The Organization (2 page)

“Ah, you must be Charlotte Parker?” asked the man in a lab coat wearing the nametag “SUPV Collins.” He stood and extended his hand.

“Yes, I am,” Charlotte replied, assessing her new manager, and shook his hand. He was not unpleasant-looking with a full head of strawberry blonde hair and a dash of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Although Charlotte herself was tall, Collins stood a few inches taller, and Charlotte wondered silently if there was a positive correlation between height and job promotion.

“I’d been wondering when I’d get to meet the, uh, the… American,” Collins replied. His tone was light and congenial, but hushed when he said “American” despite how there was no chance he could be overheard. Charlotte immediately tensed. Collins added, “Not that I care, mind you. It’s just unusual, you know? I read it in your file but I’ll keep that information to myself, of course.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said.

“Well,” continued Collins, clearing his throat. He seemed flustered, but went on to say, “Follow me and I’ll show you to your workstation.” He exited the office and walked about twenty paces into the lab. Charlotte followed. They stopped at a workstation that looked just like every other workstation, but was marked Beta 004. “We run on a different shift from Delta Lab, as I think you’re aware. We’re 2100 hours to 0530 hours, with a half hour for your lunch. I like my people to be prompt, keep their stations clean, and file their reports on time, but otherwise you’ll find me easy to please. Any questions about that?”

Charlotte shook her head and answered, “Not that I can think of.”

“Brilliant. Then let me explain what you’ll be doing. You’ll be working on our
Anabaena azollae
project –”

“Water ferns?” Charlotte interrupted.

“Exactly. Essentially we’re trying to reduce the amount of phosphorous that the plant requires for fixing atmospheric nitrogen.”

“I see.”

“So it should be just your cup of tea, Parker,” Collins replied with a smile. He added, “All the specs are in your desk computer, and I’d like you to read through that information and provide me with a summary report by 0430. Use bullet points, not paragraphs. I value brevity. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte replied, and with that she sat down to her workstation. She placed her palm against the shiny black surface of the desk and a 3D image arose, projected upward from her workstation. Words floated in the air, welcoming her to Project AA.

Chapter Three

When her shift was over and she had finished her crash course in water ferns, Charlotte double-checked that her report was successfully submitted to Supervisor Collins. She shut down her workstation, rose from her chair, and rolled her shoulders back, trying to maintain good posture despite her exhaustion.

Several of the other scientists in the lab also stood up from their desks, pushing their chairs under their workstations and heading for the door to the locker room. Other scientists remained seated, apparently not finished with their work despite their shift ending. If Beta Lab were anything like Delta Lab, a reminder alarm would sound for them in another ten minutes, alerting them that they should finish promptly. Charlotte had never stayed past the reminder alarm, so she had no idea whether further reminders followed.

As she followed her new colleagues to the locker room, trailing them by ten or twenty paces, Charlotte realized that she recognized none of them. Perhaps that was the point of the different shifts – scientists in each of the labs would not fraternize with scientists in any of the other labs.  At least this should mean she wouldn’t have to interact with Victor anymore.

Seven of her colleagues were men, and five were women. They ranged in age and skin tone, although they tended to fall on the younger and fairer ends of the spectrums, much like Charlotte herself. They wore well-fitting dress slacks and shirts in muted colors, which prompted Charlotte to wonder if she should reevaluate her own wardrobe.

Back in the locker room, Charlotte wondered if her new coworkers would introduce themselves to her. Instead, most of them filed out of the room silently, one or two offering a guarded smile or nod. The last two people left in the locker room, besides her, were a man and woman in their early or mid thirties who were chatting quietly with each other as they closed up their lockers.

The woman caught her eye and said, “Hello. New here, right?”

“Yes – well, new to Beta Lab. I’ve been – I mean, I was in Delta Lab for about eighteen months,” Charlotte replied.  She added, “My name’s Charlie.”

The woman, a short brunette, replied, “I’m Joanna and this here’s Paul. We’re headed out for some cakes and tea if you’d like to join us.”

In spite of her better judgment and her introverted nature, Charlotte found herself saying yes.

#

Around the corner from the lab, there was a tiny café in the first floor of a brownstone building. When the trio arrived at 5:40 in the morning, many of the tables were already occupied. It didn’t used to be this way, and it certainly wasn’t busy because of early risers. Much of the population of the city worked the night shift to save on energy, and they set out for a morning meal when their shifts ended, anywhere between four and eight in the morning.

Joanna slipped behind the self-service counter and, after several minutes, made her way to the corner table where Charlotte sat with Paul. She carried a medium-sized kettle, three teacups, a cup of imitation creamer, and a plate of scones on an aluminum tray, and served the table when she arrived.

“I hope Earl Grey is all right,” Joanna said.

“Perfect, thanks,” Charlotte replied. “Thank you for getting this,” she added, gesturing toward the food on the table.

Joanna waved as a way of saying, “Don’t mention it.” Aloud she remarked, “It was my turn. We come here every week, you see, to celebrate the end of another workweek. Hopefully you’ll stay in Beta Lab and next week it’ll be your turn.” Joanna smiled.

Charlotte smiled back and took one of the teacups.

“So, what are you up to today, Paul?” Joanna asked as she dished herself up a scone.

“Well,” Paul replied, looking the slightest bit sheepish, “I think I’m headed to a salon with some mates of mine around midday.”

Joanna smiled warmly at him and said, “Aww, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have our needs. If I weren’t so busy, I might be tempted to join you at the salon.” She took a bite of scone and with a look of pretend modesty said, “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. For all we know, Charlie might not approve of the salons.”

Charlotte fidgeted with her teacup and said, “No, I mean, I have no problem with the salons. I’ve never been to one myself, but I don’t judge other people for going to them.” She shrugged, trying to make the gesture appear casual.

Paul looked increasingly uncomfortable. His voice sounded constricted as he said, “Plenty of people meet someone at a pub and go home with them that same night. At least with the salons, you can be sure your sex partner is properly screened and registered for diseases.”

Joanna added, “Well, that’s the old argument, isn’t it? We’ve all heard that before. The salons are safer, in a way.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Charlotte replied. “And I didn’t mean to offend you, Paul. I really don’t have a problem with the salons. I’m just a bit old-fashioned. I need some emotional attachment to a person before having sex.”

Now it was Paul’s turn to shrug. His face relaxed and he looked at Charlotte, and said, “I’m not offended. Sorry I got a bit defensive, mate.”

“Not at all,” Charlotte said.

When the kettle was almost empty, and the conversation had covered an assortment of uncontroversial topics, Paul once again turned to Charlotte. He asked, “I don’t suppose you play football, do you?”

Charlotte had indeed played football throughout her childhood, although in the U.S. it was still called soccer. She made the transition to calling it football when she began college on the other side of the pond from where she grew up. She replied to Paul, “I played at university, but I haven’t played since then.”

“But that’s brilliant,” interjected Joanna. “You’re a regular footballer. What position?”

“Midfielder,” Charlotte replied.

Joanna and Paul exchanged a look.

Paul said, “We don’t want to force you into anything, but we’ve been playing in a recreational morning league for several seasons and we could use some fresh blood – I mean, a new player or two.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Charlotte said, hesitating. She had known Joanna and Paul for less than a day, and already they wanted a commitment to socialize on an ongoing basis?

“Just think about it,” Joanna said. “This season’s registration deadline isn’t for a couple of weeks.  Besides, ‘a healthy body is a healthy mind.’”  Joanna had repeated a government slogan – one encouraging the public to participate in social sports.  Most people listened to the advice.

Chapter Four

The sounds of Charlotte’s boots hitting the stairs and the creaking of the wood with each shift of her weight as she climbed from step to step were drowned out by the noise of a family arguing on the landing a couple floors above. The stairwell was narrow, the walls made out of cinderblock, and the high pitch of the mother’s and children’s voices reverberated for all to hear.

As Charlotte drew closer to the landing, she saw that the family was struggling to move a couch through the doorway. It looked like something of an antique, obviously heavy, its corduroy fabric faded and rubbed down in more places than not. She had seen these neighbors a half dozen or so times before but didn’t know their names. She could see that the oldest child, a boy of about eleven or twelve years, assisted the mother while the two smaller children stood by and watched.

“Can I give you some help with that?” Charlotte asked in spite of herself as she approached.  With her height advantage and being naturally athletic, Charlotte was sure to be more effective than the child.

The boy and the mother stopped pushing on the too-heavy couch, as the mother paused to scrutinize Charlotte. A look of recognition came over her face as she asked, “You’re from upstairs, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I live in 5B.”

The woman pulled a face and snapped at her son, “Get out of the way so the lady can help us.”

The boy moved aside with a look that was a mix of defeat and relief. Charlotte felt for a solid grip on the underside of the couch and said to the mother, “If we angle it up to your left, it should just fit through the doorway.”

After a few moments of struggle, the couch slid through, taking some of the paint from the doorframe with it.

“There we have it,” Charlotte remarked, rubbing her hands together and trying to ignore the state of the apartment.

The dim apartment was cluttered with boxes and clothes that not only lined the walls but also filled the interior of the room. A space had obviously been cleared specifically to make room for the couch, along with a path to get the couch in place. An odor of rot seemed to be emanating from a pile in one of the far corners of the room, and the strong smell of grease from cooking hung thickly in the air. Only the oldest boy looked embarrassed to have a stranger see the condition of his home.

“Thanks, love,” the mother said. “It’s nice to have someone handy around.”

“I’m glad to have helped,” Charlotte replied, turning to go.

“Since you’re here…” the woman said, interrupting her retreat. Charlotte turned back to face her, and the woman added, “There’s just something else I was wondering if you might help me to do.”

Charlotte looked expectantly at the woman, whose mousy brown hair fell in disarray like the rest of her apartment.

“It’s just some of my sun blocks on my bedroom window seem to be coming loose,” the woman told Charlotte.

Charlotte followed the shorter woman to her bedroom where, indeed, one corner of the blackout contact paper was peeling away from the window. The woman’s bedroom was slightly tidier than the main room of the apartment, but had an equally pungent smell, a mix of perfumes, scented soaps, and air freshener that overwhelmed her nostrils. Charlotte looked for something to stand on and found a folding chair, moving it over to in front of the window. She stepped gingerly at first, testing her weight, then fully stepped up onto the chair. Within seconds, she sealed the contact paper back against the window and had stepped back down.

“You really ought to keep that looked after,” Charlotte remarked. “UV code red days can come without warning.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” the woman replied, and Charlotte noticed she had crept closer. “Tell me, neighbor, do you have anyone else in your apartment? A partner, children, parents?”

Inwardly, Charlotte sighed. She spoke curtly to the woman, “No, I live alone. I really must be going now.”

Chapter Five

Sunday night arrived and signaled the start of another six-day workweek. Charlotte welcomed the structure, although she felt like it would take time to adjust to her new lab’s routine.

The first half of her shift passed quickly enough and soon it was time for her lunch break at 0100. The cafeteria was the same one for all labs and the schedules were arranged so that, like with the locker room, only one lab’s staff used the cafeteria at a time. The cafeteria itself was a medium-sized room with a series of round tables and plastic chairs, a counter for any food preparation, a kettle, a hot plate, an instant oven, and a refrigerator. An automated waste bin sorted through trash for its parts: organic matter and recyclable material. The separated parts traveled by pneumatic tube to be processed for energy or reuse.

Charlotte never liked eating in the cafeteria. When the weather permitted, she ventured outside to a bench by the river where she would eat her lunch by fluorescent light. She loved the city at night. The air temperature was bearable and the twinkle of lights in all the buildings gave the city a surreal, peaceful feel. She watched as the light reflected off the water of the river, and wondered about what swam beneath. She was lost in thought, having finished her sandwich some time ago, when a voice startled her.