He sat in his cubicle, eyes fixed blandly on the computer screen.

Jen, one of his co-workers, knocked on the wall and said, “Jason, I know you’re busy, but can you run metrics on project 4-5-1-20-8 please?”

There was no response. He didn’t even turn to look at her.

Another moment passed in silence. “Okay, great. Thanks,” Jen said, walking back towards her own cubicle. “Ass.”

Ten minutes passed. His monitor went dark for a moment, then the screensaver started up. His eyes never left the monitor, now awash in swirls and shapes.

His manager, Erin, walked into his pod. “Nice screensaver,” she said brusquely. She dropped a sheaf of papers onto his desk, inches from his hand, which rested on top of his mouse. “Can you rework this presentation? Make it fancier for the client. By COB today, if you can.” She turned and left.

Throughout the day, others came and went, and Jason never spoke. He never moved. He never agreed or refused to anything at all.

Jason was dead.