Silver Signs, Part 2: Pact and Paranoia

Wolves are howling somewhere outside. I check the clock, six-thirty. I yawn, peel the diodes from my sweaty neck and peek outside. The sun is rising, but the moon is still out and full, right where it was last night. Looking at it makes me feel uneasy, so I close my blinds, shower, and dress. I vaguely remembered something odd happening and some funny dreams last night.

By the time I’ve left for work, the day before is a comfortable blur. The moon still lingers in the sky, opposite the sun. I pull on some sunglasses, hurrying away from it and toward the train station. A wolf howls somewhere. I shiver.
The office is emptier than yesterday, which was emptier than the day before. People simply keep disappearing. Not showing up. It doesn’t get reported anymore. Who to report it to? Besides, if people want to lose their jobs, that’s their problem. I heard the other day that it’s happening all over the city. It did seem like there were less people on the street, come to think of it. I also heard the people that disappear are sometimes found naked in the woods, insane. These thoughts lead me to realize my boss has been gone for two full days. I decide to check in on him.

The air in the office is stale. His computer is still on, two days of undone paperwork splayed across his desk. These forms and files are covered in ink, as if someone flung it from a well in some sort of avant garde art experiment. I think that’s what you call it. It occurs to me slowly that the ink is spread in a few repeating symbols. Written, not flung at all. These symbols, in a spiral pattern, cover his desk. There are upwards of sixty (guessing here) ballpoint pens on the floor next to his desk. I have no doubt that they’re empty. The pattern of ink continues down the sides of his desk and onto the walls. Likewise, I have no doubt in my mind that Mark is gone forever. This is when it occurs to me that there is no one around to record my time, or sign my paychecks. I may as well be unemployed. I sigh, loosen my tie, and head to the bar.