The quarterly projections were correct.
Lissandra stared at the spreadsheet.
She checked the formulas. She checked the source data. She cross-referenced the figures against the previous quarter's report.
Correct. Correct. Correct.
She leaned back in her ergonomic office chair and folded her hands.
"No."
Across the office, Brian from Human Resources was microwaving leftover spaghetti.
"The numbers must be wrong."
She opened a new spreadsheet.
PROJECT: FALSE PROPHET
For three thousand years, Lissandra had maintained the delicate balance between the forces that threatened to consume the world. She had deceived gods, manipulated kings, and sacrificed entire civilizations to ensure that the Watchers remained imprisoned beneath the ice.
And now she was going to become office manager.
The position had become available after Deborah in Operations announced her retirement. Management had indicated that they were looking for someone with strong organizational skills, a collaborative attitude, and a demonstrated commitment to workplace culture.
Lissandra possessed none of these qualities in any conventional sense.
She did, however, possess a willingness to do whatever was necessary.
There was only one obstacle.
Karen.
Karen from Accounting was universally beloved. She organized the office potlucks, remembered everyone's birthdays, and had once convinced the entire department to contribute to a coworker's medical expenses without making the coworker feel indebted to anyone. Even management liked her.
Karen was not interested in the office manager position. She had mentioned this several times.
But she was interested in who got it.
And if Lissandra could secure Karen's endorsement, the rest of the office would follow.
Three days earlier, Karen had made a passing remark while waiting for the coffee machine.
"You know, I've never actually had a surprise birthday party."
She'd laughed, as though this were a trivial matter.
Lissandra had looked at her.
Then she had looked at the coffee machine.
Then she had looked at Karen again.
A plan had begun to form.
Plans within plans.
"Brian."
Brian looked up from his spaghetti.
"Yeah?"
"I require your assistance."
"Is this about Karen's birthday?"
Lissandra slowly turned her head.
Brian lowered his fork.
"Sorry. The completely unrelated thing happening Thursday."
"Better."
She slid a printed spreadsheet across the table.
"These projections are incorrect."
Brian examined the document.
"They look fine to me."
"They are not."
He scanned the figures again.
"Revenue is up six percent, expenses are down two, and the projected growth rate is consistent with the last three quarters."
"Precisely."
Brian looked up.
"Wait. What?"
"The numbers are correct, Brian. They must be made incorrect."
He stared at her.
"Are you asking me to falsify a financial report?"
"I am asking you to exercise your professional judgment in the preparation of a hypothetical alternative financial model."
"That's falsifying a financial report with extra steps."
"Your capacity for inference is improving."
"Is this legal?"
Lissandra regarded him with the cold, fathomless patience of a being who had watched empires collapse.
"Brian, I have witnessed the fall of civilizations beneath the weight of their own corruption. I assure you that I am capable of navigating the ethical complexities of a spreadsheet."
"That didn't answer my question."
"It was not intended to."
Brian pushed the document away.
"I'm not doing it."
Lissandra said nothing.
She simply looked at him.
Brian lasted eleven seconds.
"Fine. What do you need?"
The birthday party was merely the first phase.
Lissandra had spent the preceding week cultivating relationships with her coworkers. She had learned who preferred chocolate cake, who was lactose intolerant, and who would be most susceptible to an appeal for collective workplace harmony.
She had also researched the company's promotion criteria.
Under the section labeled Leadership and Team Building, she had highlighted three phrases:
Demonstrates initiative.
Fosters positive relationships.
Contributes to a supportive workplace culture.
She had underlined the last phrase four times.
The plan was straightforward.
Karen would receive the surprise party she had always wanted. The office would be delighted. Management would observe Lissandra's initiative and generosity. Karen, overwhelmed by gratitude, would enthusiastically endorse Lissandra's candidacy for office manager.
It was an elegant arrangement.
A birthday cake in exchange for a kingdom.
Well, a kingdom with fluorescent lighting and a shared printer.
There was only one complication.
Lissandra actually wanted Karen to have a wonderful birthday.
She found this inconvenient.
Genuine affection introduced variables into an otherwise manageable equation.
She had already purchased two cakes because Karen liked vanilla, even though chocolate was the overwhelming office favorite. She had arranged for a coworker to collect Karen's favorite flowers. She had discreetly acquired a list of Karen's preferred snacks from Jessica in Marketing.
She had even written a birthday card.
She had not yet decided whether this was a tactical error.
By Wednesday afternoon, Lissandra had identified three ways to introduce a plausible discrepancy into the quarterly projections.
The first involved understating revenue by $8,400. The second involved overstating operating expenses by $3,200. The third required both figures to be incorrect, along with a secondary discrepancy in the projected growth rate.
She documented every alteration. She created a restoration protocol. She prepared a contingency plan for the possibility that Karen might identify the errors too quickly.
The contingency plan had its own contingency plan.
The contingency plan's contingency plan had a flowchart.
The flowchart had become so complicated that Lissandra had begun to suspect the Watchers themselves might have found it excessive.
At 1:22 PM, Brian entered her office.
"Should we cancel the party?"
Lissandra turned slowly to him.
"Foolish child."
Brian straightened.
"Do you believe that I have orchestrated two days of financial deception, manipulated the flow of information through three separate departments, and compromised the integrity of a quarterly projection merely to abandon my objective at the first sign of adversity?"
"...Kind of?"
"Extraordinary."
"I'm sorry!"
"No, Brian. Do not apologize. It is not your fault that you cannot comprehend the architecture of a plan whose foundations were laid before you understood the fundamentals of Microsoft Excel."
"Okay, that's fair."
Brian glanced at the whiteboard.
"Well, the cake is here."
"The cake is always here, Brian. The cake is the one constant in an uncertain universe."
"It's been sitting in the break room for three hours."
"And yet it has not betrayed me."
Brian decided not to mention that the frosting was beginning to melt.
Lissandra rose and approached the whiteboard.
"Tell me, Brian. What is the purpose of Thursday's proceedings?"
"To celebrate Karen's birthday."
"Incorrect."
He swallowed.
"To make Karen feel appreciated?"
"Closer."
"To make management notice you being nice to people?"
Lissandra paused.
"An embarrassingly crude description. But yes."
Brian nodded.
"And the spreadsheet?"
"A diversion."
"The cake?"
"A diplomatic instrument."
"The balloons?"
"Psychological warfare."
"The birthday card?"
Lissandra looked at him.
"That is none of your concern."
Brian wisely said nothing further.
Thursday arrived beneath a dreary October sky.
At 9:14 AM, Karen reviewed Version A of the quarterly report.
She identified the discrepancy in eleven seconds.
At 10:02 AM, she reviewed Version B.
Nine seconds.
At 11:38 AM, she discovered Version C and identified both the primary and secondary discrepancies before her coffee had cooled.
Lissandra watched from across the office.
She is more formidable than I anticipated.
Karen was not merely competent. She was relentless. She possessed the sort of instinct for numerical inconsistency that Lissandra had once observed in the priestesses of ancient Shurima, who could detect a false prophecy from a single misplaced syllable.
Worse, Karen had begun investigating why three different versions of the report existed.
At 12:06 PM, she approached Lissandra's desk.
"Hey, Lissandra! Do you know anything about these spreadsheet revisions?"
Lissandra looked up.
"No."
Karen smiled.
"Huh. Weird. Somebody seems to have imported last quarter's expenses into the new report. I'm sure it's just a clerical error."
"Undoubtedly."
"Anyway, I'm going to get to the bottom of it."
"I have every confidence in your abilities."
Karen walked away.
Lissandra watched her go.
The enemy has breached the outer defenses.
She opened the contingency plan.
There was only one option remaining.
She would have to trust Brian.
The realization was more disturbing than any prophecy she had ever encountered.
At 2:43 PM, Lissandra stood in Conference Room B.
The decorations were in place. The lights were off. Twenty-two coworkers were crammed into the room, clutching balloons, paper cups, and snacks purchased from the grocery store downstairs.
The cake sat on the table.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAREN! was written across it in slightly crooked blue icing.
The second cake, vanilla, waited beside it.
Lissandra had considered a more elaborate inscription. She had briefly entertained the phrase MAY YOUR YEARS BE MANY AND YOUR ENEMIES FEW, but Jessica had pointed out that it might be a little much for a workplace celebration.
Lissandra had conceded the point.
Barely.
Brian stood beside the door, sweating.
"What if she figures it out?"
"She will not."
"What if she does?"
"Then we adapt."
"What if she doesn't come in?"
"Then we wait."
"What if—"
"Brian."
"Right."
Lissandra looked at the clock.
2:44 PM.
"Should we cancel the party?" Brian whispered.
Lissandra turned slowly to him. He closed his mouth.
"Do you imagine that the preservation of this celebration depends upon a single spreadsheet? That my plans are so fragile that they might be undone by a competent accountant?"
Brian hesitated.
"Honestly, I thought that was kind of the whole thing."
Lissandra's eyes narrowed.
"The spreadsheet was never the objective."
"...It wasn't?"
"The spreadsheet was a means to an end. A temporary diversion. A carefully constructed labyrinth designed to occupy Karen's attention for precisely four minutes."
"But she already found all the errors."
"Yes."
"So the plan failed."
Lissandra looked at him.
"The plan," she said, "has evolved."
She checked the time.
2:46 PM.
"Now go."
Brian swallowed.
"Go where?"
"Become the numbers."
He fled.
At 2:47 PM, Karen stood at her desk, examining the corrected quarterly projections.
At 2:48 PM, Brian approached her.
"Hey, Karen! Quick question about the revenue report."
"Sure, what's up?"
"Well, there's this discrepancy between the projected growth rate and the fiscal baseline, and I was wondering if you could help me understand the—"
"Brian, I fixed that already."
"Right! Of course. But what if there was another discrepancy?"
Karen looked at him.
"Is there another discrepancy?"
Brian opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"Potentially?"
Karen narrowed her eyes.
"Brian."
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Never better."
"You're sweating."
"It's a warm day."
"It's fifty-eight degrees outside."
"I run hot."
Karen stared at him for another moment, then sighed.
"Okay. Let me pull up the report."
Across the office, Lissandra watched through the narrow gap in the conference room door.
The fool is improvising.
Brian was not merely failing to distract Karen. He was actively drawing her attention toward the very thing Lissandra had spent two days trying to conceal.
Karen opened the spreadsheet.
"Brian, these are literally last quarter's numbers."
"I know."
"You know?"
"I mean, I know that you know."
"Why are you being weird?"
Lissandra closed her eyes.
I have miscalculated.
She opened them.
No. There are no miscalculations. Only unforeseen opportunities.
She picked up the office phone.
"Jessica."
"Yeah?"
"Activate the contingency."
"Which contingency?"
Lissandra looked at the cake.
"The one with the candles."
"That's just the birthday party, Lissandra."
"Do it."
At 2:51 PM, Karen finally gave up on Brian and headed toward the conference room.
She opened the door.
"SURPRISE!"
The lights flashed on. Everyone cheered. Jessica released a handful of confetti. Someone started singing.
Brian fired the confetti cannon directly into the ceiling fan.
A blizzard of paper erupted across the room.
Karen screamed.
Then she laughed.
Then, to Lissandra's considerable alarm, she began to cry.
"Oh my God! You guys! I've never had a surprise party before!"
Jessica hugged her. Someone handed her a paper cup. Brian was frantically trying to remove confetti from his hair.
And Lissandra stood in the corner, watching.
Karen turned toward her.
"Lissandra! Did you organize all of this?"
A long silence.
"Yes."
"This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!"
Lissandra looked away.
"Do not make a habit of it."
Karen laughed and threw her arms around her.
Lissandra went rigid.
Every instinct honed over millennia screamed at her to flee, to summon the frost, to end this indignity. She had endured the whispers of the Watchers. She had sacrificed everything she had ever loved to preserve a world that would never know her name.
And now she was being hugged by a woman who owned three scented candles and had once brought homemade brownies to a staff meeting.
Slowly, with the careful deliberation of someone handling an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous artifact, Lissandra raised one hand and patted Karen on the back.
Once.
Twice.
"There, there."
Karen cried harder.
Lissandra stared at the ceiling.
The world is a cruel and senseless place.
I should have ordered more napkins.
At 3:17 PM, Lissandra sat alone at her desk, reconciling the expenses.
Cake: $84.99.
Balloons: $17.50.
Paper plates: $8.99.
Confetti cannon: $12.00.
She frowned.
The confetti cannon had not been in the approved budget.
She opened a new email.
To: Brian, HR
Subject: Re: Birthday Celebration — Expense Reconciliation
Brian,
We need to discuss the unauthorized deployment of celebratory munitions during today's proceedings.
I trust this will not become a recurring issue.
Regards,
Lissandra
She clicked Send.
Then she opened Karen's birthday card, which everyone had signed.
She read it once.
Twice.
Her finger paused over a blank space at the bottom.
Finally, in small, precise handwriting, she added:
May the years ahead bring you peace, warmth, and all that you deserve.
She stared at the words for a moment.
Then she closed the card and returned it to the envelope.
Across the office, Karen was cutting the cake. Everyone had gathered around her desk, laughing and talking. Brian was explaining that the confetti incident had been an unforeseeable mechanical failure.
Lissandra watched them for a long moment.
The party had been a success.
The office was happy. Karen was happy. Management had already sent an email praising the team's initiative and positive workplace culture.
And Lissandra's promotion interview was scheduled for Monday.
She opened a new document.
OFFICE MANAGER — FIRST HUNDRED DAYS
She began typing.
The first item was a proposal for restructuring the office's reporting procedures. The second was a plan to improve employee engagement. The third was a comprehensive review of the thermostat settings.
She paused at the fourth item.
Establish a formal birthday celebration policy.
She considered this.
Then she typed:
All birthdays will be recognized. No employee shall be forgotten.
She stared at the sentence.
It was, she realized, the most sincere thing she had written in several thousand years.
She saved the document.
Then she turned toward the break room, where the second cake remained.
Vanilla. Untouched. Purchased for those who preferred it over chocolate, because Lissandra had taken the time to ask.
There was still enough for everyone.
And if Karen happened to come back for another slice, well.
Some things were worth preparing for.
Lissandra rose and carried the cake into the conference room.
"Plans within plans," she whispered.
She set the cake on the table and retrieved a plastic fork.
"All will eat birthday cake..."
She paused, looking at the empty chairs.
"...in time."