When Ray Ality arrives for a job interview at Simulations Inc. he's
immediately drawn to Delilah, the cute receptionist. Only one problem: she's
engaged. Ray soon concocts a plan to win Delilah over, as he and his new,
eccentric coworker Bob use the company's software in an attempt to simulate the
process of courting her.
Ray soon discovers that the simulations aren't exactly what he expected, and as he sinks deeper into virtual reality it becomes harder to distinguish real life from the imaginary.
This novel is Office Space meets The
Matrix--an existential discourse told among keyboards and cubicles.
Excerpt:
Something Bob said echoes in my
mind. In my head I repeat it. 'Reality is what you make it.' If my reality is
to be an endless line of reformatting requests, then perhaps I should make some
good of it. And so I proceed quickly through the maze of cubicles as the
corners of corporate tedium trace my path on either side. I walk past the
company’s receptionist in the foyer. She’s not the one I want, and she’s
probably too occupied with an episode of The Office anyway.
Through the door and into the elevator
I go, nervously tapping my foot as the floors tick past. 9...8...7...
What should I say? It’s not like me
to be so spontaneous, but Bob’s speech was strangely inspirational. I can feel
butterflies beating against the walls of my stomach in time with my heart
against my chest. They’re playing a symphony of apprehension in time with the
elevator’s metronome. 6...5...4...
In my mind I go over what I’ll say.
‘Delilah, if we’re both going to be working here, maybe we should get to know
each other better. I was wondering if you’d like to get a coffee one day after
work?’ In my heart it’s the apex of romance. In my head it’s the apex of
anti-climax. 3...2...1.
The doors open and the lobby is
bathed in the natural light utterly lacking upstairs. The rays shine through
the windows opposite Delilah’s reception desk. The revolving door refracts the
light into a twirling, glowing symphony that lights the desk as though it’s
heaven.
Delilah stands there, and my heart
jumps for a split second when I think about how perfectly romantic the moment
is.
Then I see the man standing there
facing her, his facial hair coarse and obscene next to her smooth, dimpled
cheeks. He stands there like an oaf, hands in his pockets as Delilah reaches
over the reception desk to kiss him. She reaches up with her left hand to touch
the scruff and that’s when I see it: a diamond ring, glinting in the sunlight
and blinding me with jealousy and disappointment.
The elevator doors close, confining
me in blank sterility under sickening artificial light. I was right. The moment
was perfectly romantic. It just wasn’t mine.
# # #
About the Author
John Forelli is 24 years old and lives in
Philadelphia. He worked a stuffy corporate job out of college before quitting
to write this novel. He enjoys drinking with friends at Fado and Tavern on
Broad in Philly and boring them with existential ramblings. John's ideal day
would be spent eating pizza and watching Game of Thrones down the Jersey
Shore. Find out more at his website www.johnforelli.com/ and find him on Twitter @JOHNFORELLI
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for commenting