Snippets: A Man Named Johan Bowiel

Felice had heard other stories about the East Wing, but many were assumed to be made up by the executives to dissuade investigation. She was certain that she had heard of some of those that worked here, if only by how badly their reputation had plummeted since they arrived.

The door to the next room up was labeled '13', but there didn't seem to be any numbering system around here - she knocked and the squeak of a chair and a grunt or sigh at least told her someone was listening.

'Hello?' hesitant opening of door...

'Ah, you must be the new sacri- uhm, applicant. Uh, come on in.'

Felice continued through into the dark room.

'Oh, thank you dear, the light from the corridor is most annoying and it's good you, ah, closed the door.'

The figure speaking was behind a desk at the back of the room, as much as she could make out, sitting behind it - was that a cigar in (his?) mouth?

'Oh, take a seat my dear, uhm, what can I do for you?'

'I was just shown my room and I really have no idea what I am supposed to be doing, Sir.'

'Uhm, you don't have to be that formal around me, Miss Strange, ah, you can just call me Johan - Johan Bowiel.'

'Are you the Johan Bowiel?' Felice said without containing the amazement. 'The Johan Bowiel who stopped writing five years ago? You're practically a legend!'

'Um, I wouldn't go so far as to, uh, say that, Miss Strange. I was simply good at what I did. The time came that I had to, ah, let the up an' comings come and retire gracefully. Uhm, I couldn't just finish like that, so I, aha, came here to wind down. Some of the people who work in this wing are, um, very remarkable. Pity that none of our -'

'Please, can you just tell me what we are - I mean I am - supposed to do here?'

Johan creaked his old chair.

'It's hard to say.'

'What do you mean?'

'Look, uhm, you just take the package next to the door down the hall, ah, up the stairs and across the floor to the Juggler, and then we'll, uh, talk about your work.'

Felice stared blankly at nothing for a while. 'Ooo-kay,' she drew out. She felt around near the slightly less dark of the crack under the door and quickly left the room with the package.

It occurred to her, although she couldn't have told for sure what she had seen in the pitch black, that if Johan did have a cigar, it hadn't moved while he was umming and ahhing, and not once had he taken a puff.

The Alice Treatment

'Your work in this area is so exemplary that we are moving you to continue it in a better environment.'

She didn't want to admit it, but they were doing this to quiet her opinions. Anyone moved to the east wing was never heard from again. Not literally of course, they were still seen coming to work and such, but their projects didn't seem to reach the light of day - appropriate considering the tinting in that area of the building was very excessive.

'You're the new girl, right?' the lady by the elevator began. 'I'll help you take your stuff up there, but they aren't so keen on tours, so you will have to find your own way around.'

The elevator to the main sector for the east wing was normal enough, except inside was a mildly unsettling plaque announcing "You're down the rabbit hole now." The third floor was where she would move in.

'Gee, it's quite dark in here, isn't it?' she commented inquiringly.

'I guess you get used to it,' said the elevator lady. 'Some of the employees prefer it this way and should you need more light the offices have plenty of lamps.' Down an adjoining passage an orange goo was spreading, she had barely stopped to look when the elevator lady turned around and grabbed her by the arm.

'Come on! I knew we should get some more fungicide.' They continued along the corridor to the Important Door.

'What is that stuff back there?'

'We call it Orientation. It can be useful sometimes, but around here it just wastes time.'

'I think it was shaping out my name.'

'That reminds me,' the elevator lady must have thought she was changing the subject. 'I'm Alex. What do people call you?'

'Well, people call me by Felice Strange, my pen name.'

'Oh, I read some of your work! Don't worry then, you'll fit right in here,' Alex said. They entered the room and Felice saw that there was one simple desk in the centre of the room.

'I get a whole office to myself?'

'Intermittently,' Alex said as if it was a matter of fact.

'What exactly am I working for here, though? They just said in the letter that I would be "continuing".'

'Talk to John up the corridor - he leads things around here.' She started to leave.

'Leads what?'

Alex acted like she hadn't heard the last part and suddenly remembered something, 'you have a padlock, right?'

'I always carry a lock, yes,' Felice dumped her portfolios on the small desk.

'Put all of your things in the big draw and just lock around the handle. That way you will always see it.'

Always see it? This was surreal, though Felice would be forgiven for thinking it was the extent of the crazy she would witness today.