It was already well after midnight when John looked away from the computer. He rubbed the bridge of his nose several times, his eyes hurt mercilessly from the light of the computer screen, and bags appeared under his eyes. His legs and butt became numb from the seat on the chair, he turned away and leaned back in the chair, staring into the darkness. There was not a soul in the entire transport company office, the blinds were tightly closed, and it was dark all around. He did quick exercises, blinked several times, closed his eyes tightly, turned his head from side to side and stretched, stretching his arms and legs forward, stiff muscles tensed under his shirt. His shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned at the throat, his tie lay on the table, and he had long since hung his jacket over the back of his chair. The shoes were under the table. In the darkness, he glanced at his wristwatch: 1:30 am. He rubbed his unshaven face with his palm. 1:30 a.m. meant he only had 30 hours left until he had to report to his boss.

John had a visceral sense of the atmosphere and mood in the office. Lately, even the air here has become thicker and denser. Several people were absent due to illness, their work was dumped on the rest. It seemed that it was the usual end of their financial year, reports were being perfected, numbers were being put in order, projects were coming to their logical end, and some conclusions were summed up. This time everything was even worse and John felt that it was not good. People's behavior has changed. People stopped talking to themselves about trifles, traditional meetings in the smoking room and kitchen, laughs, anecdotes, jokes, and joint trips for coffee disappeared. Courtesies and smiles became even more routine than usual; over and over again John noticed that people’s faces had turned into masks. There was nothing behind the smiles and politeness; the eyes invariably showed the real emptiness.. The outbursts of rage, quarrels and anger of the authorities also disappeared, which surprised him even more. All this made him anxious; such detachment hid something underneath. He expected that in a month or less one of the bosses would gather the entire team in his office and inform them that the company no longer needed their services, so he began to work out escape routes, and especially carefully drafted his reports. Now in the dark office, he realized that even the smells had disappeared somewhere, the smells of coffee, sweat, food, air freshener. Instead, there was only one smell left - the strange smell of plants. He decided that this was a new fragrance to make the artificial plants in the office smell like real ones, but there was something wrong with this smell too. There was... too much of it. He pulled his shirt further away, feeling the lack of fresh air. And stretched his legs again.

After the end of the working day, security guards and cleaners toured all offices. For John this was not a problem, he took his secluded place and waited for them to go around. When everything calmed down, he quietly left and returned to the office, closed the blinds and continued to work without turning on the light. Due to lack of sleep, he sometimes imagined noise in the corridor and jumped out of his chair excited, this saved him when unknown people decided to go around all the offices a second time, which usually did not happen.

John yawned widely and scratched his cheek. A machine with energy drinks and coffee was nearby, but it was very noisy, John did not dare approach it. Towards the very end, the numbers began to double before his eyes, he began to get confused in the calculations and decided to finish. Work is work, but from lack of sleep he could make even more mistakes than he tried to correct.

Something rustled again from below. John got up from his chair, stretched again and walked to the closed window in his socks, pulled apart the blinds with his fingers and looked down.

Down at the loading dock there was an unusually busy bustle. John focused his eyes on what was happening and smiled faintly. He wasn't the only one who had to work overtime. He looked closely, observing what was happening like a large anthill, and the longer he looked, the more what was happening alarmed him.

The comparison with an anthill could not be more accurate; the people below moved in sync with each other like wound-up dolls. A truck drives up to the loading dock, the side opens and a chain of 10 people approaches the back. Each of them receives from the man in the back something large and elongated, similar to a large baseball. A green baseball, even in the light of the lantern John could not understand what he saw. Ten people with the pods went inside, the other ten took their place and received their pods. Everything happened so quickly that within ten minutes the entire truck was unloaded and another one took its place. The tactics changed and the same group of people carried the pods out of the loading warehouse and filled it.

What was happening was almost hypnotic, John leaned against the glass and continued to watch. The warehouse sometimes worked at night, but in the crowd of people John saw strangers who worked just like everyone else. A girl in an office suit and a guy, an athlete in appearance, in a leather biker jacket, received their pod and walked in and out of the warehouse. No one said anything, there were no unnecessary movements, no one went to the toilet or to smoke. No one was distracted by the phone. They just stood and waited for their turn.

Wonder how much money the boss spent on violating all labor regulations and paying them, John thought. His fears that something bad was happening only intensified. And he continued to follow.

It seemed that everything would end when the flow of trucks stopped. Following them, to John's surprise, civilian cars, minivans, SUVs, cheap and expensive, began to drive up to the loading dock. Their flow was noticeably faster, mainly because none of them were shipping anything. Each driver filled the trunk as much as there was room. This flow alarmed John even more. Whatever this idea was - more people were in conspiracy than anyone could imagine. The last group of cars was the strangest of all: the school bus was filled to the very roof, the last portion of the pods was lowered through the hatches at the top, so that the driver could barely climb into his seat, the same happened with the ice cream truck. An army truck with a green awning and the base number on the hood was accompanied by two soldiers with weapons; they got to work without asking any questions, covered the side with the awning and drove away. A black and white police car slowly pulled out from the shadows below, its headlights and warning lights off. John hoped that at least they would start asking questions and making noise, but two policemen, as well as soldiers, joined the others. They stuffed a few pods into the trunk and back seat, started up, and drove off. After that, the lights in the warehouse went out, and without saying a word, everyone headed outside the gates of the facility, went out into the street and went in different directions as calmly as before. No one exchanged glances with anyone, no one left as a couple.

And it was time for John to leave too. He came out of the trance, the drowsiness disappeared completely. Whatever was happening here, there were forces involved in it that were so great that they could make him disappear. Or join the faceless dolls unloading and delivering these strange pods. And John didn’t yet know which was worse. He stood at the window for so long that his body became numb, he desperately wanted to go to the toilet. Everything that had happened ceased to interest him; neither the report nor the desire to stay at work were worth it.

He automatically saved all the edits, turned off the computer and packed up. He put on his jacket, buttoned his shirt, and nervously pulled his shoes on his feet. He pulled out the hard drive and hid it in his bag and raked out his personal belongings from the table. He poured the contents of the ashtray into a bag. When he left the office, his seat looked like no one had ever sat there.

John knew the secret escape and fire exits from the building; getting out seemed like a simple task, but his bladder was already putting pressure on his brain. He chose the nearest toilet and slowly opened the creaky door, not paying attention to the sign “Out of Service.” He dropped his bag on the floor by the sink, jumped into the nearest stall, unzipped his fly and relieved himself.

The first thing he noticed was that the smell of the plant was even thicker here. Even ordinary toilet smells seemed to be drowned out by it. John shook his head, trying to shoo it away. He was sweating, his shirt soaked with sweat and fear. And yet nothing has happened yet, now he will finish, wash his face, get out of the building, pack his things in the rented apartment and leave the city. Somewhere far away from this whole conspiracy, where no one will find him. And then, maybe, maybe, he’ll tell authorities where to go. He will give a signal. If there is a reaction, he will be saved, if not, then everything is still much worse, and he shouldn’t rely on the authorities.

A knock brought him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and turned his head, trying to find its source. It seemed that it sounded very close, but did not repeat itself. John finished, feeling that he had reached his limit of luck. He didn’t even flush after himself, carefully closed the toilet lid, slowly closed the door and walked to the sink. There was a mirror that spanned the entire wall, reflecting both himself and the booths. He turned on the water, washed his hands, then wet his face, hair and neck.

He slowly inhaled and exhaled, rubbing his eyes and looking at himself in the mirror. An unshaven beard, sunken cheeks, yellowish teeth, bags from lack of sleep under reddened eyes, disheveled hair.

He went to the gym, tried to eat right to get in the right shape, but after five days of overwork he became like a ghost, skipped his trip to the gym, ate God knows what. The desire to sleep slowly began to return, so he splashed his face with water again. For the first time, doubts arose - did he really see what he saw? Didn't he dream it, did his sleep-deprived brain slip this strange hallucination? He pinched himself, felt pain, and lightly slapped his face.

But then the knock came again, and not just a knock. A strange sound of movement and the whistle of air scattered by something fast. John froze, his heart pounded loudly, he stopped breathing, realizing that he was not alone in the toilet. The corner booth door slowly opened behind him with a creak; he saw it in the reflection. The door slammed loudly against the wall; in the silence it sounded like a gunshot. The cabin was swallowed up in darkness; nothing was visible in the reflection.

Finally John turned around, ready to grab his bag and escape, his face contorted in horror, his mouth frozen in a scream. In the depths of the toilet stall, perched on the toilet was one of the pods that John had seen from the window; it was lying on the lid and swaying from side to side, a greenish liquid was oozing from it, dripping straight onto the floor, green slimy tentacle branches were sticking out from the top, whipping the air, Several fleshy thick leaves grew at the base. John forgot about everything and screamed when one of the branches reached forward, wrapped around his legs and jerked him back sharply - he fell to the floor, hitting his head. John tried to grab onto something, but there was not a single support on the smooth floor. The second and third branches wrapped around his arms, the fourth around his neck. With tremendous force, John was dragged into the booth and the door slammed as loudly as it opened.

For a short time John tried to resist, he tossed and turned, twisted his head, arms and legs from side to side, and the harder he tried, the more his bonds tightened. He turned into a mummy, his legs were wrapped in a steel grip, his arms were stretched behind his back and locked, bringing him unbearable pain. There was only a gap left on his face for his nose; one of the tentacles easily crawled into his open mouth and went down all the way to his throat and into his stomach. John felt a strong gag reflex, but could not resist, feeling the disgusting liquid in his mouth and nose. Having exhausted all his strength to resist, John fell silent and lost consciousness, falling into a deep sleep. The tentacle branches released the pressure slightly so as not to damage the body. Everything fell silent again, for about six hours.

By morning, when the alarm on John's phone rang, little had changed. On the mirror there was a spit of foul greenish slime that flowed into the sink; the entire floor and the cubicle were covered in it. In the corner next to the toilet there was a clump of tentacle branches in which John was wrapped. The pod itself grew significantly larger and only miraculously did not fall down, continuing to sway. The door was again wide open, and if desired, anyone could look inside and see everything. The top of the pod opened slightly, and something dark appeared from it, mixed with slime pouring onto the floor. The pod bent over, and with a splash, a naked muscular body in a fetal position, covered in slime, fell out of it onto the cold floor.

He shuddered and straightened his arms and legs without feeling the cold. Veins and muscles stood out on his skin, he stretched as if he had just woken up in bed, only the pod on the toilet served as his bed. He turned onto his back, facing the ceiling and opened his eyes, squinting. In the light of the lamps in the ceiling, he saw his reflection, automatically wiped his face with a wet hand, tucking his wet hair up. Once again he stretched his arms out to the sides, feeling the force flowing through them, and bent his palms into fists. He lifted his chest up, bent forward and sat on the floor, stretching his legs forward. He bent his head and turned it from side to side, looking around the place of his birth. After that stroked his chest and abs on stomach, feeling unusual and new sensations.

Getting to his feet was not difficult at all; he felt and controlled his new body perfectly. He left the stall and slowly walked to the sink, straightening his hair back again. But the mirror was something new for him. Leaning one hand on the sink, he reached forward and wiped the remaining slime from the mirror, wiped the mirror several times until it was crystal clear and saw himself in all his beauty. He saw his smooth face, light beard, clear eyes. The sleep clearly did him good, his skin acquired color and tone, the bags under his eyes disappeared. He looked at the face from all sides, as if seeing it for the first time. Then he looked at the neck, stretched out his arms and examined them, ran his hand over the chest and stomach, and even lower. A sincere smile appeared on his face. He examined his white teeth and elongated tongue.

There was a click and the toilet door opened. John turned his head and met the blank gaze of the janitor, a young guy in a cap with a mop and bucket. The cleaner looked at the slime-stained floor and the naked young man in front of him and stared at him silently. The smile disappeared from John's face, his face becoming blank and emotionless. He barely nodded to the janitor, and the janitor nodded back.

While the janitor cleaned up all traces of the mess, spreading the slime across the floor with a mop, John collected the clothes that was left behind, dried himself off with the towel provided, and put on his underpants, pants and socks, shirt and jacket. The clothes were still wrinkled, but he planned to iron them upon returning home, strictly following the corporate dress code. He buttoned his shirt, tucked it into his pants, tidied up his hair with a comb, and tightened his tie in front of the mirror. Shaking off the dirt and dust, he smiled at himself in the mirror again. Nothing distinguished him from John, who walked into this office a few years ago young, muscular and energetic. He picked up his bag, hanging it over his shoulder, pulled the door towards him and left the toilet, leaving the janitor alone. The toilet was also restored to perfect condition and now smelled of fresh fragrance and floor cleaner.

John returned to his office and opened the blinds, letting the morning light in. He took out his personal belongings from the bag and returned them to the desk drawer, then pulled out the computer system unit, returned the hard drive, connected everything, turned on the computer and returned to work on reports, correcting his mistakes.

He submitted the report on time. And then he received a promotion and a new task - to calculate how many pods and in what time frame the transport company could deliver to the required addresses.

Of course, before leaving home, he stopped at the loading dock and loaded several pods into the trunk of his car, hoping to secretly place them in his neighbors' apartments.