Parking Test

Fiona couldn’t help but feel a hint of anticipation as she rounded the final turn down to the bottom of the company’s underground parking lot. A few kilometres on, at parking section 543 delta-blue, sat the new employee parking. Fiona peered out her windows, hoping for the sight of a fellow worker, but none caught her eye. She instinctively checked the clock to make sure she hadn’t lost track of time and was running late. Nope, still a good 45-minute window for the commute through the parking lot, must be early.

She pulled her car into parking lot #32154-blue, between an empty space and a car model she swore hasn’t been made in fifty years. Checking her face makeup followed minimal religious standards in the rearview; Fiona drew a deep breath and prepared herself for her first day.

“You are Fiona Hoenikker. You achieved honours at the Rumfoord school of ethics. You. Yes, you, Fiona, were made for this job. This is the first day of a fulfilling career in ethics consulting.” Fiona spoke to herself confidently and eagerly.

Fiona checked that her garments were still layered to conforming standards and covering anything deemed indecent. She spent the time putting on eight layers this morning; she didn’t want to give away any hint of impurity on her first day.

She grabbed her handbag and quickly checked the contents. A spare few garment layers, an apple, a water bottle, foundation, holo-device … and the sleek, white, almost cute package that had been handed to her on her final interview.

She knew what it contained. It was a product of the company, Easium, the only product they made, in fact. She was just puzzled as to why they gave it to her. It’s not like she could test it.

Stepping out of the car into the cold concrete labyrinth, Fiona could make out nothing but pillars and the odd car as far as she could see. Like a dull fluorescent mist, the lighting gave no hint of walls or any end. The thick white line leading to the elevator bay was just ahead of her.

Step-by-step, she walked, following the white guiding line. Not a soul in sight, just herself, some parked cars and a bunch of flickering lights. Silence. No chatter. No tire screeches. No distinct crunching sound of a disposable vehicle being discarded.

Why was no one else joining her on this commute? She thought to herself. Believing to have just overestimated the length of the walk, Fiona continued. Eyes always tracing back to the white line.

Five minutes passed. Twenty. Still just herself on this lonesome journey, hints of panic began to set in. She checked her holo-device. There was no outside signal, only Easium’s own network. She was told she would get the login and password during orientation.

Looking through her mail, Fiona found the one with instructions on how to get from her parking spot to the elevator bay. As far as she could tell, she was doing everything right; follow the white line, give yourself a 35–60-minute commute window. She read through the rest of the details and studied the map provided. Confident now, she picked up her stride as much as she could in the confining religious garb.

She unlocked her eyes from the device’s screen and put it back in her handbag; she looked ahead.

There was no white line. Not behind her, not anywhere, just pillars and parking spaces.

She turned around, did her best to orientate herself in the reverse direction she had walked, and paced back. A solid minute of anticipation passed without a hint of the guiding line. Fiona stopped. Her heart sank. She switched on the flashlight app on her device and searched. Nothing.

She had to be close to the elevator bay, she resolved. The line must have stopped because it’s so close. She continued with the flashlight out, searching for a sign of the elevator bay – a bulge in the shadows, a glimmer of light shining from a distant elevator door. Still nothing, just the endless dim fluorescent mist. She kept searching.

She heard some footsteps.

“Hello!” Fiona cried out.

“Hello!” Her echo answered again and again. She stopped suddenly. She was hearing her own feet stepping in the vastness.

Finding a pillar to sit against, Fiona stumbled over tiredly and rested. She noticed the time. Nearly half past eleven. Already over four hours late for her first day at work. She tugged at her layers of matte black clothing. Eight undergarments, eight long sleeve turtlenecks, and eight stockings.

She said a quick prayer, begging forgiveness for desecrating the holy labour commitment. Then, another, asking permission for a sanctified modesty/efficiency exchange. An agreement of five layers was met.

She carefully slipped her fingers around the outer three layers of her turtleneck, making sure to not wear the forbidden six or seven layers for even a heartbeat, and pulled them over her head. She did the same with her stocking and undergarments. Carefully folding each piece and sitting it on her handbag, away from the filthy, oily parking lot floor.

Moving more freely now, Fiona continued her solemn trek. She began to note down the parking numbers on the pillars as she walked past. If she could find descending numbers, she would know she’s headed in one direction. Before long, none of it made sense, each pillar a different colour, and numbers ranging from the low hundreds to tens of thousands.

Hours had passed, Fiona, parched, searched for her water bottle; her hand briefly brushed against the product that she’d been given a few days ago, and a chill went up her spine. She found a place to rest.

Lifting the bottle to her dry lips, she gulped some water down desperately. She looked at the time on her holo-device. It was half ten at night. Why did no one come to pick up these cars after work? Whose were they? Was she even in the right company’s parking district?

She stood up, cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted as loud as she could.

“Help! Anyone!”

And again, “Help! I’m lost!”

She shouted so loudly that she began to hack harshly.

Only echoes of her cries and coarse hacking answered her. She leaned back against the pillar and slowly sank down it, defeated.

Fiona lurched forward, held her knees, and began to cry uncontrollably. She cried until the salt blinded her eyes, and her sobs became raspy whimpers. Resting her head on her handbag, she fell into an exhausted slumber.

A tickle on her toes reminded Fiona of how her mother used to wake her as a child. She smiled and looked down. A rat had nibbled through her handbag, eaten her apple, and had now started on the first few layers of her stocking. She screamed and jumped in a startle. The rat skittered away into the darkness.

Two more nights of fending off hunger and the persistent rodent passed. It hung in the shadows, an opportunist in the dark. A nibble of her stocking here and there when her eyes grew too heavy.

By the third day, the water had run dry and hunger pains made it hard to move. The rat began to circle her more confidently and recklessly.

She looked at her handbag with trepidation. She opened it and searched for the product, the Easium. The sleek white package was soft to the feel, pleasant to look at. As Fiona opened the package, a legal disclaimer written on a piece of paper flew out of the diminutive box. Fiona read it: Ensure your employer is given two weeks’ notice before administering to avoid kin liability.

Encased in the package lay a small, pleasant tasting, easy to swallow pill. The company sponsored an Osmium Overshoot team; she’d seen the competitors use it after overshooting into irretrievable space. Fiona spotted the red glow of the rat’s eyes in the darkness and smirked.

Pretending to rest her head, she dropped the pill near her feet. The red eyes grew closer and the scurrying grew louder. It was at her feet now, sniffing at the spot in her stockings it had been working on. The rat then spotted the tiny, sweet pill. Sniffing it, the rat grew interested.

“Eat it, come on!” Fiona desperately said under her breath.

The rat, as if following her command, picked up the pill in its tiny hands and began to gnaw away at the deadly tablet. Fiona watched nervously, hoping and praying, as the rat chewed through the thin outer casing. The rat stopped eating; the pill fell out of its limp hands as its body collapsed to the dirty, frigid concrete.

“Yes!” Fiona shouted as hope overcame her for the first time in days. Fiona snatched up the rat. She observed it with disgust and caution, but above all desperation.

---

In an office somewhere unimportant in the Easium corporate tower sit two men and a woman. Sitting on one desk lies a dull, affordable desk nameplate. Its ersatz gold has etched into it: Chief Ethics Officer – Milo Monzano.

Digital blackboards with various marketing strategies, advertising slogans, and branding ideas brandish the walls.

A red note labelled disapproved circles the strategy; Market Easium to Easium factory workers?

Easium for kids, complete with strawberry flavouring and a Bombi and Bimby tie-in, was emblazoned with a striking green tick of approval.

The group of corporate executives have their eyes locked to one particular viewscreen on the wall of the office.

“Do you think she’ll do it?” asked the woman, dressed in identical garb to Fiona.

The viewscreen showed Fiona holding on to the rat she had just killed, contemplating the corpse.

“She will, we were all that desperate once,” replied Milo, shooting a knowing glare at his colleagues.

Eyes glued on Fiona; they cheered as she lifted the rat up to her mouth, gagged, paused and then took a sheepish bite into its flesh.