Cyanosis

Chapter 1: The Blue Hour

       The vast ocean above has always captivated the curious. That afternoon time when the minutes seem to stretch on and blend into a haze of passing numbers. That glimmer of light somehow hits at the right point in the glass to paint the whole office a subtle marbled blue. Most employees don’t notice this mesmerizing phenomenon; others don’t have the time or disposition to care. For those working at the top floor of The Twilight Corporation, it’s simply another insignificant hour in another insignificant day of work. 

       However, for one employee, the one working in cubicle 58, it was always the most interesting part of their day. They didn’t notice it suddenly. Rather, even since their relocation to the top floor, it had been creeping more and more into their attention like a tree from a single sprout. Its roots took hold in the soil of their brain until, eventually, they found their work melting away and their eyes transfixed on that single window.

       The window could probably be called a “skylight”. It was located on the ceiling after all. Except “skylight” sounded more fitting for a luxurious summer home. This window was instead a reluctant attempt at letting in natural light from the upper ocean. Some structural guideline checked off the list to make room for more productive investments. Nevertheless, for the employee at 58, it was a refreshing break from the constant monotony of their tasks. There was something about the way it was never the same at a given moment, drifting across the walls, the floor, each desk and computer like a fog of crystal blue. Something about the calming glow of the glass that eased the straining buzz of the adjacent fluorescent panels. 

       To this one fish, it was wonderful. Rapturous. Pure.

       While they used to take only a minute or so to appreciate it, most recently, they had been finding themself more distracted by the event. The other day, they had to give up one of their paid breaks to make up for the time they lost staring at it. But it was all more than worth it to float away with the kaleidoscopic light. 

       On that day, near the middle of the week, at that time near the middle of the day, they once again found themselves transfixed. The cool hue of the light blended into their own greenish-blue and their plain business wear. All the idle noise, the clacking of keyboards and exhausted sighs from neighboring cubicles, even the whirring of the A/C and computers, faded into static. Their mind held nothing concrete, certainly nothing related to the task before them. 

       There was, however, a picture half-formed in the haze of their thoughts. Of reaching out, with their hand or…some metaphysical part of them capable of grabbing something more real than a hand ever could. 

       Reaching out to that light, as if to touch it. To hold it just for a moment. 

       Could they…

“You notice it too, huh?”

       They felt their whole body and chair whirl around even before their mind was yanked back to reality. A gasp fled from their mouth that tightened their lungs and sent their heart pounding against it. 

       For that split second, they were dreading to face the worst: their supervisor or some other staff capable of cutting the feeble thread of job security that held them above the flames of ruin. In short: firing them. 

       However, instead their eyes fixed upon a fellow employee, no one they recognized. This was an only slightly better outcome; gossip flew fast through the office, and it wasn’t uncommon for rumors to reach first-level management. This absentminded fish was never one to look on the bright side. The visitor before them was a feminine figure of a striking speckle of black, white, and fiery orange with the short feathery frills distinct to a betta fish. 

       What held most of their attention, though, were her eyes. Not in color or shape but in intensity. They held an odd sort of liveliness in them that didn’t belong at all in an office. Those powerful eyes were focused directly on the employee of cubicle 58, waiting expectantly for a reply. 

       The poor fish did not reply. Their mouth hung half-open. Even if they did have something coherent to say — they didn’t — they felt as if they had swallowed a throat-sized cork and could not even utter a stammer. 

       Only a long awkward moment after did they start to register what she had asked them.

       She spoke up, seemingly unbothered by their lack of response, “The light from the window. How it changes the whole room only at this time of day. I saw you watching it.”

       Her addressee sat frozen, cornered in their cubicle, a criminal caught in the act. They knew they had to say something. Some defense or lie, excusing them from slacking. They desperately pushed against the pressure in their throat, attempting to force out something intelligible.

       “Uh…” was the only thing that came out.

       “I just never see anyone else look at it,” she continued, motioning upwards with her head since her hands were holding a stack of papers. 

       They caught onto the phrasing. Anyone else. Slowly, they forced themself to nod.

       The words didn’t truly need to be spoken. She smiled, understanding. “I’m Angela. I work at number 5. Got transferred to the Transcription Department just this week.”

       Not tearing away from her vibrant eyes, they nodded again. This time, bigger, defrosting to the sudden social interaction.

       “Do you..watch it a lot? You’ve probably been here longer than I…” She, thankfully, broke eye contact first, looking right at their chest. “Rori. I like that name. Short and to the point.”

       They dumbly followed their gaze to the lanyard around their own neck, resting on their tie. Rori Reefton. Transcription. Twilight Corp. Rori stared at it like it was their first time seeing it. Like they had forgotten their name. Maybe they had. They looked back up at the woman whose badge read Angela Wharfe. Archival. Twilight Corp. They’ve never met anyone from Archival. Though they didn’t meet many people to begin with. 

       She had asked them another question. They opened their mouth to convey that they were thinking. They bobbed their head up and down, only adding a moment afterward, “Yeah.” It sounded weird hearing their own voice. The way it fizzled quickly against the confines of their workspace. 

       “There’s definitely something—” she started to say but stopped midsentence and looked up. Her eyes scanned the room, darting left and right. Rori felt themself involuntarily shrink a little in their seat. They knew that look well. The look of someone doing something they weren’t supposed to. She then continued like nothing had happened, though her voice was a little quieter, “There’s something about it. You get what I mean, right?”

       Rori had half a mind to think this woman was crazy. Not someone they should be caught socializing with at all. But her words still resonated with them. Like she was pointing at a door in their head they’ve been constantly pretending wasn’t there. Maybe there was something wrong with them, too. 

       They turned their head to look up at the window and its strange, dazzling blues. “I do get it, yeah,” Rori replied.

       “Like…the only thing that makes sense.”

       For some reason, that hit them harder than they were expecting. As if this ordinary office worker had been weighed down to the world by a heavy anchor, only for it to be thrown down a trench, dragging them with it. They turned back to their new acquaintance, seeing in her a new significance. A dangerous kind, equally alluring and unnerving. Their first instinct was to politely tell her to go away, but they remained stunned into silence.

       “But anyway, we probably should get back to work,” she continued breezily and gestured likely toward where her own desk was. “It was nice meeting you, Rori.”

       They answered distantly, “Nice meeting you too…”

       “I’ll see you around.” She was already starting to walk away.

       “Wait uh—” They didn’t realize they had actually said that until after it had flown from their mouth. They weren’t even fully sure why they had done it. The vibrant fish stopped, staring at them with a newly sparked interest. Roris’ words seemed to lamely tumble out, “Angela, right?”       

       She grinned and winked at them. “Cubile 5.”  Then she was out of sight.

       The light in the window was starting to return to its normal state. Rori slowly swiveled to their desk, eyes fixed to the screen yet not processing a single thing before them. The conversation, if you could call it that, was still replaying in their mind.

       When was the last time someone at work spoke to them?

(Sorry to start another story without finishing the others, but this one has been in my head for years, and I’ve been wanting to try it out. It’s got a different feel than my usual stuff, but I’m going for a kind of liminal space “something feels off” vibe to the story. Cyanosis will explore the shadowy depths of Twilight Corporation and Rori’s journey with Angela. Hopefully, I can get to writing a second chapter!)