Megalith

“Do you know why I called you into my office today?”
She didn’t have to ask. I knew. She knew. Everyone in the building knew.
Me and my big mouth.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Okay, so let me ask you this: Why shouldn’t I fire you right now?”
“Because I’m good at my job.”
“Wendy, lots of people are good at their job. Lots of people have off days. Hell, lots of people get mad at their coworkers. But you know what lots of people DON’T do?”
“...Scream at their coworkers?”
“Exactly.”
“Miss Orr, in my defense…”
“Oh, do go on.”
I shut up immediately. Nothing I say is going to help me here.
“That’s what I thought. Now, nobody here hates you. You’ve done a good job at keeping everything in check. But your job is to direct clients to their respective representatives. Clearly you can’t handle that.”
“So I’m fired.”
“Yep.”
As I walked out of my boss’s office to my desk, I could feel all my coworkers staring at me. I couldn’t tell if they saw me with pity or hate, but it hurts me regardless. I took my stuff out of my desk and put it in a box. My plant, my posters, my candy, and finally my sign telling people to not crowd around my desk. Someone had written “nice going, jackass” underneath the sign.
Nobody said goodbye as I left.
I walked out of the building and looked up at it. A sign reading MEGALITH ENTERPRISES was adorning the skyscraper. I pulled my nameplate out from my box. “WENDY DICOCCO, RECEPTIONIST.” It was so small. Easily replaceable if lost.
A taxi pulled up and I put my stuff inside. An older gentleman sat inside.
“Where to, little lady?”
“51st and Madison, please.”
He noticed my box. “You don’t have to pay the fare today, ma’am. It’s okay.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry! I can pay! You don’t have to do that!”
“Ma’am, trust me. It’s the least I can do.”
I smiled. “Thank you sir.”
He turned around and started to drive.
“So, were you raised in New York?” the man said.
“No sir, I was born in Michigan and I came here on a business opportunity.”
“Oh really? What city?”
“...Hell.”
The man cackled.
“Wow, really? It sure is funny for such a pretty young thing like yourself to come from such a scarily named city!”
I blushed. “Well, it’s really not that bad. It’s a pretty little city and I’m proud of my heritage.”
The man stopped laughing. “That’s a good thing, Wendy.”
I froze. “How do you know my name?”
He pointed his thumb behind him. “It’s on your nameplate. Saw it in the box.”
I blushed again, this time from embarrassment instead of flattery. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay. I’m no creep.”
I smiled.
“Y’know, I was wondering, and I don’t mean to impede, but why’d you get canned?”
“Well, it’s okay. I have… really bad anxiety. To add to that, I was diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder at a young age, so I have some trouble controlling my emotions.”
“...Lemme guess, some coworkers gathered around your desk despite the fact that you’ve told them not to, and the stress caused you to freak out.”
“Yeah! Right on the money!”
“Figured as such.”
He adjusted his rearview mirror. I got a look at his eyes. They were deep and sunken, filled with sadness.
It was my turn to ask him some questions.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“All my friends just call me Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Jack Frost.”
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.
“That’s your real name?”
“The one and only.”
He sighed.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Jack?”
“Traffic jam.”
I looked out the front window. I saw nothing but cars.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have to pay then, huh?”
I nervously giggled. “I guess so.”
We sat in an awkward silence for a minute until Jack spoke.
“You didn’t deserve to be fired.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Did you tell your boss you have ASD?”
“Yeah, when I got hired.”
He clicked his tongue. “Then she should have remembered that.”
“You’re right. She should have.”
“See? You’re a smart girl, Wendy.”
“Oh, thank you!”
A couple more minutes passed. Jack turned up the volume on the radio. Incredibly pleasant bossa nova filled the car.
“I like bossa nova.” I said.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah!”
He smiled a sad smile. “You sound just like my son.”
Oh no, did I hit a soft spot?
“I wanna tell you about him, do you mind?” Jack said, looking back at me.
“Not at all!” I told him. It would be quite cruel of me to tell him no.
And so, I learned of the tragedy of Conrad Frost.
“So, Wendy, my son was named Conrad. He had blonde hair, just like you. He was about 26 when I lost him.”
“That’s how old I am.”
“Really? I didn’t know that!” He smiled. “Anyway, Conrad was the apple of my eye. Do you kids still say that? Ah, it doesn't matter. He was a real whiz kid and had a heart so big that you could almost hear it beat without a stethoscope. He wanted to make toys, and started crafting them when he was a teen. It started as a little hobby with him turning ninja turtle toys into being able to speak, with him recording lines from the TV. But as he worked, his hobby developed into a passion. His toys went from repurposed toys to plastic turned to actual toys from scratch. It blew my mind. And with his passion, he took it to the top. That’s when he decided to become a part of something big. You know what it was?”
He didn’t have to say it. I knew what it was.
Megalith Enterprises, the premier in toy making.
“Yes sir.”
Jack smirked. “Figured as much. He was hired immediately as a designer, but it was clear this wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He made so many beautiful ideas. Beautiful, beautiful ideas.”
“Like what? It was before my time but I might know what toys he helped with.”
He clicked his tongue again. “You wouldn’t know them. It’s not a part of the history the company would let you know about.”
I was shocked. Where was he going with this?
“Conrad… He loved his job. God, did he love it. He fell in love with another designer, named Pearl Orr.”
Oh my god. My boss.
“Conrad gave her the world. He would always tell her how much he loved working with her and even went on a date with her. He showed her a plan he had for the apex in toys: a little snowman he named Frosty Jack.” He paused. He was getting choked up. “He really cared about me so much.”
“Hey, you don’t have to think abo-”
“I’m fine, Wendy.” He snapped. He regained his composure. “I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Frost.”
“Call me Jack, dear.”
I heard him put the taxi in park. The traffic jam had barely moved.
“...Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Where was I?”
“You got to Frosty Jack.”
“Ah yes! Frosty Jack!” Jack snapped his fingers. “It was a tiny little snowman that you put an ice cube and milk into, and you shook it up and it made ice cream. It was a toy as well, having movable limbs and a lot of other neat things.”
“That sounds awfully neat!”
“It was.” Jack’s smile faded. “Pearl thought so too. She loved it so much that she manipulated my son. She used his love for her to get her paws on his plans. Using a couple roofies and a wine, my son was out like a light. She took every single idea, all scraps of paper, journals, and sketches from him. All of them.”
I said nothing. I felt ill.
“When he came to, he missed the pitch meeting. Pearl used Frosty Jack but tweaked tiny little details. It was still pocket sized, but was now a glorified blender instead of a toy. Gone was Frosty Jack, instead was Snowman Mars.”
“No…”
“When Conrad found out every single shred of his life was stolen, he called me in tears. I tried to calm him down, but he told me his life was over. He said “I’m so sorry” and hung up.” He sniffed. “A day later he went missing. We never found him. My wife still hopes he’s out there, but I know he isn’t. Nobody can survive outside that long in his state.”
Jesus Christ. I can’t believe this…
Jack continued. “Snowman Mars was a flop. An incredibly controversial toy that required liquid nitrogen to function. It was also prone to exploding, not only spraying shrapnel and liquid nitrogen all over the place but catching fire due to antifreeze in the bottom of the machine. Orr blamed this problem on my son, but I knew the truth. I took her to court but I didn’t have enough evidence to take her down. Penniless from the extensive case, I’m here now. 25 years later, here you are. Another life ruined by Megalith.”
I was speechless.
“He didn’t deserve this. YOU don’t deserve this.” Jack looked me in the eyes. “You’re a good person, Wendy. Don’t let their cruelty break you.”
I didn’t know how to respond. My blood ran cold. How could Megalith hide this?
“Jack…”
“I won’t stand to see another life ruined by this company.”
I wanted to tell him how sorry I am for his son. How I could never understand the pain that he and his son went through. How I’m not worth this comparison.
But the traffic jam had let loose.
“Ah, I see.” Jack said to nobody in particular. “Let's get you home, Wendy.”
The ride back was painfully quiet. I didn’t know what to say, and Jack was deep in a state of sadness.
After a while, we reached my apartment.
“Here we are.” I said.
He frowned. “Yeah.”
I reached for my purse and pulled out a couple hundred dollars. I stuck my hand out.
“Wendy, no.”
“Take it. I’m not going to let you go without pay. Not after this.”
“Wendy…”
“Jack.”
He looked at me. He smiled that sad smile and took the money.
“He would have loved you.”
I stepped out and said my goodbyes. Jack responded in kind, handing me his number in case I needed to talk to him for anything. I watched him drive off into the night.
I entered my apartment. I unpacked my belongings and warmed up some leftover pork for dinner. I sat down and turned on the TV. The news is never my pick, but the story they were talking about at that moment immediately grabbed my attention.
“MEGALITH ENTERPRISES EXECUTIVE COMMITS SUICIDE”
…What?!? I unmuted the TV.
“...Orr was on her way home. She was in the middle of a crosswalk when an explosion went off in her purse. Coroners at the scene said they found remnants of a tiny snowman toy in her purse, turned on without her knowledge. The explosion instantly killed her, stopping traffic for an hour. Due to a note left on her desk, it was believed this was a highly elaborate suicide.”
…No…
“Orr was 51. Megalith released a statement, saying: “We are deeply disheartened to hear about the passing of Pearl Orr. She was influential to our organization. Per her note, we shall honor her last wishes.” Those last wishes included naming her, admittedly quite bizarre, choice of successors: mailroom employee Conrad Frost, and receptionist Wendy Dicocco.”
…Conrad… Frost..?
No. No. No.
Nonononono.
NO.
Off went the TV. I quickly dialed Jack.
He picked up immediately.
“Hello, Wendy.” Jack said.
“God damnit, what is this?!? WHAT DID YOU DO?!?”
Jack chuckled. “I thought you deserved a promotion.”
“WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!? WHY DID YOU LIE?!?” Was any of what he said true?
“Okay, maybe I wasn’t telling the WHOLE truth. Conrad is very obviously alive. And he’s been keeping tabs on you. Every day he’d deliver you mail and see your sign. He felt bad, so he and I had a plan.”
I was in tears. “Was any of what you said true? Are you even a taxi driver?”
“Of course I’m a taxi driver!”
I stifled a scream.
"Did she even know Conrad?"
Jack scoffed. "Why would an executive like her ever know a mailroom employee?"
"Fuck you, Jack."
“Wanna speak to Conrad?”
“No.”
He handed the phone to Conrad anyway.
“Hello, Miss Dicocco. It’ll be a pleasure to work with you.”
I was trembling. “Why? How?”
“It was quite simple. Every day, I bring you mail. Today, I didn’t. I delivered it directly to Orr’s office and spilled some coffee on her jacket. While she was patting herself down, I dropped the snowman toy into her purse. In a fit of rage, she decided to leave early and walked out of the office. All it took was forging her handwriting, which isn’t too hard. One explosion later, and you and I are living large! My dad needed to get you as far as I could from all this, so it was a good thing you got fired.”
“Why me?”
Conrad was silent for a moment.
“Because nobody cared about you before this. Now you're at the top of the world.”
He hung up.
I threw my phone at the wall and screamed.
I can’t come clean. I can’t tell anyone.
All I can do is get ready for work tomorrow.
Category:Weird
Category:Vehicles
Category:Crime