run for the door

Kyle was not much for cussing. Narrow, straight, and all that. His series of shits had been rather an anomaly. But now he had reached a whole new level of desperation.

"Fuck."

The heavy office door had closed behind him, and he stood frozen in the hall for just a moment.

"Plan. Cloud. Fuck." he muttered to himself. Then, with a little shake, he went pattering off down the hallway. Click, click, click went his shoes in a regular rythm on the polished floor. He had given up all semblance of dignity, and was running as fast as years of a sedentary lifestyle would allow him to run. He came tearing into his office and began searching frantically through file folders. His office was pristine and his filing system immaculate, thank god, because he was really making a mess of it now.

"Orientation materials, orientation materials, here! Got to be a map, or an org chart in here somewhere ... yes!" He pulled out the map. The halls were color-coded. Diagnostics was blue. A soothing color, Kyle thought in some small part of his brain that still understood what it meant to be soothed. "Ok, what have we got here - 'Strategic Planning, Customer Relations, Inter-agency Affairs, Modeling, Forecasting, Data Analysis, Publications, .. what the fuck? Where's the post-sighting procedure, or damage control, or operations, or whatever? Think, Think!" he thought back to orientation, the dizzying trips up and down halls, the endless parade of well-groomed, mostly white male faces hovering above firm handshakes. What had it been called? The department that took over after him, who were they?" He couldn't remember. A thought had crept into his head like a tiny wad of chewing gum, and was now expanding in a huge bubble that threatened to crowd out all other functions -- maybe there hadn't been one. Maybe it wasn't that he couldn't remember them, they just didn't exist.

For one moment, just one tiny moment that he would later unsuccessfully attempt to sweep into the oblivion of forgetfullness, he succumbed to panic. He ran out into the empty hall and started yelling -- not terribly londly, but definitely yelling -- "Help! There's a cloud! Someone help!" In the middle of this undignified moment, it occurred to him who he should ask. The doorman. He had been around forever, and he knew everyone. With newfound purpose Kyle ran (his cardiovascular system was becoming increasingly functional with every passing moment) towards the front door.