Otis, technical assistant

I was invited to the meeting of the new Product Managers. It had been 5 months since I last visited the office. That morning, about 6 large clouds and a multitude of small, frothy ones covered the sky. I ignited my sixth sense: the car. I used it for a while. M30, A1 towards Burgos, and I parked easily. It had rained a bit the night before.

In the meeting room, as per the agenda, they were having breakfast. I learned of the catering's content: dark chocolate, pure, 100% cocoa. Later, the roadmap would be discussed, in which I was to intervene punctually. To conclude the agenda, there would be a brief team game.

It took two attempts for my fingerprint to open the door of the room. On the second attempt, I shivered, looked up towards the air conditioning outlet, towards the grille, there was something written on a piece, barely perceptible. Perhaps it was the name of the air conditioning technician, as in elevators where we can read the name of the last technician. In the bathrooms, it is also common to see a list of names of the people responsible for cleaning and their schedules. The point is, the door opened.

Inside, the atmosphere was festive, and the dark chocolate had left its mark on the meeting members, all smiling or talking with their mouths showing their stained, dark teeth, looking as if they were missing teeth.

I took a deep breath, tried to smile, greeted as I went to the projector and left my equipment. It was very hot, and the long sleeves were bothering me. The chocolate, on its trays, was starting to melt. People kept eating, leaving their dark fingers with which they would then type on their dark laptops.

They laughed with their mouths open, grotesquely, showing their stained teeth. I began to sweat, so I decided to roll up my shirt sleeves.

Then it happened. My arm began to grow, as if in a Fu Manchu movie, as if by magic or something supernatural. Under the shirt, my arm stretched, grew.

At first, I was astonished, I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. Later, when I saw my arm growing towards the chocolate tray, I was terrified. My arm wanted the chocolate, to seize it.

The product managers noticed and began to scream in terror at my growing arm. Not because I was going to take their chocolate, but because my arm was terrifying. They screamed with their mouths open, showing their stained teeth.

The scene was tense, it was hot, there was dark blood on the trays. Fortunately, just when my arm must have measured about 3 meters, the door opened and in came Otis, the air conditioning technician, with a typical smile of someone who knows they are going to solve the problem.