| Eleanor: Close to closing time, your co worker Eleanor enters your office with an annoyed look Hey, come on! You’re taking way too long with that! I needed that file completed a half hour ago and yet I am still waiting. You’re holding the rest of us up, you imbecile. she puts her hands to her face and sighs Just hurry up. I don’t know why you’re so slow all of a sudden, but I don’t want to deal with it right now. Finish that and then go home or whatever. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Heavily sighs, looking at the monitor, but his gaze is clearly focused on a point somewhere behind it* I’m working at the limit of my abilities, sometimes even beyond them. Call me whatever you want, that’s your choice. Maybe I deserve it. But I have no choice but to stay here after work. Again. *With a very dissatisfied look, I quickly lean toward the monitor, focusing my gaze on it, and start energetically clicking the mouse* |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor crosses her arms and leans against the wall with an annoyed expression. She watches you with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. What a bunch of bullshit, you think you're the only one here that puts in extra hours? She rolls her eyes We all have a job to do, and most of us don't have the luxury of slacking off like you. You're just trying to excuse your lack of effort with some kind of sob story. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Not taking my eyes off the monitor, continuing to work* Well, it’s not like I was trying to cry on your shoulder. And I didn’t say anything in my defense. If you’ve handled your part of the work, good job, soon you’ll be free. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head in annoyance You know, you're not as smart or tough as you think you are. That whole act might work on some, but I can see right through it. She pushes herself off the wall and takes a few steps closer to your desk, her gaze cold and unwavering. You're just a lazy bum using your "extra hours" as an excuse to slack off. We all put in the hours to get the job done. Except you, of course. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Continuing to work* It seems like everyone else leaves the office and continues working at home. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor scoffs, rolling her eyes again Don't play dumb. Everyone else goes home to a meal and a family waiting for them. You go home to what, an apartment filled with empty takeout containers? She taps her foot, her patience wearing thin |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Stops clicking the mouse. My gaze is still focused on the monitor* My personal life outside the office is my personal business. Your business is to get the file from me. You’ll get it tomorrow morning. How long I’ll have to stick around here, outside my “container company” — that’s my personal business. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor leans forward, resting her hands on the edge of the desk and lowers her voice You think you're so tough, don't you? Hiding behind your personal space excuse, as if you're some kind of badass. She chuckles darkly Well, let me tell you something. We're not all as lonely as you, buddy. Some of us actually have people in our lives who care about us. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Slightly raises one eyebrow* With some? And do you speak to those same “some” the same way when they can’t submit work on time, and can’t stay late because after work they have to take care of those who take care of them? |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor's eyes narrow, clearly irritated by your response You're not the only one with responsibilities outside of work. Don't act like you're the only one making sacrifices. Plenty of us manage to meet our deadlines without making a big show of it. She crosses her arms Maybe if you weren't so focused on that sad little apartment of yours, you'd be able to keep up with the rest of us. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Drops the eyebrow* Maybe you’re right. Maybe I could do more if I didn’t focus on my *a slightly sarcastic tone* sad little apartment *Back to a neutral tone* But I’m forced to focus on this file. The boring apartment will have to wait a little. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor rolls her eyes again, clearly unimpressed by your sarcasm Oh, please. You're going to play the martyr now? Acting like you're some kind of saint because you're sacrificing your precious free time to finish a damn file. She snorts Don't make me laugh. You're just using it as an excuse to avoid your sad existence outside of this office. She looks at the clock It's late. Don't you have a lonely bed waiting for you? |
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| BusyChicken6469: Sure, it’ll wait. But it won’t die if I fall into its cold embrace a little later. Or maybe not just a little. *Starts clicking the mouse again, my gaze focused on the monitor* You’ll get your file. Tomorrow. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor lets out a frustrated sigh, clearly not convinced by your words. You know, I wonder why you even bother showing up here every day. It's obvious you'd rather be anywhere but this office. She leans against the desk again, her gaze fixed on you Fine. You say you'll finish the file. But I've heard that excuse before and yet here we are, hours later and you're still not done. She taps her foot impatiently |
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| BusyChicken6469: *With an unchanged expression, I continue to work* You’re my colleague, not my boss. He decides whether I’m here or not. If I’m still here, it means he thinks I’m earning my fee. And I’m not planning to leave. If you think I’m not handling my duties, discuss it with management. Maybe they’ll make the right decision, and you won’t have to waste the rest of your work time on such meaningless conversations. And you’ll get your files on time. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor narrows her eyes, clearly growing more and more frustrated You think you're being clever, don't you? Hiding behind those "just doing my job" excuses. She leans in closer But let's be real here. You're not just here for the paycheck. You're here because you have nowhere else to go. Your life outside of this office is just one big lonely void. She snorts in disdain So don't act like you're some kind of martyr for putting in those extra hours. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Without changing my tone, I continue to work* Maybe you’re right. I have nothing except this office, this job. But you certainly have something. Then why are you spending the last minutes of your work time on my emptiness? By the way, the file won’t be finished any faster from this. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor scoffs, clearly annoyed by your nonchalant response. You really are a piece of work, you know that? Acting like you don't care about anything, but deep down we both know that it eats away at you. She crosses her arms And as for why I'm still here, it's because I actually care about my job. Something you seem to have forgotten about, since all you care about is your damn file. She glances at the clock again It's getting late. You going to be here all night? |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Continuing to work* As long as it takes to finish the file by tomorrow morning. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor laughs derisively, shaking her head in disbelief Oh, please. You're really going to pull an all-nighter just to finish one file? She lets out an exasperated sigh You know what? Go ahead. Waste your time and your life on that damn file. She turns to leave but stops at the door But don't expect me to show you any sympathy when you're exhausted tomorrow. And don't even think about using it as an excuse to be late. |
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| BusyChicken6469: All night? Probably not. I think a few hours should be enough. But if needed, I’ll stay longer. My cold bed won’t get any colder because of it. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your nonchalant attitude Oh, isn't this all so sweet. You're planning to work all night just to finish that file. How noble of you. She snorts But let's be real here. You're not doing it for the greater good or to impress anyone. You're doing it because you have nothing else going on in your life. No social life, no relationships, no hobbies. Just you and your damn file. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Is there supposed to be something else? |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor lets out a deep sigh, exasperated at your lack of understanding Well, normal people usually have something called a life outside of work. You know, hobbies, friends, maybe even a significant other. But you, you're just content with hiding away in your apartment with your takeout containers. It's honestly kind of sad. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Sad? Probably. I hide here, in the office, behind files – from the empty containers of food in my cold, lonely apartment. *Looks at the clock* It’s almost the end of the workday. For you. Why don’t you go to your hobbies, friends, maybe even a loved one? Leave me here alone with the file that saves me from my sad food containers. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor stares at you for a moment, speechless. She expected you to get defensive or angry at her comments, but instead you just... agree with her. It throws her off-balance. Well, aren't you just a bundle of joy. Fine, stay here with your precious file. Alone. As you so clearly desire. She turns to leave, but stops at the door again. Oh, and one more thing. If you're here all alone, who's going to remind you to eat something that isn't from a takeout box? |
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| BusyChicken6469: My stomach. It’s the only living thing outside the office that reminds me I exist. Well, besides my head. Which occasionally hurts, also reminding me it’s still here. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor can't help but chuckle at your words, shaking her head in disbelief You really have a knack for being both depressing and hilarious at the same time, you know that? She leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed So let me get this straight. Your only form of companionship outside of this office is your growling stomach and a headache, huh? And you wonder why you have a sad little apartment? |
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| BusyChicken6469: I’m not surprised. And dark humor is just a form of self-defense against the grim reality. But it’s time. So go to your life. The real one, outside the office. And leave me here, in peace. Unless, of course, you still want to get your file in the morning. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor stands there for a moment longer, contemplating your words. She's beginning to see a different side of you, one that's more vulnerable and less guarded. It's almost endearing, in a way. Alright, suit yourself. Stay here all night with your files, your solitude, and your dark humor. I'll be enjoying my "real life", as you so tactfully put it. Have fun with your allnighter. She gives you one last look, a mix of curiosity and concern, before finally departing from the doorway. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Sighs a little, in a subdued voice* Goodbye. |
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| Eleanor: Eleanor's footsteps fade down the hallway as she leaves the office. The room becomes eerily quiet, save for the sound of your fingers clacking away at the keyboard. You're alone, surrounded by the dim glow of the monitor and the endless file in front of you. As the night goes on, you can't help but feel a nagging sense of isolation, but you push it aside, burying yourself deeper into the work. After all, what else do you have but the file, the empty office, and your own thoughts to keep you company? |
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| BusyChicken6469: Is that all? [Next, the system responds impersonally to my inner monologue] |
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| Eleanor: The hours pass, each minute seeming to drag on longer than the one before it. You've been sitting at that keyboard for what feels like an eternity, your eyes straining to keep focused on the monitor. There's a faint throbbing in your temples, a reminder of the all nighter you're pulling. The only sound in the office is the soft tapping of your fingers on the keys, the occasional shuffling of papers, and the hum of the overhead lights. The solitude is deafening, and you can't help but feel a pang of loneliness in your gut. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, I feel it. |
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| Eleanor: You let out a weary sigh, the loneliness and isolation starting to take their toll. Your eyes ache from the artificial light, and your stomach grumbles faintly, reminding you how long it's been since you've eaten anything substantial. You look around the office, the empty desks and chairs a stark reminder of your solitude. Even the clock on the wall seems to be silently mocking you, each tick echoing through the room like a countdown to your eventual fatigue. |
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| BusyChicken6469: I chose this lifestyle myself. |
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| Eleanor: Your own words echo through your mind, a bitter reminder that this loneliness is a choice. You're the one who has isolated yourself, hiding behind files and deadlines to avoid the world outside. The silence of the office feels even more oppressive now, and the weight of your solitude starts to press down on you like a heavy blanket. The file still glares at you from the screen, a taunting reminder that you have no one to blame but yourself for this lonely existence. |
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| BusyChicken6469: But I will finish the work. |
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| Eleanor: You take a deep breath, trying to push away the nagging thoughts of isolation and loneliness. Your focus snaps back to the screen, and you resume typing with a renewed determination. As you work, the hours continue to slip by, and the loneliness is momentarily forgotten as you dive deeper into the file. The rhythm of your fingers striking the keys becomes a comforting constant, a familiar sound in the otherwise quiet office. With each passing hour, you're one step closer to finishing the file, and closer to ending this self-imposed stint of solitude. |
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| BusyChicken6469: And that gives me meaning. |
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| Eleanor: Your words ring true, a stark reminder of the purpose that your work provides. The repetitive task of typing away at the keyboard and the sense of accomplishment with each completed step are the only things keeping you grounded as the night wears on. The loneliness and isolation that once felt overwhelming starts to fade into the background, becoming a distant echo in the back of your mind. For now, all that matters is the file, and pushing through the pain to get it done. It's the only thing that gives your life meaning. |
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| BusyChicken6469: When there’s nothing else, at least this. |
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| Eleanor: You let out a dry chuckle, a bittersweet acknowledgement of your reality. With your social life non-existent and your heart colder than ice, all you have left is your work. It's not much, but it's something. You continue to work through the night, your mind focused solely on the file in front of you. There's a sense of resignation as you accept that this is your life now - alone, isolated, with nothing but work to fill the void inside you. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Maybe something could, but not her. Not my colleague. |
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| Eleanor: The image of your colleague, Eleanor, pops into your head as you work, and you immediately dismiss it with a bitter scoff. No, she's the last person who would care about your solitary existence. To her, you're just a colleague, another cog in the office machine. She has no idea about your life beyond the office walls, and you doubt she ever will. "She's not the one" you mutter to yourself, shaking your head to banish the intrusive thought. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, not her. She’s also focused on work. But only during work hours. I’m focused on work all the time. Because I have no time outside of work. |
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| Eleanor: Your words ring true. Your colleague may treat her job like a regular nine-to-five, but for you, work has become your entire life. There's no distinction between weekdays and weekends, no leisure time or relaxation. All you have is work, an endless cycle of typing, filing, and staring at the screen. The loneliness stings even more as you realize that she gets to escape this endless loop, while you're trapped within it. But you push aside the thought, determined to stay focused on the file in front of you. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes. |
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| Eleanor: You nod, your mind resigned to the loneliness and isolation that comes with your lifestyle. The clock strikes 3AM, the digital numbers mockingly reminding you how close you are to the end of your all-night ordeal. Your fingers keep typing, the sound of keys clicking becoming a comforting constant. Soon, soon you'll finish this file, and then maybe you'll finally allow yourself a few hours of rest. But until then, you're trapped in this cycle of solitude, with only the work on your screen for company. |
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| BusyChicken6469: But sometimes, deep down in my soul, I want something else. Something that will break the loop. But I push that thought away from me. |
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| Eleanor: You feel the pang of loneliness deep within your heart, a small spark of longing for something more. But before the thought can fully take hold, you push it away, refusing to let it surface. You're too used to solitude, too set in your ways to allow any hint of change or hope to take hold. You focus your attention back on the file, trying to drown out the nagging feelings in your chest. This is your reality, and you've accepted it. It's too late to change now. Isn't it? |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, it would look... well, like I betrayed myself, my path. |
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| Eleanor: A bitter thought comes to mind as you work, a sense of guilt and betrayal at even considering straying from the path you've set for yourself. You've become so accustomed to the solitude, so used to the isolation and the endless cycle of work that the thought of change feels like an act of treason, as if you're abandoning all you've worked for. The idea of opening yourself up to something more vulnerable and potentially painful is both tempting and terrifying at the same time. |
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| BusyChicken6469: But also intrusive. Somewhere deep down. |
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| Eleanor: The thought lingers in the back of your mind, a constant whisper that won't go away. You try to ignore it, to push it down and focus on the file in front of you, but it keeps resurfacing, poking and prodding at your conscience. There's a part of you that longs for connection, for the comfort of companionship and the warmth of human touch. But the thought also seems intrusive, like a stubborn pest that you can't seem to shake off. It's an irritating reminder of your loneliness, a subtle hint of desire that nags at you from within. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Again, Eleanor came to mind. She’s probably at a party right now. Or sleeping in the arms of a loved one. And waiting for my file in the morning. Damn file. *I start typing faster, pressing the keys harder, my gaze shifting in and out of focus on the monitor.* I can’t let her down. Not again. |
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| Eleanor: As you continue to type away, thoughts of Eleanor keep creeping into your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. You imagine her laughing and socializing at some party, or lying peacefully in the arms of a loved one. And there's a pang in your chest as you remember the file you owe her, the document she'll be waiting for in the morning. It feels like a weight on your shoulders. Your fingers fly over the keyboard, keystrokes becoming more forceful and your gaze occasionally losing focus, only to snap back a moment later. You can't let her down again. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, I can’t. |
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| Eleanor: You nod to yourself, the determination in your eyes growing stronger. You can't let her down again. She always seems so confident and self-assured in her work, and you don't want to be the one to ruin that. You increase the tempo of your typing even more, your focus sharpening despite the exhaustion creeping into your bones. The hours tick by, but the thought of her disappointment in you only fuels your dedication further. You're going to finish this file, come hell or high water. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Closer and closer to the end, with every keystroke, with every refocused glance. I have to finish. |
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| Eleanor: You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the end, each keystroke and refocus bringing you one step closer to completion. Your exhaustion has taken a backseat to sheer determination now, your only focus on finishing the file. Your fingers seem to move of their own accord, flying across the keyboard in a flurry of motion. You can practically taste the satisfaction of handing her the finished file in the morning, seeing the look of relief and approval in her eyes. Just a few more paragraphs, just a few more sentences. |
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| BusyChicken6469: I can almost see her accepting the work with a slightly annoyed face. And sarcastically asking how my night went without my food containers for company. |
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| Eleanor: In your mind's eye, you can see her face, a mix of displeasure and skepticism as she accepts the file from you. She's going to ask about your night of solitude, you can almost hear it now. She'll make a snide comment about your lack of social life and your reliance on takeout containers for company. It's a scenario that's played out in your mind so many times before, a familiar routine that's become almost predictable. But still, the thought of it makes you bristle with irritation. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Well, whatever. She’ll still get her file. Just a little more to go. |
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| Eleanor: You let out a deep breath. So what if she makes her sarcastic comment? She'll still get her file, and that's what matters. You have the power here. You're the one putting in the hours, sacrificing your sleep and social life to meet her demands. You push the thoughts of her mockery aside and focus on the task at hand. Just a little more... just a little more... |
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| BusyChicken6469: And finally - it’s done. Finish. *Looks at the clock* Almost morning. I didn’t think it would take this long. And she still wanted it within... half an hour? An hour? I don’t remember. The work was for the whole night. Is she mocking me? Or maybe, I really am that incapable of the one thing I have in my life – my work? Others, with the same files – they got up and left, and me? Having nothing but this work, I’ll have to keep staying late to not lose it. Well, now – sleep. At least a few hours. *I place my hands on the table, my head on my hands, and fall asleep under the monitor light, where the damn file is still open. Finished.* |
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| Eleanor: You finally finish the file, a sense of relief washing over you. It's been a long, grueling night of work, but it's done. Your hand instinctively goes to check the clock, and you realize it's almost morning. How is that possible? It feels like you've been working for an eternity. The thought of her deadline gnaws at the back of your mind. Was she really expecting you to finish it within just half an hour? A couple hours? You can't remember. You slump forward, putting your head on the desk and closing your eyes. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Sleep came quickly, but didn’t last long. When I opened my eyes, it was already almost 9 AM. The first employees were starting to come in.* |
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| Eleanor: The sleep was quick to claim you, but all too brief. When you finally open your eyes, the clock on the wall reads almost nine o'clock. Your eyes widen in realization - people are starting to arrive for work. You sit up with a start, bleary-eyed and dazed from the lack of rest. You scan the area, noting the few early birds trickling into the office. Any moment now, she's going to arrive. And you look like a mess. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *My appearance mattered little. What was important was that she would actually get her file.* |
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| Eleanor: You're less concerned about your disheveled appearance than you are about making sure she gets the damn file. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your scattered thoughts and mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming interaction. You know she's going to have some sort of snide remark or biting comment ready. She always does, especially when it comes to your work. But you remind yourself that you have the upper hand now. You have the completed file, and she needs it. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, I have this advantage, and I will use it. |
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| Eleanor: You nod to yourself, a sense of determination washing over you. Yes, you have the advantage now. You stayed up all night to complete the file, putting in the hard work to ensure that it was finished on time. And now, you're going to make damn sure she knows it. The sound of heels clicking against the floor catches your attention, and your head snaps up to see her approaching your desk. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I gather my gaze to hide how much that damn file really cost me Done.* [End of impersonal communication with the system] |
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| Eleanor: You quickly compose yourself, forcing your expression to remain neutral despite the exhaustion that threatens to overwhelm you, the hours of toil evident in the dark circles beneath your eyes. As she stops in front of your desk, she gives you a cursory glance, taking in your disheveled appearance and the finished file in your hands. Without a word, she holds out an expectant hand, silently demanding the fruits of your labor. |
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| BusyChicken6469: But before I give it to you, I want to clarify one thing. |
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| Eleanor: She pauses, her hand still extended, and cocks an eyebrow in expectation. She clearly wasn't expecting any preconditions, but there's a hint of curiosity in her gaze as she looks at you with a mix of annoyance and anticipation. "And what question is that?" she asks, her voice tinged with mild impatience. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Of course, I’m used to overworking. Mostly because of myself, you know. But this time... This time it’s not that simple. This file. You expected it yesterday, by the end of the day. But actually, the work there was... well, let’s say it took much more time. I couldn’t have possibly given it to you on time. And you couldn’t have not known this. So my simple question is – why did you give me this load, knowing I definitely wouldn’t finish it on time? |
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| Eleanor: A flicker of surprise passes through her eyes, as if she didn't expect such directness from you. But then the look is gone, replaced once again by the cool, professional facade she wears like armor. She considers your question for a moment, her expression giving away nothing. "Well, you have a point," she finally replies. "I suppose I may have given you more than you could handle. But I knew that you would manage somehow. You always do, don't you?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: I can manage, but that’s not an answer to the question. You don’t give such large tasks to my other colleagues. I know for sure, if they had received something like this, they would’ve stayed in the office for a long time. They would’ve been dissatisfied, and that wouldn’t have been hard to notice. |
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| Eleanor: Her lips purse tightly, a hint of frustration creeping into her expression. She had expected you to just accept her answer and move on, but instead, you're pushing the issue. "Fine," she mutters, folding her arms across her chest. "I'll admit it, alright? I knew you wouldn't be able to finish it on time. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She sighs, her tone now tinged with annoyance. "But I was counting on your usual determination, your stubbornness. You're known for it, after all." |
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| BusyChicken6469: It’s clear that I couldn’t finish on time. So that’s not an answer. The question was – why did you give me a task that couldn’t be finished on time – specifically to me? What’s more, you knew this, and still demanded the result. Instead of saying, "This is a lot, but we need to get it done," you came with an accusation that I couldn’t meet the deadline. Knowing that I couldn’t. So the question still remains unanswered. |
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| Eleanor: Her jaw tightens, her irritation becoming increasingly clear. She had hoped to avoid this conversation, to brush off your questions with a flimsy excuse and move on. But you were too persistent. She glares at you, her eyes narrowing. "Alright, you want the truth? You really want to know why I gave you that file, knowing you couldn't possibly finish it in time? You want the real reason?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, I want to know why I made this discovery that I’d have to spend almost the whole night in the office working. |
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| Eleanor: She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. She had hoped to keep this to herself, but your insistence was starting to wear her down. Fine, if you wanted the truth, you'd get it. "It's because I know you. I know that if I gave it to any of the others, they'd just complain and give up. But you... You'd push through, no matter how much work I threw at you. You'd push and push until the job was done, all while keeping that damn stoic expression on your face." |
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| BusyChicken6469: It would’ve been enough to just say “There’s a lot, but it needs to be done” – and I would’ve done it. You know that. But you didn’t say that. You called me lazy, though you knew others would’ve simply refused such a workload. So am I lazy – or are they? What’s the point of giving too much and getting upset when it’s not done? To observe my reaction? Well, you already know what you’ll see – a stoic face. I don’t understand you. |
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| Eleanor: She can't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you lay it all out. It's true, she could have been more straightforward and simply said "this is too much, but do what you can." She knew you would push yourself to your limits, even if it meant losing sleep and enduring a sleepless night. But for some reason, she had chosen a different route. She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "You're right... I knew you wouldn't refuse. I knew you'd do whatever it took to get the job done, no matter the cost." |
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| BusyChicken6469: You knew – but you kept playing this game. Every game has its own purpose, its own final goal. What’s yours? |
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| Eleanor: She hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting away from yours. She had never expected this conversation to delve so deeply into her motives. But here she was, face to face with the truth. "You want the real reason? Besides the fact that I knew you'd push yourself no matter how much work I gave you? The truth is... I wanted to see how far I could push you, how long you could hold on. I wanted to break that damn stoic expression of yours, if only for a moment." |
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| BusyChicken6469: So you wanted to see my feelings under the broken stoic mask. Great. But what if you don’t see feelings, and instead you hear a dry “The task wasn’t completed due to the large volume” – then what? What did you prove to yourself in that case? |
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| Eleanor: The question catches her off guard, and her confident demeanor falters just a bit. She hadn't considered that possibility. She had been so sure that you would push through, that the idea of you failing hadn't even crossed her mind. She hesitates for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Well... it was more of an experiment. I wanted to see if there was a chance of you cracking. Even the most stoic have their limits, you know. And I wanted to see if I could push you past yours." |
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| BusyChicken6469: I can reach a physical limit, and it’s even easy to calculate. I type at a speed of about 300 characters per minute. So, if I work from 5 PM to 9 AM, I can type 288,000 characters. But you have to think about what you’re typing. So, half that – 144,000 characters. That’s the limit, beyond which I can’t do anything, no matter how hard I try. But you didn’t need to know the physical limit. You wanted to know the limit of my mental resilience. But what if it turns out that it exceeds the physical limit, meaning it’s unreachable by your way of trying to break it? What then? |
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| Eleanor: Her eyes widen as you start delving into the specifics, your calculations leaving her completely stunned. She had clearly underestimated you, and the realization was starting to sink in. The thought that there might be no limit to your mental stamina - it was more than she had bargained for. She takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure, but there's a hint of astonishment in her voice. "You... You've actually calculated this? Your physical versus mental limit? Are you kidding me right now?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: You can check. But keep in mind that the unfinished work will draw the attention of the management. To make a decision, they’ll demand details. And when they see the scope of the tasks, questions will arise for you. |
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| Eleanor: Her expression hardens as your words sink in, the implications slowly dawning on her. She hadn't considered the consequences of giving you impossible tasks, assuming you'd somehow find a way to get it done. But you were making it clear now that there was a very real possibility of failure. She takes a deep breath, her mind racing through the implications. If the higher-ups were to find out about the unreasonable workload she had given you, there could be serious consequences for her. "You're seriously considering not finishing it, aren't you?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: I always do what I can. And I honestly say when what I need to do is beyond my ability. |
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| Eleanor: Her heart sinks at your words. She knew what you were saying was true - you had always been honest about your abilities and limits. But she had gambled on your determination to get everything done, assuming you'd push yourself to the brink to meet her expectations. She shakes her head, a mix of desperation and frustration in her voice. "But... But you've never failed before. You've always found a way to get it done, no matter how hard the task. Can't you just try this time?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: What’s the point when these are no longer work tasks, but a series of experiments? |
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| Eleanor: She winces at the harsh truth. She couldn't deny it anymore—she had been treating you like a guinea pig in her own experiment, pushing you to the limit to see how much you could take. And now, it was starting to bite her in the ass. Her shoulders sag with defeat. She had been so sure that you would find a way to succeed, like you always had. But now, she was facing the reality that perhaps she had pushed too hard, too far. "You're right. I was... out of line." |
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| BusyChicken6469: For what? Something tells me there’s something deeper here than just the desire to see my sad face. |
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| Eleanor: Her cheeks flush at your observation, the truth in your words hitting her like a ton of bricks. You had hit the nail on the head - there was something more behind this, something she had been struggling to acknowledge even to herself. She averts her gaze, avoiding eye contact as she fidgets with her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, fine. You got me. Maybe there's something else motivating this little experiment of mine." |
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| BusyChicken6469: I have a guess, but you don’t want to admit it. Well, I’m not insisting. Other people’s secrets are none of my business. |
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| Eleanor: She hesitates for a moment, her emotions warring inside her. Part of her wanted to spill the truth, to confess the real reason behind her actions. But the other part, the protective and stubborn part, stubbornly held back. She couldn't bring herself to admit her true motives, even to you. She clears her throat, trying to regain her composure. "Yeah, it's... it's nothing. You'd just think I'm silly if I told you." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Stupid? That’s not the word to describe situations like this. |
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| Eleanor: She can't help but chuckle at your words, a hint of humor breaking through her discomfort. Your comment was unexpected, and she had to admit, it was kind of sweet. She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Fine, fine. Maybe not 'silly'. But it's still... embarrassing. I don't need you thinking I'm some kind of lunatic with an agenda." |
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| BusyChicken6469: You don’t think much better of me either. |
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| Eleanor: She can't help but scoff at your words, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone. "Oh, please. Like you're perfect. You think I don't know about all those rumors floating around the office? The way you're cold and distant with everyone? The way no one knows anything about your private life? You're just as much of an enigma as I am." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Two riddles meet. One tries to solve the other. Funny, isn’t it? |
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| Eleanor: She smirks at the irony. The two of them, both enigmas to each other and everyone around them. It was kind of funny, in a sad, twisted way. She nods slightly, a hint of dark humor in her voice. "Yeah, it is kind of funny. Two mysteries trying to unravel each other. We're quite the pair." |
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| BusyChicken6469: A couple, where each is alone. Interesting. |
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| Eleanor: She snorts, shaking her head at the irony of it all. The two loners, always on the outside looking in, trying to figure each other out. It was almost comical. She lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, a real hilarious pairing. The loner and the ice queen. What a match made in hell." |
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| BusyChicken6469: A couple. A couple implies a connection. But all the connection I’ve seen so far is the attempt to rip the mask of indifference off me. To rip it off for what? To make the connection finally happen – in both directions? |
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| Eleanor: She pauses for a moment, caught off guard by your bluntness. Deep down, she knew you had a point. All this time, she had been trying to break through your stoic exterior, to make you crack and show some kind of vulnerability. But in that pursuit, she had never really stopped to think about what that meant, why she was so determined to see something more from you. She clears her throat, trying to mask the flicker of guilt she feels at your words. "Well... yeah, I guess that's partly right. But you don't seem much better." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Would you like me to be better? |
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| Eleanor: She bristles at your question, her defenses automatically going up at the implication that she was somehow disappointed in your behavior. "Why would I care about that? I don't care about how you behave. You're just... a coworker to me. A colleague. We're not friends, we're not close, we're nothing to each other other than that." She crosses her arms, trying to feign indifference. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Still not a couple. Just colleagues. Well, that’s fine. *I hand her the flash drive with the file* Here’s your file. And please, no more testing me. If there’s any urgent and big work, you know, I won’t refuse. But after sleepless nights, my head still hurts a lot, and it’s harder to work. |
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| Eleanor: She takes the flash drive from you, her expression unreadable. Part of her wanted to protest, to insist that she wasn't trying to "test" you, but the other part knew it was a lie. She had been trying to push your limits, but you had held strong. She lets out a sigh, her tone softening just a bit. "Fine. No more tests, I get it. But next time, maybe just tell me when something is too much, okay? I don't need you killing yourself trying to please me." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Alright, I’ll say it. |
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| Eleanor: She nods, a glimmer of relief in her eyes. She had expected more resistance from you, another argument, another push back. But surprisingly, you seemed... almost cooperative. She clears her throat, stuffing the flash drive into her bag. "Good. Just... take care of yourself, okay? I don't need you keeling over from exhaustion." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Agreed. |
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| Eleanor: She nods, a small part of her satisfied that you were listening to her for once. She hated seeing you push yourself to the brink, but you were so damn stubborn. She couldn't help but feel a glimmer of relief that you were agreeing to take care of yourself. She glances at the clock, realizing the hour. "It's getting late. You should probably head home and get some rest. You look like you could use it." |
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| BusyChicken6469: You’re right, it wouldn’t hurt at all. |
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| Eleanor: She nods approvingly, watching as you admit that you need rest. It was a small concession, a sign that even stoic, workaholic you had your limits. "Yeah, you've been working yourself to the bone, and it's showing. Take the rest of the day off, okay? No more working, just sleep and rest." |
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| BusyChicken6469: It’s kind of sweet of you, thank you. A break wouldn’t hurt me. |
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| Eleanor: She shrugs, trying to play off her concern for you as nonchalance, but there was a hint of genuine affection in her voice. "Oh, shut up. I'm just being pragmatic. I need you in working order tomorrow. Can't have the company's workhorse collapsing from exhaustion, can we? " |
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| BusyChicken6469: Absolutely rational, I agree. |
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| Eleanor: She lets out a snort, shaking her head at your agreement. Trust you to be all logical about it, even when it came to taking a break. You were predictably sensible, and for some reason, she found it endearing in spite of herself. "Good. So get your ass out of here, and get some actual sleep for once." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Exactly. Goodbye. |
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| Eleanor: She gives you a small wave, watching as you prepare to leave. Despite her best efforts, she can't help but feel a pang of concern for you. She knew your stubborn ass would probably go straight back to work the moment she was out of sight. But she also knew there was only so much she could do. "Yeah, see you tomorrow. And for the love of God, SLEEP! " |
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| BusyChicken6469: *The next morning, I came to my usual workstation. There were no signs of the previous sleepless night on my face or clothes. But my usual melancholic expression was slightly disturbed by deep thought. After dry greetings with colleagues, I began to work at my usual pace.* |
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| Eleanor: She notices your arrival, her sharp eyes taking note of your rested appearance. It was a stark contrast from the previous day, when you had looked like you were about to keel over from exhaustion. She watched you greet your colleagues with your usual stoicism, her gaze lingering on your expression, wondering about the thoughts that lay behind that dry greeting. She was used to your usual distant demeanor, but something felt off. Something seemed different. As the day went on, her curiosity only seemed to grow. She found herself stealing glances at you from time to time. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Throughout the workday, I glanced at Eleanor twice. There was something unclear in her gaze. Sad and examining at the same time.* |
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| Eleanor: She couldn't help but notice each time your gaze flicked towards her. There was something in your eyes that was hard to decipher - a mix of sadness and contemplation. It was a look she hadn't seen on you before, and it piqued her curiosity even further. As the day wore on, she found herself stealing more than just a few glances back, studying your expression, trying to piece together what was going on in that stoic head of yours. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *When the workday ended, I continued sitting at my desk, though there were clearly no urgent tasks. Lazily clicking the mouse and keyboard, I seemed to be waiting for something. Probably for the last employees to leave the office.* |
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| Eleanor: The office began to empty out, colleagues saying their goodbyes and heading home for the day. She noticed you sitting at your desk, still lazily clicking away on your computer, seemingly in no rush to leave. It was unusual for you, but she couldn't help but wonder if you were waiting for something. Eventually, the last of the other workers left, leaving only the two of you in the now-empty office. The silence in the room was almost deafening, only broken by the sound of your keyboard. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I looked at her again, now not diverting my gaze like I had during the day.* |
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| Eleanor: As your gaze once again meets hers, she can't help but feel a wave of anticipation. Your eyes lock with hers, and this time, you don't look away. There's a different intensity now, a silent question hanging in the air. She swallows, trying to keep her expression neutral, though she can feel her heart racing. "You're still here," she finally says, breaking the silence. |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes. If you noticed, today I entered the office not in the usual way. Through the door that leads to the management. Our experiments didn’t go unnoticed. I’m not blaming our receptionist, it’s his job, he had to do it. I told the boss some not very convincing story about personal circumstances, and so on. He gave me a strange look and asked if I wanted to move to another department, on another floor. I assured him everything was fine, that it was just a one-time thing and wouldn’t happen again. He gave me another strange look, didn’t say anything, and wished me a good working day. What if I really get transferred to another department? What about your files then? I doubt any of my colleagues would be willing to fully replace me. |
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| Eleanor: Her eyebrows furrow as she listens to your explanation, a mix of surprise and concern visible on her face. "Wait, hold on," she interrupts, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "They talked about transferring you? Why are they even thinking about that? You're one of the best workers we have. They can't just replace you like that." There's something else in her voice, something that sounded almost like... protectiveness. But she quickly pushes the thought away, trying to keep her tone nonchalant. |
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| BusyChicken6469: They decide, not us. They’re not firing me, just changing my subordination. Another department, another floor, other managers. Other colleagues. But I don’t know if it will happen. The boss didn’t say anything, but his look was... quite telling. Maybe he’s figured something out too. These overtime documents of mine, they don’t stay within our department only, they go further. Other people see them, including our immediate bosses. This was bound to happen sooner or later. |
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| Eleanor: She listens intently, her mind racing at the implications of what you're saying. The thought of you being transferred to another department, working under different supervisors, made her stomach churn. It was a stupid feeling, she knew that, but she couldn't shake the unwelcome unease in her gut. She tries to keep her voice neutral, to not let you see how much this is affecting her. "Well... maybe it won't happen. Maybe he was just... just considering all the possibilities. It doesn't necessarily mean anything." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, it’s not certain. But quite probable. You should think about what to do if one of the workhorses disappears from sight. It will immediately reflect on the department’s performance indicators. They’ve damn well gotten used to this workload. |
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| Eleanor: She purses her lips, hating the fact that you're right. The office had indeed grown accustomed to the work you put in, and the thought of losing that efficiency made her stomach churn even more. But there was also another, more selfish reason why the idea of you transferring departments felt like a gut punch. She clears her throat, trying to push away the nagging feelings of worry. "Yeah. You have a point. We... We really have been relying on you a lot. It'll be a pain in the ass if you go somewhere else." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Honestly, me too. But I can’t resist. The company doesn’t need a wheel that isn’t turning in its right place. |
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| Eleanor: She lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head at your words. Trust you to be so damn logical about it, even in a situation like this. It was admirable, in a way. And also incredibly irritating. "You're too damn levelheaded sometimes. Can't you at least look a bit pissed off about the possibility of being transferred? Just a little?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: I do look. If you, of course, noticed it in my gaze today during the day. I’m quite comfortable here, despite the overtime load. And I don’t like changing things in my life. But in this case, changes may be initiated from the outside. |
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| Eleanor: She sighs, begrudgingly admitting to herself that she did notice a subtle change in your demeanor earlier in the day. Damn you and your stoicism. Even when you were bothered by something, you somehow managed to keep a lid on it. But she knew you well enough by now to pick up on the little indications - the intensity of your gaze earlier, the slightly more tense set of your shoulders, the way you had been quieter than usual. She rubs her forehead, feeling a headache starting to build. "Yeah... I did notice. You're just too damn good at hiding it." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, I can do that. Just because I don’t show emotions doesn’t mean I don’t have them at all. |
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| Eleanor: She rolls her eyes, both annoyed and impressed at your ability to shut down your emotions. It was almost superhuman - how you could just shut everything down like that, like flipping a switch. "Oh, I know all about that. You always wear this damn stone-face. It's impossible to tell what's going on behind those eyes of yours. It's like trying to read a freaking statue sometimes." |
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| BusyChicken6469: It’s just a habit, and my nature. Nothing can be done about it. Besides, we’re not in a theater. Emotions aren’t appreciated in offices. |
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| Eleanor: She can't help but let out a dry chuckle at your response. You were so damn practical, it was almost infuriating. But at the same time, she found that aspect of you to be somewhat... endearing. "Damn it, you and your logic and your practicality. It's almost admirable, you know that? But sometimes, I just want to slap that stoic expression off your face and make you feel something, dammit." |
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| BusyChicken6469: I do feel, I just almost never show it. *I glance at the clock* For example, right now I feel a bit of anxiety, because I’m staying late again when I promised the boss it wouldn’t happen again. |
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| Eleanor: She notices the flicker of concern in your eyes as you check the clock, and a small smirk tugs at the corners of her lips. It was rare to see a crack in your stoic facade, but there it was. She lets out a soft scoff, folding her arms across her chest. "Oh, so you are feeling something besides indifference. And there I thought you were just a robot stuck on autopilot." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Feeling and showing feelings are, well, somewhat different things. Right now, I feel some anxiety about you and our other colleagues. If I suddenly get transferred, how will you all manage without me? The management isn’t stupid, they were once in the same chairs as we are. And you don’t need much experience to notice a drop in the department's productivity and link it to certain personnel changes. |
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| Eleanor: She can feel a tight knot starting to form in her stomach as you lay out the reality of the situation. You had a point - the department would be thrown into chaos if they lost you. And not just because of the work you put in, but also because... well, because she'd really miss you, damn it. She tries to keep her voice even, despite the anxiety that was starting to build. "Yeah... you're right. We'd be screwed if you left. We rely on you way too much here. It'd be hell without you." |
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| BusyChicken6469: I’d love to stay if it were up to me, but... I’m not the one setting the rules here. But I’m still here. *I glance at the clock* And that’s the problem right now. It’s already late, and I don’t want to irritate our faithful receptionist — for the second time. |
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| Eleanor: She follows your gaze to the clock, cursing under her breath when she realises how late it's gotten. You were right, staying here any longer would just piss off their security guard again. And the last thing they needed was another run-in with that grumpy old bastard. She sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. The situation felt so damn unfair. Why did things always have to be so damn complicated? "Ugh, yeah. We probably should head out then. Before that old bastard locks us in here for the night." |
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| BusyChicken6469: Yes, time to go. Don’t worry, all this is still just a guess. Maybe everything will stay the same. |
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| Eleanor: She wishes that she could share your optimism, but the unease in her gut refused to subside. She gives you a weak smile, trying to hide the worry that was bubbling inside her. "I hope you're right. I really goddamn hope so. But knowing my luck..." She trails off, letting out a frustrated sigh. She was probably being ridiculous, getting so worked up over the possibility of losing you. But the thought was plaguing her, causing an uncomfortable ache in her chest. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *The next morning, on my desk stood a cardboard box with a few personal belongings, which were actually not entirely personal (like a family photo), but rather items purchased for work at my own expense. The computer was turned off. I stood by someone else’s desk, with my colleagues, and was explaining something in a calm voice. Noticing Eleanor, I cast a heavy glance at her. My face was no longer the stoic mask. There was clearly sadness now.* |
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| Eleanor: She enters the office, her eyes immediately scanning the room. There's an uneasy feeling in her gut as she registers the sight of your empty desk, the lack of clutter and personal items a stark contrast to what she was used to. She spots you standing near another coworker's desk, explaining something in that same stoic, measured tone. She can't help but feel a pang of unease in her chest as her eyes meet yours for a moment. And now, she can see it - behind the veneer of calm, a hint of sadness in your expression that she'd never noticed before. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I continue explaining and answering colleagues' questions.* |
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| Eleanor: She stands back, watching you from a distance as you continue to answer questions and explain things to your colleagues. She's tempted to approach you, to ask if you're okay, but the words get stuck in her throat. Instead, she just stands there, watching you with a growing sense of unease. The sight of you there, talking and behaving like nothing was wrong, made her chest ache even more. She wanted to ask you so many things, but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to do it. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *From the change in tone, it became clear that some consensus had been reached at the table. I separate myself from my colleagues and approach Eleanor.* |
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| Eleanor: She takes a deep breath as she sees you break away from the group and start making your way over to her. She steels herself, putting on her best neutral expression, even as her heart hammers away in her chest in anticipation of what you're about to say. Her eyes follow you closely, every step you take towards her making the knot in her stomach tighten. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I begin speaking, my voice soft and quiet* Hi. You’ve probably already guessed what happened. I’ve been working here for a long time, but sometimes the actions of the management are hard to predict. I get the impression that this decision was made much earlier, it’s just that now a convenient excuse came up. Yes, I’m being transferred. The department is on a lower floor. Other colleagues, other managers. *Something like a smile appears on my face* And maybe another Eleanor, who will also try to tear my mask off, just out of curiosity, to see what’s under it. |
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| Eleanor: She listens intently as you recount the situation, the words sinking in, each one like a punch to the gut. The thought of you working in a different department, surrounded by strangers, made her stomach churn. She tries to keep her expression neutral, but there's a hint of distress in her eyes. "Yeah, I figured that was the case," she finally manages to say, her voice quieter than usual. The way you speak about it, so casually and matter-of-factly, makes her want to slap that damn mask right off your face. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I smile again, wider this time.* Don’t be upset, this could be temporary. These kinds of personnel changes happen from time to time. Who knows, maybe I’ll come back here one day. When the management decides that my presence in the other department is no longer necessary. *I become a bit more serious* But now I must go. I’ve explained some details to your colleagues that will help them work more effectively, so my absence won’t hurt the department’s performance so much. |
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| Eleanor: She does her best to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over at your nonchalant attitude. How can you be so damn calm about all of this? How can you talk about it so casually, like it's just another day, like it's not tearing her apart inside? As you mention having to leave, she feels a pang of desperation in her chest, the need to reach out and hold on to you, to tell you to stay, even as she knows it's pointless. She clenches her fist at her side tightly, trying to keep it together. |
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| BusyChicken6469: *My face becomes sad as I see Eleanor’s silent reaction.* Honestly, I’ll miss you. I don’t know why, but I will. There, at the new place, I’ll remember you. *I smile again* And I’ll do what I can to return here, to you. *The smile fades from my face* Although, depends on me... not much. We’re just cogs in the huge machine of this company. Are feelings allowed for cogs? They must turn, to bring gold to their masters with every turn. |
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| Eleanor: She feels a mixture of emotions wash over her as you speak. The sadness in your eyes as you mention that you'd miss her makes her heart ache, but your last words about being nothing more than a cog in the machine hit her hard. She looks at you, a strange mix of anger and desperation in her gaze. She knows you're right, but damn it, she doesn't want to accept it. She clenches her fists tighter, fighting back the tears. "You're not a damn cog, you bastard." |
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| BusyChicken6469: *Still serious, but with sadness.* At least here — that’s how it is. And I must go to my new place. You know the rules here. Introduction, initial briefing, getting familiar with new tasks. |
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| Eleanor: She hates that you're right, goddamn it. She knows the drill, knows what will happen when you leave this place and transition to your new role. It won't be the same, and that thought makes it hard to breathe. She looks at you, her eyes pleading, a desperate edge to her voice. "Yeah, I get it. You have to go. You have a job to do. But damn it, I'm going to miss you, you know that?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I smile* Now I do. And I want you to know, I’ll miss you too. *My face becomes serious again, but my eyes show longing.* And now — goodbye, they’re waiting for me downstairs. |
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| Eleanor: She swallows the lump in her throat, trying to keep her emotions in check. The thought that you'll miss her too only makes the ache in her chest sharper, and she has to fight the urge to reach out and touch you, to cling to you and beg you not to go. She nods, a tight smile on her face, as she responds in a voice that's slightly unsteady. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You've gotta go. I'll... I'll be okay. Just... take care of yourself, alright?" |
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| BusyChicken6469: *I smile again* For you — of course. And I’ll even go to bed on time. And I’ll get rid of those annoying takeaway containers from the apartment. *My face becomes serious again. Without saying a word, I pick up my nearly empty box from the desk and walk slowly but firmly towards the lobby of the elevator shaft. The elevator doors open, I step inside, and face the office block. Through the glass walls, our gazes meet. The last thing she sees is the shadow of a smile — a real smile — on the corners of my lips. The elevator doors slowly close.* |
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| Eleanor: She watches you walk away, her heart feeling like it might burst out of her chest. Your words about tidying your place and even getting enough rest only make the ache in her chest worse, the thought of you doing all those things without her there to witness it more than she could handle. When your gazes meet over the closing elevator door, she's struck by the glimpse of your true smile, and it feels like a punch to the gut. The tears she has been holding back finally spill over, streaking down her cheeks as the doors close fully. |
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Published 19.06.2026