Teambuilding

[fiction]

A week into the detox and my fridge looked like a nutritionist’s fever dream. Two bags of spinach, seventy-five pellets of tofu, five bottles of high-powered cod liver oil and an enormous vat of protein powder. Add to this a whole galaxy of multi-coloured vitamins, tablets, capsules, lozenges . . . a carton of prune juice, a case of probiotic yoghurt, a pint of raw eggs and two dozen avocados.

If you showed me a loaf of bread that week I would have knocked you out. Beer? Filth. Just toss me a glass of egg and let me on the bench press.

I’d been to the gym twelve times in three days. Before work. After work. Sprinting through the park at lunchtime – gassing it as fast as I could go. Energy was coursing through my quivering flesh like I’d been zapped by a giant cattle prod. I was awake – alert – alive. Indeed, I felt destined for greatness.

But how long could I maintain? Alongside my newfound vitality I was experiencing a series of dreadful side effects. Chafing. Scratching. Puking. Cramp. At night my muscles felt like they had been injected with acid.

My toilet routine was alarmingly irregular, and I had spots for the first time in years. I don’t think you’re really meant to eat that many avocados. But the online sports guru I was watching said I should push on – so I reassured myself that this was just a phase. A mere staging post on the triumphant road to physical nirvana.

Of course, vaping and lithium were necessary evils. Especially with the CHUD Radiators deadline coming up. The new Heatmaster 5000 was hitting the shelves imminently, and the CHUD people wanted a complete news blackout. Forget war, forget interest rates – nothing could be more important than shifting radiators.

The CHUD Heatmaster was the most energy efficient model to hit the market since Watson Warmth released the Hotshot two years ago. Business was obviously slow and CHUD were losing the plot. They kept requesting articles in the actual voice of the Heatmaster:

Halt, traveller. Stay awhile and warm yourself. I am the Heatmaster 5000, official sovereign of the radiator world. Welcome to my kingdom of heat. Unlike other radiators, my beauty is simple. I have a convection heating system which maximizes heat distribution…

And so on. It was trash, but they went for it. I could do no wrong. Sobriety and exercise were helping me excel at work and not even my great rival Fleur Brooks could bring me down. I still can’t believe she won that Digital Rising Star award – using my ideas!

When our annual teambuilding day rolled around, I was raring to go. CEO Dave Rodgers had cut a deal with LaserQuest on the outskirts of town. Four floors of budget laser action on a Tuesday morning. Didn’t sound too bad to be honest. I had no plans to bond, however. I would be lasering the entire agency into oblivion and coming out of there top banana.

After a 6am start and a protein-rich breakfast I ran up town to the bus station. From there I took the sweaty journey to the LaserQuest warehouse, past the zoo, past the rugby stadium, to a drab retail park beyond the airport.

I hopped off the bus and jogged to the meeting point outside LaserQuest where my colleagues were beginning to assemble. Didn’t recognise half of them in their civvies and I couldn’t have told you most of their names. I could see Fleur Brooks. She was schmoozing with CEO Rodgers at the front. Disgusting. Everyone was keen to get inside. At 9am exactly, the shutters were lifted. A scraggy operative in plastic body armour came out to address us.

‘Welcome to LaserQuest. My name is Ballard, I will be your guide this morning.’

More puny employees emerged and began handing out suits and guns.

‘Each of you will wear one of these laser sensitive suits. You see this small target on your chest? When you are tagged here – that is a fatality. As you have opted for the bronze package today, you will not be allowed back into the combat zone after being tagged. The last person standing will be declared the winner. Please enter the game area and wait for the klaxon. Good luck and Godspeed.’

Once the suit was firmly attached, I cocked my laser and scurried into the building. It was dark as hell in there. Along the ceiling, neon spotlights revealed a nest of tunnels, corridors and levels. A smoke machine was pumping out honking plumes of vapor, into which I immediately plunged for cover. Cloaked from view, I scrambled up a nearby ladder. I figured that once I had the high ground then I could work my way down the levels picking people off.

When the klaxon sounded, I explored my tactical options. I decided to remain in place for at least two minutes behind a couple of barrels. No point charging in and getting tagged early. I’d let the rabble take each other out first. Well, that was my plan, until I heard footsteps rapidly approaching my position.

It was Linda, my line manager. She was being chased in my direction by a well-drilled team of IT support workers. They tagged her before she could reach my base. But to be fair she took a couple of them down on her way out. The rest of these roving techies prowled back to a lower level. I decided to quietly follow behind, figuring I could use their brutal rampage to cover my own nefarious activities.

With extreme stealth I began to laser my first victims. A PR executive that had pissed me off once. Some bonehead in Accounts. Then I spied an even bigger fish. It was only CEO Rodgers! He was tying his shoelace in a clearing like an amateur. I took aim and fired a flurry of laser bolts at his chest, then strafed round a corner like a ghost. Take that Rodgers! I’m your Daddy now!

More tags followed. I was gaining critical mass in the game. Suddenly Ballard announced himself on the loudspeaker.

‘Only two players left. Alan Pobbles and Fleur Brooks. Congratulations guys. May your aim be true. Please note that the bronze package only allows for another five minutes of game time. Make your way to the bottom level for the final battle.’

I should have guessed that Fleur would be waiting for me at the finishing line. With all those corporate paintballing trips under her belt she had clearly learned the art of war.

‘Come out come out wherever you are,’ she shouted through the darkness.

‘Do you expect me to talk?’

‘No, Alan. I expect you to die!’

She fired a few warning beams. I ducked to my knees and rolled out of the way. Clouds of vapour billowed through the tunnels as I ran for cover. Was I the hunter or the prey? I soon found myself backed into a walkway lined with mirrors.

All I could see were reflections, illusions. A hundred laughing Fleurs – a kaleidoscope of smugness. But this parallel world would soon betray her. Timing and momentum were on my side. I fired a burst of shots into the ceiling mirrors and shielded my chest. The beams bounced in all directions before striking her right on the target.

‘Damn it,’ she shouted, ‘you cheated!’

Tell it to the Rising Star committee, pal.

I had won. Go me! Ballard reappeared and gave me a lousy certificate. Of course, CEO Rodgers had given them the wrong name: Aaron Pobbles. The next group was waiting so we had to leave. Dave Rodgers was pleased because he wanted us back in the office to continue work in the afternoon. He pulled me aside.

‘Aaron! That was some great shooting there, partner. Catch me in my office when we get back. I wanna talk to you re: CHUD radiators. Ciao for now.’

I’ll cut to the chase. I was expecting a promotion for my radiator graft but when I got back to HQ Dave had a preoccupied look on his face. Had he seen me tag him at LaserQuest?

‘Take a seat Aaron, I have some bad news.’

‘I’m sorry I lasered you, Dave. It wasn’t personal.’

‘You’re being made redundant.’

‘For lasering you?’

‘Forget about that. It’s the CHUD account. Your work has been great my man but I’m afraid we have to move with the times. Have you heard of Synonym?’

‘That Artificial Intelligence program?’

‘It’s a doozy isn’t it? It does everything a content strategist can in a matter of seconds. It writes. It edits. It thinks, Aaron!’

‘It doesn’t think, Dave. It’s a computer program. And my name is Alan!’

‘Look, I’ve spoken to CHUD and they want you off the job. The Heatmaster is launching next week and they want the most reliable content money can buy. We’re diverting your salary into Synonym my man. Deal’s done. Collect your things.’

‘What about Fleur?’

‘She stays. She has a lot of contacts that are very valuable to us.’

‘So that’s it?

‘Yeah, that’s it.’

‘Well, fuck your job. And fuck you Dave.’

He was all ‘don’t be like that,’ and I was all like, ‘you phony,’ and giving it the big hairdryer treatment. But there was nothing doing. I had been replaced by a robot and I would have to look for another job.