The Corporate Pyramid Scheme

The papaya sat on Elena's desk like an accusation. Bright orange flesh inside, mottled yellow-green outside, it was the only living thing in the entire twenty-third floor.

"You're not eating it," Marcus said, leaning against her cubicle wall. He'd been her friend since junior year, before the pyramid had them both. Before the emails at 2 AM, before the performance reviews that felt more like eulogies.

"It's ripe," Elena said. "Everything else here is dead."

She wasn't wrong. The office was full of zombies now—not the pop culture kind with flesh hanging off their bones, but something worse: people who'd given up. They shuffled between meetings, eyes glazed, responding to "How are you?" with "Just grateful to be here" like it was a mantra they'd forgotten the meaning of.

Marcus reached for a slice of papaya. His wedding band caught the fluorescent light. "Sarah wants me to ask about the opening in Regional."

Elena laughed, bitter and sharp. "Of course she does. And you're what? The messenger?"

"I'm trying to help, El. You've been stuck in that cubicle for three years."

"And Regional is better? More meetings, more zombies, higher up the pyramid?" She gestured at the orange-stained fruit on her fingers. "This is the only real thing I've touched in months."

Marcus didn't answer. He watched the way her hands moved—how they used to paint, how they used to hold his, before everything got complicated.

"I applied," he said finally.

The words hung between them like smoke. Elena's chest tightened. "You're leaving."

"Sarah's pregnant. We need the insurance."

"Of course. Always Sarah."

"You could apply too."

"To what? Become a better zombie? Climb higher up the pyramid so I can forget what it felt like to actually want something?" She wiped her hands on her skirt, leaving orange streaks like war paint. "Someone has to remember what alive looks like, Marcus."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and she saw it: he was already gone. The zombie was already wearing his skin.

"The papaya's good," he said, and walked away.

Elena watched him go, another soul ascending the pyramid. She finished the fruit alone, sweet and terrible on her tongue, and wondered if she was the brave one or just the next to die.