The Interview

Jenny sat primly and looked across the desk at the man she hoped would be her new boss. She wore a dark blue suit. She had only a little makeup on. Her shoulder-length hair was neatly brushed. She hoped that she appeared competent and confident.

​

The interviewer looked a little older than she had expected. He wore an oxford shirt, no tie. He wore wire-frame glasses. His head was shaved bald.

 

“Good afternoon, Dr. …” she began.

 

“Please,” the man interrupted her, “call me ‘Tim’.”

 

“Very well, then, Tim,” she said, smiling, “you can call me ‘Jenny.’” She was rather surprised that Tim had an American accent.

 

“Your C.V. is very impressive, Jenny,” Tim continued. “So tell me why you’d want to move out here to Manchester and work for us. You list your home address as London.”

 

“To be honest,” she said, “I’d like to work someplace that encourages new ideas.”

 

“And your current employer... let’s see...” Tim consulted the C.V. “... Skyward Biological Systems. They don’t encourage new ideas?”

 

“I’m not going to spend my time with you denigrating my current employer,” Jenny said. “I feel that my current position is not fulfilling. Let’s leave it at that, please.”

 

“Of course,” Tim said. “What do you know about DPtech?”

 

“Well,” Jenny said, “I confess not much. I know you’ve been responsible for several ground breaking advances over the past five years or so. I’ve met one of your scientists, Samantha Reisling, at a conference in Italy last year, and she seemed very happy to work here. But I’ve searched your website and every database I could find, asked everyone I could think of, and I can’t even tell for sure how many employees you have.”

 

“Yes,” Tim said. “That’s intentional. I think a little mystery is good in this world. I’m not interested in attracting investors, and I’m not really hiring.”

 

“Oh,” Jenny said, disappointed, and she began to rise. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

 

“Sit, please,” Tim said, and Jenny returned to her seat. “I’m not really hiring, but I will hire you if you can answer this question to my satisfaction: If you can do one thing in your professional life, achieve one dream in your career, what would it be?”

 

Tim leaned forward in anticipation of her answer.

 

Jenny told him with a blush on her cheeks. It was just so unrealistic. “I’ve always wanted, somehow, to bring dead tissue or organisms back to life.”

 

“When can you start?” Tim asked.

 

The Company

​

Jenny soon discovered that DPtech was indeed an unusual company.

 

She had assumed before she met Tim that the name DPtech was derived from Tim’s initials, or maybe his investors, but Tim told her that he was the sole owner (using money he had inherited), and that the D and P were from randomly drawn Scrabble tiles. The business was quite profitable, making money from licensing its patents and contracting to solve problems for other entities.

 

There were only five employees beside Jenny and Tim:

 

John, who ran the company’s computer network and also helped out in the lab was a big man with gray hair who spoke with a soft voice and normally wore polo shirts and jeans.

 

John’s wife Sophie was a college student who acted as receptionist and secretary. She was much younger than John with long, black hair and a tendency to wear skirts that were just a fraction of an inch shorter than seemed proper.

​

Samantha, whom Jenny had met before, was a biochemist who might very well have a Nobel Prize in her future. She was only a little older than Jenny with red curly hair. She always wore sandals and shorts or jeans and funny T-shirts, except when she was presenting a paper or meeting with someone outside the company.

​

Samantha’s husband Thomas was a handsome guy in his mid-twenties with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a deep voice. He was a chemist, and, while not as talented as his wife, more than capable at what he did.

 

Finally, there was a young woman about Jenny’s age named Kelly. She was a mathematician, but had significant experience in a biochemistry lab. She was very young, maybe 18 or 19, with shoulder-length blond hair and a taste in clothes that tended toward long dresses or skirts.

​

All other services were provided by contractors, none of whom were ever allowed to proceed into the building farther than the reception area.

 

The company had apparently been founded about 20 years ago in someplace called Beaumont, Texas, but had been moved to Manchester a few years ago. Kelly and Sophie had speculated that the move was related to the death of Tim’s wife, but no one knew for sure. None of the current employees had worked for DPtech in the States.

 

DPtech occupied a modern but nondescript one-story building. The sign in the small parking lot just said the company name. Every employee, including Tim, had roughly the same size offices which were comfortable but not in any way lavish. There were two very modern laboratories and a conference room. There seemed to be ample room for expansion in the back, with several rooms Tim said were currently empty or used for storage.

 

After a few weeks working there, though, Jenny found out the most interesting thing about DPtech. She asked each of the employees, John, Sophie, Thomas, Kelly, and Samantha, if they had been asked Tim’s question about their grand professional dream.

 

Each had, and each had answered with the same foolish dream: the re-animation of dead flesh.

​

Tragedy

​

Jenny had been working at DPtech for about six months, just starting to make progress on her own projects,

when Tim called everyone together in the conference room. Everyone was there except Kelly.

 

Tim was almost in tears as he spoke. “I have awful news to tell you. Terrible news,” he said. “Kelly died this past weekend.”

 

Everyone froze in their seat while Tim swallowed hard and continued.

 

“She had gone out to the country for a little holiday,” he said. “She was hit by a drunk driver. She died instantly.”

 

“Oh, no,” Sophie said and she started to cry. John put an arm around her. You could tell on his face that he was not far from tears himself. Samantha and Thomas were still looking at Tim, mouths open in an almost comical expression of shock.

 

“Her family in London have planned a quiet family-only funeral,” Tim continued. “They’ve asked that you not send flowers, but if you want to send them a card or letter, or make a donation to your favorite charity, let me know and I’ll get you the address of their apartment...

​

“Sorry, their flat. All this time and you’d think I’d learn to talk proper.” Tim gave a little cynical laugh that ended in silence.

​

“Take the rest of today off. Tomorrow as well if you need to,” he said. “I’m going to be in my office for a while. Please don’t disturb me.”

​

He left the room.

 

John took Sophie home immediately. They had known Kelly for years, since Kelly was at university. They had even set up the interview for Kelly at DPtech. They considered Kelly like a daughter. Over the next few weeks, Jenny always felt a sense of deep sadness when talking with them.

 

Samantha was due to travel to Barcelona for a conference later that week, so she and Thomas hung around the lab for a few hours, working on her presentation. By noon, though, they too had gone home.

 

Jenny had not gotten to know Kelly all that well, so that the shock of her death didn’t really go very deep into her heart. She decided it best to stay at work and try to make some progress in her research. She thought the distraction of her job would help her best.

 

Tim was still in his office with the door closed by lunch time.

 

Jenny sent him an IM: “When you can, I would like to know where to send Kelly’s parents a card. No rush.”

 

About half an hour later, she got an IM back from Tim: “I’ll put it on the internal wiki. I should have done that this morning.”

​

Tim did not emerge from his office all day. At about seven, Jenny knocked on Tim’s door. “It’s Jenny,” she said. “Are you all right?”

 

“Come on in, Jenny,” Tim said. “Why are you still here?”

 

Jenny opened the door and stepped inside. Tim was standing by the window, looking out.

 

“At first,” Jenny said, “I was trying to get some work done to help me deal with... But of late I’ve been, well, worried about you. Do you want to talk?”

 

Tim stood silently where he was. Jenny walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. “What if we get something to eat?” she asked.

 

“I’m not very hungry,” Tim said.

 

“Neither am I,” Jenny lied, “but we should probably eat something.”

 

Tim turned to look at Jenny and smiled wanly. “OK but it’s my treat.”

 

“You’re the boss,” Jenny said.

 

Romance

​

At dinner, Tim and Jenny talked about Kelly, and about work, but also about football. Jenny was a big fan of Manchester United. Tim called it “soccer” at first, but Jenny started kicking him every time he said the word, and he soon learned to say “football” like a normal person.

​

After dinner, Tim accompanied Jenny back to her flat, and hugged her at the doorway, thanking her for caring. Jenny held on to Tim for longer than she probably should have, but he was so funny and smart and strong, and she felt so good in his arms that she didn’t want to let go, even if he was just using her to get past his grief.

 

As it turned out, Tim was very glad Jenny had been the one to be there for him. He’d been wanting to know Jenny better for a while. He really loved seeing her smile, and hearing her lovely laugh.

​

A fortnight later, Tim asked Jenny to dinner, though this time he made it clear that it was a date. Jenny said “yes” happily. They kissed at the door to Jenny’s flat, and neither wanted to say goodnight.

 

Jenny took Tim to a football game the next weekend, and, exhilarated by Tim’s presence (as well as a ManU victory), invited him inside her flat.

 

After a few months, Jenny moved in with Tim.

 

To Jenny’s surprise, the other employees at DPtech were not that bothered by the fact she was sleeping with the boss. Tim was very open about the relationship, and that probably helped, but it was also true that they were all so competent at their jobs that they could easily find employment elsewhere if things ever got really bad.

 

It might have all gone well (marriage, kids, retirement) if Jenny hadn’t spent a weekend in London with her old friends about two months later.

​

The Dream

​

It was Sunday afternoon, and she had a few hours before her train back to Manchester, so Jenny thought it might be nice to stop in at the home of Kelly’s parents to express her sympathy personally, and maybe see if there was anything she could do. She still had the address Tim had posted in her phone.

​

Only it became pretty clear that Kelly’s parents weren’t living there. It was office building, and the flat number Tim had given them was apparently empty.

 

Perhaps he had the wrong address, she thought.

 

When she got home, Tim was there, reading by the balcony.

 

“Tim, darling!” Jenny shouted as she dropped her bags, bounced over to him, and sat in his lap, displacing the book.

 

Tim kissed her. “Welcome home,” he said. “Did you have a good time?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jenny said. “only I have some pretty embarrassing news for you. You got the address wrong for Kelly's parents.”

 

“Oh?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” she said, and she told him the story of what she'd seen.

 

“Maybe they moved,” he said. “I'm sure that was the right address.”

 

“It looked like a business,” she said. “I don't think anyone ever lived there.”

 

“Hmm,” Tim said, “I'll have to check it out.”

 

“Anyway,” Jenny said, getting up. “I should unpack.”

 

“Do you remember the question I asked you at the interview?” Tim asked.

 

“You mean about my dream, wanting to bring dead tissue back to life?” Jenny answered. “I've always wondered about that. It seems that everyone else answered that question the same way.”

 

“I ask it because that's my dream too,” Tim said.

 

“Any luck?” Jenny asked.

 

Tim continued as if Jenny hadn't said anything. “I always figured that if I could bring together enough bright people with that dream in the back of their mind, someday we might just make it happen.”

 

“Maybe,” Jenny said, gathering up her suitcase and heading back to their bedroom. “I picked up a surprise for you,” she said.

 

Tim didn't reply. He seemed lost in thought.

 

The Reality

​

After about a half-hour, Jenny called out of the bedroom, “Tim, darling! Do you want to see your surprise?”

Tim walked in a minute later, carrying two drinks. He froze in the door.

 

Jenny was wearing a sheer black baby-doll nightie, under which were a pair of little red lace knickers that were pretty sheer themselves. She wasn't wearing a bra. She had put some soft music on. She lay on her side on the bed. She had pulled down the sheets.

 

“Surprise!” she said.

 

“My God, your beautiful,” he said as walked over.

 

She smiled.

 

“I poured you a drink,” he said, offering her one of the glasses. “I thought you might be tired after your trip.”

 

She took the glass. “I'm not tired,” she said with a wink, “but I am thirsty.”

 

Tim caressed Jenny's hip as she took a sip. “Mmm,” she said. “That's good.” She licked her lips seductively and took another sip. She used her free hand to start unbuttoning his shirt.

 

After a few minutes her drink was finished, and Tim wasn't wearing a shirt. He set her glass and his own on his dresser, then returned to her and kissed her deeply and passionately, his hands holding her head, playing with her hair. He felt the fabric and heat of her against his chest.

 

Jenny was consumed by him, feeling his flesh in her hands, feeling her blood rising, her heart racing, her mind... her mind...

 

Tim felt her growing limp in his arms, felt her lips release their kiss. He lifted her in his arms and sat on the bed, Jenny again in his lap. He ran his hand up to the back of her neck and raised her head so he could see her face. Her eyes were barely open.

 

“I'm really sorry, Jenny,” he said. “I wish it didn't have to be this way.”

 

He kissed her neck, and she barely felt it. She knew she should be afraid, but she couldn't concentrate. Had he drugged her?

 

He laid her on the bed, got up and put his shirt on. “You know, I think you're going to be famous, my love.”

 

As if in a dream, Jenny felt him throw her over his shoulder. “I think we ought to head over to the office,” he said.

 

He carried her limp form out of the flat and down to street level. Jenny knew that people were watching them as he carried her down the street, seeing her as she had hoped only Tim would see her. She hung down, her arms brushing his legs, her hair brushing his buttocks. Why was he doing this to her? What did he mean, she might be famous?

 

Tim knew that no one would stop him. He just acted like he belonged there, walking with a passed-out girl on his shoulder. He could have covered her up, he guessed, but it didn't matter. Some folks who walked by might tell their boyfriends or girlfriends about that guy with the passed out hooker, if they even thought about it again.

 

When they got to DPtech, Tim took the nearly lifeless Jenny to one of the rooms and put her in a chair.

 

“You see, I thought I'd gotten it before,” Tim said. “Something Samantha did with mouse heart tissue got me thinking. I thought it would work. But it didn't.”

 

Tim pulled Jenny's eyes open so that she could see.

 

There, floating face down in a clear plastic tank before her, was Kelly's body.

 

She was naked, her long blond hair drifting in the clear fluid. She did not look dead. Her body still skin was still tan, her cheeks even a little pink.

 

“The fluid will keep her preserved until I can try again,” Tim said. “I think now that it was the way I killed her. I snapped her neck. The physical trauma was probably too much.”

 

Mercifully, Tim let Jenny's eyes close. She was hearing less and less. The mist in her mind seemed to be turning to darkness.

 

“She never was much of a scientist,” Tim said, “so I hoped to help her achieve immortality this way.”

Tim lifted Jenny in his arms again, and then sat again with her in his lap. He rested her head against his shoulder and put a hand on her throat, feeling her weak pulse.

 

“You, however, my darling Jenny,” he said tenderly, “are extremely smart. I really didn't plan on doing this. Still, with your access to me, you would have figured this out soon enough.”

 

Jenny's pulse was getting even weaker. It was almost time. Tim lifted Jenny again and carried her over to an operating table, laying her gently down upon it.

 

“Kelly hasn't talked to her family in years,” he said. “They live in Scotland. They'll never know what happened to her.”

 

Tim applied gel to Jenny's temples, and the place between her breasts. He attached electrodes to the spots, hooked the electrodes to monitoring devices, and waited.

 

When her pulse went flat-line, he waited five more minutes, then turned on the recorders and cameras. He lifted Jenny's body in his arms again and lowered her into a clear plastic cylinder which was the heart of the device Tim called the Chrysalis, because a butterfly is born when a caterpillar dies in a chrysalis.

 

Half an hour later, and he thought he had failed again. Jenny still lay on the table, motionless.

 

Then, her hand moved. Just a bit.

 

Eight hours later and she started breathing again. It was about 5 in the morning.

 

Tim texted all the other DPtech employees and told them not to come in to work. There was an electrical problem and it might not be safe. He'd call an electrician when it got to be a decent hour. He went to the circuit breaker and killed all the power to the building except the Chrysalis lab.

 

When Tim got back, Jenny was sitting in the machine, her eyes open. She looked confused.

 

Tim ran over to her and lifted her out of the machine completely. “My God,” he whispered, “we did it.”

 

“I'm alive?” Jenny asked weakly.

​

“Yes, my darling,” Tim said, and he covered her face and neck with kisses.

 

“You'll explain this to me?” Jenny asked. “Why you killed me?”

 

“I killed you so you could live,” Tim said. “And you're alive! Alive!”

 

Jenny said, “I'm hungry, Tim. Thirsty too. I feel kind of... weird.”

 

Tim helped Jenny sit and then hopped over to a mini-fridge. He gave her a can of orange juice and some cookies.

 

Jenny was staring at Kelly's dead, naked, floating body.

 

“We'll bring Kelly back too,” he said. “We'll figure that out too! You're amazing!”

 

Jenny started eating her cookie, but then stopped. “Tim,” she said, “I really don't feel good.”

 

But Tim was over at Kelly's tank, pushing and prodding her body. “See,” he said, “she's like she just died a minute ago!”

 

Jenny slowly stood, unsure of her legs. “Tim,” she said, “I really really don't feel...”

 

Then she gasped. She put her hands to her chest and fell to her knees.

 

Tim turned.

 

“I'm dying, Tim,” Jenny said. “I feel it.” Her eyes were afraid.

 

“No,” Tim said. “It can't be! You're alive!”

 

Jenny realized again how she was dressed, the lacy, see-through lingerie, and she needed Tim. She started to crawl toward him, but collapsed.

 

Tim was there in a second, kneeling beside her, scooping her into his arms. “No,” he said, again and again. “No no no no no no no no.”

 

And then Jenny's eyes opened wide and she gave a gasp and a little shudder. “I'm dying, darling,” she said,and then her body tensed and relaxed in a convulsion.

 

Almost in a whisper, she started, “I'm...”

 

But she never finished. Her eyes rolled back and then closed, and she was limp again in Tim's arms.

 

“Damn!” Tim shouted, and tears fell down his cheeks.

 

Tim pulled the negligee off Jenny's body. He pulled off her panties. Then, he lifted her again in his arms and carried her over to another tank, next to the one Kelly's body floated in. He rolled Jenny out of his arms and into the tank's fluid so that she floated face-down like Kelly.

 

In a year, Tim had moved on again. The rumor was to Australia.

 

A fire in the building neighboring DPtech caused one of the walls of the Chrysalis lab to collapse. And then the firemen, the police, the neighbors, and passers-by saw the dead, naked bodies of Kelly and Jenny, floating in their tanks.

​

A gloved man from the coroner's office lifted them from the fluid, putting them in body bags and transporting them to the morgue.

 

No one was ever charged. No cause of death was ever determined with certainty.

​

Please write me if you have any comments about this story.

Copyright 2011-2019 DPsleepy.

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