Work Text:
MONDAY
"By the way," Linda said, watching the comforting slosh of orange juice from carton to glass. "It's almost the end of the working year."
"Actually, the company doesn't recognise the working year as a concept," Veronica said. "They believe every day of the year is a day on which work can be done." Linda sometimes suspected that Veronica had a third brain, or possibly a microchip, that sat underneath the lizard brain and came online even before basic bodily functions. It was connected directly to her mouth and came out with statements like...that one.
"But we do give most of our employees a week off between Christmas and New Year's," Ted said.
"Apparently there's some silly concept called employment law." Veronica waved a hand.
"Why did you mention it?" Ted smiled up at Linda, who rewarded him for his relative humanity with a quick kiss before she pulled out her own seat at the dining table. She had to push aside the debris of Rose's breakfast; Rose had debate club before class on Mondays, and had already vanished to catch her bus.
"Jabberwocky!" Linda said.
"Coming in 2012," Veronica said, still on microchip autopilot. Not enough coffee yet, Linda figured.
"Uh, yeah, and in 2012 the Japanese branch of Veridian managed to announce a project expansion that pushed the launch date to 2015," Linda said. "And then when the Tokyo office closed down because of the government investigation into the Terrific Teddymatic Toy[1], it reverted back to us." She beamed. "There are posters up about it at the office. Everyone is so excited to see what it is."
"I knew that," Veronica said. "Of course I knew that. And we have a plan. We have a product. Don't we, Ted?"
Ted paused with his bagel hovering near his mouth. The bagel was lowered to the plate again and he cleared his throat. "Yes," he said firmly. "We absolutely do."
Linda gave them both a look. "Come on, guys," she said. "I know you better than that by now."
After three years, she hoped they knew her well enough to trust her with it, too. Linda had moved into Ted's house eighteen months ago; they'd made the offer to Veronica, as well, but all parties involved had known that it wasn't much more than a gesture. Linda loved Veronica ridiculously, and Ted did as well, and Veronica loved them. But Veronica also loved her own apartment with its absurd minimalist furniture and vast walk-in closet and unexpected bookcases stuffed with more murder mysteries and books on stage magic than would ever, ever fit into a place that already housed Linda's romance novels, Rose's comic books, and Ted's weird obsession with terrible books about spies. No: Veronica spent more nights than not at their place, but she kept her own space, and Linda was pretty sure everyone was 100% happier that way. And there were three of them, so that was, like, a sum total of 300% more happiness.
(Veronica had looked pleased at the efficiency of this, when Linda had phrased it in those terms.)
Actually, Linda and Ted had even considered getting married, but when they were discussing it--in what Linda felt was a depressingly practical way that involved more talk of tax benefits than pretty white dresses--they'd asked Rose if she'd like to be a flower girl. Rose had come out with a spiel about the industrial wedding complex being a capitalist construct designed to empty the wallets of sentimentalists, which was impressive for a thirteen-year-old, even one of Rose's intelligence.
They'd managed to talk Veronica into taking an unprecedented two weeks of vacation time, and spent the money on a holiday instead.
("I never said there's anything wrong with a capitalist construct," Veronica had pointed out, while they were all lying on a beach in Hawaii. "Just with being on the wrong side of it.")
Two weeks after that trip, Veridian Dynamics had started development on its first line of wedding-related products. And also on a short-lived weather control project that Veronica had pitched as an attempt to make it hot and Hawaii-like all year round, until Ted had pointed out that according to an angry report written about the company's carbon emissions, they were kind of doing that anyway.[2]
"Fine," Veronica said, slumping slightly. "I'd forgotten all about the stupid Jabberwocky thing."
"Me too," Ted admitted. "But if there are posters appearing about it, then senior management must be expecting something by the end of the year. Which is the end of the week."
Veronica's spine straightened and she arose from her slump like a corporate mermaid rising from the waves. This image was strengthened by the blouse she was wearing, which was a gorgeous shade of sea-green.
"I'm sure we will come up with something, Ted," Veronica said firmly. "When have we ever failed, you and I?"
"Well," said Ted.
"We will announce Jabberwocky to the company at the Christmas party," Veronica declaimed. "That's Friday afternoon. Isn't it?"
"It is," confirmed Linda. "Ooh, speaking of the party...how do you feel about gingerbread houses?"
TUESDAY
"Hey, is it safe for me to come down and chat with you guys?" Linda said into the phone.
"What do you mean by that?" said Phil.
"Am I going to be stabbed with needles, accidentally drugged, have slime explode all over my face, or otherwise have one of your projects interact with me in a way that all of us are going to regret?"
There was a thoughtful pause. Then some hissing, and a scuffling noise, and a more distant and complicated sound like a metallic chicken falling into a vat of bubbling honey. (After you'd spent enough time in the Veridian Dynamics R&D labs, you had a wide range of very specific mental images. Also, you learned that it was a good idea to call first and save yourself the elevator ride down to the labs if Phil and Lem were in the middle of something more than usually disgusting and/or dangerous.)
"Define interact," Phil said warily, and then there was another scuffling sound and Lem came on the line.
"Give us five minutes," he said. "The rug cleaner prototype got free of its cage."
"Oh man, again?" said Linda. "You guys really need to come up with a better cage."
"I know," Lem said glumly. "Who would have thought its saliva would be that corrosive?"
"I'm gonna give you ten minutes," Linda said.
That gave her enough time to finish winding tinsel around the brims of the large collection of Christmas elf hats she had on her desk. Linda had been tasked with organising the company Christmas party this year. Or, okay, she'd played one of her rarely and carefully deployed I'm-sleeping-with-the-boss-and-also-the-boss's-boss cards, in order to be appointed the party organiser. She'd already failed at trying to gently rebrand the party as nondenominational; she was told that Veridian Dynamics didn't care at all about its employees' religious affiliations or lack thereof, but it did care about money, and the graphics department had already designed the posters and had them all printed and they weren't going to do it again. (Linda had taken the whole stack home with her and demolished half a bottle of wine while carefully hand-drawing menorahs on every single one.)
Anyway. Elves weren't a symbol of any religion except, possibly, capitalism. And after last year's debacle of Laughing Mistletoe[3] and Evil Santa (Veronica, cheerful in a fake beard, delivering to each person in turn a card containing a scathing review of their work performance that year, along with a numbered list of suggestions for improvement), Linda was determined that this year's party was going to be wonderful. There was going to be eggnog, and champagne punch. There was going to be normal mistletoe, and one of those photo booths with props, and gingerbread houses.
Speaking of which.
"Okay," she said. "Show me my gingerbread."
Lem pushed his glasses up his nose. "As requested, it lasts for months without going moldy or looking less shiny and delicious. And look: you bake it in these trays with stencils that conveniently show you how to cut the pieces out and assemble them into the houses."
"What does it look like when you put it together?"
Displaying a surprising amount of showmanship, Phil whipped a sheet off a nearby trolley. On it stood a perfect gingerbread house, almost two feet high, and decorated as nicely as anything you could buy in stores.
"You guys, this is amazing," Linda enthused. "Can I try a piece?"
Phil promptly broke a corner off the roof and handed it to her. Linda sniffed it appreciatively and then, because she had been working with Phil and Lem a long time now, paused. "This isn't poisonous in any way, is it?"
"Nope," said Phil. "We tested it on three different sets of rats, and they're all absolutely fine."
"Great," said Linda. She took a small bite and chewed. Chewed some more. And then, trying to be ladylike about it but probably failing, spat the mouthful out into her palm. "Uh, guys. Did you test it on humans, at all?"
"Is something wrong?" Phil looked panicky. "Do you feel unwell? Oh, no, don't tell me we've created another kind of food that gives people tongue-blisters."
"It just that it tastes horrible." Linda said. "It looks like gingerbread, it even kind of smells like gingerbread, I'll give you that. But it tastes like--I don't even know what that tastes like. Cardboard, maybe? Cardboard with cement frosting?"
"We didn't taste it," said Lem.
"We didn't taste it," groaned Phil.
Linda tipped the scrap of not-gingerbread into the nearest trashcan, thought longingly of the chocolate bar in her desk drawer upstairs, and gave them her most encouraging smile. "Don't worry. You've got three more days to get it right."
WEDNESDAY
"We haven't discussed plans for the break yet," said Ted over dinner. "Rose, honey, did you maybe want to see your mom this year?" His voice was casual, but his shoulders were tense.
Rose gave him a look that said she wasn't fooled. "Nah," she said. "Mom's in Sri Lanka. Or she was the last time she emailed me. Maybe I'll see her when she's back here." Ted's shoulders relaxed all at once, and Rose bit thoughtfully into a piece of lettuce. "Thanks for asking, though," she said.
Ted's ex-wife Stacey had gotten back in contact with Ted and Rose a little while ago. Linda wasn't sure what the woman thought of Rose having two new mommies, or at least two new vaguely mother-like figures who were both sleeping with Ted and also with one another. But given that she abandoned a four-year-old kid and then spent nearly a decade wandering around the world without bothering to see Rose more than a handful of times, Linda figured there wasn't exactly much of a moral high ground there.
"Speaking of school breaks," said Veronica, setting down her steak knife. "You must be old enough by now to apply for a summer internship next year. I'm sure you'd do a better job than half the idiots that HR insists on picking."
"I'm fourteen, Veronica," said Rose patiently.
Veronica's idea of parenting seemed to be transparently grooming Rose to be the next CEO of Viridian Dynamics; she'd admitted that she could see the appeal in having a small human that she could quite literally mentor from the ground up. Linda was just glad that Rose was being exposed to a variety of different role models, even if Veronica's superb self-assurance combined with Ted's charisma and Linda's creativity, as well as the competitiveness that all of them shared, seemed to be producing something...slightly terrifying.
"You don't have to do anything over summer break, Rose," said Ted. "If you want to, you can just relax. Have fun."
"Work is fun," said Veronica. "More children should be made aware of this fact. Our Advanced Workers of Tomorrow program[4] is ideal for driven, talented youngsters like you, Rose."
"I'm not sure Veridian is the best fit for me, though," Rose said seriously. "Linda, don't you ever want to work for another company?"
"Sometimes, yeah," Linda said.
"Why don't you?"
"Well, the pay's good," Linda admitted. "And I mostly like the people. And the health insurance is awesome; it kind of has to be, given how many of Veridian's employees develop diseases never before known to science. And...I don't know, I guess I figure that sometimes you really do have to be the change you want to see in the world. And some of those changes are easier if you're making them from the inside."
"I could apply for the Young Leaders program at Zym Technologies in LA," Rose said. "Apparently they pay for you to stay in a nice hotel, and there's a behind-the-scenes trip to Disneyland!"
"Ted, we need to move some money around. Invent a new project to cover up for it. Workers of Tomorrow needs to include two theme parks, and--oh, you're leveraging," said Veronica, beaming at Rose. "Just like I taught you. Well done."
Ted pointed his fork at his daughter. "I remember when you were young and full of morality," he said, but he looked kind of proud too.
"Don't worry. It's not like I'm going to join Veridian right out of school," Rose told Linda. "I've got to go to college first! And then get an MBA. And then work at some other companies, to soak up all their experience and secrets."
"I think that's called corporate espionage, sweetie," said Ted.
"Nonsense," said Veronica. "That's called a diversified CV." She and Rose high-fived one another across the salad bowl. Ted and Linda sighed in unison, caught one another's gaze, and smiled.
"I can't believe your solution was to invent an imaginary project," Linda said. "Isn't that what got you into this Jabberwocky mess, having to come up with a new product?"
"And so we have," said Veronica, with a toss of her perfect head.
Linda blinked. "You have?"
"It's going to revolutionise the way we do business," said Ted.
Linda extended her middle finger at him--she was definitely still too Midwestern to swear in front of Rose--but Ted upped the stakes with one of his most devastatingly sexy smiles. Linda had a vivid flashback to the evening of last year's Christmas party: her own card from Evil Veronica Santa had said Rated C for Could Be More Imaginative In Bed, which had led to an epic and slightly drunken shouting match in the conference room, which in turn had led to some anger-fuelled impromptu Star Wars roleplaying and some of the best sex of Linda's life, especially when Ted opened the door and Linda told him that he could join in, but he'd have to be Princess Leia. None of them had been able to attend a meeting in that room for a month afterwards without stuttering (Ted), turning an embarrassing shade of pink (Linda) or looking unspeakably pleased with themselves (Veronica, obviously).
This much competitiveness in one relationship could make things difficult sometimes, but it could also have its definite advantages.
Ted's smile was a potent force. Veronica was breathing deeply, now, and her chest was moving hypnotically under the silky fabric of today's blouse. Linda licked her lips. Ted's hand touched her knee beneath the table.
"So, um, Rose, honey," Linda said valiantly, pinching the webbing of Ted's fingers until he removed his hand, because this was ten types of inappropriate for the dinner table. "How's your prep for next week's debate going?"
Rose rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible, and stood up from the table. "I'm going to do my homework. In my room. With my headphones on."
"That's great, sweetie," said Ted.
THURSDAY
"I heard it's going to revolutionise the way we do business," said Graham. He was staring so avidly at the poster that he hadn't noticed his coffee was trickling down his mug and onto his shoes as he stirred it.
"Oh, yeah," said Anna. "I've been on the Jabberwocky project for the past six months. It's totally a game-changer. And classified. A classified game-changer."
"What!" said Graham. "I mean. So have I. Clearly we have been working on...different branches...of the project." The two of them exchanged suspicious looks.
"Wow, you guys are so lucky," Linda said cheerfully. "I wish I knew what Jabberwocky was."
The Jabberwocky posters were not the fanciest things in the world. They were A4 pieces of paper with JABBERWOCKY 2.0 on them in large, blocky, dark blue letters, and they had been stuck to most of the doors in the building.
"They're announcing the rollout at the party tomorrow," Anna said. "It's going to blow your mind."
"I'll bet!" said Linda, and wandered towards the elevators.
She wasn't even lying: she was genuinely curious to see what Ted and Veronica would be presenting. Despite some innocent questions, some blatantly aggressive questions, and some questions delivered while wearing a low-cut sweater top and blinking up through lashes darkened with her favourite Benefit mascara--which worked on Ted four times out of five--they had both maintained an airy silence on the whole Jabberwocky business.
"We can't afford any leaks," Veronica had told her.
"But I know that you're making it all up at the last minute!" Linda had protested.
"I know," Veronica had sighed. "You're already a security risk, Linda. Really, we should banish you to the office in Minsk. You're lucky you're so adorable."
"Hey, I--wait, adorable? Really?" and Linda had realised too late that she was being distracted with a rare piece of Veronica-praise, and Veronica herself was already disappearing into her office.
Linda hummed to herself as the lift descended towards Lem and Phil's lab. After a moment she realised she was humming the new on-hold music that the company had installed on all of the internal phones; according to Ted there had been a high level memo requesting a piece of music be developed that would actively discourage customers from staying on the line when they called the complaints number, but the project had backfired and the stupid tune was so catchy that it got stuck in your head for days. There was nothing left in the project budget for redevelopment, so Veronica had managed to convince management it was a masterful piece of viral marketing.
"Give me some good news," Linda said, when she entered the lab. "Gingerbread? That actual human beings might actually want to put in their mouths?"
Lem and Phil exchanged a morose glance.
"We tried," Phil said. "It just got twice as durable, and twice as much like the taste of pure loneliness in your mouth."
"If it helps," Lem added, "we got Phil's grandmother's secret family recipe for gingerbread, and we can still make the houses for the party. They're just not going to be as structurally sound, or last as long." He held out a plate containing a few uneven chunks of cookie.
"Thanks," Linda said, reaching for one.
"Ohh, no, that's the extra durable one. My mistake." Lem pulled the plate away and with his other hand picked up an identical plate, holding identical pieces of cookie.
"Are we sure?" said Linda warily.
Lem lifted first one plate then the other to his ears, scrunching his face up in concentration. Then he held out the second plate again.
"Yeah, this is the one."
Linda took a very, very small bite and smushed it warily around her mouth. Then she put the rest of the cookie in there, all at once. Then--go big or go home, right?--she tugged the entire plate out of Lem's hand.
"Thshhsh delsshsh!" she said. Swallowed. "I mean, delicious! It's gonna disappear so fast that it won't need to last for a month. Good work, guys. How can I pay you back?"
"Well, we've taken a lot of time off the Orion[5] project to work on this for you," said Phil. "Which is fine! Because we do love Christmas."
"And you did paint an amazing word-picture about how much Ted loves gingerbread houses."
"I did, didn't I?" said Linda, a bit guiltily.
Phil nodded. "But now we have this product, and it's not good for anything. Can you...see if Ted can find a use for it? And then praise us for it?"
"I've got you covered," said Linda.
For a while now she'd been keeping a running spreadsheet on her phone of all the company's current projects (or at least those available to anyone at her level of security clearance), so that she could answer queries like this one. Because even if Veridian Dynamics was basically soulless and trying very hard to destroy the planet in order to line the pockets of its shareholders, some of the stuff they made was, well, just plain cool. And Linda took pride in doing her job well, no matter what. It had paid off, too: she'd been offered a deputy development manager job at Veridian's London office at the start of the year, and had leveraged it into a raise. (Okay, so Veronica was pretty brilliant when it came to career advice, as well as gorgeous and successful and well-dressed and with hands like--what was Linda thinking about, again?)
"Here, look!" she said. "Cindy and Niral down in lab F are meant to be developing a lightweight and biodegradable building material for temporary shelters, for--oh, the military. That's nice, I guess. Anyway, I could talk to them about it for you."
"But we worked hard on this," said Lem, folding his hands together as he always did when displaying assertiveness, as though he expected the universe to snatch something precious from him as punishment. "Why should Cindy and Niral take the credit for it?"
"No, I mean, they're not getting anywhere with it themselves. So I could see if they'd be grateful for you to take the whole project off their hands in exchange for, say...that dream-recording pillow project you two were bitching about in the break room last week?"
Lem and Phil gave her one of the adoring looks that they usually reserved for Ted. In the strange feudal pantheon that existed inside their heads, Linda had worked out that she occupied some sort of special position as a mortal who had been chosen as consort to the gods, and therefore was afforded an extra dose of respect. It was nice when the awe was due to something she'd done on her own, though.
"Linda, that's devious. I think Veronica is rubbing off on you," said Phil.
"Only on Saturdays," Linda said, and winked and made little finger-guns. Come on, she didn't often get to crow about how awesome her relationships were.
Phil frowned. Phil's eyes opened wide. Phil began to make a sound like a dying raccoon.
Lem picked up a set of noise-cancelling headphones, attached to a small music device, from a nearby bench. He set them gently over Phil's ears and shot Linda a reproving look.
"You know Phil can't deal with thinking about Veronica in a sexual context, let alone you and Veronica. Let alone you and Veronica...and Ted…" His voice had gone distant.
"He started it," Linda pointed out.
There was no reply from either of the scientists.
"I'll just...I'll just get back to my desk, shall I?" Linda said. "Good talk, guys. Good talk."
FRIDAY
It turned out that nothing, not even the Veridian Dynamics on-hold music from hell, could withstand Linda's Sparkly Christmas Playlist when it came to banishing all other music from your head and making you feel like your skull was stuffed with fairy lights and pine needles. Linda sang a mutated hybrid of Jingle Bells and Carol of the Bells as she applied more silver glitter to her eyelids in the ladies' room and adjusted the angle of her tinsel-adorned hat. The previous weekend she'd gone shopping with a friend from college and bought a tight red dress that made her look, essentially, like an elf in the midst of a serious sexual promiscuity phase.
Linda loved parties.
She'd been anticipating disaster all day, but so far the worst that had happened was Cindy and Niral leaving a bottle of Extra Strength Partynator Juice[6] on her desk, in clear hope that Linda would use it to spike the eggnog. Linda had dug out the oven mitts and safety goggles she'd taken to keeping in her desk ever since the incident with the biocomputer's toxic slime, and carefully carried the Juice to the nearest incinerator.
Linda wasn't a party pooper; she had absolutely spiked the eggnog. She'd just done it the old-fashioned way, with a shitload of rum. And also some vodka.
"Linda!" said Ted, when Linda emerged from the bathroom. "Have you..."
He trailed off. Linda posed, in order to let him appreciate the full glory of the slutty elf dress. She even jiggled helpfully, because hey, she did love him a whole lot, and Ted really, really liked her boobs. Not that she could blame him. They were excellent boobs. She'd sprinkled some glitter on them, too, but that was really just gilding the lily.
"Have I…?" she prompted, after a gratifying amount of staring.
Ted shook himself. "Have you checked the AV setup for our presentation?"
"All set," Linda said. "I couldn't get the pyrotechnics you wanted, but I figured a smoke machine and a bubble machine would probably do the trick."
"We can work with that," Ted agreed, falling into step with her as they headed down to the main building foyer, which Linda had transformed--if she did say so herself--into a seasonal wonderland. Complete with gingerbread houses that were not going to give anyone a lingering aftertaste of cardboard loneliness. Well, except maybe Franklin from Legal, but Linda figured that everything Franklin put in his mouth ended up tasting like that anyway.
Ted's only concession to the party spirit was that he was wearing an attractive red tie with his suit, but he had promised to put on one of the elf-hats as soon as the Jabberwocky presentation was over. He had also promised to get Veronica to wear one, somehow; Linda was going to take so many photos.
"Come on, Ted, you're not going to give me any hints about Jabberwocky?" Linda snaked an arm around his waist. The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the party.
"You can just find out with everyone else," Ted said. "Wow. Linda, this is amazing."
"Really?" Linda leaned against him, basking in the way he looked at her: a mixture of professional approval and personal affection that made her stomach fizz like...like toxic slime dissolving someone's desktop. All her happiness needed to be complete was, oh, five or so cups of eggnog.
"Really. Everything looks great, and--does that mistletoe have teeth?"
"What?" Linda followed Ted's gaze. "So, I, uh, should probably go deal with that."
Linda stormed through the partygoers, inasmuch as she could storm in heels and a dress that wasn't exactly designed for taking long strides. Anna from Accounts, swaying a little on even more unwise heels than Linda's, and with a glass of champagne punch in one hand, seemed to be engaged in some kind of wary staring competition with the mistletoe where it was perched coyly above the punchbowl. Could mistletoe stare? This bunch was certainly giving the impression that it could.
"It's not laughing, is it?" Linda asked. "Because I told Lem and Phil to get rid of that sapling they had in the lab, but oh, no, Linda, he's so cute, we've called him Gerald--"
"It's not laughing," Anna said. Her skirt gave a rustle of stiff tulle; she looked a bit like something from the Nutcracker, which Linda had taken Rose to see last week. "But I went to all the trouble of dragging Connor the intern over here and he reached up to adjust it and it bit him." She looked more annoyed than shocked, which was testament to the fact that she'd worked for Veridian for longer than a few months.
Linda sighed. "You keep an eye on it," she said. "I'll go and fetch my oven mitts."
By the time she and Anna had carefully collected all the mistletoe and dumped it in the same incinerator that she'd used to dispose of the Juice, and Linda had mentally added ‘new oven mitts' to her shopping list--these ones were now full of savage little holes--there had been promising inroads made into both the punchbowl and the eggnog supply. Linda went and found Veronica, who was wearing a blinding silver sheath dress and clutching a glass of punch as though she was imagining tossing its contents into Chet's face.
"If you and Ted are ready," Linda muttered, "I think now would be a good time."
"Sensational," said Veronica. Her smile didn't move. "Chet, if you'll excuse me. It's time for us to introduce Jabberwocky to the world."
"We're all very excited," said Chet.
"Of course you are," said Veronica.
Everyone agreed that it was a very impressive presentation. The steam machine made the stage area look dramatic and mysterious, and that the coloured lights reflected beautifully off Veronica's dress. A large diagram of the company's structure was laser-projected onto the wall and a tipsy, appreciative ooooh ran through the crowd.
"Every position in the company will be redefined and rebranded!" declared Ted.
"Associated advances in nanotechnology mean that the company servers will run 70% faster!" proclaimed Veronica.
"Every employee will receive a free monitoring bracelet, proven by science to improve both productivity and morale!"
And then there were a lot of adjectives and a lot of bubbles and honestly, by the end of it Linda was clapping just as enthusiastically as anyone else, if only because Ted and Veronica were standing with their hands clasped and triumphantly raised, breathing hard and glowing with the kind of sheer smug triumph that mean they were a matter of minutes away from tearing one another's clothes off. And Linda got to hit that, or rather, those, on a long-term and regular basis. Her life was pretty great.
And because she did know how Ted and Veronica thought, it didn't take her very long to track them down afterwards. They were up in Veronica's office, where a few piles of paper had already been swept off Veronica's desk and Ted's shirt was half-unbuttoned.
They broke apart as Linda entered the office, closing the door behind her.
"Linda," Veronica purred. "Weren't we magnificent? You can tell us we were magnificent."
"Okay, so, translate that all for me," Linda said. "I got the rebranding stuff, that just means we're all getting fancier titles with no change in actual work. Or actual pay. What else?"
Ted grinned at her. His perfect, handsome hair was already a mess. "Well, apparently the company's been looking for a way to persuade its employees to wear these monitoring bracelets for a while. And science has shown that almost any minor change will improve morale in the short term. Remember the red lab coat?"
"Will the company servers actually run 70% faster? Because that could be kind of useful."
"Who can say?" said Veronica, leaning back on her hands where she was perched on the edge of her desk. Her hair was loose, tumbling down over her shoulders, and over it she was wearing one of Linda's tinsel elf hats. Somehow it just made her more attractive. "Certainly not anyone whose company has been generous enough to give them a week off, after which they probably won't remember how fast their email was loading before the break."
"Not a bad effort," Linda said, unbuckling one of her shoes, then the other. She walked over to the desk, where they were both within arm's reach. "I guess I'm glad I made those posters, then."
"You--" Ted broke off. Linda clasped her hands in front of her, innocent, and smiled at him. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I like seeing you guys at the top of your game," Linda said. "Because you had a great time being all creative and secretive this week, admit it. And because it's just plain fun to mess with you." She turned around, tugging her hair to one side of her neck. "Now, which one of you is going to get my zip?"