Chapter 8.2

230 45 16
                                    

One week.

What did it mean for the fly, and for Sam? Ty wanted to know.

Damon voiced a hypothesis: "Flies can live up to a month or more in the wild, but this one only lived a week indoors, one-fourth of its natural lifespan."

"But it's only one fly. Plus, you said you didn't know how the shit-eater died," Sam said what Ty was thinking.

"Most likely, it died from an indiscernible error during the composition process, and it wasn't the only fly." Here, he opened a large container to reveal cache of dead flies. "I made lots, all at the same time, to be sure. They all lived for seven days, and on the seventh day, they convulsed for a short period before dying."

"How long do I have?" Sam asked.

Damon considered her answer the way he might consider food items on a menu. "A woman's average lifespan is eighty-six years, so one-fourth of that, maybe less."

"Twenty years?" Sam clarified.

"Twenty-one point five," Damon said.

"Twenty-one point five," she repeated.

Her voice slurred, which meant she was thinking, barely there.

Understandably, Sam stayed home from work the next day, and the next two days. Pen didn't mind. The store was low on hours. Three people were constantly on the schedule: Ty, Wallace, and Martine.

It was a slow Tuesday morning, thus they needed little in the way of help. All the same, Ty inquired about Antoinella, who he hadn't seen lately.

"She has one day of work this week," Martine said.

There was no hint of her usual smile as she spoke, and she wasn't willing to answer when Ty asked why Antoinella was working less hours. Eventually, she did do one thing to answer his question: Marilyn pointed up. Up meant the ceilings, and the ceilings meant the cameras. Likely, Martine didn't mind Pen watching, but more than likely, Pen wasn't the only one watching anymore.

In the lull between customers, Ty went to speak with Pen. He asked about the schedule, and why it was so thin before Halloween. Pen adopted his familiar candid attitude. Through him, Ty learned nearly all the new hires were being let go after Halloween. Even Antoinella and others with seniority were getting cut. Good Time planned to keep Ty, Wallace, Martine, and Sam.

"Why Sam?"

Ty couldn't figure it. She was a new hire, like the others. Unlike the others, she had called out numerous times and was often late coming in for shifts. Of all the new hires to keep, Sam was an odd choice.

Pen wouldn't look at him. Lying wasn't one of his talents.

"I like her."

"Antoinella's been her longer." Ty was used to pressing Pen until he caved. "Why does Sam take precedence?"

Barely a second passed before Pen gestured in surrender. "Okay, the Prominents asked me to keep her on, alright? I don't understand their reasoning, but I do follow orders."

Orders. It was a word-choice that stuck in Ty's mind. Orders were what people followed when they had no choice, when they were being told what to do, or else. If Pen refused Prominent orders, Ty could imagine what sort of an or else might follow.

Pen stared at Ty's creased brown, anticipating further questioning.

"They're here if you wanna ask them in detail about their choice of employees."

Ty was startled. "Why are they here?"

"For you." Pen made it sound obvious, when it really wasn't. "They originally wanted to talk to Sam, but since she's still out sick, they said you would do."

Obsolution ✔Where stories live. Discover now