Blot 1-2ab
Concept inspired by Adam Meyer
☠︎︎
“Hey did you see that patch job Meredith did on Bill last week?” Stanley asked JoAnna over the glugging water cooler. Water sloshed onto his shoulder from the hole in his cheek. One half of JoAnna’s heads rolled her eyes.
“Couldn’t miss it. Dude is slipping. I wouldn’t be caught dead walking around with somebody else’s scalp stapled to my top lip, but I guess there’s not much Bill can do.”
“I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: this is what happens when there’s no oversight.”
***
HanCorps is a nice place to work. It says so right on the doors, in big yellow letters: HANCORPS IS A NICE PLACE TO WORK! It doesn’t really matter whether or not it’s true. It’s the only company in what remains of New Dallas that provides necromaintenance, and with the economy in the state it’s been in since the institution of Prime General Haufomann’s Patriot Plan for Permanent Placidification, even with insurance it was beyond most citizens’ pay expectancy. HanCorps believed in keeping its people happy, because happy people work longer.
“Good morning Workers! What a fine day it is to be alive!”, Meredith announced as he entered Prime Workspace.
“A fine day indeed!”, the Workers returned together. Except one: Stanley only glared down at his water cup.
***
Inside Meredith’s office were all the tools for necromaintenance. Surgical materials lined the walls, a sterile metal bench made the dully glimmering centerpiece, and an ancient book bound in twitching human skin laid open inside a glovebox. It called itself Steve and was prone to nibbling. Steve had to stay in the box for everyone’s safety. Especially its own. The case helped its anxiety.
“Good morning, Steve! What a fine day it is to be alive!” he said as he slipped on his apotropaic black coat and copper-rimmed goggles.
“The light above my case flickered two-hundred and seven times over the last seventy-two hours and you expect me to be happy to be alive? That thing is a ticking time bomb! Any second now, it’s going to explode into a sparkly rain of fire-death, and you know that’s the permanent kind! Any second now I could be wiped off the face of this cosmic port and no one would remember me except the janitor who tried to kill me with a blue disinfectant spray at 06:28 this morning. Haven’t I told you I’m allergic to blue? Why isn’t the sanitary staff more informed? He was even wearing a blue jumpsuit, I thought I was going to wither right then and there!” It continued on like this. This was all part of Meredith’s morning ritual. Steve would be no help until it got all of this off its cover. He busied himself preparing for the day’s cases.
When its anxiety rambling had subsided to a nervous mumble, Meredith slid his hands into the rubber gloves at the front of Steve’s box and flipped to the chapter on disparate limb reanimation.
***
“Darn it, Bill, this is your third death this quarter! What are we going to do with you?” Meredith clucked over Bill’s unanimated corpse. It seemed that an eyeball had fallen out of its socket, causing Bill to stumble blindly, face-first, into the sprawling koi lake in HanCorp’s Worker Relaxment Area at the back of campus. He made a note attn: maintenance – the koi are growing teeth; update to diet needed to stem expedited generational evolution. The fish posed a threat to workplace safety just by how big they’d gotten – longer than most Workers were tall – and the last thing HanCorps needed were those things growing legs and chasing employees around.
He knew reanimating Bill would be no trouble, but putting the poor sap back together was going to be a challenge, especially with how much of his face and upper torso had been consumed by the koi. Consulting with Bill’s company ID profile, Meredith set about collecting lab-grown replacements for the Bill chunks he couldn’t regrow with a spell from Steve. The mustache was going to be tricky though, and he knew from prior reanimations that Bill prized his mustache above all else.
He went looking through the various jars in the cabinet inlaid in the back wall of his gray little office until – ID: Marco Ramirezden, permadeceased ACL 3089, scalp sample. This would have to do. The hair still growing from Mr. Ramirezden’s scalp would need trimming before Bill was reanimated, but it was the right color, and he’d only need to use a small piece of it. Meredith would do his best, but he couldn’t imagine Bill looking pretty after this one.
“Look at that disgusting thing, all chewed up. He’s going to give me something, I just know it, I’m going to catch my death from that one, I mean honestly Meredith why even bother, he’s more risk than he’s worth. What if you get an infection from that mangle of flesh and you give it to me and I expire? Oh don’t make me do this, Meredith, I’m going to catch my death, I just know it.”
“Respectfully, Steve, this man is a valued employee of HanCorps, and as this is a worcomp case, we are required by law as well as mandated by the union to reconstruct and reanimate old Bill here. You are bound by company bylaws as much as I am, Steve, you know that.”
“Oh but Meredith, look, he’s wearing what’s left of a green shirt and you know I’m allergic to green, and what’s worse, it looks like cotton and you know I’m deathly allergic to cotton, especially green cotton. Oh, oh! I’m hyperventilating, Meredith! I’m hyperventilating! This is it, I’m really going to die for real this time!”
Meredith tried to place himself so he’d block Steve’s view of the operating table while he did his preliminary work. “I know you’re ignoring me! Don’t you know being ignored raises my already dangerously high blood pressure? Do you want me to have a heart attack right here in this glovebox?”
“You don’t have a heart, Steve, nor do you have any blood, for that matter.”
“Well I never! I have never been so insulted in my life! I may not have a human circulatory system anymore, but I’ve still got feelings. This is doing nothing to help my asthma. Here I go again – gasp – I can’t breathe! Help me, Meredith, I’m going to asphyxiate!”
Calmly as he could, and in a soothing voice, Meredith replied: “You don’t have lungs, Steve. You can’t asphyxiate. And you don’t have asthma. Now, if you please, I must get back to patching up this Worker so we can get him back to his duties.” With that, Meredith pretended he couldn’t hear its frantic cries. He had a job to do. Steve was about the worst coworker, but its ancient knowledge was a crucial component to the reanimation process. It was a book that could not be ignored for long.
***
After Bill was up on his feet again, Meredith thanked him for his continued and faithful service to HanCorps, and shut the door behind him. He slumped into the black pleather office chair at his puny desk. This had been a long job, and not a particularly pretty one. Meredith knew it, Bill knew it, and soon the rest of the company would know it and be whispering nasty comments about Meredith’s handiwork over the glugging watercooler.
When Meredith Reber was first hired as Executive Assistant to the Head Chief Executive of Worker Upkeep, he showed something like a natural talent for the work. Growing up, he’d imagined that the practice of necromancy involved a lot of magic and hand-waving and secret knowledge from before the Common Log. He’d attempted experimental necroalchemy on everything from dried flowers to his favorite and unfortunately flattened dog. The best he got, at that time, was a pitiful little tail wag and an armful of bloody dashed hopes. Mr. Somboni laughed, not unkindly, when Meredith told him the story of Sparky the Pancake – which had been an unfortunately prophetic name for the little scrap of fur.
Mr. Somboni had been working for HanCorps almost since its inception. He had gained a bit of national attention for reviving and preserving the separated head of the Secretary of Exterior Affairs following a dispute with South Alaskanada over their south-most border with these United Countries. The head went on to win seven consecutive Democratic Electoral Bipartisan Choosings thanks to a sponsorship from the Republicratic Conveniences. Mr. Somboni was thanked plentifully by his country, and offered a tenurtax-exempted position of the highest level at HanCorps.
It was an honor for Meredith. Most of Meredith’s job at that time involved delivering spare parts to Mr. Somboni’s office and cleaning up after an Upkeep session was completed, but in the in-betweens, Somboni taught Meredith how to do the job. “You see this ligament here, my boy?” Somboni called Meredith ‘my boy’ despite only being biologically a few years his senior. Chronologically, however; Somboni had outlived six U.C.A. Central Cabinents, four kitchenettes, and three ex-husbands.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Well, my boy, we can’t very well un-dead the dead if this, here, this ligament is disconnected. It would prevent smooth ambulation and, if left unchecked, would move this poor Worker here one step closer to filling that company-sponsored grave out back. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“No sir.”
“No sir indeed, neither for the good of the company nor for the continued ambulation of this…er…” Somboni checked the chart, “young man.”
This particular ‘young man’, Meredith was recalling from his office chair, had been necromanced so many times that his face no longer matched the photo on his ID card, and he had had to get a special ID made on the worker’s behalf. Bill wasn’t far off from needing the same done for himself.
It had been nearly ten years since the former Head Chief Executive of Worker Upkeep had voluntarily Retracted his life. He was buried off company property, an act which bothered many of the higher-ups at HanCorps, but, Final Retractions are Final Retractions.
Meredith had been the only man qualified to take over the position. He accepted the salary offered to him.
***
“Hey Bill, how yah feeling?” came the inquiry from Stanley with a pat on the shoulder. Bill would have preferred to stay dead than have to hear that patronizing tone coming from the end of Stanley’s not-koi-chewed nose, but here he was. It was an unusually bright Monday, so Bill had taken that as an excuse to keep his sunglasses on. His cubicle directly faced the giant wall of window on the southeast side of the Prime Workspace. It faced the koi lake.
That goddamned lake. “I feel just peachy, Stanley, thank you for asking. Good morning,” and he turned back to his computer. He hoped his curt response would be enough to chase off Stanley’s delicate sensibilities.
“How did it go with Meredith this time?” Bill hated the way Stanley said ‘this time.’ Stanley hadn’t had necromaintenance for the last three consecutive quarters, which he was smug about. Bill wanted to point out that the hole in Stanley’s cheek seemed to get wider every work week.
“Fine, Stanley, thank you. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, if you don’t-”
“Did he tell you whose scalp he used for your mustache?”
“Nope. Now, if you’ll excuse-”
“I was just telling JoAnna what a mistake it is to not have any kind of oversight for that guy. I mean really, he can just futz around with that old book of his and put us Workers back together any which way he chooses. Why, if I were in charge, I’d-”
“And how’s that promotion coming along for you, Stanley? Any idea yet when you will be in charge?”
Stanley sputtered something about overages and budget cuts, and then scuttled back to his cubicle in the northeast corner in an almighty huff. Bill sighed. The relief was fleeting.
***
“Hey Bill, how yah feeling?” JoAnna this time. Bill gritted his new teeth.
“I feel just peachy, JoAnna, but I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, so if you please, I’d-”
“I really think something should be done about Meredith’s necraftmanship. I mean, just look at your fa-”
“My face if fucked up! I know! Thank you for being the bearer of obvious news, JoAnna. Aren’t you so glad you don’t have to live with some other dead guy’s scalp stapled to your top lip? Wouldn’t you rather be permadead? Yeah, that’s right, I got a new pair of ears when he brought me back, I heard you and Stanley over the glugging watercooler this morning, and Stanley has already come over here to gloat. So unless you have something more intelligent to add than his contribution, I suggest you get that plastic ass of yours back to your own cubicle and out of my necromangled face.”
***
“Mr. Bloomorales, why do you think I called you into my office today?” Denise from HR was a known nightmare.
“Because I told JoAnna McRodney to get that plastic ass of hers back to her own cubicle and out of my necromangled face?”
“That is correct, Mr. Bloomorales. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“That I wouldn’t have had to have told her to get that plastic ass of hers back to her own cubicle and out of my necromangled face if she hadn’t been harassing me about the necromaintenance I’d just undergone due to what I believe is a pretty significant OSHA violation in the Worker Relaxment Area. Really, those koi are way too violent to be kept on-”
“That is beside the point, Mr. Bloomorales. You verbally harassed a coworker in front of your entire unit.”
“She started it,” Bill replied, losing patience.
“Come again? Speak up, please.”
“I said, ‘JoAnna McRodney can stick her big nose where the necromancer can’t find it,’ and so can Stanley Hooperman. They were both harassing me this morning, as I said. Can I go now?” Bill was getting tired of this humanly resourceful bullshit, and every minute spent in this miserable little office was another minute he’d have to tack onto the end of the day today playing catch-up.
“Mr. Bloomorales, I’m surprised at you! And no you may not leave. In fact, I’m mandating you to a sensitivity training, 10 hours, to be completed by the end of this week or you’ll receive a pay decrease for the remainder of this quarter.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Sensitivity training? Didn’t you hear me tell you that THEY were harassing ME? And, actually, what about that Meredith guy you’ve got doing the necromaintenance, huh? They were harassing me about the job he’s been doing putting us back together, and I’m starting to agree with them. Have you seen how my face looks? I’m freakish. I’ve got another man’s necromanced scalp growing out of my top lip. How’s that for ‘quality care’, Denise?”
Denise from HR looked sternly down the end of her not-recently-necromaintenanced nose into her horn-rimmed reading glasses. When she sighs, the beads of her eyeglass chain wobble disapprovingly. “Mr. Bloomorales, unless you would like to file a formal complaint against Mr. Reber for his performance, I suggest you accept the terms of the disciplinary action for your verbal harassment of Ms. McRodney and get back to work.”
Mr. Bloomorales did not like the way Denise from HR said ‘Mr. Bloomorales’. Mr. Bloomorales felt more like punching a larger hole into Denise from HR’s trachea with her plastic cherry-capped red pen than wasting his energy on corporate bureaucracy. Mr. Bloomorales wondered if Denise from HR had a secret hidden in her top knot that was key in her unbelievably long life.
Bill was taking deep breaths through his flared nostrils, and the scalp that made up his mustache was beginning to sweat.
“Are you still with us, Mr. Bloomorales?”
Mr. Bloomorales was still with us.
“And? Are you going to lodge a formal complaint against Mr. Reber?”
Mr. Bloomorales considered that maybe lodging a formal complaint was the only way to get out of the disciplinary sensitivity training. Mr. Bloomorales did not like any of his options.
“Yes, Denise, I would like to lodge a formal complaint against Mr. Reber.” Bill could see the hackles on Denise’s neck wrinkles raising. It made the hole in her trachea quiver sickeningly. Denise from HR was nothing if not formal.
“You may refer to me as Ms. Stapleton, Mr. Bloomorales, and I suggest you comply or I will have no choice but to add to your sensitivity training.”
Like hell would he refer to Denise from HR as ‘Ms. Stapleton.’ “What do I need to do to file this complaint, Denise?”
***
Meredith was elbow deep in another challenging necromaintenance case – Mark and Jenna had gotten drunk inside a beer vat in West New Dallas, and Jenna was head and shoulders through Mark’s abdomen – when the Notice of Complaint was slipped under his door. He recognized the puce color of the folder immediately, but he couldn’t stop the spell he was working on the drunkbirds lying cockeyed and flopping off his operating table. Cases that weren’t covered by Worker’s comp were usually the most frustrating. But a Worker is a Worker and they deserve reanimation regardless of their outside work activities. The notice could wait. This third attempt at the Separation-Reanimation spell could not.
***
“Welcome back, you two! That was a long couple hours there, and I was afraid I was going to have to file a Final Retraction on your behalfs. How are you feeling?”
“Where’s my anchor tattoo? What did you do with my tat?” No thanks for the thankless.
“I believe it must be floating in that blonde you almost drowned in. I didn’t see it when they brought you in.”
“Man, what kind of necromancer are you? That ink cost me 10 Credits, not to mention all the babes you’ll cost me with it gone!”
“All complaints must be leveled in writing. HanCorps thanks you for your continued service. Please enjoy the rest of your workday!”
“What babes, Mark? I thought we agreed to be exclusive? Have you been sleeping around? Oh my god, is that why your junk is all-”
“I will be filing a complaint about you, man! Your ass is outta here, just you wait! I’ll-”
And the door slammed behind them. Boy almighty, what a day. Meredith didn’t think a 10 Credit tattoo was worth all the fuss, and certainly not a formal complaint. He bent and picked up the first complaint from the day.
“Don’t pick that thing up! Don’t you know pink is deadly to me? You’re trying to kill me, I know it!”
“It’s not pink, Steve, it’s puce. I think you’ll survive.”
“Oh, survive, sure, but I’ll be a vegetable! Is that paper organic? You know non-organic paper makes me asphyxiate! My asthma!”
“You don’t have asthma.”
“I can’t – gasp – I can’t breathe!”
“Do you have an off-switch? I have to read this complaint, I gotta know if there’s some kind of sanction-“
“Sanction? They’re gonna burn me! I’m toast! Toast! My skin is burning, can you see a rash? I’m breaking out in a stress rash. I need fingers to nibble or I’m gonna spew.”
Meredith wasn’t listening. This was the biggest complaint he’d received so far. Bill Bloomorales filed the initial complaint, and Denise from HR had found one, two- six! Six more complainantants! When did he see Stanley Hooperman last, three quarters ago? He hadn’t said he’d been displeased with Meredith’s work at the time. The hole in the guy’s cheek was getting bigger, sure, but he knew Stanley was a chewer. Denise from HR too? Whijesus. I can’t help that she won’t quit vaping that crap!
“Half the Workers from Prime Workspace filed adjacent complaints, and this makes my third complaint of the quarter. Denise is getting me fired…”
“She was the one who put together that file? Her carcinosmoke is going to give me cancer! I’ll waste away, Meredith, I will!”
“Steve, I swear to Whijesus I’ll get a new tome.”
“I knew it! I knew you were trying to replace me! You’re going to throw me in with the common refuse, I’ll lose all my pages to a trash animal. I’ll be reduced to nothing! I’m too young to be nothing!”
Meredith was silent. At the end of the packet of individually filed complaints, was a typed Notice of Termination of Contract, pending response. It contained a list of acceptable responses:
- Accept the terms of the Termination and receive a severance package equal to three month’s salary
- Reject the terms of the Termination and cooperate with an Executive Investigation, a Re-Training Course, and a cut in pay – if the administrator of the Re-Training Course (TBD by HR) reports an increase in quality of output
- Invoke Clause 7-B-Grapefruit
The choice was clear.
***
Clause 7-B-Grapefruit:
In the case of the deliverance of a Notice of Termination of Contract wherein HanCorps Family Business International Incorporated, henceforth simply the Company, has not found an immediate replacement for the terminated Head Chief Executive of Worker Upkeep, henceforth simply the Party; the Party may invoke Clause 7-B-Grapefruit, henceforth simply the Clause, in such a manner as may be deemed most appropriate by said Party.
The purposes of the Clause are as follows, exhausting and excluding all other possible interpretations of this Clause, and negating all other Pre-Termination options made available to the Party as alternative to invocation of the Clause:
- To determine the Party’s willingness to maintain his/her/their position within the Company.
- To determine the Party’s ability to maintain his/her/their position within the Company.
- To provide for the Party the opportunity to request all such space, facilities, tools, personnel, livestock, natural gas, and et cetera as is appropriate to the Grapefruit, as determined and requested by the Party, and to provide the Party with an appropriate, non-partisan judging panel, in order to fairly determine the outcome of said Grapefruit.
- The Party must submit all requests for space, facilities, tools, personnel, livestock, natural gas, and et cetera; in writing, a minimum of one (1) week prior to the agreed upon and scheduled date and time of the execution of the Grapefruit.
***
Subject: Invitation to Meredith Reber Grapefruit
CC: denise.stapleton@hancorps.hr.cl
In accordance with Clause 7-B-Grapefruit, as instituted by my predecessor and mentor Mr. R. Somboni, you are cordially invited to participate in HanCorp’s First Annual Total Annihilation Company Potluck. See attached for dress code, rules of conduct, tribute list, and potluck sign up.
Attendance is mandatory, and therefore paid equal to two hours holiday pay. Event may exceed two hours depending upon weather and tribute longevity. Plan accordingly.
Best,
Meredith Reber
Head Chief Executive of Worker Upkeep,
Necromancer
meredith.reber@hancorps.wu.cl
+7 (4234) 2332-18a7894323
PS – No tree nuts, no dairy, no gluten, no essential oils.
***
HanCorp’s First Annual Total Annihilation Company Potluck
Dress Code – Spectator
- Business casual, dress shoes not recommended
- No weaponized attire – no exceptions
- No copper jewelry – no exceptions
- No wool undergarments – medical exceptions only
- No headgear taller that 2m
- No bondage gear unless incorporated into outfit
- No facepaint except in HanCorps trademarked shades
- ABSOLUTELY NO LARP UNIFORMS
Dress Code – Tribute
- Athletic formal, spandex not recommended
- Metal armor not recommended, leather armor is sufficient if desired
- Body jewelry recommended to be taken out for the duration of the Grapefruit unless necessary to the functionality of some aspect of armor
- No spiked cleats
- No live or automatronic creatures
- No talismans of any kind, no exceptions
Rules of Conduct
- No attacks may be made on the Necromancer, Referee, C-Suite Executive Workers, or fellow Workers for non-Grapefruit reasons
- No sacrificing of livestock to ANY Old Gods
- No consumption of citrus within 100m of the Tribute Ring
- No consumption of fellow Workers or their Essences
- No autoerotic play of any kind
***Failure to comply with the dress code and rules of conduct will result in immediate termination without severance pay or exit necromaintenance. No exceptions.***
Tribute List
Bill Bloomorales
Stanley Hooper
Mark MacMarkupson
Jenna DuCuples
Rock Gonzalvestin
Mari Albondega
Jashanna Greene
Alternates
Denise Stapleton
JoAnna McRodney
***
“Howdy JoAnna! What are you bringing to the potluck on Friday? My mother-in-law gave me her recipe for pickled radicchio salad-”
“I don’t have to bring anything, I’m a tribute,” JoAnna Malestro née McRodney said, affecting a gruff edge to her voice. She felt a strange mix of pride, fear, and gastrointestinal discomfort at the thought of her role in the upcoming potluck, but she desperately needed her coworkers to believe that she was the top contender because she was the toughest bitch this side of the Missipotomac. She’d taken to smoking a real cigarette on her lunch break and staring toughly into the wind.
“Oh that’s right, I saw your name on the alternates list! I hope you get to compete, it’ll be nice for us gals to have some representation. That darn wage gap won’t close itself!” JoAnna didn’t reply. She was a stone cold Betty. Even if the cigarettes and the nausea made her nauseous.
***
“Something’s happening, I can feel it. What’s happening? Do I need to panic? I’m ready to panic, Meredith, I swear to Whijesus I am- oh, no, here it is, I’m already panicking, Meredith! Meredith, I’m panicking over here!”
Meredith did his best to ignore Steve’s frantically quivering pages as they flapped its latest anxiety attack. He wasn’t sure exactly how it managed to panic when it didn’t have a nervous system. “Now’s not the time, Meredith,” he whispered to himself. He needed to focus, and Steve was going to have to get over itself. They had a Grapefruit to prepare for. Just then, he heard a thud like a book shutting and a snap of leather.
“Steve, will you kindly unlatch yourself? We have places to be, things to conquer.” All he heard was a muffled mm-mm in response. “Please, we talked about this!”
“No!”
“I’ll oil your cover! Think how moisturized you’ll feel. You’ll be gleaming, everyone will say, ‘Wow, I had no idea a tome could look so lively!’ Huh? Whaddya say, old pal?”
“I say NO! I’m not opening up for nothing, you’re trying to take me outside, I’ll perish from the heat, and all that blue! You’re trying to kill me, you want to replace me! Who is it, did that leathery bitch in HR finally croak? Look at me, I’m hysterical and you’re going to replace me!”
“I’m not going to replace you, Steve, I’m trying to use you for your intended purpose, like you like!” Meredith’s patience was wearing thinner by the second.
“No!”
This Grapefruit was going to be a disaster.
Lorraine The Wrighter 