Chapter 5

"Mr. Sterling, do you have an employment contract?"

Silence fell over the room for three seconds.

Mr. Sterling stared at me. His expression didn't change, but his fingers twitched for a fraction of a second.

It was tiny. But I caught it.

Ten years of absolute isolation had made me hyper-sensitive to micro-expressions. Even on a machine that didn't blink.

"What?"

"An employment contract," I took a deep breath. "You are the CEO of this corporation. Do you have an onboarding agreement? A signing date? A corporate seal from the party of the first part?"

Director Vance paused with her coffee cup halfway to her lips.

"Hazel, what are you talking about?"

"I am doing my job."

I placed the scissors back on the table. Gently. I didn't push them toward him.

"You said I'm HR. You said my probation depends on completing a workforce optimization plan. Fine. I accept the task."

Mr. Sterling raised an eyebrow slightly.

"But as HR, my job isn't just to blindly fire people. My job is to audit the process to ensure compliance. If a layoff is compliant, I execute it. If it violates regulations, I refuse. That is the actual duty of HR."

I walked up to the big screen, pointing at the metrics.

"You want me to use this grading system to terminate my colleagues. Let me ask you this: Who established the standards for this evaluation? What approval process did it go through? Is there an appeal mechanism? An audit cycle?"

Mr. Sterling didn't answer immediately.

For the first time in ten years, his perfect fifteen-degree smile faltered.

Like a glitched line of code.

"Furthermore," I took a step closer, "you said Article 17 of my employment agreement dictates my probation terms. Who is the employer of record on this agreement? You, or the system behind you? If the employer is not a legally registered entity, then this contract has been null and void since the day it was signed."

"Hazel, those details are irrelevant," Mr. Sterling recovered his smile.

"They are extremely relevant," I interrupted. "Because you just told me this isn't a real company. This building is a simulated space. Outside is nothingness. My colleagues have been frozen into specimens. Which brings me to the core question—by what authority do you represent the employer to sign a contract with me? Are you an employee of this system, a contractor, or a third-party vendor?"

"I am the administrator."

"Administrators have employment relations too. Who do you report to? What are your KPIs? How long is your evaluation cycle?"

Director Vance set her coffee cup down.

"Hazel, these questions have nothing to do with your review."

"They have everything to do with it," I looked at her. "You said you are in charge of observation. You've observed me for ten years. How are your own KPIs calculated? It took you ten years to produce a single performance report. Is that level of efficiency considered compliant?"

Her smile froze.

Exactly the same freeze as Mr. Sterling’s.

The same system malfunction.

"According to your own grading scale," I walked back to the desk, picked up the folder, and flipped to the back cover, "anything above a B+ is considered passing. Mr. Sterling, the SH-0714 sample group under your management has failed to complete the evaluation process for ten years. Your project timeline has been delayed by eighty-seven thousand, six hundred hours."

I looked up.

"What is your score?"

Mr. Sterling said nothing.

For the first time.

He sat there, fingers still interlaced, but a ripple of panic appeared in his purple-veined eyes.

Like a stone thrown into a still pond.

Director Vance stood up. "Hazel, you do not have the clearance to view management’s evaluation data."

"Why not?"

"Because you are a probationary employee."

"You just implied that the contract was void—actually, I said it, and you didn't refute it. If the contract is void, I am not your probationary employee. If I am not your employee, then everything you have done to me constitutes unlawful imprisonment and physical assault."

I picked up the scissors.

This time, I took them voluntarily.

Not to cut anyone's neck.

But to hold them as a weapon.

Because in this place, the only thing you monsters understand is your own tools.

"Mr. Sterling," I looked him dead in the eye. "I am officially filing a formal labor dispute and compliance audit against you."

His smile vanished completely.

On the giant screen, everyone's scores flashed violently at the same time.

"You cannot file a dispute," his voice cracked for the first time. "There is no such module in the system."

"Then that's a glitch in your system," I jammed the scissors vertically into the table, the sharp tips biting deep into the wood. "Not my problem."