ReTales

Krissy had been at the job about two months when she first heard talk of the Phantom. She laughed a little when she told Eleanor (a girl about six years older than her) about the fragment of the conversation she'd overheard. “'Phantom's gotten in the traps again,' was what the Big Boss said,” she told the older girl. Eleanor returned her mild laugh. “Yeah, I've heard talk before about the Phantom. Goldie says if you ever want to hear what it's about you could talk to one of the managers.” “Have you asked them about it?” the green-haired girl said. “No. I, uh, don't like talking to management.” “Oh.” There was a pause. “Y'know,” Eleanor said then, “if there was a Phantom here—sorry, I'm assuming from what we've heard it's like a Phantom of the Opera thing—” “Yeah, I was thinking like Phantom of the Grocery Store ,” Krissy interrupted, immediately embarrassed by the crappiness of her joke. “—and so I

Eleanor had just got done watching the 1947 movie Nightmare Alley on the day they brought in the new recruit. Natasha's office—for it was Natasha who did the interviews—was right next to the break room and so she overheard how their interview went. She ate her sushi silently the whole time. She could see the kid inside. Young, blond, close-cropped—not a bad-looking fellow. Still a little innocent spark in that eye of his. He was smiling. But something about his face made it hard to remember; she knew it would flicker and fade out of her mind soon enough, until she had time to grind into the soft pulp of her brain. (The sushi was pulpy in her teeth, having turned bad from the store's atmosphere—the guy who made it made it well, and with heart, but once it was out of his hands the air leeched in and that was the end.) The words came to her with a strange clarity. “So what sort of experience do you have, kid?” She was sure they actually called him “kid.” Boomers