Channeling Dot
Men! What a bunch of pervs. (That's what Dot would say. And she's right.)
Okay, not Chip, nor that new guy robertawhitehat hired.
Vampster's looking for a new office. Roberta's realtor drove us over to a place in Mountain View*, but the company renting the space says no, they aren't going to move after all.
I'm curious about what sort of company needs supernatural office space (besides ourselves,) and decide to go wander.
I run into a man in a coat and tie, Mr. Roche, wanting to know who the hell I am and what I'm doing here. I bat my eyes, toss my hair and tell him I'm the service tech from their Sun vendor. Stupid Iffy. He's smitten and chatting me up about going to work for him.
I took his card and a NDA to fill out. When we got back to our office I scrubbed my hands until they were pink.
Nothing fishy about him, just a suit with a taste for slender, pale and beautiful (and I'd bet a wife and kids at home.)
maxw and Roberta, however, have reason to believe something was funky over there, something involving Zombies and Google engineers with their brains gone missing. I get to go back for an interview.
I'd resigned myself to playing the honeypot, so I was going to wear something rather fan-service. Chip saw me and he got mad. "We're looking for Mr. Zombie Master, and you're dressing like you want to go for dinner and drinks with him."
I put on the black wool business suit instead.
When we got back to Mountain View (after doing the Hokey Pokey and singing three choruses of "Whoops, I Did It Again.") Drake was waiting for us.
Apparently he knew something about Mr. Roche (oh, and Dot was with us so you can imagine the witty banter between those two.)
I go on up ahead, Roche was expecting me. The others, carrying blunt implements, weren't expected and snuck in behind me. Chip had my Key.
Roche asks me about my resume -- and there's not much to say there. I've been a henchwoman and a test server. And I don't have a social security number, or a last name. Unfortunately Roche isn't deterred by those things. He wants to talk about this over dinner and drinks (you were right Chip.)
I blurted out that I wanted to see the offices, where I'd be working (if he said the bedroom, I'd had killed him on the spot [without confirming that he really was a bad guy, and not just a executive trolling for a fuck.])
So he takes me to the cube farm, and well, there's Zombies in the cube farm. And they're all using Vi (Max said later that they probably didn't have the dexterity required to do those meta-key combinations in Emacs.) Mr. Roche tries to bean me with a paper weight. I grab at him, but he gets away (that shouldn't happen.) He clobbers me and I'm yelling for the rest of the group to come in out of hiding and help fight the Zombies.
Roche is angry that I didn't fall over dead when he hit me. Leave it to me to fuck up some cranky executive's plans. He and Ben David would had got along.
I told Roche he's mistaken and I was going to dislocate his shoulder to make the point. However he made sick contortionist move and hit me again. I took a red stapler to him, and that didn't stop him. Instead started squishing out of his human skin and oh, joy, he's a demon, with six limbs.
The lady who had started the company walks in on this scene. She's angry that Chip, Max, Carlos, Dot, and Drake are destroying her zombies. She must have missed the "Zombies, kill Iffy" order Roche gave them.
The founder's husband had created the zombies a long time ago so they could have dedicated workers they didn't have to pay. But Roche, the new owner, thought they were lousy programmers, and started feeding them the brains of the smart candidates he interviewed. (So he didn't want to fuck me, he wanted me for my brains. Ick.)
That was enough. I took my Key from Chip, set it on squish, and finished off the Demon Roach.
Max disenchanted the remaining zombies, and the founder buried them in consecrated ground back up in Colma. She decided to get out of the outsourcing to the undead business.
Now we're waiting for the cleaners to find the place so they can set it up for us.
Chip gave me a pep talk about how bold and clever brave Ifurita was, but the whole dressing like a fanboy's wet dream was bothering him. He is, after all, the only fanboy in my life.
I need to pass for something less, well, impossible.
My, um, cleavage, for one thing. It needs to be less Jane Mansfield and more Maaya Sakamoto. Realistic.
I can get away with the titanium blonde look, since, after all, Dot's hair is blue.
And I need real work. Roberta's gone into "I don't want to hear or know about it," about my papers, so she won't let me do anything other than play Java Virtual Machine for Max, and that gets old fast.
* I don't know how I'm going to be able to zip in and out of there. GPS doesn't work, and to find the entrance you have to go around the block a few times singing "Roll On, You Bears," and do the Macarena.