Jim paused for a moment as Michael deftly cajoled the platform to a stop. This entire experience had been so surreal…and the people he knew and sort of liked were in it. He wondered if this was what the whole journey would be…a meeting with people from his past and present…to persuade or dissuade him to rejoin or rebuff the place he grew up in business as well as in life. In his heart, he knew that he only truly needed the approval of one…or the hint of approval of one…and the decision would be out of his hands.

A steady drip of water fell from above onto the floor, the droplets shattering into hundreds of pieces as they landed, running down the slate platform and cascading into the silent pit below. When they stepped off, it was slippery, even with his running shoes…he thought that he was glad the elevator didn’t swing far out or someone could lose their footing and fall right off. Michael made quick work of the key again and moved to push it open. It budged, albeit with a forceful grunt, revealing a dimly lit corridor behind. Michael snagged one of the lit torches off the wall, guiding the way as they came to a smaller door. It was unlocked, and the two men silently crept into the large cavern beyond.

The first thing Jim noticed was that it was cold…he wished he’d remembered to grab a sweater or something back at home. The low light made it tough to see anything in the distance, but he thought he could make out the outline of a low, flat-roofed building beside a pit or a lake of some sort. Otherwise, the entire space had a dry, sterile feeling…there were no trees, no plants, no birds or fauna of any kind, visible or audible. Jim idly stuffed his hands into his pockets as he and Michael slowly wandered down a dirt path toward the structure. Dust flew with each footstep, quickly churning a suffocating cloud into the impotent air.

They walked for minutes, or maybe hours, before they’d arrived at the building. Jim thought that it looked even more ragged from up close than it had at a distance…worn and weathered, the door was a collection of crudely hewn driftwood, one board clinging to existence by a single nail leaving a gap to reveal what lay within. Michael pushed the door open and Jim stepped into the tired structure, wary of the danger that he might find another weak spot with any misplaced step.

The inside of the shed was a mirror of its exterior. Jim looked to see some people huddled in corners, others lying on the ground, and others still standing and staring blankly into the distance. He glanced at one older man…he held his arms away from his body, his fingers splayed as though touching them together were painful. His skin was sere and red, small fissures tracing the ridges and valleys of his withered hands. The look in his eyes was intense, like he was determined not to give in to some hidden temptation, yet failing. Surveying the room, the same gaze sat across the face of everyone there. No one was speaking…no one was laughing, or joking, and he even wondered if anyone was breathing.

Suddenly, a shriek came from the back of the room...“I can’t take it anymore!” A woman flashed by the pair, running toward the door. Two of the others tried to corral her before she escaped, but she was too fast. Jim and Michael rushed to the door and stepped outside. The woman covered the dusty expanse between the building and the body of liquid in two steps and leapt headfirst into the murky concoction. The two who had been chasing her followed like lemmings, diving in on top of her. Within moments, all three were screaming in agony…Jim thought he might lose his breakfast if he’d had any. He thought he even heard Michael gasp and whisper, “Oh, God!”

“Leave ’em be!” A woman called out from behind them. Turning, Jim spotted yet another familiar face.

“Meredith…wow, I didn’t expect to see you here. WHAT is that?,” he asked, pointing toward the makeshift pond.

“That’s formalin…it’ll preserve them until it’s time to dig them out.” Jim felt his stomach churn as she continued, “bad thing is, it hurts like hell in all these cuts.” She pointed to her arm, displaying the marks and scrapes like the others.

“And the whole death experience is probably part of the bad thing, too…” He felt sort of lame for attempting to joke in this situation, but was heartened when Meredith laughed.

“Oh, they’re still alive…they’ll just be in a lot of pain until they come drag them out and bring them inside again.” She must be familiar with this procedure, he thought.

“Huh. So what is this supposed to teach anyone?” He wasn’t sure if she’d even know but he was curious.

Michael interrupted before she could open her mouth. “Well, Jim…the purpose…” He was trying to sound official, when in fact he just sounded silly. “…of this is to teach these folks that staying dry…is painful…but drowning in your own sorrows is much, much more painful.” He was pointing back and forth between Jim and Meredith as he smiled at his own clever explanation. “Am I right, Meredith?”

She could hear a catch in her voice as she said, “I guess so…I mean, I quit 6 months ago and haven’t touched a drink since.” She was avoiding eye contact with both men in an effort to hide her obvious lie.

“See, Jim! Another Michael Scott success story!,” Michael squealed. He was oblivious, as usual.

He needed to change the subject. “Can we go inside now, Michael? It’s kinda cold out.”

Once inside again, he noticed something he’d almost forgotten to look for in here…there was a small, nearly camouflaged photo frame placed on the far wall. He walked casually over and took a glance. The painting, in oil this time, was scratched up a bit in each corner, but the subject was still visible in the center. It was a plain white can of paint, with a smear of light green color streaking down the side, as though the painter had dripped some and tried to sop it up with a brush. He thought of the last time he’d seen that color….“So I was at Sherwin Williams last night and I found this awesome color of paint for my new bathroom.” She was looking at him, obviously giddy over her find. She and Roy were moving to a new apartment, so Pam had the opportunity to paint and decorate as she pleased. She looked radiant, and he marveled at how she could be so excited over something so simple.

“Really? That sounds exciting.” He couldn’t resist…when she smiled, he did. It was like shaking a person’s hand when they extended it…reciprocation came naturally. He thought that if they worked together long enough, they might end up looking like an old married couple…smile and frown lines matching each other in perfect symmetry. He shook his head slightly to dislodge that thought from his mind.

“Oh yeah. Totally, Halpert. I’ll bring in the sample to show you some time.”

“Deal.”

A few days later, he gathered his belongings at five and made his way to reception for the nightly walk out with Pam. As he grabbed her jacket and held it out for her to slip her arms into, she stopped him.

“Hold on a sec, Jim. I forgot that I brought that paint sample with me today.” She reached into her bag and slipped a small sheet of laminated paper into his hand.

He looked at it briefly, five subtly differing hues arranged vertically on a white background. “So which one is it?”

She leaned over his elbow and lightly touched her finger on the 2nd from the top. “Umm, it’s that one.”

He needed only to rest his eyes on it for a moment when he recognized the color. Her eyes. He smiled, tempted to point it out to her. After all, she always said she didn’t like the color of her eyes, wishing she could have been born with the vibrant blues that some lucky people got. Now, here she was praising the “awesomeness” of the hazel-green tint he was studying in her expectant eyes, and she didn’t even know it. She has no idea how beautiful she is right now, he thought. Just go for it, Halpert. “It’s perfect.” The wide smile on her face validated that section of the answer. Now for the tricky part…“In fact-”

“Pammy!,” came the masculine voice from behind them. It was Roy. He grabbed her hand possessively as she smiled warmly up at him. “Hey babe, you ready to go?”

“Umm, yeah. I was just showing Jim the color we’re going to paint our bathroom,” Pam replied. Jim handed the small tag of paper back to her as she slipped on her jacket.

Roy grabbed her bag and slipped his arm around her shoulder, turning toward the door. “You know what, babe? I just remembered what that color reminds me of.”

His vision came into focus as he emerged from the blurry confines of his dream world. He turned to Michael, who was simply watching him with an all-knowing look of concern on his face.

“You alright, Jimbo?”

“Never better, Michael,” he lied. “So, anything else to see here?”

“Nopers. Let us depart, then!”

After a quick goodbye to Meredith and one last glance around (was that Billy Joel in the chair over there?), they were walking slowly back across the dusty courtyard toward the entrance, doing their best to avoid choking on the suspended dirt.

“So, what do you think so far?,” Michael casually asked.

“Well, it’s a little weird…like for instance, what’s with the art? It’s kinda plain…I always thought there’d be gargoyles and huge murals of demons and such in Hell,” he joked.

“Well, we’re trying this new thing…no more demons. It’s an HCLU thing.”

“Don’t you mean ACLU?”

“No. HCLU. Hellenic Civil Liberties Union.”

“Doesn’t that have something to do with Greece, Michael?” Jim raised his eyebrow at his boss in jest.

“Would you quit asking so many questions, Jim? It’s just what it’s called, alright?” Michael appeared to be a little frustrated with at him over his pressure, so Jim backed off. Once inside the narrow corridor, they let the door snap shut behind them and exited the main gate. Safely back on the elevator, Jim worried silently whether this experience was only going to get worse before it got better.