A strange thing happened on the way out of the Picchu! Opening Party & Reception Committee meeting. Phoebe waited until everyone else had left and then picked up her things. As she came out of the conference room, she came face-to-face with Karl. Karl had also attended the meeting but, as usual, hadn’t said anything. As a result, he was assigned his area last and was stuck with “Party Way-Finding.”

“Hey, Phoebe,” Karl said.

“Hi. Sorry about your area.”

“Sorry about yours.”

“Coats is better than Way-Finding. What does that even mean?”

Karl shrugged. “Signs, I guess.”

“I have to go make copies,” Phoebe said and walked down the hall.

“Well, wait,” Karl said. “I’ve been standing out here because I wanted to ask you something.”

Phoebe stopped walking and looked at Karl.

“Do you want to come over to my place sometime to hang out?”

“I don’t know,” Phoebe said.

Karl shuffled his weight from one leg to another, put his hands in his pocket, and took them out again, waiting for a more definite response.

“Just so you know,” he finally said. “It’s fine to say no. Maybe it would be better than ‘I don’t know.’”

“But I don’t know,” Phoebe said.

“Well,” Karl said. “I guess let me know whenever you decide.”

Now it was Karl who walked away.

---

Back at her desk, Phoebe considered Karl’s offer. The first obstacle was the solemn oath she’d made to herself while lying on her couch after the Trehorn Incident to never date a co-worker again, no matter what. It could only lead to ruin – she would never advance if she was just the source of office gossip. But now she wondered just what it was that she wanted to advance to, Carlotta’s job? She shivered thinking of herself in that dark office, speaking meeting notes into a mini tape recorder, wearing a blazer with metal studs pounded into the fabric. And Karl was an interesting person with potentially interesting things to say. Moreover, he seemed like the sort of person who wouldn’t give her drugs unless she asked for them and even then would take care of her if they had an adverse effect on her mind or body. And he was certainly attractive with his glasses and moppy hair, like a brooding intellectual from the 1960s who probably appreciated poetry. He may even play an instrument or speak French. She picked up the phone and dialed Karl’s extension.

“I’ve thought about it,” Phoebe said when Karl picked up the phone. “And I would like to come over this Friday. But there are some conditions. This isn’t a date. And I won’t drink anything alcoholic.”

“That’s fine. It’s not a date,” Karl said. “It’s a hanging out. We’ll hang out together. Although I may have a few beers.”

“And I won’t get dressed up. I’m wearing whatever I wear to work that day. Or no, maybe I’ll wear a t-shirt and jeans.”

“I’m always in a t-shirt and jeans, so it doesn’t make any difference to me.”

“This is low-key,” Phoebe said. “I don’t want there to be any fuss.”

“There wasn’t going to be any,” Karl said. “I just wanted to hang out together. It can be like any other Friday night.”

“Well, OK then. I guess I’ll see you on Friday, if you give me your address.”

So Karl gave her his address and Phoebe said she would figure out how to get there by bus, turning down Karl’s offer to pick her up and bring her over to his place. That would have made things too much like a date. And this was not a date.

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