archaeological dig in Greece a few years ago, and they found one of the Bible’s lost books. It’s all in there. It matches up with Revelations, too, if you consider recent world events. The government’s trying to cover up the whole—”
    “Tommy.”
    Tommy’s eyes go even wider. “They wouldn’t publish it if it wasn’t true, Paul!”
    “That article isn’t even mentioned on the cover.”
    “They didn’t want to start a panic, duh. They say that in the article.”
    “It’s a tabloid, Tommy. They’ll print anything.”
    Tommy puts a hand on my shoulder. “Get right with God. Put aside old grudges, and contact those you’ve lost touch with. Tell your family you love them.” He rolls up the magazine and stuffs it in his pocket. “I gotta get going. I’m late for paintball.”
    Paul and I are silent for a moment after Tommy leaves.
    “Anyway,” I say. “Do you know Cassandra?”
    “Yeah, cashier, right? Hot?”
    “She’s all right.”
    “She’s sexy as hell. Pretty sure she’s taken, though—I’d ask her out if she wasn’t. What about her?”
    “Never mind.” I wanted to see how far Ernie’s gossip has spread, but I’ve lost all desire to talk about her.
    I find a banana rotting behind some boxes of baking soda, and I take it back to the warehouse to throw out.
    Eric is standing next to the garbage chute with one of the Meat workers—Joshua, I think. The chute’s door is open, so I guess they were throwing some stuff out, but that’s not what they’re doing now. Eric’s face is red, and blood streams from Joshua’s nose. Eric is gripping Joshua’s shoulder with his left hand.
    “What happened?” I say, and Eric stares at me, blank-faced.