6.z.
“Mexico . Philippines ,”
Senior Executive said into his phone.
“Project Exodus.”
There was a
flurry of motion as wall panels popped away, shifted position, and slammed into
place creating a long, wide corridor.
When the motion ceased a straight hallway, leading to a door with an
exit sign above it, lay before them.
“So… Care to
explain?” asked Franklin Buck.
“Oh it’s quite
simple,” said Senior Executive. “The
more you outsource key positions or departments to alternate work forces or
companies, the more you devalue the primary business. This makes it susceptible to take over by its
own subsidiaries.”
“Meaning?”
“I offered the
maintenance workers higher paying positions with my newly formed cubicle-wall
installation and removal business. Once
I controlled enough of the workforce, I used my contacts to engage the
Outsourcer stand-ins and formed another company employing them. Then, when enough Outsourcers were on board
we… Well let’s just say we terminated our contract with current management and
now hire ourselves out on an independent basis.”
“You know, that’s great,” said Business Woman,
“but do you think, maybe, we can get out of here and the two of you can discuss
business strategies later?”
Senior
Executive bowed slightly and gestured toward the exit.
The Union
did not hurry down the hallway, but they didn’t walk at a leisurely pace
either. As they neared the exit a faint
noise came bleeding through the walls and the floors hummed beneath their
feet. Franklin Buck put his ear to wall
but said nothing of the frothy pig sounds and labored breathing that he heard.
Through the
exit was a small room with a set of elevator doors.
“I’m hoping
this isn’t the elevator that brought us up here,” Supply and Demand said in
unison. “The one that didn’t go any
higher than twenty-six.”
The doors
opened and they crowded inside, each noting the single button on the small
metal panel. The number thirty-nine was
engraved upon its surface with an arrow pointing up.
“That’s a
relief,” said Franklin Buck, stepping up to the panel and pushing the
button. “Though I wouldn’t mind going
back down and getting out–”
But he never
finished his sentence. A trap door
opened up beneath his feet and he fell screaming into a dark shaft.
Corporate Man
dove at the hole, but the trap had snapped shut. He clawed at it ineffectively.
“Push it
again,” he shouted. “We’ve got to get
him out of there.”
Business Woman
pressed the button again and a trap door opened, but not the one in the
floor. This one was in the ceiling. It swung open and smacked Demand in the back
of the head. A metal ladder slid out of
the hole and clanged against the floor, obstructing the downward passage,
sealing them off from the One Hundred Dollar Man.
