screwed her eyes shut. She should have stuck an Out of order sheet to the fridge door. She hoped the mistake wasnât about to cost her $200 million dollars.
âHow long have you been in there?â Benjamin asked.
She didnât dare reply. She was listening.
âAsh?â There was rising panic in Benjaminâs voice. âAsh!â
âSomeoneâs here,â she breathed softly.
She heard the tap running at the sink. The clink of a glass against the bench.
âI just looked up hypothermia on Wikipedia,â Benjamin said. âMost fridges operate at about five degrees Celsius. The human body can only maintain its core temperature for a few minutes unprotected at that temperature.â
Ash said nothing. The tap stopped.
âYou have to get out of the fridge,â he said. âRight now, before you go into stage one hypothermia.â
Footsteps. Approaching the fridge.
âNow, Ash. You could die!â
Ash gritted her teeth. Iâm not getting caught now, she thought. Just a few more seconds.
The door handle clicked. Twice â once opening, once closing. The visitor was gone.
Ash tried to shove the fridge door open, but it was stuck. Air molecules shrink in low temperatures, so the pressure was sucking the door closed. She braced her back against the wall and slammed her foot against the door. It popped open and she tumbled into the empty break room, coughing. It was like falling into a hot bath. The outside air burned her skin and the inside of her throat.
âItâs okay,â she coughed. âIâm out.â
She wanted to lie there on the floor for a while. It felt like it would hurt more if she moved. But her precious cold aura was already dissipating. Soon she would be visible to the camera again.
She opened the freezer and grabbed her foundation.
Then she left the break room, cold wet clothes sticking to her skin, and pulled the whiteboard marker out of her purse. Below the Cleaning in progress on the toilet door, she wrote Use other bathroom and drew an arrow pointing to the corridor with the security guard. She didnât know where the nearest other bathroom was, but people always follow those signs. Her handwriting was a little wobblier the second time. She was shivering in the burning room-temperature air.
When she reached the corner where sheâd placed the bin, she pulled what looked like a dental-floss dispenser out of her handbag. It was filled with a thin, strong, nearly invisible elastic thread that was sold over the internet by an Israeli illusionist. Ash cut out a few strands of it and started winding them together. Her fingers were cold and stiff.
She tied one end of her elastic rope into the hole sheâd punched in the bin. She stuck a piece of adhesive tape to the other end, and placed it sticky side up on the floor, as close to the centre of the corridor as the elastic would reach without stretching. She took a second to study her handiwork. Perfect. Her trap was nearly invisible.
She strode quickly back towards the cubicles, then froze. Footsteps, up ahead. Soft, whispery against the carpeted floor. Someone was coming.
Her level 25 clearance badge wouldnât protect her from suspicion now that she was soaking wet. She ran forwards, ducking into one of the cubicles, where she pressed her back against the wall, and waited.
Then she realized that the cubicle was occupied.
A young guy was typing at his computer with one hand, clicking his pen with the other. He was facing away from her. Apparently he hadnât heard her enter.
The footsteps outside were drawing nearer.
The typing guy hit SAVE.
A puddle of freezing water spread across the carpet from Ashâs feet.
Goddamn it, she thought. Iâm trapped! This guyâs about to turn around, and I canât leave untilâ
The guyâs phone rang. Ash stifled a yelp. He picked it up. âHello?â
The footsteps passed by outside the cubicle, and Ash
âHow long have you been in there?â Benjamin asked.
She didnât dare reply. She was listening.
âAsh?â There was rising panic in Benjaminâs voice. âAsh!â
âSomeoneâs here,â she breathed softly.
She heard the tap running at the sink. The clink of a glass against the bench.
âI just looked up hypothermia on Wikipedia,â Benjamin said. âMost fridges operate at about five degrees Celsius. The human body can only maintain its core temperature for a few minutes unprotected at that temperature.â
Ash said nothing. The tap stopped.
âYou have to get out of the fridge,â he said. âRight now, before you go into stage one hypothermia.â
Footsteps. Approaching the fridge.
âNow, Ash. You could die!â
Ash gritted her teeth. Iâm not getting caught now, she thought. Just a few more seconds.
The door handle clicked. Twice â once opening, once closing. The visitor was gone.
Ash tried to shove the fridge door open, but it was stuck. Air molecules shrink in low temperatures, so the pressure was sucking the door closed. She braced her back against the wall and slammed her foot against the door. It popped open and she tumbled into the empty break room, coughing. It was like falling into a hot bath. The outside air burned her skin and the inside of her throat.
âItâs okay,â she coughed. âIâm out.â
She wanted to lie there on the floor for a while. It felt like it would hurt more if she moved. But her precious cold aura was already dissipating. Soon she would be visible to the camera again.
She opened the freezer and grabbed her foundation.
Then she left the break room, cold wet clothes sticking to her skin, and pulled the whiteboard marker out of her purse. Below the Cleaning in progress on the toilet door, she wrote Use other bathroom and drew an arrow pointing to the corridor with the security guard. She didnât know where the nearest other bathroom was, but people always follow those signs. Her handwriting was a little wobblier the second time. She was shivering in the burning room-temperature air.
When she reached the corner where sheâd placed the bin, she pulled what looked like a dental-floss dispenser out of her handbag. It was filled with a thin, strong, nearly invisible elastic thread that was sold over the internet by an Israeli illusionist. Ash cut out a few strands of it and started winding them together. Her fingers were cold and stiff.
She tied one end of her elastic rope into the hole sheâd punched in the bin. She stuck a piece of adhesive tape to the other end, and placed it sticky side up on the floor, as close to the centre of the corridor as the elastic would reach without stretching. She took a second to study her handiwork. Perfect. Her trap was nearly invisible.
She strode quickly back towards the cubicles, then froze. Footsteps, up ahead. Soft, whispery against the carpeted floor. Someone was coming.
Her level 25 clearance badge wouldnât protect her from suspicion now that she was soaking wet. She ran forwards, ducking into one of the cubicles, where she pressed her back against the wall, and waited.
Then she realized that the cubicle was occupied.
A young guy was typing at his computer with one hand, clicking his pen with the other. He was facing away from her. Apparently he hadnât heard her enter.
The footsteps outside were drawing nearer.
The typing guy hit SAVE.
A puddle of freezing water spread across the carpet from Ashâs feet.
Goddamn it, she thought. Iâm trapped! This guyâs about to turn around, and I canât leave untilâ
The guyâs phone rang. Ash stifled a yelp. He picked it up. âHello?â
The footsteps passed by outside the cubicle, and Ash
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