Burn Out
by Everette Bell

Susan walked with long strides down the cream tile hallway. She didn't want to be late for her first day on the job. UMS was a top-notch medical software company and openings were few and far between. Now was not the time
for a bad first impression. Turning a corner, she walked right into a man wearing a white shirt and out of style yellow power tie. The man had brown hair graying at the temples.

Her pale face, beautifully painted with makeup, clinched in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," she said looking at the coffee spill on the floor.

Outstretching a crushed Styrofoam cup in his right hand, Susan was able to see a dark stain on his otherwise white sleeve. "That's ok, Miss." he put on a fake smile for her benefit. "Can I help you?"

"Oh God, I'm sorry." A portrait of utter disaster was painted on her features. "This is my first day here. I'm in program division one." Her eyes pleaded for understanding. "I just wanted to be early and make a good impression."

The man smiled, extending his other hand. "Stan Amberton, you must be Susan Spillman. Welcome aboard. I'm director of programming."

For a long heart stopping second, her stomach swarmed with anxiety, more like vultures foretelling of doom than uneasy butterflies. She forced a smile through her urge to crawl under a rock and die. "I'm really excited to be here."

"This is the administrative floor," Stan joked, "we're in the basement with the rest of the grunts." Susan smiled and nodded, deciding to let her first impression suffice until her jitters calmed. The positive energy she got from the bustling employees was exactly what Susan craved; she thrived on it.

At the end of the hall Stan pushed the elevator button. "Your resume is impressive, development team for the original AOL software, DataQuest, even hung out with Generation X at Twilight Software." The silver doors parted, and they entered.

The basement was a large windowless concrete room lit with florescent track lighting. Gray-blue partitions divided the room into a labyrinth of square workstations.

With a wave of his hand, Stan directed Susan down a path between two workstations. "The skills you have will certainly come in handy to us here at UMS." Then a subtle change occurred in his voice, and Susan noticed the
muscles of his jaw tighten. "I think you'll notice things are a little different around here. Maximum productivity is the goal."

He focused a steady eye on her. "This facility is the most profitable for corporate, and we intend on keeping it that way."

Stan halted at the opening to a cubicle. "Our customers expect precision, easy to use software in order to. . .Let's face it, if these hospitals don't bill the hell out of Medicare and maximize their earnings, they can't pay the big bucks for our products. You get me. We need billing to be easy for them. That keeps everybody happy."

She nodded, "Yes sir, the business world demands maximum productivity. It's just the way the world operates now days."

"Good." He pointed to the far end of the cubicle. "Your first assignment is on your desk. And the rest of your orientation will be done by your group leader." Stan turned, strolling back the way he came.

Susan let out a sigh of relief. She made it, coffee spill and all.

Four computers sat on a narrow ledge that ran around the inside of the cubicle. Hard drives on the ledge served a duel function as book ends, holding up tens of operating manuals and policy guidebooks. Finally, next to each computer was a small personal area on the ledge.

In her personal space, she found a nametag, SUSAN SPILLMAN. It indicated her class was D01. Under her new badge was a stack of assignments to be completed in one month. Her jaw dropped. Such production had never been
asked of her, and she was used to working tough jobs.

"I don't give a damn, Ted." She looked up hearing the angry voice approach. "I'm the Team Leader. I report to Stan, not you. It's simple you make the modifications to allow for DSM axis by Monday or you're going to be looking for a new job."

Two men stepped into the cubicle. DAVID MONTGOMERY D06 was a short man with one of those preppy hairstyles, close on the sides but full up top. His shirt and pants were starched and the tie he wore was knotted succinctly.

In an instant his hard tone lightened. "You must be Susan." He put out his hand for her to shake. "I'm David, your Team Leader. Welcome aboard." She took his hand quickly and let it go. After how things went with Stan she didn't want to temp any more bad impressions.

David continued to talk, but her attention was drawn to TED NULE class D02. He looked like hell. His face was washed out, and his eyes held a blank far off gaze.

Ted's clothes were a mess. The front piece of his tie was too short, and the knot was lose. Wrinkled shirt and pants were draped over him. The man's living dead appearance was topped off with the worst case of bedhead she had  ever seen.

He collapsed into a rolling chair in front of one of the computers. She watched him drain a cup of coffee. Then he went to work with a jittering intensity, fingers tapping on keys.

"Uh. . .one more little thing, your first assignment is actually due in three weeks."

There was absolutely no way on God's green earth to complete that project with any attention to quality in three weeks. Thank God for technology, she thought.

"David, if you'll hook me up with the info to get into the company mainframe, I'll be able to work on it at home."

He responded with an emphatic shake of his head. "Sorry Ange, all work's gotta be done from here. Ya know security and all. We don't want to risk company secrets."

As she voiced her understanding, Susan's morale plunged. If she couldn't work at home, she'd be putting in hours of overtime.

"Ok," David clapped his hands and rubbed them like he were trying to start a fire. "Let's get on it. I'll check with you in a few hours."

* * *

Susan rubbed her dry eyes and went back to her programming. Five hours of staring at her monitor was starting to wear her down, shoulders hurt, wrists were beginning to ache. Her attitude was a little sour as well.

David had left his desk at 3:30 saying, "See ya tomorrow, team. I'm just gonna have a late night at home with this managerial crap." Then he patted her on the shoulder. "Did good on your first day."

Her thoughts were disturbed by a whimpering cry from behind her. "God, no." It was Ted again, sounding on the brink of losing his mind. "Please, no."

I can't handle this, she thought. I've got work to do. Susan spun her chair around. Seeing this sickly man with his face buried in his hands, crying like a baby, filled her with empathy.

"I can't handle it any more, fifteen hours a day, five, six days a week." His tone rang with despair like none Susan had ever heard.

"My marriage has gone to hell. I never see my kids." Ted raised his head and stared helplessly into Susan's eyes. All she could think about was the look Buster gave her before they took him to the vet for the last time when
she was twelve. Ted's sallow face was haggard, and deep rings rounded his bloodshot eyes. He didn't look human.

"Ted, it's not worth it. There are other jobs, just quit."

"I'm forty-five-years-old," he said solemnly, "companies look at me as a bad investment. I'm on the way out. Young ones like yourself are easier to exploit, so they don't hire us. If I leave here, I might as well retire, and those bastards know it."

She pulled open the door and sat in the driver's seat. Her mind was spinning with the woes of the corporate world she had been submersed in all day, asshole Team leaders, impossible deadlines, and co-workers on the edge.
Relax, she told herself, that's the way business works. Just do your work and go home.

"Christ," she said rubbing her eyes, "that David jerk is too much." Shaking her head she reached under her seat and withdrew her purse. Fishing through the large pocket, she brought out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Now is just not the right time to quit."

Struggling with the pack, Susan snatched out a cigarette, put it in her lips and lit it. She inhaled deeply, causing the ember at the end to glow brightly. She exhaled the day's tension. Calming mother nicotine was working her magic, and the familiar feel of her old friend between her fingers was a blessed reunion.

Headlights rounded the corner, shining directly on her. In the split second she was illuminated in the seat of her Camry, her body flinched with guilt. Susan had been lying to Dan and her parents. They all believed she had quit smoking. The light startled her. In her panicked mind she had been caught in her lie. She dropped the burning cigarette, and it landed on her thigh just below the hem of her skirt. The red-hot tip burned through her stocking, searing the skin of her leg painfully. She slapped wildly at her lap, and then stomped hard on the floorboards. No sign of the burning cigarette was visible.

Her leg stung badly, an intense bee sting that would not subside. A sharp breath of pain pulled through her lips and she rubbed the raw area, missing the top layer of skin.

A strange felling came over her. The pain whited out the worry. All the day's stress was gone, and she felt absolutely at peace.

Susan walked into the cubicle feeling like she had been hit by a truck. Yesterday was long, and the hour drive home had further fatigued her. Ted was deep in code. By the look of his screen, he had been at work for a while. "At it all ready," she said walking over to her desk.

Ted nodded without saying a word. His fingers pounded.

"You feeling better today?" Susan asked over her shoulder as she turned on her computer.

"What's there to feel better about, Susan?"

This guy is out of his mind, she thought and went to work in silence. Over the next few hours she worked on her program designed to create care pathways for rehab hospitals. She was in a groove and the work flowed somewhat smoothly.

"Morning, gang." David's voice broke her concentration.

Without looking up, she spoke, "Morning, David."

Ted continued to work in silence.

Susan noticed David was sniffing the air. He looked around with puzzlement on his face. "Susan, do you smoke?"

She felt under the gun. "Not a lot, but occasionally? Is that a problem?"

Rubbing his hand through his hair, David shook his head. "Yeah. . .yeah it is, Susan. . .I'm allergic to smoke and we share this cubicle. I'm gonna have to ask you to stop."

She stopped typing and turned her head. "David, you can't make me not smoke if I want to ."

"Try me. We get a hundred applications a day. I can replace you without a thought."

She didn't say a word and went back to work.

* * *

"Ok," David said in a diplomatic voice, "since Medicare has cut back, our hospitals have lost money."

Susan and Ted looked blankly at their Team leader.

"Our profits have suffered. They're not buying new software. In today's managers meeting it came down to us that corporate is no longer paying overtime."

Susan spoke up, "What are we supposed to do, work for free or something?" David responded flatly. "You do what it takes, or we find new employees."

"What? David, we spend a lot of extra time here, and I won't do it for free."

He pointed his finger at her and narrowed his eyes. "Susan, either you're part of the team or your not." Her jaw tightened and her breath came hard. Who the hell did he think he was pointing a finger at her. She was not a child.

David backed away from the obvious confrontation and left the workstation. "Can you believe that?" Susan was furious as she turned her gaze on Ted.

"They can't do that!"

Ted's voice was shaky. "You can't fight it, Susan. Quit or live with it. You don't matter here."

He disgusted her. How could he sit there and say that.

* * *

The night air was cool. Crickets serenaded her from the shadows, and the twinkle of streetlights from the neighborhood behind her house was like a sprinkling of diamonds on the horizon. Normally this tranquil scene from her patio table would have put her at ease, but tonight she fumed about the day's events. Stress choked her thoughts like cobwebs in a dingy room. She tried to push the malignant thoughts of David from her mind, but she couldn't. They are using us like slaves in some damn sweat shop.

She grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it. The red ember shined in the night as she inhaled deeply. Immediately she felt a little better, but the tension still consumed her.

A faint whisper of wind ruffled her shoulder length blonde hair and silk nightgown. She continued to smoke and brood over the unfair treatment she and Ted had suffered at the hands of management. Even if Ted didn't give a damn, she did. The world had gone crazy if people were expected to work for free and still pay house notes, car notes, cable, and groceries. The world was supposed to run on a system of compensation for labor. If that fell apart the workers were doomed.

She smoked another cigarette.

As she took a long drag, she watched the ember brighten. For several more puffs she marveled at the sight, remembering what happened in her car the other night.

* * *

Susan looked rough when she walked through the rows of workstations in the basement. Her once rosy cheeks were pale. Even her coat of makeup couldn't hide the bags under her eyes. A week of fifteen-hour days had stolen her energy for everything except sleeping. Her mind still reeled with the words of the fight she had with Dan before leaving the house this morning. He couldn't understand that she had work to do; that was why she was staying until 8:00.

"Morning, Susan," David looked up from his newspaper as she entered the cubicle. "I looked at your work last night at home."

Susan cut him off. "I thought we couldn't do work from home."

David's mind searched for an answer causing him to pause uncomfortably. "Well. . .they let managers and team leaders work at home because we have so many responsibilities at work."

"I see," she said glaring at his newspaper.

"Anyway, you've deviated from your instructions in a couple places."

Her body went rigid with anger. "David, I have made a few modifications in the barbaric code you gave me." It was a struggle to keep her voice calm. "My changes have made the program stronger."

Folding the newspaper, David sat it on his desk. "Look Susan, we have our reasons for wanting things done a certain way."

She could not hide the truth of her ire, and her voice trembled. "This code's crap, and anyone who knows programming can see that. The only reason you have for enforcing it is keeping your cushy job safe." Her rigid arms
covered by the long sleeves of her bStanse went down by her side like she was flicking her anger to the ground. "I gotta get out for minute."

* * *

Before she made it over to the concrete table in the smoking area she was already digging in her purse.

"Point his finger at me," she ranted, "Tell me my modifications aren't what they want!"

The lighter and her cigarettes came out quickly.

"Who does that bastard think he is! I can't believe people even buy half the software these idiots make!"

Stuffing the cigarette between her lips she lit up. After two heavy puffs, she felt a little better. A quick scan of the parking lot revealed she was alone. With two jerks of her sleeve, her right forearm was exposed. The tender white skin was dotted with pink circles the size of a cigarette ember, ringed by black crusty skin.

Her cheeks sank showing exaggerated dimples as she drew deeply on her cigarette. Then she gripped it like a heroin addict preparing to drive the needle home. Her face flinched as flesh sizzled and a smell similar to fresh
barbecue drifted into the air.

The sweet pain jolted her mind. There was no thought, no stress. As she pressed the burning ember into her arm, Susan let out a whimper. Quickly she took several quick puffs to rekindle the blaze at the tip of her beloved cigarette. Pressing it a second time into her arm, Susan felt a calm washing over her. Anger was gone. Rage at the corporate machine was gone. Hatred for that spineless bastard was gone. She felt centered. After pulling her sleeve down, she crossed her arms. The next few minutes were spent smoking peacefully.

* * *

Susan lay naked on her bed, an ace wrap covering her left forearm. Dan, trusting as he was, had bought the excuse about an injury at work. She had tried to smooth things over with Dan by having a night of sex; that had always done it in the past.

Working at UMS for the last ten days had taken its toll on their relationship. They saw each other briefly in the morning on her way out, and again briefly in the evening before going to bed. Her long days demanded that she have some rest, so Susan was out by 9:00.

Her mind was filled with deadlines and worries about losing her job. She wanted to stay with UMS, but David was making that difficult. And what if Ted was right. She was thirty-four now, that gave her six years to get established in a better job than programmer.

She had not been aroused when Dan made love to her. And that was unusual because Susan had always had a big appetite for sex. When Dan was unable to bring her to orgasm, he became angry and stormed off. Susan figured it was nothing more than a bruised ego. He'd be back.

The problem wasn't that Susan didn't want sex. It was that she couldn't relax and put the baggage of the week behind her. As Susan thought about the corporate machine that she was letting chew her life into a chaotic mess, the soft touch of her fingertip traced her areola. Then she teased her nipple, pinching it until it hardened. Her desire was building, but it was still hampered by her unclear mind.

Her eyes wandered to the nightstand as she stimulated herself. Reaching over, Susan shook a cigarette from the pack. Her hand quivered with anticipation, she could hardly light it. Hot smoke filled her with an indescribable warmth. Her finger moved faster and the nipple engorged itself with blood.

A deep puff blazed the fiery tip of the cigarette. She stared at it with the wonderment of a child as she pulled another breath. There was something in the fire, some gift of serenity that she had unlocked. Pain had become a gateway to paradise and freeing tranquility came with the burning of her skin.Again she inhaled until the cigarette tip glowed bright. Slowly, to see the moment of blissful contact, Susan pressed the tip of her cigarette into her hard nipple. Her teeth ground together in response to the heat. The drive for release from her personal demons stayed her hand. Perfectly still, she burned the tender breast, savoring the pain, mind blanking pain.

Her breathing shallowed. Quickly she inhaled to energize the tip of her cigarette and ground it into the soft skin above her naked thigh. A soft moan passed her lips. The experience was sensuality at its peak. The room filled with her moans of ecstasy.

* * *

Susan looked like a specter from the netherworld. She was clad in a black turtleneck and matching pants. Lack of sleep and the absence of makeup revealed a grim visage teetering on the edge of madness. Bags hung under
bloodshot eyes.

Susan had one thing on her mind, doing her program her way. She would ask for forgiveness later if by some minute chance the lords of UMS weren't pleased.

She thought it was strange that Ted wasn't in the cubicle. Susan had become accustomed to seeing him at his desk bright and early, pounding away in the name of paranoid job preservation. His tiny square of personal space beside his keyboard was remarkably clean.

Forgetting the useless code they suggested, she used all the tricks she had learned over the years to make a sleek well functioning product. Her focus was primal and unwavering like a school of piranha whittling away at a drowned beast.

When David walked into the cubicle, her trance was broken. She turned and stared at him blankly. Her mind raced with anger at the compassionless corporate giant that chewed the bones of workers. This fool before her was its lackey. "What do you want? I have work to do."

He pulled out his chair. "I guess you heard," he asked as he sat.

"What?" The seas of her anger parted, and calm returned to her.

"That PPS shit has gone through." David could tell she had no idea was he was talking about. "PPS, Medicare's new perspective payment system of reimbursement, has gone into effect. Right now its mainly getting nursing
homes." Susan still looked to be in the dark.

"God, Susan where have you been. Medicare is not paying as much for the services nursing homes provide. They're losing profits, so they aren't buying our stuff anymore."

There was an awkward pause. "Layoffs yesterday. We let Ted go."

To control her rage, Susan clenched her fist tightly. She felt her nails tearing the meat of her palm. "Ted! He worked harder than anybody here!"

"Relax," David said, "be glad it wasn't you."

"Not this time, huh," she spat bitterly.

"This is how it's gonna be?" She growled to herself in a low voice. "I gotta calm down. They will not destroy me. That capitalistic hell will not feast on my soul, fuck no!"

She yanked the turtleneck down and pressed the lit end of the cigarette into an angry pink oozing opening next to her adam's apple. The burned area, about the size of a silver dollar, was raw in the center and leathery around the edges. Her eyes glared at her reflection in the restroom mirror.

"That's it. Calm down, Susan. It'll be ok." She ground the cigarette until it smothered in the charred wound.

Something changed in her gaze. It was as if some part of her soul had burned out. Her eyes lost the sparkle of humanity. Then a maniacal laugh broke from her sinister grin. She had them beat. No matter what they threw at her, she had the fire.

* * *

"Hello." She gripped the phone between her shoulder and neck as she opened the kitchen cabinet.

A recorded voice on the line spoke to her. "Susan Spillman worker classification D01, please press one if this is correct."

She pressed the key.

"Due to UMS attempts to streamline personnel expenditures in order to keep abreast of the changing market for health care software, your position has been terminated."

* * *

The programmers, hard at work in the first cubicle, were completely unaware of the anguished woman walking past their workstation. Not a single one of them saw the animal look in her eyes, the tremor that shook every muscle in her thin frame, or the gas can she clutched. Had they looked up, the burn, glistening with moisture from exposed dermis tissue would have turned their stomachs. It sprawled across her face with sickening dominance, devouring part of her upper lip and nose. Blood leaked down her throat over bony clavicles, staining her shirt, and a minute patch of bone could be seen on her jaw where she had ground a cigarette beyond reason, beyond pain, beyond the point of human understanding.

Her fervent stride was one of absolute resolve. Heavy growling breathes spilled from her monstrous face. Her anger at being disposable, her fear of being thrown aside and left to rot in a cold world, her desire to break her binding chains, all cStanded her reason like shadows before a flame.She was going to have peace. This miserable situation would not defeat her.

Her entrance into her cubicle was a sudden storm smashing into a quiet village. Thundering movements almost unseated Scot as he looked up with shock on his face. The manuals between the hard drives flew into the air,
papers scattering, with a solid blow from the gas can. Susan yanked Ted's vacant computer to the floor. Gas soaked the cheap furniture, the papers on the floor, and David as she slung the can about the enclosed space.

"We are not fucking playthings to be pushed for productivity! Our freedom and happiness matters! Do you hear me, Goddamn it!"

David's arms flew over his face trying to shield himself from the dangerous liquid. "What are you doing!"

More gas soaked the floor and walls of the cubicle. David tried to get out of her way, but the blows from the can drove him deeper into Susan's tiny hell of carpeted walls.

His voice broke with panic. "Help!"

Susan stopped. The winds of the human tornado subsided, and she held the gas can in unsteady arms. Her eyes shot forth spears of hatred that pierced him with cold fear.

"I've found freedom." Her words came with incredible conviction. "People say 'the fires of hell' like it's something to fear. Are you afraid of hell, I mean the fire, David?"

"I don't know what this is all about, Susan!" By his tone she could tell he was afraid. "Somebody, get over here!"

Susan's mind was a frigid murky swamp of dark thoughts. All the shadows of reason and insanity and rage swirled with angry teeth. Her brain ached as the dark place ate at her. She had to resolve the wrongs of the world and go
into the light, the peace, the flame.

Her hand crept into her pocket, and she withdrew a lighter. "I'm showing you a kindness far greater than you deserve, you sonuva bitch."

She struck the lighter and held it to her gas soaked shirt. David managed one gasp of terror before blazing arms of serenity enfolded around
him.

© Everette Bell

Over the last year and a half Evertte Bell has secured acceptances in over a dozen small press publications including Enigmatic Tales, Outer Darkness, Goddess Of The Bay, and Blood Coven. My first novella, The Deadlands, will be published by Eraser Head Press later this year. Bell has a screenplay being considered by Marty Katz Productions.

April 2000 HofP