From Newsgroup: rec.arts.comics.creative

Original message: https://lists.eyrie.org/mailman3/hyperkitty/list/racc@lists.eyrie.org/message/SLUU7MWKDZKCQANSFOLCWB4ILCAA3KAO/
On Sun, Jun 15, 2025 at 4:44rC>PM Arthur Spitzer <arspitzer2@gmail.com> wrote: <snip>

After the balloon went up in the bar, I found myself alone for once, standing in the middle of a lobby with a splitting bloody headache. Whatever that explosion was, it had driven me instantly sober and brought on the hangover that by rights I shouldn`t have had until tomorrow.

Oof, that'll do it
I still had

plenty of paracetomol, so swallowed some as best I could, almost throwing up at the taste, but getting the buggers down all the same.

That's Tylenol, for those who aren't up on their biochemistry.

And also, there are normally, especially
in places where the public might wander around, some sort of indication of who runs the offices. A logo, some big bright bit of corporate bullshit. Here there was nothing.

Oh, that's a good point, that's unsettling

Another thing was wrong; they should all be looking at me with some
sort of curiosity. A trenchcoat is not something to be trifled with, or ignored.

I mean, I think for a lot of people it's just something to keep the rain off. X>

"How may I help you?" It didn`t sound like a voice anyone would ever use in conversation. It sounded like the voice on the telephone. You`ve heard it. The voice that you reach after being put on hold for half for an hour, after working your way through five extensions, the voice that supposedly is the one you`re trying to reach and talk about whatever it was that you`d phoned up about, the voice that would listen to your plea, take your name, and
put you on hold again, just for the sheer hell of it, the voice that would, when your phone bill had risen by another ridulous amount, tell you that it wasn`t their responsiblity, and that they would now put you through to another
department, one that you`d already made your way through to get here, that was
absolutely, definitely, the one you were after. That voice

...as someone who's worked a *lot* in customer service, dude, chill
the fuck out a bit. Like, I understand the Kafka connection here and
how much it sucks to be in this position and that's what this story is
about, but like, god, you realize that the person in front of you is
flat and dead-eyed because they have to be in the middle of this all
day, making excuses for decisions they had nothing to do with and just
trying to get to the point where they can clock out, right???
*ahem*

"Through the door on your left." She said this slowly, as if I were some kind of idiot or child. I was getting annoyed. I punched her.

Like this is pretty gross >:/

I went off to the door on the left, went through, and was faced with a
corridor that disappeared into eternity. It didn`t end, at least not as far as I could see. I looked at the door nearest to me. "room 1" was stencilled on
it in a bold and nauseating typeface. I tried it, and found it locked. So were
the next ten doors. I stopped bothering to try the doors, lit a cigarette
and started walking.
Some time, and a great number of fags later, I reached room 24367.

Hehehehe

"Where am I?!?!?" I shouted to the darkness.
"In the Office," droned a sepulchral voice. For some reason, it seemed
familiar. Still no lights.
"What do you want?"
"Information." Ah. Now I knew what the voice reminded me of. It was a good impression. I continued the pattern. Might as well humour the bastard.

Hmmmmm, is this a reference I don't get :o

"I am the new CEO." Ah, more interesting.
"Who was the old CEO?"
"You are an office junior."
"Bugger this. Turn the lights on, before I get really pissed off!"
Laughter, from everywhere. Contemptuous, evil laughter. I`ve heard that kind of laugh before. Never in pleasant situations. And then the lights went on.
And I was back in the lobby. The bastard was just toying with me.

Huhhhhh interesting.

BACCHUS:

He came to in a corridor, that led from an office. He stood, shook his
head to clear it of some disorientation, and looked about to find out where he
was this time. He looked old, wrinkles engraved onto his face, looking like he`d either been carved or eroded to look the way he did. But still and all, he didn`t look like he was carrying any worries or woes, even though he had a complicated road map etched into his face.

Oooooh yeah, this guy

His clothes were plain, and looked like
the kind of clothes that a man, or god, would wear if he didn`t really care much about clothes, and just wanted something to cover up the essentials and keep the wind from being too much of a nuisance.

Ahhhhh, the dysphoria outfit

Too much business. The business didn`t seem to be acheiving anything, but there
was too much of it anyway.

Whew, super accurate.

Far too many earnest yet somehow irritated people.
This wasn`t a place that you could simply exist in and be yourself.

Dang, yeah

An
argument broke out about a car alarm; it was like watching small furry animals
trying to establish who held dominance in the tribe. It was all shudderingly banal, and Bacchus, the god of wine, son of Zeus, had good reason to wish he were somewhere else.

Uggggggh yeah the bad shit @@;

Lacking anything better to do, he found a small office
with no one in it, sat in the chair, put his legs up on the desk, and had a snooze.

Hell yeah. That's the spirit.

And suddenly, there were vines, sprouting from the carpet, the walls, the plastic plants, the filing cabinets, from paperwork left lying on desks, from briefcases, from everywhere. The guards fled, and Bacchus relaxed in a paradise of his own making. The wine-making would soon begin in earnest...

yesssssssss :D :D :D

SPECIAL AGENT DALE COOPER:

aw jeez. X>;

Catchy elevator music blared quietly out of a speaker that hung on the
pastellised wall, ignored by all who ever heard it. Cooper noticed. He looked up at it, and frowned at it. It was rather annoying, like the sound of a crow in amidst a flock of songbirds, disturbing because it was apparently normal, in
this place that was far from normal, normal beyond any expectation of strangeness.

Ooooooh, well described.

It stretched back for miles, before the perspective lines
met in the centre, a phenomenon which Cooper remembered from art lessons in his
childhood, but had never expected to see in real life.

Daaaaaaaamn nice :D

"Ma`am. I`m an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If your superiors don`t wish to see me, then they could be subject to a further, more serious visit by agents who are less friendly than me. Now, take me to see whoever`s in charge."
There was a beep on the monitor in front of the woman. "Well!" she exclaimed. "I never would have imagined. Come this way, please."

Innnnnnteresting. The Office doesn't usually go up against those who
have some kind of authority backing them up.

The course she led him down was long and twisting; there were
miles upon miles of corridor, it seemed, and the changes that he noted as they
passed through different areas seemed to encompass a history of the office; here, they would be passing through an ultra-modern office complex, with monitors that would make a computer enthusiast drool merely to see them, with organisation so well-planned it was almost invisible, and then they would be in
a dark, candle-lit, wood-panelled office, full of scratching scribes at high desks, painfully transcribing complicated documents purely by hand, disdaining
the use of such innovations as typewriters and telephones. It went on forever.

ooooooooh, nice nice nice

"Diane, I`m standing in an office which I`ve been led to in an effort to trap me. It`s been a strange journey to get here- wait, I`ll explain later..." A light on the monitor was bleeping. Cooper went to it and pressed a
button on the keyboard, activating the monitor. A line of text appeared on the
screen.
WELCOME, AGENT COOPER. I MEAN YOU NO HARM.
Cooper stared at it blankly.
YOU ARE IN THE UNIVERSAL OFFICE. I AM THE UNIVERSAL OFFICE.

DUN DUN DUNNNNN...

I AM AFRAID THAT IS NOT WITHIN MY POWER AT THIS TIME. I MUST SAY THAT I HAD NOT EXPECTED ANY INTERFERENCE FROM MORE MUNDANE ORGANISATIONS. YOU WILL LEAVE NOW. THE DOOR WILL OPEN TO THE CAMPUS OF BEIJING UNIVERSITY, WHICH I BELIEVE YOU WILL HAVE DIFFICULTY IN EXPLAINING TO THE LOCAL AUTHORITIES.
GOODBYE.
Cooper boggled. "What?" The door swung open. The sound of the Chinese language could be heard outside. Cooper pulled out his gun, and shot the terminal. The bullet ricocheted off, bounced around the room and embedded itself in Cooper`s left arm. "Ai!" Cooper grimaced and left. There didn`t seem
to be much else to do.

A reasonable way to deal with him. X>
Drew "there's a lot going on here, for sure!" Nilium
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