Dead Man Floating

At 2:17 AM, the hotel pool was empty except for me and the humming filter system. I'd been sent to Phoenix to gather competitive intelligence on Nemesis Corp—a fancy way of saying I was a corporate spy, stealing trade secrets over martinis and golf games.

I floated on my back, staring at the glass atrium ceiling, feeling like the living dead. Two years of this work had turned me into something resembling a human being but hollowed out, a zombie in an Italian suit. My marriage had ended six months ago. My therapist suggested I was experiencing moral injury, but that felt too noble for what I actually did: sold proprietary algorithms to the highest bidder.

"Interesting technique," a woman's voice said from the deck.

I stood too quickly, water sluicing off me. She was maybe thirty-five, sitting in one of the lounge chairs, nursing what looked like bourbon. She wore a hotel robe loosely tied, dark hair wet like she'd already been swimming.

"I wasn't expecting company," I said, treading water in the deep end.

"I could say the same." Her voice was dry, amused. "You're the one from Mercury Systems, aren't you? The one asking all the questions at the conference today."

I froze. This was it—I'd been made.

"And you're with Nemesis," I said slowly.

"Director of competitive strategy." She swirled her drink. "So, here we are. Two corporate zombies, spying on each other's companies, floating in the same pool at 2 AM."

The absurdity of it hit me. We were enemies on paper, shipwrecked souls in reality, both parasites feeding on the same rotting industry.

"What happens now?" I asked. "Do you report me?"

She set down her glass, stood, and let the robe drop. She wore a black one-piece underneath. "Or," she said, stepping to the pool's edge, "we could acknowledge that we're both tired people who chose the wrong careers." She slipped into the water with barely a splash. "Or we could make tonight not about work."

She swam toward me through the blue-lit water. I didn't move away.

"My room or yours?" I asked.

"Neither," she said, reaching me in the deep end. "Right here. Where no one's watching except the security cameras, and even the night guard's probably asleep."

Her hand found my waist underwater. For the first time in two years, I didn't feel dead.

"You know," I said, "I'm supposed to be sabotaging your presentation tomorrow."

"I know." She kissed me, chlorine and bourbon on her lips. "I changed the password on the shared drive anyway."

I laughed against her mouth. Somewhere, a corporate ladder remained unclimbed. Somewhere, two companies would continue their pointless war without us.

For tonight, the zombies had come alive.