The day moved forward with all the force and inevitability of a train crashing in slow mo. Sheryl-Lee volunteered to DJ the meeting that afternoon, queuing up all the office hits: though her initiative was well-intentioned, the incoherent mood swings of the playlist jolting from Dolly Parton to Enya to Bruno Mars left everyone psychically reeling. Garris nearly received an encore when he shouldered over to the console and switched the jams to lab-cooked elevator jazz. The production-enhancing, chill-inducing, soul-crushing sounds lent a comprehensive mise en scene to the crowded lobby that a hard transition from “9 to 5” to “Orinoco Flow” wasn’t permitting.

  Time to get down to business.

  Mr. Garris a-hem-hemmed once or twice, trying to get Leo and the suit-wearing psychos to shut up about commodity trading for a few seconds.

  “But that’s enough time to make or break a trade!” Leo protested.

  “Yeah? There’s the door-” Garris chuckled, “In case you’d rather be a day-trader.”

  Leo crossed his arms, jaw locked.

  “No?” Garris tested. “Thanks champ, glad you’re still on the team.”

  Leo’s face reddened.

  Garris continued, “Well, You all know why we’re here-”

  Aaaand that was the queue for Norm to tune out. He darted an eye to the clock on the wall, noting the start time of the meeting. Sometimes these spur-of the moment meetings could last ages. Today was more difficult to predict, would it be a long one due to the amount of information to disclose and the tasks to assign? Or… oh fuck.

  “Lastly, I’d like to introduce Reid and Carol.”

  Norm’s attention was drawn to a couple of new faces in the crowd. They both waved. Reid robotically swung his arm up at the elbow, presenting a deep-cut and mirthless smirk. Obligatory. He was just here to be here. Carol on the other hand flashed the world’s most photogenic smile in a very toothy and gummy grin. Her gray-brown tresses fell down her narrow shoulders in a very “mom with kids in college who rediscovered herself” kind of way. Norm pegged her as a riot at the neighborhood wine night. Glancing back at Reid, he was staring attentively at Mr. Garris. He had ex-military/gym teacher vibes that didn’t quite gel with his fully formed dad bod and salmon-toned polo shirt.

  Where the fuck did Sheryl-Lee find these people?

  As it turned out, Reid was sent in by the insurance department (different building, same corporate park). Sheryl-Lee knew him from one or two disasters ago, a real testament to both their longevity. So they were acquainted.

  Carol was a total newbie. She was the new hotshot liaison with Angelson Mineral. Norm’s assumptions were vindicated over lunch when he overheard Carol explain, in animated tones, how she decided to reenter the workforce after her youngest (Gus, 19, looks like her lil twin) went off to college.

  The meeting was breaking up; neither the novelty of the new faces nor Mr. Garris’ neg-hype good cop-bad cop routine could keep the group together for long. As the crowd began to disperse, he called out to whoever would listen, “And lastly, she’s not here yet, but tomorrow we’ll be joined by Rina Schell. She’s coming from the agency to help with some of the heavy lifting.”

  Norm had barely taken in the information when he made his way back to his office. The rest was all a blur.

  —---------------

  Though not stated outright, the psychic memo was clear: stay late. Orange fingers pulled the blue sky down into the gray and purple sea of dusk. They stayed so late the traffic had gone completely.

  Norm drove home.

  From the parking lot, he could see distant lights dotting the horizon where the sea became the sky. Distant cargo ships, oil rigs. Perhaps a cruise ship. Somewhere out there, the flotsam of the wreckage he’d spent the day tracing accountability records for was sinking to the cold depths or else drifting down the current toward Mexico, Costa Rica, maybe the Galapagos.

  Norm stepped over a rainbow colored grease stain on the street. And then there was the oil spill. Squandered black gold, choking out any and all life it came across; poisoning the water, poisoning the air, poisoning the atmosphere by its extraction… and the bodies of all things by way of transmutation into ubiquitous particles of microplastic.

  Not many people knew, but the problems of plastics and oil were intrinsically linked. First, oil was refined into fuel, creating a solid waste material that was then refined into plastic. So, in order to profit from the waste of refining oil, plastic was pushed as the “wonder substance” from which any and everything could be made…. From which any and everything should be made, you know, if you like having a car and living in an industrial society that is. Even that is too simple of an explanation. Eventually plastic production became its own cause, and oil was refined in order to create new and different plastics. The serpent ate its own tail.

  What was the keystone that, once removed, could stop the twisted cycle?

  —-----------------

  Key in lock. Turning, pushing. Mail. All junk, including the one thing directly addressed to Norm. It was even from his bank. Just a reminder to pay his credit card bill. For some reason they couldn’t digitize the reminder and sent it every month, par for the course.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Blur. The same as it was last week and the week before that.

  Novelty. One of his fish was missing. Where-? He looked all around the tank. Even lifted up the pump to see if the unfortunate thing had been stuck to the intake. Seriously, where the fuck?

  The plants seemed to be growing well. The elodia was practically exploding. Would need to be trimmed back soon. The many bright blue shrimp were scuttling about excitedly. They’d nearly doubled in size since Norm first brought them home. There were a few stowaway snails, volunteers, that were slurping up the emerald mist of algae that had begun to obscure the glass walls. And now, only one small guppy swam among it all. Her fin was orange, pale at the base, fiery at the end. She was nameless. Just “the fish”. Maybe it was more dignified that way.

  “I’ll get you some new company soon”, Norm promised before switching off the light.

  He figured the shrimp must have eaten the other fish. Couldn’t think up any other explanation. Maybe the other fish was one of The Faithful and The Rapture happened. Maybe it was just hiding. Maybe a mystery. Probably a tragedy.

  —-------------------

  The next morning was hot and humid. Summer was throwing its weight around, trying to throw June Gloom out of the picture for good. Norm inhaled a couple slices of toast, took a shot of aloe vera juice, then hit the road.

  Tuesday saw the road freer from traffic. A welcome complement to the already muggy brightness. While idling at a red light, Norm switched on the Ninja Tune, invoking the muse of smooth jazziness he began the previous day with. Every tune counted, and with each woody thunk of a guitar pedal against the bed of green-dream synth strings and symphonic pads, his resolve and readiness to face the day increased. So it was.

  He swung the wheel, drawing an arc into the parking lot, decreasing speed. He looped around the central island where the smokers hung out. Mr. Garris was there sharing what looked like a serious conversation with some of the younger kids in the office. The interns loved smoking. And they all loved Garris’ authentic 80’s cops ‘stache. That was what they called it at work anyway…

  The sun was shining, the air was thick, but amazingly not strangled by smog. There was an open spot on the far end of the parking lot. Unclaimed, except by a couple of cheeping sparrows flitting on the adjacent wall by the planter. Norm parked there. He turned toward the office tower, craned his neck up and down. It wasn’t intended as the first of a few short stretches he pulled, but that didn’t matter. The view was different, pleasant. Much greener than parking near the back staircase. Somebody had already parked there. A silver-blue sedan.

  —--------------

  “Norm. Right?” Reid barked.

  Norm straightened his back, “Yeah- yes-” he stopped himself before adding a “sir”. Reid’s martial presence was truly something. Really put the fear of god-the-father in ya.

  Reid did his robotic smirk, “G’day.”

  Norm nodded in kinda, “Yeah, ‘morning, Reid.”

  “Mm-kay, back ‘atcha.” Reid revved, conveying himself down the hall.

  What a guy. Norm looked back.

  Yup. The inch and a half of sock visible on Reid’s ankles were emblazoned with abbreviations from the periodic table.

  —------------

  Carol and Sheryl-Lee were cackling at the front desk. Did they live on the same street? Shop at the same Trader Joe’s? “I thought I recognized you!” “Small world!”

  “Come to our book club, the next one is a couple weeks away- gotta check the exact date. Wait, you know? Honestly I don’t even know if we set a time yet!”

  “Well, you know where I work!”

  “Sheryl-Lee, I know where you live!”

  Shrieking laughter. Looked like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

  Still wheezing and flushed, Sheryl-Lee waved at Norm. “Aha- Norm! Morning!”

  “Good morning! Hi Carol, are you settling in ok?”

  Carol smiled, she leaned toward Sheryl-Lee, “Oh my god he reminds me of my oldest!”

  Sheryl-Lee’s eyes widened.

  Acknowledging Norm, Carol beamed, “Yeah! Yesterday was a breeze. I mean, of course, we never want to be involved in a case like this, but you know, it’s great to mix things up! Meet some new people!”

  Sheryl-Lee nudged her.

  “Or finally meet your neighbors, right?”

  Carol laugh- no, coughed, swatting in the air. “Oh, right. Right.”

  Sheryl-Lee shuffled around her desk, a few papers in hand. “These are for you, give ‘em a looksee when you catch the time. I haven’t talked to Garris-”

  Norm pointed out the window down to the smoker island, “He’s down there smoking with the interns.”

  “Oh is he? Anyway, I think today’ll be more’a the same as yesterday. If you need anything, Carol and Reid are posted up on either side of the breakroom.”

  “Thankya.”

  Norm tried backing away to his office and his as-yet empty coffee mug.

  “Wait! Norm!” Sheryl-Lee shrieked.

  “What is it?”

  “I- oh shoot did I forget?” Sheryl-Lee pinched her nose bridge.

  “Whatshername!” Carol called.

  “Right!” Sheryl-Lee sparked, “Rina is here, but she’s already running around. You need any extra help, let her know too!”

  “Oh ok. Thanks.”

  Norm turned toward the hall but he could tell Sheryl-Lee hadn’t budged. Ah! She was following him!

  “Wait-”

  “Sheryl-Lee!” Carol laughed, “Let him get his coffee!” She smirked at Norm, “That’s where you’re headed right? The coffee machine?”

  “Yup. I really gotta fuel up!”

  Carol nodded, winking at Sheryl-Lee, “Told’ja. Just like my oldest.”