He asked for submissions of the title of reader's current WIP (works in progress) so I decided to play along.
I shared the name of my current work - "Malwhere" - and lo and behold! It was selected as one of the Top 10.
The followup challenge was to create a < 1,000 word piece of fiction. So here it is. ; )
####
"Malwhere"
The ominous tones of Darth Vader’s theme music
erupted from Lucretia’s laptop and echoed throughout her corner office. The
Director was Instant Messaging her. She squinted at the message box. All she
could make out was the sender’s name in bold red font, followed by lines of
strange symbols.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she muttered and
responded back to the instant message.
HIGGINS,
L: My
Aramaic is a bit rusty. English, please.
DIRECTOR,
THE:
Ms. Higgins, the Board requires
assistance from you. They need information on estimated effects of a locust
swarm in Madagascar, cross-referenced with the profits and losses in commodity
quinoa trading markets, aggregated by potential impact of a global dengue fever
pandemic. By COB today, please.
She glared at the message on her screen. This
was an impossible task, especially given the recent budget cuts.
DIRECTOR,
THE:
The Board is concerned about certain
activities from The Competition. This represents an existential threat to
AsurasTek.
Lucretia closed her eyes and counted to five
before typing her response.
HIGGINS,
L:
It will be challenging. Our systems
are maxed out. To model something like this will take more resources. If I
could re-bind some of our other daemons-
Her screen flashed an angry red and the stench
of brimstone filled her office. A peal of thunder rattled the windows.
DIRECTOR,
THE:
Unacceptable. The Board is adamant.
The earthquakes in South America, the drought in Europe and never-ending
sequels to “Fifty Shades of Grey” are the only initiatives generating enough
MPP to keep us solvent.
HIGGINS,
L:
I understand Misery Product per Person
is what keeps us out of the red but if we don’t have enough daemons for the
incantation, what am I to do?
She mashed the Return key with enough force to
break the nail on her index finger. She gasped at the sudden pain and stuck her
finger in her mouth, but not before a single scarlet drop of blood splashed
onto the keyboard. It hissed briefly and vanished in a curl of copper-scented
smoke.
DIRECTOR,
THE:
Precisely, Ms. Higgins. It will likely
take blood. Our soothsayers agree that you’ll think of something. I suggest you
do so. Need I remind you that, as per your contract, should the company go under,
your soul comes with us? Good day.
Lucretia leaned back in her chair and exhaled
slowly. Her mind was racing, awash with desperate plan after plan. For the next
few hours she lost herself in the pages of musty tomes, tattered grimoires and
scraps of Gnostic incantations written on cocktail napkins. Even Google
couldn’t provide any answers. Filing an SRO - Soul Requisition Order - would
take days to complete. Days she didn’t have.
Shortly before noon, Lucretia slumped into her
chair. She was fresh out of ideas. Conjuring a daemon powerful enough to run
the computation wasn’t the problem. That was the easy part. The hard part was
binding the infernal creature to one’s will, forcing it into a computer server
and making it do what needed to be done. That was the challenge. Well, that and keeping one’s soul where it
belonged. Daemons did not enjoy being summoned and could get fussy from time to
time.
Lucretia started as her phone beeped. She
stabbed the TALK button.
“Karen? Didn’t I tell you to hold all my calls?”
she snapped.
“Ma’am, your 12 o’clock is here. Mr. Riordan?”
answered Karen, her assistant.
She’d completely forgotten about the interview.
Had meant to cancel it, in fact. Riordan had a bad reputation in an already
rotten industry. While a talented infernal technology professional, he was
regarded as self-serving, conniving, homicidal and ambitious. The last thing
she needed was some backstabbing -
Lucretia smiled as the last gear fell into
place.
“Sorry, Karen. I forgot. It’s been hectic today.
Why don’t you send him…” She looked around her office. Piles of books were
strewn across the floor and the stench of sulphur was still in the air.
“Karen, could you please send him to the data
center? Summoning pentagram number four, I think.” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Lucretia hung up and rummaged
through her desk.
“Where did I…” she muttered.
Her fingers finally found the ice-cold steel of
her sacrificial athame, a gift from the Director to mark her 30th
anniversary of employment. She examined it with a critical eye and pursed her
lips. The edges were still plenty sharp, but it could use a little polish.
#
Hours later, back in her office, Lucretia stared
at the IM window on the cracked screen of her laptop with glazed eyes. She was
exhausted; her right foot ached, her back was sore and her left knee was
swollen. Riordan had been a lot tougher than she figured.
DIRECTOR,
THE:
The Board is pleased, Ms. Higgins. The
models are working out perfectly and the daemon you procured to work the
incantation seems uncommonly zealous. We surmise the Competition will be too
tied up unraveling our latest project to even consider a counter-offensive of
their own. Well done.
HIGGINS,
L:
Thank you, sir. Glad I could help.
DIRECTOR,
THE:
Furthermore the Board, in their
infinite generosity, has decided to award you with a spot bonus, pursuant to
your contract and terms of employment. Five years, Ms. Higgins. I personally
believe it too much, but was outvoted. Thank you again.
The
chat window vanished and Lucretia leaned back in her chair, staring at the pad
of Post It notes on her desk. She removed the note with the number “23” on it
and tossed it in the wastebasket. With a black Sharpie she wrote the number
“18” on the fresh note.
Less than two short decades before she could
reclaim her soul and be free of AsurasTek forever. But until that day, if it
ever came, Lucretia had no choice but to keep working; conjuring infernal
beings, binding them to her will and exporting despair around the globe.
At least it paid the bills.
