Working Hard or Hardly Working?

"My boss?" David flinched. "You don't mean..."

"Haha, no Sir, not the CEO. Funny as it would be to watch some wealthy fat-cat try his best to seduce you, we want drama. So in this case we went for somebody who is present in your daily life, not someone who only knows you as a name on a spreadsheet, if that. Not to mention, he has no sex appeal to speak of..." Motley tailed off, seemingly disgusted by the thought of the man. "No, we're setting our sights a touch lower. Someone with petty power she loves to lord over others. Ladies and Gents, give a warm welcome to... Ms Amelia Stone!

This time, the unseen audience did not applaud. They booed and jeered.

Amelia sat at her desk. Office hours had been over for a few hours, but the company never slept. But, to climb like she had by just 25, you had to accept that. You needed to eat, sleep, breath the company ethos. She got her foot in the door early, interning while she studied, and she had a knack for social politicking. By the time she graduated, she was already a rising star in the company. She had been head of Sales Data for 2 years now, and she had no intention of stopping there.

An email popped up. Corporate restructuring, blah blah, streamlined data science division, blah blah, synergistic vision for the future of the company. Meaningless buzzword soup that she skimmed to make sure her job was safe before opening the attachment; a list of names. Real people that upper management wanted her to inform they were being "let go", effective Monday. Jenkins, Paterson, Choudhury, and Fletcher. She did feel a brief stab of pity for them, but quashed it. It was how the game was played. Those who came to work and just did their job were holding the team back, she needed them to go above and beyond. That would leave only Masters and Song on data Analysis, until she could convince the board she needed to hire another. She'd have to push them harder to keep up with the department's targets for this quarter.

She sent a few emails, inviting them to in person meetings on the Tuesday, then closed her laptop, plunging the room into darkness. She stood up to an unexpected wave of nausea, the room seeming to spin. Amelia's stomach churned in the uncomfortable weightlessness for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than it should, before she could feel her feet on solid ground. She stumbled backwards into her office chair, only to find it had seemingly been replaced with a wooden stool.

As Amelia's eyes adjusted to the gloom, her surroundings came into focus. A room that looked like a wood walled caravan, with a dressing table on one wall and a Narrow bunk at the other. A pamphlet lay on the desk, but otherwise her surroundings were spartan. She blinked, re-assessed, looked around again. This was impossible. Had she fallen and hit her head? No, there wasn't any pain. Hallucinations? Had she been ****? When would it have even happened? Still, it may be unlikely but it was possible. She'd find somewhere safe to sit, and wait it out.

The jeering died away, petering out into confused and uneasy silence.

"Hm. Let's try that again," Motley muttered, a dangerous edge creeping into their voice, "I said, Welcome... MS AMELIA STONE!"

Amelia heard the door creak open. She heard her name echo in the darkness beyond. She very pointedly closed the door and returned to the bed.

"Well folks, there's always one." Motley's face was placid porcelain but their voice was sharp as a steel blade. "Oh Ringmaster, may I borrow your hat?"

"Huh?"

"Your hat, of course." Motley's carnival charm was back, but wearing thin. They gestured at the top hat David had received with his new showman outfit. "I need to borrow your hat, then we can get on with the show."

David tentatively offered the hat and watched in horror as the jester sank one long arm, first to the elbow, then to the shoulder, into the confines of the hat. Their arm came back holding an ankle, and drew one nylon clad calf after it, kicking and flailing all the way.

Amelia Stone thrashed against the steely grip of the silk glove around her ankle, her finger tips holding desperately onto the door frame as she braced her free leg against it. She couldn't see her leg, lost in the inky void beyond the threshold, and she desperately didn't want to go wherever it would take her. Then in the gloom she saw it. A second arm, darting like a viper out of the darkness towards her and pulled her into the black.

With a Pop and a round of applause, Motley wrenched a second leg free of the hat. Setting the stocking clad feet on the ground, they grabbed the brim of the hat, and pulled sharply upward, revealing... Well, her hair was a mess, her blouse and pencil skirt rumpled and her glasses were crooked, but David was still cowed by Amelia Stone. The younger woman seemed lower the room temperature several degrees by her presence alone."Fletcher? What is this?" Her eyes settled on David's red tailcoat and the top hat Motley was currently returning to him. "...And what the Hell are you Wearing?"

Motley gave an offended gasp, "Our Ringmaster is dressed as befits his position, Ms Stone, which is more than can be said for you."

"Ringmaster? So you're responsible. Oh I'd have felt bad about this earlier, but now? You are-"

Motley snapped their fingers "An introduction, if you please! Make it snappy too, we're already over your allotted time."

The words died in Amelia's throat as she slipped into the vacant cadence David had come to expect. "I am Amelia Stone, Head of the Sales Data and Analytics department of Shikijō UK. I am 25, I don't plan on letting a relationship distract me from my goals, and I was thinking about the Master when you brought me here." Her eyes cleared, glassy stare becoming a look of pure venom pointed at David. "You are fired, Fletcher. I don't know what this is, or how you did it but your desk better be empty by noon on Monday."

"Ooooh... Not a happy bunny after my little hat trick, is she? Well Ringmaster, at least girl number five remembers you fondly! Maybe she'll be more receptive..."