The interview was a train wreck. Ten minutes in, and I knew I’d blown it. I wasn't the right fit for the position, plain and simple. I was just sitting there, staring at my hands, waiting for them to deliver the final blow and end this awkward ordeal. But then, the HR manager, a woman named Sarah, leaned forward with a strange question. “Do you really love to read?” I looked up, meeting her eyes. She didn't seem to be messing with me. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s pretty much all I do in my free time.” “Oh, that’s great.” Sarah put down her pen. “Look, I think you’ve probably figured this out already, but your professional experience isn’t quite what we’re looking for with this role.” She paused for a beat. “But I couldn’t help but notice on your resume, under hobbies, you just wrote ‘Reading.’ We happen to have a position that’s… well, it’s related to reading. I don’t suppose you’d be interested?” My curiosity piqued. “What, are you looking to hire someone to just sit in an office and read all day?” “Yes,” she said, her expression perfectly straight. “That’s exactly it.” I shifted in my chair, trying to get comfortable. “You’ve got to be kidding me. A gig like that doesn’t exist.” “I’m not kidding. And we’ll pay you a salary. Ninety thousand a year.” “You’re going to tell me it comes with a full benefits package next,” I scoffed, trying to figure out her angle. “Health, dental, 401(k). The works. Nine-to-five, Monday through Friday.” Even as I signed the contract—which explicitly stated my only duty was to read books, and more specifically, that I was *only allowed* to read books—it all felt like a fever dream. Walking out of that gleaming corporate headquarters with the stamped paperwork in my hand, I still wasn't convinced I wasn’t dreaming. But whatever. This company was a major player in the tech scene, this was their main campus. I figured I’d just roll with it and see what the catch was. My first day, after finishing the onboarding paperwork, an admin named Jess led me to the company library. The door opened into a bright, white room, probably a thousand square feet, lined with a dozen or so rows of bookshelves, all perfectly organized. Jess led me past the shelves to the left, into a reading room furnished with a large, comfortable-looking desk. There was a water cooler and a fancy coffee machine. They’d thought of everything. “I’m Jess. This is your new office,” she said with a smile. “I assume you’re clear on your job description?” “Yeah, just read. But I have to ask, are you sure there are no book reports? No summaries?” “Not that I’m aware of,” she said. “But it’s reading only. To make sure of that, I’ll need to take your phone.” “What? My phone? That wasn’t in the contract!” “Don’t worry, we’re not confiscating it. We just store it in a locker by the entrance. You can grab it the second you clock out. We won't touch it, it’s just to make sure you’re focused.” It was my first day, so I didn’t want to make waves. A locker by the door seemed harmless enough. I handed it over. “Great,” Jess said, taking the phone. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Happy reading!” After her footsteps faded away, I walked over to the entrance and checked. Sure enough, my phone was in a small, unlocked cubby. Feeling relieved, I went back into the reading room and started browsing the shelves. The books were all brand new, many still in their plastic wrap. The smell of fresh ink was heavy in the air. They were sorted by genre: history, economics, military strategy, even a section on medical texts. But the biggest section, by far, was fiction—my favorite. Since they didn’t give me a reading list, I decided to start with something familiar and fun. I found the *A Song of Ice and Fire* series and started my third re-read of *A Game of Thrones*. Time flew. Before I knew it, Jess popped her head in to tell me it was time for lunch. “I was starting to think I was supposed to be a prisoner in this room,” I joked. “Not at all. Besides the no-phone rule, you’re just like any other employee,” she laughed. Walking from the dead silence of the library into the bustling company cafe was a bit of a shock. Jess pointed out the different food stations—salad bar, grill, pizza—and then went to find her own friends. I grabbed a chicken and rice bowl. As I swiped my employee badge to pay, the guy at the register looked at me and asked, “You’re the new guy, right?” I nodded. Did this guy know every single person on campus? That was impressive. Before I could ask, the person behind me cleared their throat, so I moved on. The cafe was packed. I found an empty seat opposite a guy who was shoveling food into his mouth. “This spot taken?” I asked. “All yours, man,” he grunted, not even looking up. No wonder he was on the heavy side. I sat down and dug in. When the guy across from me finished, he stood up, then leaned back down. “You’re the new guy, huh?” I looked at him, confused. “Your lanyard,” he said, then gave me a weird, knowing smile and walked away. That’s when I noticed it. My ID lanyard was different from everyone else’s. I’d assumed they were color-coded by department, but now I saw that every other employee had a blue one. Mine was bright red. I tried striking up conversations with other people nearby. But as soon as they saw my red lanyard, they’d get that same mysterious smile, and then clam up. They’d talk about the weather, about last night’s game, about anything—but the second I asked about my lanyard, they’d change the subject like their life depended on it. It was weird, but since nothing bad had happened, I decided to let it go. A month passed quickly. After the first week of novelty and slight paranoia, life settled into a comfortable, peaceful routine. I figured my ancestors must be smiling down on me to have landed a job this good. In that month, I’d blazed through a dozen novels and noticed something odd. Most of the book sets on the shelves were complete. But there was a beautiful, leather-bound collection of American classics—Faulkner, Hemingway, Fitzgerald—that was missing one volume: *Moby Dick*. I figured someone had just checked it out, but in the entire month I’d been there, not a single other person had ever set foot in the library. And there was a perfect, book-sized gap right between the others. It was definitely gone. I eventually asked Kevin—the guy from the cafeteria on my first day—about the library. He told me it was built specifically for me. Or rather, for my position. The company never had a library before. Most people were grinding until 10 PM, and if they didn’t finish their work, they had to come in on Saturdays, unpaid. Who had time to read? Kevin’s biggest act of rebellion against the corporate grind was timing his lunch break to the exact second, refusing to give the company a single extra moment of his time. It was his small psychological victory. My library was on the first floor, which was mostly a public-facing showroom. Besides the receptionist, I never saw anyone. Kevin’s office was on the twelfth floor, and he always managed to be the first one to the elevator at noon. I usually left my room around 12:05. We often ended up at the cafe at the same time and became lunch buddies. Every time I beat him there, he’d shake his head. “They say all roads lead to Rome, but you, my friend, were born in it.” Once we got to know each other, I tried to ask him why the company created a job for a professional reader. He held up a hand, cutting me off, and gestured for me to eat. I got the hint and dropped it. After we’d cleared our trays, Kevin turned to me. “You smoke?” I was about to say no, but I remembered he already knew I didn’t. The way he was staring at me felt like a test. I took the cigarette he offered, and we walked out of the cafe, through the main doors, and over to the edge of the parking lot. Kevin lit his and took a long drag, then glanced back nervously toward the building. “Alright, look,” he started, his voice low. “I don’t know the whole story. Just rumors. Something about a bet between the top brass.” “A bet?” “Yeah. The details are fuzzy, but it has to do with the two founders, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Hayes.” “Okay, give me the short version.” “So, Thompson, the CEO, and Hayes, the CTO, started this place together with like, ten people. They hit the market at the right time, made all the right moves, and blew up into this giant corporation. You know the story: it’s easy to struggle together, hard to get rich together. If you follow the stock market, you know Hayes has been dumping his shares like crazy lately. Sent the stock on a rollercoaster. And word is, he did it all without talking to Thompson first. Just made the public filings. It’s legal, but it put Thompson in a really tight spot with the other shareholders.” “Why would he do that?” “That’s what Thompson wants to know. Hayes’s official story is that after all these years in R&D, he’s just burned out. Wants to cash out and retire. Nobody here buys that for a second. The company’s still growing, the dividends are huge. There’s no reason to cash out now.” Kevin took another drag, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Guys like me, been here almost a decade, busted my ass, hit my targets… not a single damn stock option.” He shook his head and refocused. “So where do you fit in? Well, Thompson obviously didn't buy the 'burnout' excuse. Hayes was a tech prodigy back in college, won national awards, lived and breathed this stuff. So Hayes says, ‘Even a passion becomes a job, and eventually, everyone gets sick of their job.’ And that led to the bet.” “What’s the bet?” “They’re betting on you. Hayes bet that even if you love reading, if you’re forced to do it as a job every single day, you won’t last a year. If you stick it out for one full year, Hayes loses. Thompson gets to buy out all his remaining shares at half price. If you quit… Thompson has to buy them at double the market rate.” “So these billionaires settle their disputes like a couple of frat boys? Aren't they worried about the shareholders freaking out and dumping the stock?” “Who knows how their minds work. Honestly, I don’t get it either. But that’s the rumor. Officially, the stock volatility is because of a ‘major strategic realignment.’ Keeps the retail investors from panicking.” “Okay, but is that bet really worth all the secrecy? Everyone acts like I’m part of some covert operation.” “The day before you started, every department manager held a meeting. They told us a new hire was coming, red lanyard, and that we were not to get too close to you or talk too much about company business. An order from the CEO’s office. Violators would face consequences.” “Then… aren’t you worried about talking to me?” A wave of guilt washed over me. I shouldn't have pushed him. “Man, I’m so burned out here, I’ve been looking for a new job for months. If they fire me and give me a decent severance package, you’d actually be doing me a favor.” He saw the look on my face and chuckled. “Hey, if I do get canned, and you feel bad, just buy me a pack of Marlboros, okay? The reds.” As he spoke, I saw his gaze flicker over my shoulder. I turned and saw Sarah, the HR manager, walking toward us from the main building. Kevin quickly dropped his voice. “Listen, this is all just office gossip. Don’t take it as gospel. Something about this whole thing feels… off. We’ll talk more later.” He dropped the half-finished cigarette, crushed it with his shoe, and started walking back, pulling me along with him. As we passed Sarah, we exchanged hellos. But just as we were about to enter the building, she called out my name. “Hey! How are you settling in after your first month?” Kevin gave me a look and kept walking. “Everything’s been great,” I said. “Good to hear,” Sarah said, her eyes following Kevin’s retreating back. “What were you two talking about?” “Oh, nothing. Kevin just needed a smoke buddy.” “A smoke buddy?” She murmured it, almost to herself, a strange look on her face. “I don’t recall you being a smoker.” Before I could come up with a defense, she smiled brightly. “Well, lunch break’s almost over. Better get back to it.” I nodded and practically ran away. As I glanced back, I saw her pull out her phone and dial a number. Back at the library entrance, just before putting my phone in its cubby, I decided I should message Kevin. Tell him we should probably keep our distance for a while. This job was too good to lose, and I couldn't risk getting him in serious trouble just because of my stupid curiosity. I opened the company’s messaging app and searched for his name. When I clicked on his profile, a chat window didn’t pop up. Instead, a small, gray box appeared on my screen: "This user has been deactivated." My mind went blank. The next thing I knew, I was slumped in my chair in the reading room, with no memory of how I got there. *Fired? That fast? This is seriously messed up.* I stared blankly at the ceiling, at the security camera pointing down at me, and Sarah’s words echoed in my head. *I’d only met her once, during the interview. How did she know I didn’t smoke?* My eyes scanned the ceiling. I started counting the cameras. One, two, three… there were the obvious ones in the corners. But then I looked closer. The small, black, circular fixtures in the ceiling between the bookshelves, the ones I thought were just screw covers for the track lighting… they were cameras. Tiny, discreet, black-domed cameras. Fifteen of them. There were fifteen cameras in this room. These were just regular books. What in the world were they so afraid of? My entire world in this room, every page I turned, every sigh, every stretch—it was all being watched from every possible angle.
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