“No,” Kimiko said firmly. “Do not bother to redo this yourself.” She sighed, and if the sigh had a hint of the theatrical to it, she was fairly sure it wouldn’t show.

Her screen was only barely visible to the other woman in the meeting, a consequence of their respective angles across Kimiko’s desk. However, it was just barely possible for her to see as Kimiko swept the document from one window to another, moving it in the company’s internal filing system. “We’re getting close to the deadline,” she told Shauna. “It’ll be quicker for me to make the corrections myself.”

You could never read embarrassment on Shauna’s features. Her dark skin hid any flush, and Kimiko had noticed over the past year and a half that the other woman was excellent at hiding any emotion she didn’t want the people she was with to see.

Had she been curious, she might have used that observation for a conversation that would eventually lead to a closer understanding and a better working relationship. It was Kimiko’s opinion, however, that she didn’t have the time to be curious, especially as it wasn’t what she was being paid for.

“Well,” Shauna said simply, “alright. I’m sorry I missed some issues. Would it be possible, after deadline, to get together so you can go over what I missed?”

“Unlikely,” Kimiko told her. “Do not let me detain you.”

Somewhat awkwardly, Shauna rose and left. Kimiko suppressed a snort of disdain, occasioned by the reminder that Shauna was seven or eight inches taller than her. You forgot that unless only Shauna was standing; she shrank in on herself, something Kimiko was determined she’d never do. She didn’t have the drive to fulfil on her potential, not if there was any pushback. Kimiko considered her weak.

She opened the report and began tweaking it. There was only a little that needed changing; Shauna had just lacked a little context, or she might have put that together too. The problem with that was that Kimiko no longer wanted Shauna to have that extra level of understanding.

With understanding came insight, and Kimiko needed as few people as possible to have that insight.

The slim briefcase she always carried into the office had a small pocket that read, on security scans, like a foil-lined packet of chips. Kimiko had upgraded to this briefcase six months ago, and even in the high-security world she worked in, the head office of a multi-billion dollar international firm, no guard had yet stopped to ask why they could see a snack on the X-Ray scans but the packet wasn’t in there when they opened up the briefcase and made their visual checks.

Security breaches, she’d been told, were all in expectations. People expected the inventory of both checks to tally. It was very rare that they thought to confirm that; at the time they were much more concerned with anything that stood out on the check.

She opened that concealed pocket now and slipped a cellphone out of it. The pocket also acted as a Faraday cage; it was four times as expensive as the rest of the briefcase, which itself was far too expensive to be anything but a status symbol. But the phone could not be detected while in it.

Kimiko quickly paged through the report, snapping photos as she went. She’d transmit those later, after leaving the office for the evening, in the wifi extended over the parking lot of one of four sports bars that lay not-quite on her obvious route home, but all on reasonable courses to Carl Sheehan’s home.

The phone slid back into the pocket, the pocket clipped back into the lining of the briefcase, and Kimiko relaxed. The scheme had been described to her as foolproof, but it was Kimiko’s experience that foolproof was a worthless description; smart people, if they let themselves grow overconfident, could make far worse trouble for themselves than any fool.

If it wasn’t for the money at stake, Kimiko would have let this opportunity go by. The risk was all on her. The expense of the briefcase had been shared. But it was an opportunity to retire by forty, confident of enough wealth to live out the rest of her life in whatever level of luxury she wanted, without worrying about being passed over for promotions rightly hers or anything else that might disrupt a career. All of which she did worry about, extensively.

Her quiet betrayal done, she turned back to the report and exported it. It could then be sent on confidently, though she made sure to ‘accidentally’ CC Carl Sheehan and two others in, adding at the top of the email:

All: My apologies if you shouldn’t be receiving this. As you’ll all recall, at the start of Project Mississippi there was some question who was in the team. I’ve tried to keep this only to people who need to know, but if I’ve slipped, please delete without reading.

The leak was bound to be discovered eventually. Kimiko had put almost as much work into framing Carl as she had into extracting the information in the first place. There were two more reports she’d need to send over before the final payout, when their competition would have everything they needed.

By the time that happened, Carl would have had access to every file and none of the other unnecessary additions would have seen more than three. She’d just have to plant the phone in his office and security would immediately jump to conclusions. At worst she’d be censured for sending the emails too widely.

With that done she turned to her other main duty of the day; reviewing time management data for those directly answerable to her, looking for anything that might need correcting.

Kimiko was always more generous with minor infractions on any day she’d documented one of Shauna’s reports for her secret investor. Knowing she’d secured another clandestine payoff was deeply satisfying, and it left her in a more positive mood for the rest of the day; often, this paid forward for some of those under her.

There was, however, one clear exception to that rule. Shauna herself.

Kimiko would always tell herself that it wasn’t personal. And to a degree, it was just a case of covering her own ass.

On the other hand, if she’d had more respect for Shauna in the first place, she wouldn’t have been an acceptable second candidate for the frame.

Kimiko took a break midway through timesheet analysis (which chiefly consisted of skimming over the numbers in case there were any that seemed obviously out of line or in case any of her team had clearly not logged enough time) to grab a coffee; having access to the bean-to-cup machine for executives had been a tremendous bonus.

When she came back to her desk, one of the emails awaiting her attention had a red Urgent flag (something Kimiko preferred to avoid where she could) and the name of the VP of Operations in the Sender field (something she couldn’t risk avoiding).

*

From: David Peters

Subject: Announcing the Blank Page Initiative

Good afternoon all.

I’m breaking in to your working day because I have something exciting for this company. I’ve been discussing this with Harriet over in HR on and off for four months, and we’re excited to finally roll it out.

The CEO’s address was last month, so you all know that Kintech Global is currently on a roll. If we want to further optimise this, there are a few ways we could go. We’ve decided on one which rewards the people who make this company great.

So in case you’re worried let me start out by saying: There will be no reduction in workforce as part of Blank Page. There will be no forced redundancies. We are investing into the company at every level, and by that I mean you.

Your employee portal now has a Confidential Mail button. If you have any thoughts on how we can help you do your work better, please send a CM to Blank Page through this system. Mention your team and, if it’s an idea that’s specific for you, mention your name, because otherwise we’re going to have to guess.

If your idea is a serious one it will be considered. That includes raises, changes to the bonus structure, extra training. It also includes noting any points of friction with co-workers. We’d rather find a way that two colleagues who don’t mesh well can avoid having to work closely.

Now, I know some of you will look at this as a trap and avoid sticking your neck out. That’s OK - you don’t have to. My hope is that enough of you will that everyone’s work improves, and everyone’s work life gets a little better. Those of you who reach out, it’s your ideas we’ll be assessing, so you should benefit the most.

In the weeks and months to come, as we roll Blank Page out, you may find meetings added to your schedule with myself or Harriet. Again, these will not result in the loss of a job, or in any traditional disciplinary process. Please don’t worry about them.

Kind Regards,

David

*

Kimiko tutted audibly. The man had to be some kind of fool if he couldn’t see he’d just agreed - not even agreed, volunteered - to get involved in a hundred petty grievances, to arbitrate dozens of squabbles, to waste hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars.

On the other hand, in about three more months and armed with her information, a competitor would be kicking the legs out from under Kintech in one of its biggest ventures to date. Billions in investment was going to be wasted. So this initiative was likely to disappear before too long anyway.

She started wondering idly whether there was any way she could make use of it. There was a temptation to find a high-ticket training course and volunteer for it, but it might interfere with her access to key data and, besides, she wasn’t planning on working once her final sellout payment came through. So did she really need it?

She didn’t delete the email, just in case. But she moved on to the next.

Kimiko was surprised to find that the next email was actually a calendar appointment labelled Blank Page. Wasn’t this only supposed to happen if you requested something? Unless someone had requested something about her… but there hadn’t been time, surely, for anyone to send it out, let alone for it to be sent out and read and a decision made… but…

She cut her internal quandary off brutally. This wasn’t an appointment she could refuse, she told herself, and simply accepted it. She would just have to not worry too much why it had happened.

It was a couple of days off anyway. She decided to try to put it out of her mind and deal with it when it happened.

*

The initial attitude to the announcement, from what she’d seen, had been cynical to the point of jaundiced. Very few people would admit to having sent anything in, and nearly everyone said it felt suspicious, except for a couple of people who mentioned that HR wouldn’t be happy being attached to a promise not to fire people if that promise was a lie.

They were promptly rubbished by the rest of the company, veterans of takeovers and hard business all.

The following day, half of the back end coding team had new ergonomic chairs or fancy standing desks. Someone had come in to examine all the non-executive kitchenettes and measure up to replace the vending machines with coffee machines like the one Kimiko prized so much.

People began to talk a little differently.

Gertie Miller mentioned that she’d been in a Blank Page meeting after complaining about her pay, and had been quizzed about the cost of living before being told new pay scales were being worked on, and individual raises would be factored into them on announcement. Ralph Washington reported that he’d been granted an extra month’s paternity leave for when the baby arrived, and told that a new policy would be coming. Both were very happy to talk about the $500 ‘finders fee’ they’d received.

Kimiko regarded all this with, if anything, increased suspicion, and she knew she wasn’t the only one. Discreet inquiries among the concerned gave her the impression, rightly or wrongly, that she was the only one with an appointment under Blank Page - someone had to have complained about her, but who? - but Shauna moodily remarked “I’d be surprised if it doesn’t happen to us all by the end.”

A few months ago, Kimiko thought, Shauna would probably have been one of those trying to pump this unexpected generosity for all it was worth. Now she looked at it with skepticism, expecting nothing good to come from putting her hand up to be noticed.

Kimiko felt she had probably had a hand in that. She was quietly proud of that fact. Having that absurd optimism knocked out of the woman meant she was much more likely to stay with Kintech for longer, more likely to be willing to accept minimal to no raises and bonuses. Keeping the retention rate high and the expenses down in her department would, in turn, push Kimiko’s own bonus higher.

It would all turn out to be a waste, she thought, if Blank Page kept going too far; but then, it might be a waste anyway, if Shauna wasn’t one of those lucky enough to be kept on when her sellout did its damage. Kimiko didn’t think she would be; she hadn’t exactly had the most ringing endorsement from her manager.

When it came, her appointment was in a discreet meeting room which adjoined VP Peters’ office from a private door on the other side. This, of course, was on the highest of the four floors in the building given over to Operations, but unlike his corner office it had no grand windowed view.

Most Ops offices had glass walls looking out into the corridors, but a few on this floor didn’t. Nobody could tell what was going on in Peters’ office without getting past his PA, Veronica, and through the door (although Veronica’s own desk was visible to passers-by) and nobody could see what was happening in the small meeting room.

Kimiko was not entirely surprised to see that the chairs on either side of the meeting table had been replaced with more comfortable seating, but was a little taken aback to see armchairs. She was also surprised to see Peters already seated in his, leaning forward onto the table typing slowly on his laptop.

He looked up to see her and for a moment she thought he wore the same expression as a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t be, before he smiled a broad smile that showed off the very best in American dentistry.

Standing up, he held out his hand to shake. He towered over Kimiko; experience taught her that he’d perceive her as being taller than she was, through the way she carried herself and the confidence she showed, but that didn’t change her own perception. “Kimiko,” he said, “hi. Very punctual!”

Kimiko usually made a point to arrive early for her meetings in order to appear focused and ready. She’d held back to arrive just on time for this one out of the assumption that he would be five to ten minutes late, and she didn’t want to waste too much of her own time. “Thank you,” she said. “Have you just had another of these?”

“Actually, no,” he said. “You’re the first.” And he smiled warmly. “Shall we sit?”

She put her coffee mug down on a coaster on the table and settled herself into the armchair, her mind racing. “Of course,” she said. “I will say, though, I haven’t actually submitted anything through the new tool, so I’m not sure what this is about.”

Peters nodded. He picked up the compact keyfob-style remote and turned on the big screen behind him, which sprung into life displaying a spreadsheet.

“Oh, God,” she said, staring at a dense mix of cells of different colourations, all with a handful of words written in them. Some of the cells had words in a different typeface and size to others, having clearly been copy/pasted in.

Peters grinned. “I know,” he said. “Nothing this large-scale should be organised in Excel. Too many opportunities for error.

“Unfortunately I don’t code myself and I refuse to trust code an AI hacked together based on my own harebrained ideas. I’ve got someone putting something together. In the meantime, I’ve made a start. So.”

This man, Kimiko thought, is not serious enough about anything to hold the position he does. I could do so much better.

Her attention was still on the spreadsheet. It was a mix of complaints, requests, possible solutions, and costs. The complaints themselves were wildly varied. “Some of these shouldn’t be taken seriously, surely.”

“No, of course not.” Peters had sat again and picked up his coffee mug, which he was rolling between his palms as if harvesting the warmth. “Some are jokes. Others are exaggerations. We’ll ignore the jokes, and when we think it’s an exaggeration we’ll try to work out and fix the actual problem,”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why are we doing this?”

“Well,” Peters said slowly, weighing his words, “you’ve seen the official answer. And there’s some truth to that, as happier workers do tend to be more productive. And ultimately, this is all going to come down to: What makes us more profitable?”

“This is a huge spend. The amount of extra profit we’d have to make…”

He waved a hand airily in clear dismissal. “It’s a big capital investment. It pays itself back over time. Look, you don’t reach your position, let alone mine, without understanding that a business never takes any decision without an eye to the profit motive. That’s capitalism. We have to keep increasing that profit, so our shareholders are happy, because a steady dividend isn’t good enough. That’s late-stage capitalism.”

His expression was enthusiastic, his eyes had a focus and an energy that didn’t sit quite right with this amused, make-a-joke-of-the-truth presentation. She was fairly sure he hadn’t looked away from her eyes except to pick up the remote earlier.

“But mostly they understand big investments so long as they pay off over time. I’m spending big here so we can improve retention. We want good workers. We want happy workers. We want our good happy workers to stay with us.”

Somewhere in that sea of platitudes (as far as Kimiko was concerned) the spreadsheet had gone away, replaced by a screensaver that bore a strong resemblance to a lava lamp, with glowing blue blobs rising up and down against a deep green background, changing in size and sometimes budding into two.

“And that’s why I’m in this room?” She was doing her best to keep the skepticism out of her voice. Usually it at least earned respect in other executives - here was no naif - but she was starting to think he might be a true believer.

“In a sense. Kimiko, you’re one of the people with oversight over some very important projects. It’s important to us that you’re happy with the job you do. I’m not going to insult you by suggesting you’re not dedicated to your work, or by saying we don’t think you’re doing a good job. But because your role is an important role, it occupies a priority list for me.”

He was still watching her earnestly, or she assumed he was since his tone hadn’t changed. As much as she’d been taught to meet the gaze of anyone who gave her eye contact, there was a big screen over his shoulder and it had something moving on it. As anyone who’d ever tried to nurse a drink and a plate of chicken wings in a sports bar could tell you, screens like that caught the attention neatly.

“For you?” She’d spoken more softly than she’d intended to. Peters must be better at setting an atmosphere than she’d thought.

“Yes. For me, and for the company.” He let that one hang in the air for just long enough that she started to wonder if she should say anything. Seconds had gone by. But she had no answer, not even a glib one, by the time he spoke again. “That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she answered, not really thinking about it.

“That’s good,” Peters said. The corners of Kimiko’s mouth turned up, just barely, a uncertain sliver of a smile. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. But that’s OK, I’m sure. You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?”

If she had a screensaver like this one she’d never get any work done. It was too enjoyable just to sit and watch. “Yes,” she agreed, aware however dimly that the conversation had stalled.

“Very good. We like hard workers in Kintech, Kimiko. We want to be a place they can give themselves to. Everything else is negotiable, but you must give yourself to us. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” Two of the smaller pulsating blue patches had begun a slow collision and merging. She watched it with a mounting fascination.

“And you will give yourself to us, Kimiko. To me and the company. Won’t you?”

“Yes.” The merger had finished. Kimiko felt lighter, somehow. As if a vacant space was opening up at the top of her head, just below her tingling scalp. She was aware that Peters was talking, but she was paying no attention to what he might actually be saying, just making what her instinct supplied as the right noise when his tone suggested she’d been asked a question.

Instead she was simply staring at the screensaver, heedless of any offence that her focus being elsewhere might give, heedless even of the rules she’d been taught about focus in meetings.

“Why is that?”

“You and the company are what’s important.” That answer took her longer than the others, she noted vaguely. There was a point forming on one of the glowing blue shapes, at its edge, that might bud out shortly, and she was watching it, fascinated.

“Close your eyes.”

Without properly registering what he had said, her eyes closed instantly. She still saw the lava lamp-like progress of the glowing bluenesses, but her eyes had gone from openly staring to closed in the space of two heartbeats.

“Kimiko, I am going to say some things to you that I want you to understand and accept as truth. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Now, I need to know that what you understand and accept as truth is right. So when I say these things to you, you will repeat them back to me. What will you do?”

“I will repeat them back to you.”

“That’s very good. You are ready to begin.”

“I am ready to begin.”

The images in her eyes were growing less distinct, but that turned out not to mean that she was noticing what she was saying or what was being said to her any more than she had.

“You are loyal to Kintech Global.”

“I am loyal to Kintech Global.”

“You are loyal to me personally.”

“I am loyal to you personally.”

“You are a happy worker.”

“I am a happy worker.”

“You will do as the company requires.”

“I will do as the company requires.”

“You will submit to Blank Page meetings happily.”

“I will submit to Blank Page meetings happily.”

“You will tell others to trust Blank Page.”

“I will tell others to trust Blank Page.”

“Being a Blank Page is good for you.”

“Being a Blank Page is good for me.”

“You will take on my feedback.”

“I will take on your feedback.”

“You will act on my direction.”

“I will act on your direction.”

“The company matters more than you.”

“The company matters more than me.”

“You are a hard worker.”

“I am a hard worker.”

“Working brings you pleasure.”

“Working brings me pleasure.”

“Completing tasks brings you pleasure.”

“Completing tasks brings me pleasure.”

“You want other Kintech employees to feel pleasure.”

“I want other Kintech employees to feel pleasure.”

“You will smile at work.”

“I will smile at work.” The tentative upturns at the corners of her mouth twitched and deepened, becoming something warmer, below her placidly closed eyes.

“You will be less of a bitch.”

This, surely, would have been a stumbling block, had Kimiko been processing the words used around her on any conscious level. Whatever other word she might have used to describe herself, this wasn’t one of them. “I will be less of a bitch,” she answered.

“Open your eyes and stop repeating now, Kimiko.”

Kimiko opened her eyes. Peters was fiddling with his laptop touchpad as if he was still working on it, even though his screensaver was still live on the screen. “Not my words,” he remarked. “The words of someone who works with you. Their request, specifically.”

Peters fixed her with a firm gaze. “That’s right, Kimiko. Someone’s request to improve the quality of their life at work was that you needed to be less of a bitch. What do you think of that?”

Thought was slow and sluggish, as it was sometimes on waking from sleep, as if the whole process had stopped and would take time to start again.

“I think that if I am less of a bitch they will feel pleasure,” she said. She was speaking slowly and ponderously, the words coming only as quickly as the sluggish thought took to form.

Peters chuckled. His laugh was a deep rumble, and it kindled a strange tingling pleasure in her belly to hear. She was not yet interested enough in thinking again to wonder why. “Well, that’s well put,” he said. “I have something I want you to do for me, and I want you to agree you will do it before you know what it is. Will you?”

“Yes,” she answered without the least hesitation.

“Good girl,” he said, almost absently. Kimiko ached thoughtlessly with pleasure. “When this meeting is over, and you get back to your desk, I want you to fill out a Blank Page report. Identify yourself at the top. Be completely honest, and leave nothing out. But don’t think about it. Don’t consider any embarrassment or shame or any negative effects for you or for anyone. And if you would do, forget you’ve done it the moment it’s sent. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do for me?”

“When I get back to my desk, I will fill out a Blank Page report. I will identify myself at the top. I will be completely honest and leave nothing out. I will not think about it. I will not consider any embarrassment or shame or any negative effects for me or for anyone.

“I will forget I’ve done it the moment it’s sent.”

There was a moment of quiet. Kimiko, thoughtless, did not realise she had as good as confessed that her report would bring on shame, embarrassment, or some negative consequence, but Peters must have.

“Now, Kimiko,” he continued. “You may not realise this, but you’re not awake at the moment. You’re in a state of hypnotic trance. Don’t worry that you don’t understand.”

It was very considerate of him to say that, she felt.

He continued. “In a few moments I’m going to shut off the program and the screen behind me will revert to a spreadsheet. At that time, you will allow yourself to wake up.

“It is important that you do not remember what has happened over the course of this meeting after you wake up. Not yet. So you will hide that information from yourself. You will replace it with the idea that we had a great conversation, and that you came to understand why you love Kintech Global. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very good. If you are sent any other Blank Page meetings you will accept and look forward to them. But when you arrive, you will simply wait for the screen you have been watching to start up again. Do you understand?”

“No,” she answered, which was true enough.

Peters chuckled again, and her thighs ground against each other in an excitement she wasn’t thinking enough to analyse. “Will you do so anyway?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.” He tapped at his touchscreen again and the lava lamp went away. Kimiko blinked several times, surprised, and looked across to him with a broad smile.

That broad smile was completely natural, and she knew that. But it felt unfamiliar on her face.

Peters was standing up, so the meeting must have been over. She hadn’t realised. She stood up in turn, smiling broadly. What a great conversation they’d had together, just then. It had really helped her to understand some fundamental truths.

He held out his hand, and she shook it firmly, meeting his eyes and smiling warmly back at him. “Thank you, Kimiko,” he said. “It’s good to have met you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I feel more confident about your team now.”

She flushed slightly. “We won’t let you down, sir.”

“I know.” He closed his laptop, tucking it under one arm, and made his way back to his office through the adjoining door. Just before she turned to leave, Kimiko thought she could see someone seated at the chair across from his desk; they had their back to them, but long brown hair was visible down the back of the chair, making her think of Harriet, the VP of HR.

As she left the meeting room she wondered idly when Harriet had plucked up the fashion sense to try a sleeveless top or two, as there had certainly been bare skin visible either side of the hair.

She headed down two flights of stairs and across to her team, detouring on the way to collect a cup of coffee, and checked in with Shauna, leaving a puzzled stare in her wake, before finally making her way back to her office, where she sat down and loaded up her employee portal. There was the Confidential Mail button.

She clicked on it and began to type.