Lot 078 : Return To Office

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on Digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport Massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Hauer King, with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Cruciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Number eight.

Ah, there you are.

Come in, come in.

And mind the step.

The storm outside has a way of making shadows crawl where they shouldn't.

But you're safe here, among relics and ruin.

Yeah, sure you are.

I have something different for you, friend.

Not bone, not brass, though there's plenty of both, if you know where to look.

But plastic and wires.

An old computer, dust-caked, heavy as sin.

On its tinted side, a faded sticker.

Abernathy Industries.

Now that name may mean nothing to you.

Yet.

So if you're brave or foolish, stay close as we boot up a tale best left powered down.

Just don't look directly at the screen when it starts humming.

After all, some data should remain...

corrupted.

This one's called...

Return to Office.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium.

We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Miranda Four,

Nicole Robertson, Jeremiah Strand, V Dot,

Quentin Wren,

Kyle,

Bradley Munn,

Kelly Wilson,

and Hipster Bouncer.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order.

Go to the Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Now,

where were we?

Oh, yes.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

My company issued a return-to-office order.

On my first day back, I discovered something horrifying.

Nationwide mandatory return to office.

The email subject line hit me like a punch to the gut.

Of course, there was no return involved, for me at least.

I'd been hired, pre-pandemic, for a fully remote position.

I recalled the countless hours I'd spent scouring for such a role and how ecstatic I'd been when I'd been selected for it.

The job entailed hard work, but I'd excelled at it, and my husband and I had built our family around the flexibility it offered.

Now, my employer had the gall to suggest that its rescion of the promise it had made to me would improve productivity, foster increased collaboration, and instill a sense of family amongst our staff.

Nope, nope, and yuck.

The email continued by declaring that true success and experience required a regular presence in the office.

It all read like our CEO in typical form, projecting his own uselessness and impotence onto his employees.

Why couldn't I, or for that matter, anyone else on my team, be dumb, lazy, and short-sighted enough to climb the corporate ladder as high as he had.

My husband and I scrambled to make the necessary life changes as my applications to other jobs went nowhere.

Realizing we could no longer give our dog the amount of exercise and attention she needed, we rehomed her to live with my mother-in-law.

We staggered our work schedules to permit one of us to drop off our twins at daycare and the other to pick them up at the end of the day.

My husband, who always fought to maintain a positive attitude, reminded me that we were still living a good life in the grand scheme of things, even if we were set to have less time together as a family.

I know.

It's just that we all know that these changes aren't happening for good reasons.

We're moving backwards, just because the dipshits who run these companies think they're a lot smarter than they really are.

I shrugged, feeling defeated and exasperated.

But that's just the way it's always been, and it's always going to be, isn't it?

Finding a parking space, driving was the only option due to the lack of public transit, proved nightmarish.

For over 20 minutes, I meandered through all nine floors of the garage searching for an open spot.

Finally, I wedged my car into the only gap I could find, which lay between a support column and a truck left sloppily over the line by its driver, and escaped my vehicle by crawling out of the back seat.

As I hurried down a staircase and towards the main building, I wondered how anyone who arrived after me would be able to park.

I was there relatively early, after all, and I hadn't seen any other available spaces.

Passing underneath the giant Abernathy Industries emblem, I entered the main lobby, where a young woman in an azure jacket and skirt suit waved to me.

You must be Cora!

Hi, Monica.

Nice to meet you, Monica.

I believe we've talked by email a few times.

Indeed, we have.

As we shook hands, a bright, beaming smile stretched across her face.

This is such an exciting day for me.

For all of us, really.

You've been a part of this company for years, but now it feels different.

Like you're finally part of our family.

This took me aback.

Naturally, I did not see and had no desire to ever see the people I put up with to pay my mortgage as brothers or sisters.

Or second cousins twice removed for that matter.

Um, so how do I find my office?

Oh, right.

This way.

Monica responded, as if snapping out of a trance.

As she led me to the building's main elevator, we passed a set of closed double doors labeled Auditorium.

We do big events in there too.

In fact, we'll be doing a

welcome celebration for you and all of the other former remote workers in there this afternoon.

Everyone will be in attendance.

We're all so excited for it.

Dear God, reflexively recoiling at the thought of an office social gathering.

All I wanted from this company was a fucking paycheck, not a party to honor its latest efforts to torment me.

Inside the elevator, Monica pressed the button for 19.

This confused me, as my supervisor had emailed me that my team's offices were on the 18th floor.

Monica, as if reading my mind, informed me that renovations were occurring in the 18th floor elevator lobby.

So, you'll have to go to the 19th floor and then work your way down from there.

I'll show you.

Oh, okay, I mumbled, annoyed at the extra time it would take to reach my workplace.

The doors opened to reveal a gloomy hallway.

Half the overhead lights seemed to be broken, and the other half flickered sporadically over a narrow patch of marble floor surrounded by a sea of carpet, patterned in sickly shades of brown, gray, and dark green.

Accounting is that way.

And HR, including my office, is is straight ahead.

But for now, follow me this way through sales.

At this, Monica abruptly scurried into the darkness.

I called out for her to slow down, but she ignored me.

Seeing no other option, I doubled my speed to keep up with her.

We passed offices, cubicles, a rundown kitchen, and copy machines.

I became disoriented as Monica turned sharply to the left, then to the left again at the next intersection, then right, then left once more.

As Monica took me past a corner office, I peeked through the window of its closed door.

Inside, I glimpsed a well-dressed figure sitting behind a desk.

He was frozen in place as if deep in thought.

And bizarrely, his face seemed to have no features at all.

No eyes, no nose, no mouth, Just smooth skin bereft of any other qualities.

That can't be right, I thought to myself as I continued to hurry after Monica.

Surely the window was made of frosted glass, or my eyes were playing tricks on me in the low light.

Monica's voice emerged from the distant shadows.

Are you still there, Cora?

Yeah, yeah, on my way.

I panted as I jogged toward her.

Monica proceeded to lead me down a staircase.

The floor below was just as gloomy as the floor above, and reaching my cubicle required traversing a maze of narrow corridors.

And here it is.

Your very own workspace.

Announced Monica as I examined the small area, which contained only a dingy chair facing a dusty computer on a plain desk.

If you have any concerns, just let me know.

Otherwise, I'll be seeing you at the welcome party later.

Actually, I do have a few questions.

About the lighting and the route we took to get here and the lack of space in the parking garage and to my surprise, I looked back to find Monica gone.

Monica?

My computer slowly came to life, only to promptly turn itself off moments later.

I groaned as the process repeated itself several times before the computer finally stayed on long enough for the login screen to appear.

I hastily entered my credentials.

My computer's hard drive proceeded to heat up and emit a series of discordant noises as if my mere act of logging onto it was causing it to struggle under an intense strain.

How was I going to get anything done with all these delays?

If I were using my work laptop, which I'd been required to mail back several days ago, I'd have already accomplished a considerable amount.

Finally, after several minutes, everything appeared to have loaded.

I opened two spreadsheets and was about to start working when an unfamiliar voice startled me.

Cora, so good to see you.

I turned to find myself facing a Hispanic woman with long brown hair.

Before I could react, she dashed up to me and wrapped her arms around me.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Stop!

Is something wrong?

Cora, did I surprise you?

Or are you?

What?

You know who I am.

Don't be silly.

Um, no.

Look, Cora.

I'm not playing whatever game this is.

Okay, it's me, Ava, your mentor and partner on countless projects, and you know that from the dozens and dozens of video calls we've had together, so

why are you pretending not to?

This left me dumbfounded and bewildered.

The person she was describing, the Ava I'd worked with for years, simply wasn't the woman standing at the entrance of my cubicle.

That Ava, the correct one, was black for starters, had a totally different voice, and was not the kind of person to surprise me with an unsolicited hug.

When I didn't respond, I didn't know how to, after all, fake Ava chimed in.

It's probably just the lights.

They sure do keep it dim around here, don't they?

But uh,

you'll get used to it.

You know, when management first removed most of the lights, it upset me, but I adjusted and it stopped bothering me after a while.

You know, because less electricity saves money and supports the bottom line, after after all, and that's what matters most.

Um,

anyway, uh,

did you, um,

did you hear the latest about Michael?

His wife discovered the pictures, you know, the ones with the uh the flight attendant I told you about, and she's like

furious.

Michael, meanwhile, keeps denying it like an idiot.

I mean, who does that?

And his excuses are.

As she spoke, my mind tried to wrap itself around what was happening.

Who was this person?

And why was she impersonating Ava?

And why was everything at the office so goddamn weird?

Anyway.

Hey, uh, are you alright, Cora?

You look tired.

Yeah, I'm just feeling a little run down.

James and Ella had woken up twice last night.

I'd barely gotten any sleep.

The uh twins keeping you up again?

This bothered me.

It felt like an invasion of my privacy.

How the hell did this lady know about my family situation?

I'd mentioned about family issues to Ava, the real Ava, many times, but this lady had no way of knowing any of that.

Look, why don't we talk later?

Uh, yeah, sure thing.

I'll see you soon.

Let's grab lunch sometime soon, okay?

At that, fake Ava finally left me in peace.

I turned back to my computer.

I thought about typing up a resignation letter and marching right out, assuming I could even find the building exit at this point.

Everything that had happened thus far today left me deeply uncomfortable.

I didn't want to work here anymore.

Consequences be damned.

I opened a blank Word document and began drafting an email to my supervisor explaining all the reasons why I was providing my two weeks' notice.

The thoughts I laid out were unfiltered and littered with pejoratives directed at company leadership.

I knew I would water it down and clean it up prior to sending it, but for now, it felt good to write how I honestly felt.

Before long, the words before me blurred together as the combination of minimal lighting and barely two hours of sleep sent me into a daze.

I'll close my eyes just for a second, I told myself as I leaned back and retreated into my memories of happier times.

I awoke to the sound of a high-pitched whine.

At first, I assumed it to be the nighttime cry of James or Ella, signifying the need for a diaper change or feeding.

But as I regained my senses, I realized I was still at work, and that I'd somehow managed to fall into a deep sleep in my cubicle's second-rate chair.

Frantically, I checked my phone.

It was 3.01 p.m.

I'd slept nearly all day.

I chided myself for letting this happen.

I'd never slept at work before, much less for so long.

Though, in fairness to me, nearly all the lights were out, and the room was almost pitch black.

Whatever.

I'd made up my mind to quit this job anyway.

Perhaps it was something of a consolation prize that I'd managed to fall into the deepest nap since I gave birth to the twins on the same day I would provide my two weeks' notice.

But why was it so damn dark?

And what was the distant sound, which continued to wail through my work area, that had woken me.

I discerned something strange about my computer, too.

When I placed my hands on the keyboard, the buttons felt different than usual.

They didn't press down or react at all to my touch.

When I shined my only source of light, my cell phone's flashlight function, on my computer, I saw that my computer had been replaced by a paper replica of itself.

The kind of thing you'd, if you're old enough, see in a display at an office supply store.

What?

The fuck?

The weirdness of it alone bothered me plenty, but even worse was the implication that someone had switched out my functioning computer while I dozed right in front of it.

That's it.

I'm getting out of here.

The first thing I noticed as I entered the surrounding labyrinth of offices and cubicles is that they all appeared to be unoccupied.

Forgive the interruption.

I do so hate to cut in just when things begin to squirm.

The signal is beginning to flicker like a dying candle.

The ghosts and the wires are restless.

I'm gonna go reboot the Wi-Fi.

Don't wander too far.

You wouldn't want to lose your place now, would you?

Or worse,

have something else take it.

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get It Now on Digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer, and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before.

So they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Howard King with Freddie Prince Jr.

and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Crucciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Why, hello there.

You've reached the antiquarium.

If you wish to leave a message, please do so with the town and have a great day.

My dear antique dealer, it is Tonks.

From sinister sundries of sordid circumstances, you know, the shop down the block.

Now, I appreciate that below your blast placard for your covenant members that you've placed a sign that we are not related, we are not sister stores, while we are

acquainted.

With that said,

Today, after I have warded the shops and have done all appropriate closing procedures that you will also follow, I know,

I came across a box on my front stoop.

Now, I know we've discussed me not gandering at these things, but sir, I did gander.

And once again, while the item is not the same, the ooze is.

And you are aware that I cannot bring this into my shop.

It will not play well with my wares.

I expect you are listening to this message and that you are sending one of your

associates to come retrieve the item and to return it to its chosen owner.

The issue, sir, is

well, I gandered.

So it's talking to me.

Please come soon, or please call me back at the number provided at the shop, so we can get it back to its

rightful place.

Be well, and see you soon, sir.

End of messages.

Well, it seems even this place isn't immune to the petty tantrums of modern connectivity.

The router decided to perform a small exorcism on itself.

Let's click onto our bookmark and get right back into it.

Shall we?

That's it.

I'm getting out of here.

The first thing I noticed as I entered the surrounding labyrinth of offices and cubicles is that they all appeared to be unoccupied.

My flashlight revealed a few signs of life.

A stray pen, a coffee mug, or a half-finished snack.

But no people.

Picture frames stood on some desks and hung on some walls, but they displayed only blank voids rather than images of smiling families.

I tried to retrace the route Monica had taken me on, but quickly found myself at a dead end.

Hello?

I'm a bit lost.

Can anyone help me?

There was no response.

As I wandered farther, turning in different directions directions as I went, it dawned on me that I'd yet to see a single window to the outside world.

Even as my surroundings seemed to stretch on unbelievably far, the lack of any glimpse of the sun or sky made me feel claustrophobic.

I encountered two staircase doors, but in what I assumed to be a serious fire hazard, each was locked.

The handle to one of them, marked emergency exit, was even encumbered by layers of heavy metal chains.

The sound that woke me reverberated again.

I was close to it, and I could now sense that it possessed a hollow, machine-like timber.

Lacking any better ideas, I headed down towards it.

The carpeted floor before me was damp.

Some kind of puddle had formed on it, and while I couldn't get a good look at it, the wet substance on it did not appear to be water.

Rather, it had a murky, greenish quality to it.

Using my flashlight, I traced the liquid to its source, which appeared to be an air vent that steadily dripped a small stream of it onto the ground below.

I hopped over the puddle, landing near the closed door to the room that appeared to be the source of the sound.

When I opened the door,

The blinding light inside forced me to shut my eyes.

As my vision slowly adjusted, I realized that the sound simply originated from the standard copy machine housed in this room, which appeared to be in the midst of a large printing job.

Examining it more closely, I realized that it seemed to be stuck in a peculiar loop.

Each page in a large ream of paper entered it on one side, went through the machine, and exited without a single marking on it.

Once the output tray reached a particular height, the sheets would slide down a ramp into the input tray, repeating the loud and pointless cycle.

I placed a finger on the power button and held it there until the machine turned off.

An eerie silence followed, broken only by the soft pats of my feet against the carpet as I re-entered the hallway.

I walked, trying every door as I did so.

Most were locked.

Some led to vacant offices.

Others led to empty closets or break rooms with crumbs and pots half-filled with the remnants of last week's coffee.

As time passed, the darkness around me, still punctured only by my phone light, seemed to grow more opaque, more encompassing.

Occasionally, I'd see what looked to be the same supply cabinet filled with purple highlighters, or the same translucent puddle of gunk, or the same cubicle with a running fan and a chair plopped on its side, hints that I was somehow traveling in a circle.

But I took no discernible turns, and the order in which I came upon each landmark was inconsistent.

How do I get out of here?

I realized I was becoming thirsty, and I knew my phone battery wouldn't last forever.

When I tried calling my husband, to be followed if he didn't answer by a call to the front desk, and then 911 if necessary, the call failed, despite my phone displaying that it had service.

Distant sounds drew my attention.

At first, they resembled high-pitched giggles.

How anyone could feel compelled to express any feeling of joy in this hellhole perplexed me.

But deep down, what I wanted most was the simple reassurance that I wasn't stuck here all alone.

I ran down hallways, I climbed over cubicle walls, I yanked at stuck doorknobs and stormed from one side of a sticky, dingy kitchen to the exit on the other side.

Finally, I found myself in a narrow corridor.

At the opposite end, an overhead light blared over an open rectangular space.

At least a dozen figures stood in it, but my eyes, having long ago adjusted to the dark, couldn't make out any distinguishing features on them.

They just stood there, facing me.

Then all at once, they were gone.

Their laughter faded too, leaving behind only the same sterile silence that had haunted me for so long.

Had they run away or gone somewhere else?

I chased after them, calling out for help.

I found myself in exactly the place I was looking for.

An elevator lobby.

Contrary to Monica's warning, I saw no evidence of renovations.

The people assembled here must have just gone downstairs.

I didn't ask myself what they were doing standing here and bellowing for so long.

I didn't need to know that.

I just needed to get the hell out.

Something I finally had a way to do.

Nervously, I held out my hand and prayed that the down button would work.

I held my breath as the floor display slowly reached my level.

The doors then opened to reveal a clean, well-lit elevator cab.

I rushed inside, hit the lobby button, and watched with relief as the doors closed and the elevator began its descent.

I tapped my sweaty fingers impatiently against the wall as the floors steadily ticked down.

Finally, Elle appeared and the doors opened to the main lobby.

Only one thing stood between me and the exit.

A pale woman with curly red hair, the first person I'd seen in ages, whose face lit up upon seeing me exit the elevator.

Girl, what took you so long?

You almost missed it.

Come on.

I, uh.

I sped past her, my gaze focused on the way out.

She moved rapidly, her firm hand grabbing me around the wrist before I could react.

I attempted to fling her off, but with surprising force, she easily held me in place.

Cora, the party's that way.

Gesturing towards the auditorium with the hand that wasn't restraining me.

I know how much you want to get home and see the twins, but you have to at least make an appearance.

Let me

adopted a deadpan expression.

Cora, we are not doing that.

First, you pretend not to know me.

Next, you zone out the whole time I'm filling you in about Michael.

And now, you want to skip on your own welcome back party?

You and me were like sisters, Cora.

What happened to you?

My jaw dropped.

Was this person also pretending to be Ava?

I tried to pull away from her again, only for the second fake Ava to whirl around, restrain me, and with remarkable strength, pull me towards the auditorium.

I kept trying to fight her, to pull her off of me, but all I succeeded in doing was exhausting myself even further.

Some of what followed passed in a blur.

I recall Ava, or whatever she was, dragging me past row after row of empty seats across countless small puddles of rancid goo and onto a stage covered in banners, streams, and balloons.

An unnatural warmth drifting down from the air above, and the sense that I was being watched by something hostile and utterly evil.

I remember spotting a loose balloon and watching as it floated ever so slowly up and above the auditorium stage.

It burst upon making contact with a sight that still horrifies me to this day.

An amalgam of body parts stretched across the ceiling.

A soup of limbs, torsos, lips, ears, and more than anything,

faces.

So

many.

Faces, all floating in an inverted pool.

A hazy green substance occasionally dripping from their pained open mouths onto the floor below.

A plethora of voices, one of which I recognized as Monica's, began speaking.

Welcome home.

We're happy to have you here with us.

I knew you'd make it.

We've been waiting for you so

long.

I felt paralyzed.

For a moment, I stood there, speechless and stunned as the faces.

Male and female, black and white, young and old.

Oozed into a new form, held together by flabby patches of skin and bent tendons.

They combine into a gigantic, monstrous face.

With an open, hungry mouth lined by hundreds of lips, filled with teeth composed of thousands of teeth.

Out of its mouth slithered a long, slimy organ.

It unfurled as it dropped, landing before me with a wet blop.

It was a tongue.

stitched together from the tongues and various other organs that had once belonged to the marketers, janitors, supervisors, accountants, and secretaries of my company.

My captor pushed me closer to it.

For a moment,

I thought about giving up.

About letting the sticky ligament wrap around me and pull me upwards into the gaping mouth.

I wondered what it would be like.

To be digested by that thing, to become a part of it.

To become one with everyone else.

I imagined it swallowing up my anxieties, my student debt, my doubts of insomnia, and replacing them with bottomless sleep.

The mouth above me emanated several words in a deep, slurred voice, but I wasn't paying attention to it.

I knew I had to fight.

Not just for myself.

but also for the twins, my husband, and the life I wanted to live.

James and Ella are counting on me, I told myself, as I mustered the kind of strength that courses through an animal protecting its young.

It caught Fake Eva off guard.

At first, she managed to keep her grip on me, but the pain from the way I scratched and dug my nails into her arm eventually wore her down.

With all my might, I pried her off of me, and without wasting a moment, took the opportunity to run.

I remember screaming, loud, even deafening screaming from above, as if every face that made up that creature was shrieking its disapproval.

But I didn't look up, nor did I glance back to see if fake Ava was following me.

No, all I did was run.

I sprinted across the auditorium, through the main lobby, and out the front door.

I kept going for as long as I could, until my feet were blistered and my body could take me no further.

I didn't care about my car, which to this day, I assume, remains where I left it, between the support column and the truck.

I just cared about putting as much distance as possible between me and my employer.

I still have nightmares about what I saw.

More than anything, what frightens me is the knowledge that it's still out there

and that it's still hungry.

There was a strange email on my computer the next morning.

It was from Monica, and it stated that my resignation email had been accepted.

This struck me as weird, as I'd never finished writing, much less sent that email.

But I had no reason to pick a fight about it.

Monica promised a good severance, after all,

and even added that I wouldn't have to do anything more to collect it.

No paperwork, no projects to finish up.

It would be a clean break.

Best wishes to you and your family.

She wrote at the end of the message.

This made me uncomfortable, though it took me a moment to realize why.

Then it dawned on me.

It was what the thing, the face on the ceiling, had said to me just as I made my move to escape.

The words I have tried so very, very hard to block out of my mind ever since.

Join us, Korra.

Come.

Become a part

of our family.

Qug A M T N I U P M T T

Thank you for your patronage.

Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession.

If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances, maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to antiquariumshop at gmail.com.

A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes

in the space between sleep and dream.

During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment only for you

our

best customer

you have a good night now

the antiquarium of sinister happenings lot 078 My company issued a return-to-office order.

On my first day back, I discovered something horrifying.

Written by B.A.

Reese, featuring Addison Peacock as Cora, DeQuintero as Monica, Melissa Medina as Ava, Romy Evans as Ava.

Additional voices by Scarlett Shand, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by COAG and Vivek Abishek.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.