Havok Publishing

Employee of the Month

By Alicia Peterson

Joe Enza didn’t care where the giant hole had come from. He just wanted his parking spot back.

After twelve years of devoted service, he was finally MegaTech Temporal Conglomerate’s Employee of the Month. The distinction came with a meaningless certificate, a mention in the employee newsletter no one read, and a front row parking spot.

The spot was all that mattered. It meant a brief respite from the massive, windswept tundra that passed for employee parking. He lost one parking day to New Year’s yesterday, now this.

He leaned out his window and squinted. A dark gap in the snow-covered blacktop stretched to all four edges. Maybe it was one of those ultra-realistic optical illusions—some artsy idiot’s practical joke. Joe grabbed a cracker from his snack stash and tossed it into the middle. It disappeared.

Nope, it really was a giant hole.

A gust of icy wind stole his breath, and he closed the window. He considered trying to park over the hole, but a tow involving a crane sounded expensive. He drove on. And on.

After parking and trudging back from Outer Siberia, he peered down from the edge of the hole, expecting to see his cracker several feet down.

It wasn’t there. The hole was more like a shaft, with straight, rough walls that stretched into the gloom. He couldn’t even see the bottom, much less his cracker.

“Huh.”

Joe was curious by nature, and this was very curious. But he also had data security compliance reports due by ten a.m. The hole would have to wait.

That’s when Kyle from PR arrived. He stood next to Joe, stroking his goatee. “Wow! I’ve seen a few holes, and that’s a hole!” He sniggered. “Say, isn’t this your special month?” He added air quotes.

“It sure is, Kyle.” Joe didn’t elaborate. It never paid to engage with Kyle unless you wanted your day ruined. Plus, Kyle had whined to everyone with ears that he deserved this month’s EOTM, so his cheap sympathy fell flat.

“Must be a sinkhole or something.”

It was not a sinkhole. Not in January, when the frost line was four feet deep. But Joe stayed quiet. Do Not Engage With Kyle.

“Maybe it was mice!” Kyle waggled his eyebrows and jabbed Joe with an elbow. Joe’s cubicle was infested. Kyle loved bringing it up. “Tough luck, bro.” Kyle slapped him on the back. Joe staggered, catching himself before he plummeted down.

“Oh, sorry.” Kyle grinned. “See you in the rat maze!”

Joe watched him saunter off, and a thought struck him. Kyle’s family owned a construction company. Plenty of excavators. Joe narrowed his eyes. Maybe he did care where the hole came from.

Losing “The Spot” during a cold snap was the MegaTech version of a Greek tragedy, and coworkers lined up to offer sympathy during lunch. Joe understood. He just didn’t want it. He nodded and smiled for exactly six minutes before finding a private place to eat.

The server room was chilly and lacked furniture, but the racks of humming computers didn’t ask questions. Joe sat on the floor and ate his sandwich while considering the facts. The hole wasn’t there two days ago. It wasn’t a sinkhole. And the building supervisor insisted it wasn’t construction.

Did he really believe Kyle would cause massive damage just to spite him? One hundred percent yes. But even if he found proof, what was the point? He wanted good parking, not petty revenge, and that hole would not just disappear.

A blinding flash of light interrupted his thoughts. When it faded, Kyle was there.

Joe shot to his feet, but he didn’t know what to say. Neither did Kyle.

There was something different about him. Joe couldn’t put his finger on it until Kyle reached up to scratch his chin.

Joe pointed his sandwich at him. “Hey, you shaved—”

“—your goatee!” Kyle pointed back.

Joe blinked. “I’ve never had a goatee.”

“No, I’ve never had a goatee.” Kyle leaned in. “What’s your game, Enza?”

Joe blinked again, like a very confused owl. “Kyle, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m great!” He jabbed his finger at Joe. “But you failed. I figured out your evil plot and time-jumped back twelve hours to remove the device you buried before you could send me and my new Subaru into the actual Dark Ages.”

“I buried?” And when did Kyle get a Subaru? Joe had a thought. “Let me guess. Employee of the Month parking?”

Kyle snorted. “Like you had to guess. I’ve waited twelve years for that spot. Of course you tried to ruin it.”

It was like Kyle was suddenly a different—

Ah.

“Kyle, I have good news and bad news.” Kyle just glared back. “You’re right. I can’t send you or your Subaru anywhere. Well done.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. “And the bad news?”

Joe sighed. “It sounds like you’re an alternate version of ‘my’ Kyle.” He used air quotes. “With that awful goatee, I should’ve guessed he was evil. You seem like a decent guy, but you took a wrong turn during that time-jump. Our temporal engineers have warned us this might be possible.”

Other-Kyle’s face froze in the universal expression of “Oh, crap.”

Joe nodded. “Yep. You scooped out a parking spot in the wrong reality, pal.”

“I… Oh, no. Was this your month? Wow.” Other-Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”

“Accidents happen.” Joe collected the rest of his lunch. “I only want to know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Can you fix it?”

Other-Kyle nodded and tapped his wristwatch. “Time travel. It’ll be like it never happened. But we interacted, so you’ll remember.”

“Awesome.” Joe paused in the doorway. “Good luck defeating Evil Me.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna need it.”

As he made his way back to his cubicle, Joe smiled. He wished Other-Kyle well, but if there had to be an evil version of himself out there, he was glad Evil Joe excelled at his job.

[ratings]

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alicia Peterson is a former librarian and lifelong nerd. Her hobbies include crocheting Doctor Who-themed ponies, reading all the informational signs while hiking, and playing the oboe. When she’s not writing flash fiction, she is working on Middle Grade and YA sci-fi/fantasy. She lives in Northern Minnesota with her husband, two young sons, one handsome but neurotic dog, and 29 accidental chickens.


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