I woke up in a hole. As I dragged myself into a sitting position I could feel my spine snapping back to place. I was so hungry I could eat a… a… a… leg? There it was; a leg torn out of its sockets and partially gnawed to the bone, lying all forlorn and neglected by my side. Though the blood had congealed to a gooey jelly-like consistency, it seemed fresh.
Well, waste not want not, I said to myself and picked up the appendage. I sank my teeth gleefully into the calf. Some moments of rabid gorging later, it began to dawn on me that I recognized the shoe. I looked down at my foot. Yes, there was the same shoe. I became suspicious. Did someone steal my shoe and lose his leg? Hazily I recalled being thrown to the floor in the middle of the team building seminar I was attending. Could I have lost my shoe then?
I continued munching and looked about for my other leg. Somebody must have taken it too, I decided, because I couldn’t see it anywhere. I released a contented burp then looked about for a doggie bag. There was none, so I stuffed the remaining leg -shoe and all- behind me into my shirt. It was comforting to feel it graze against my skin as I struggled to get up on my feet, excuse me, foot.
Thus elevated, I caught sight of a ladder fixed to the wall which was just within my reach. I crouched and jumped, clear of the first three rungs. This rather surprised but pleased me because I never considered myself as a particularly athletic person. Apparently, I was one now because I climbed the rungs with just my arms while my good leg was left to hang uselessly down.
The street above was quiet. I crawled out of the hole then wiggled my body to a crouch, and from there to a stand. A face appeared at the corner, staring at me stupidly before turning back into the alley. I hopped down the street to my office building.
There I met more people, walking about aimlessly. Was it only yesterday, when I was bothered with their unproductive behavior. I paused a moment to think, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what day or year it was. A brief moment later, I sensed that there was no point for me to know. The only important thing now was food, I thought, as I again patted the leg stuffed into the back of my shirt. A few bodies paused and turned their graying faces my way. I held my meal tight with one hand and quickly hopped to the elevator. I couldn’t get in because the door had been barricaded with bloody mangled furniture. Darn the maintenance guys, I muttered, and made my way to the staircase. The power was out again, and I was forced to hop up three flights of stairs in the dark. Again I amazed myself, for I had not expected to hop all the way up in one stretch. I felt good and virile.
When I pushed open the front door, a few colleagues were already trampling about the crooked cubicle walls and debris peppered floor. We should really clean up the place else no one would come in through the door. On reaching my cubicle, I saw a black palm print on my computer monitor. I heaved a heavy breath and made my way to my manager’s office. I paused a moment outside his door to wipe my bloody hands clean on my shirt.
My hand shook a little as I knocked. A growl issued from behind the door, his usual ‘come in’ invitation. Yet the moment I opened the door, I relaxed. These one-to-one meetings which had always been a trial for me was suddenly easy and friendly.
After some minutes of polite grunts and mutterings, my manager said, “I am pleased to see you have benefited from the team building seminar. Is there anything you wish we had done differently?”
“There is one thing. It might be better if you don’t get the whole group to jump on newcomers or to chase after them. You should get them to feel comfortable first then when their attention is turned, bite them.”
“I thought of that too after my first seminar, but newcomers make us lose our minds and we can’t help but jump on them. You will understand when you meet your first living body.”
“I wish I still have my other leg though.”
“Well, we all have to sacrifice part of ourselves if we wish to be a part of the team.” He turned his head to show me a profile that had no ear and a hole where half a brain should have been. “Welcome to the team,” he said and thrust out a hand.
I accepted the handshake and squared my shoulders. Thus dismissed, I got up and hopped out of the room. Now I understood: My colleagues’ aimless destructive behavior was not due to stupidity but to the compromises they made to become part of the team. Now that I have become one of them, I no longer feel harassed or harangued.
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