The Compliance Room

Maria pressed the paper cup to her forehead, condensation cooling the sweat that had collected during her three-hour interrogation. The vending machine coffee tasted like burnt wishes and despair, but she needed the caffeine.

"You're not understanding the question," the Sphinx said for the fourth time. That's what everyone called HR Director Reeves—behind her back, of course—with her carved-stone expression and eyes that seemed to look through walls, not at them. She perched behind her desk like some ancient creature waiting for the wrong answer.

"I understand perfectly," Maria said. "You want me to name names. You want to know who's stealing from the supply pool, who's taking home extra printer paper, who's hoarding the good staples."

"We prefer the term 'resource allocation accountability.'" Reeves adjusted her glasses. "And we know you've seen something."

Maria had seen plenty. She'd seen David from Accounting pacing the break room at midnight, muttering about how he couldn't bear it anymore— couldn't bear the quarterly projections, couldn't bear his manager's voice, couldn't bear waking up and doing it again. She'd seen Jen from Legal staring at her phone for twenty minutes without moving, screen dark, face blank.

They were all zombies now. Not the movie kind—no missing limbs or hunger for brains. Just the slow, hollowed-out variety that came from answering emails at 11 PM and smiling in meetings while something inside quietly rotted away.

The orange bowl sat between them, absurd and cheerful, filled with tangerines someone had brought in yesterday. A small gesture of normalcy in a room where careers went to die. Maria reached for one, peeled it slowly, the citrus scent cutting through the recycled air. Something alive in here.

"I can't help you," Maria said.

"Your bonus is on the line."

"Keep it." Maria stood up. "I'd rather be broke than another one of your zombies."

She walked out, tangerine in hand, and didn't look back at the Sphinx's unmoving face. Some riddles don't have answers—only choices.