PALIMPSEST: OFFICE FILES
1
First day.
Title: data entry clerk.
Pay: 15.75/hr.
Manager: Ed.
Computer: Dell OptiPlex. Keys gummy, some letters missing.
Monitor: WELCOME.
Correction: WEL—COME.
I rub my temple. Little shock runs through eye socket.
2
Work: copy numbers from spreadsheet A to spreadsheet B.
Numbers rearrange before I finish.
Line 111: 4098.
Blink.
Now 4089.
Blink.
Now [ ].
Ed walks by. Says: “Looks good.”
Pulse tight in my jaw.
3
Break room.
Vending machine blinks 88:88.
I press B4 for pretzels.
Correction: BB for P.
Stomach cramps like rubber band snapping inside.
Note taped to the glass: MACHINE UNDER MAINTENANCE.
Someone scribbled: MACHINE UNDERSTANDS.
I stare too long. Left hand tingles.
4
Back at desk.
Spreadsheet crawls.
Cursor floats.
Cells fade like teeth falling out one by one.
Caption at bottom: PLEASE REMEMBER.
Correction: PLEASE REMOVE.
My right eye blurs. Feels wet. I touch—dry.
5
Coworker: Maria.
She collects receipts.
CVS 2011: cough drops.
Burger King 2014: Whopper Jr.
“I don’t eat beef,” she laughs.
Receipt edges curl into claws.
She says: “They edit when I sleep.”
The overhead lights flicker in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Left arm heavier than right.
6
Lunch.
Smokers circle outside.
One says: “My wife left me last week.”
Other says: “Which week?”
He shrugs.
Ash falls on badge.
Correction across badge: NOT AUTHORIZED.
I bite cold pizza. Taste: copper.
Receipt in box: DATE: TOMORROW.
TOTAL: EVERYTHING.
Jaw stiff, chewing too slow.
7
Afternoon.
Word doc spawns.
Title: MINUTES OF MEETING.
Correction: MINUTES OF MEMORY.
Text:
ATTENDEES: ALL.
AGENDA: NOTHING.
ACTION ITEMS: FORGET.
Close.
Opens again.
I try to push screen away.
Hands don’t obey. Fingers crawl like separate insects.
8
Ed’s office.
Carpet sour, damp.
He says: “Your numbers don’t match.”
I say: “They move.”
He says: “Everything moves. That’s the job.”
Hands me sticky note: MILK, EGGS, SOAP.
Pulse slams side of head.
Letters double.
MILK → MIIIILK.
9
Maria’s desk empty after lunch.
Shoebox gone.
Her monitor:
[LAST RECEIPT PROCESSED].
Correction: [LAST BREATH PROCESSED].
HR email: MARIA HAS LEFT THE COMPANY.
Correction: MARIA HAS LEFT.
Blood in gums when I swallow.
10
Printer jams.
Paper half out.
My handwriting.
I never printed.
Text: “Don’t trust corrections.”
Crossed out.
Underneath: “Trust corrections only.”
I tug.
Paper tears.
Tear shaped like checkmark.
Neck stiff, can’t turn fully.
11
Friday party.
Sheet cake: GOOD JOB TEAM.
Correction: GOODBYE TEAM.
Everyone claps.
Cake too sweet, coats throat like chalk.
Plastic cup shakes in my hand.
Liquid ripples like seismograph.
No one notices.
12
Weekend.
Dream: receipts fall from ceiling.
Ink seeps through skin.
Words crawl under ribs.
Wake gasping.
Right leg cold.
Sheets soaked.
Printout patterns on thighs.
13
Monday.
Maria’s seat filled.
Badge says: NEW.
They type fast.
Cells update before keystroke.
They smile.
Smile pinches like paper cut.
Teeth = staples.
I feel a fizzing inside skull, like soda poured wrong.
14
Ed pins chart on wall.
Efficiency down.
Bars labeled A, B, C.
Correction: BRAIN, BONES, COLD.
Everyone claps.
My palms slap out of sync.
Heart lurches, misses beat.
15
Lunch again.
Receipt: DATE: TOMORROW.
ITEM: NOTHING.
TOTAL: YOUR MEMORY.
Cashier shrugs.
Bag empty.
I eat bag.
Plastic sticks to molars.
Cheek spasms.
16
Coworker collapses.
Paramedics come.
Chair still warm.
Monitor: [SESSION ENDED].
Correction: [SELF ENDED].
We watch.
Ed: “Back to work.”
I grip desk.
Knuckles white, nails blue.
17
Emails.
Subject: RE: RE: RE:
No content.
Attachments: blurred receipts.
File name: RECEIPT_FINAL.
Correction: RECEIPT_FUNERAL.
Delete.
Reappear.
Inbox full.
Vision whites out, then back.
18
Bathroom.
Mirror cracked.
Reflection slow.
Forehead stamped: READ ONLY.
I scrub.
Correction: DEAD ONLY.
Smell of ozone.
Left ear ringing, won’t stop.
19
Dream again.
Maria: “Burn the shoebox.”
Hands me receipt:
DATE: NEVER.
ITEM: ME.
TOTAL: PAID.
Wake up.
Shoebox under bed.
It hums.
My left leg won’t move right.
20
Final week.
Ed: “You’re not keeping up.”
I: “The files are eating me.”
He: “Good. That means you’re learning.”
Sticky note: WORK HARD.
Correction: DIE HARD.
I stick it to my chest.
Feel heartbeat misfire under it.
21
Last day.
Monitor blank.
Correction: FULL.
All receipts on screen at once.
Unreadable.
Then clear:
EMPLOYEE SUCCESSFULLY PROCESSED.
Hands curl inward.
Chair cold.
Desk empty.
22
Break room.
Vending machine still blinking.
Note crooked: MACHINE UNDERSTANDS.
Correction: MACHINE REMEMBERS.
Light flickers.
Left eye dark.
Face heavy.
Receipt slips from pocket:
DATE: NOW.
ITEM: YOU.
TOTAL: DUE.
End file.