Leaving the boss's office, I closed the door behind me, a pained look across my face. I was skating on thin ice if today was any indication. I guess I'd brought that on myself though. Traipsing over to my crummy desk, I grabbed the dirtied bag from beneath it and threw Andy's jacket over my shoulder, as I shut off my computer and clocked off for the evening. Wandering toward the elevator as I headed back home, I saw Dalton standing and shouting another of his endless horrific stories to the flocking group of narcissists that he tended to attract. However, as he saw me, he abandoned the crowd - approaching me as I pressed the elevator button.

"Malarie, what a pleasant surprise," Dalton exclaimed. "If it isn't the woman who threw my star project into the trash so she could lose her job quicker, how wonderful!"

"I did what was right," I answered. "You should learn to try it some time."

"Oh, spare me the moral piety!" Dalton interrupted, wandering into my personal space. "You're no better than anyone here for being too weak to do what needs to be done, and frankly, I don't care. If you want to throw yourself down the drain, then that's on you - but don't you dare try to flush me down with you..."

Despite his apparent anger, he didn't seem bitter - or even disappointed - beneath that surface level veneer of his words. He was markedly toneless. It wasn't a reprimand for him, it was preformative - a show for the crowd of onlookers rather than a demonstration of his true feelings. Behind the mask though, I could see nothing save for apathy and indifference.

"I'm trying to fix the lives that you people break," I chided. "If you don't want me to screw that up, then you'd best stop trying to screw up other peoples lives, Dalton."

"I'm just saying, don't screw up my life, Malarie, or I'll start screwing up yours," he responded. "Don't touch my cases, especially my most important one. I almost missed a promotion because of you."

I almost burst out laughing at that. The idea, that someone could be so desperate for one of those little gewgaws that they called 'promotions' or 'accomplishments', was almost ridiculous. They were lousy little knick-knacks at best, certainly not worth the weight of a human soul. It was almost surreal to see someone prioritise such garbage over a human life.

"Are you seriously calling the participation trophies they give you here 'promotions'," I replied. "You know, a kid nearly spent an eternity suffering for that little promotion of yours. I hope that shiny new bit of plastic in your trophy cabinet was worth a kid's soul, Dalton." 

Dalton smiled. 

"I'm trying to keep my job, Malarie, what's wrong with doing a good one while I'm at it?" he replied with a fiendish grin. However, even within that horrid expression of his, I almost felt that I could see a hint of brief remorse - an element of regret, a brief glimmer of humanity that even he struggled to hide. This place had perverted him, same as it had perverted the throngs of people that crowded around him; perhaps it had perverted us all in some way. Perhaps even me. 

"You know what's wrong with it," I stated. "You're just too afraid to ask yourself the question - too afraid of the answer, aren't you?"

"I don't need your criticisms, Malarie," Dalton replied. "Opportunities multiply as they are seized, as Sun Tzu once said. I'm simply seizing opportunities - doing the best I can, and I won't be made to feel ashamed of that."

I didn't know who Sun Tzu was; I didn't really care either. However, if Dalton was taking advice from him though, that didn't exactly reflect well on Sun Tzu: whoever he was. As I stood there, listening to his evasive words, I mulled over them. I did find Dalton's refusal to answer my question a little intriguing. Perhaps he was too afraid of the answer in the end, too afraid to look at himself in the mirror - to see the hurt he'd caused as he tore others down. He'd forgotten the worth of a human soul. He'd rather talk about the opportunities they brought him than the damage he caused them. That was too hard to talk about.

As the elevator dinged, I moved toward the door, leaving Dalton with his throngs as I threw my arms into the sleeves of Andy's coat. It felt pretty warm. Carrying my bag of sweaty clothes with me into the elevator, I waved goodbye to Dalton over my shoulder.

"Well, have fun with your opportunities, Dalton. I hope your fan-club makes you happy, because rest assured - there's no-one else out there that will ever be happy because of what you do," I retorted.

I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to ascend. Dalton stood there for a few moments, perhaps pondering my words, before shrugging and turning back to the conversation that had previously engrossed him. The stories of new people suffering because of him had now turned instead to how he'd totally put me in my place, telling me what's what. I didn't care. It was the sort of thing that I hated about this job, the petty gossip that existed only to help people forget about the suffering they caused. I guess I couldn't stop them from doing that though.

As the elevator doors closed, the lift ascended once more. Rising to the sky, I waited as the metal chamber took me up the building, returning home - or at least, to the closest thing I still had left to a home up here. Passing the work-floors as I rose up, I returned to my tiny apartment near the top of the tower. We could never quite leave this place - instead, we lived among it, more like a prison than a workplace.