Chapter 3

In the office, steeped in greyness and emptiness, all the usual light sources were extinguished. Rows of monitors illuminated faces floating in the darkness, growing lifeless with each passing hour. Through the void echoed the monotonous clicking of keys, intermittently interrupted by tired sighs and the quiet clicking of mice.

Holden had already worked through a dozen tickets. Each of them was a heart-wrenching story from users who couldn't pay for slippers, received fewer paperclips than they ordered, or just decided to write a venomous review to spoil the mood of the support manager.

This was not the career that Holden dreamed of when he was a freshman at Stanford. With bitterness, he glanced at the clock and sent the computer into sleep mode, then headed to the kitchen for the mandatory cup of coffee.

The kitchen was cool and unappealing. Shelves were filled with cookies, nuts, and cornflakes that no one ate. In the corner stood a small refrigerator in which someone had forgotten fish. Fearing the unpleasant smell, Colleagues decided not to open it until morning. Holden supported this decision.

Holden stirred the coffee mixture with a plastic spoon to accelerate the dissolution of the powder. His gaze travelled across the opposite building, from window to window.

In some offices, the lights were on, although no people were visible. Except for one window. In it stood a man in a black suit, looking straight at Holden, it seemed.

A click behind him made Holden turn around sharply. The air conditioner had probably changed its mode again, he thought, returning to the window examination. But the stranger had already disappeared.