Standard Stunning Revelations

The day that all happened was a Friday, and everyone returned from the weekend beaten-down but somewhat refreshed. Roy had decided to take Monday off since he was still feeling a bit sick, but Imogene made sure to arrive early. She was eating cereal on the couch, watching television, when Jen came in.

"Hello, Im," Jen said gaily as she hung her coat up on the rack. "Anything good on?"

"Nah," Imogene replied, loudly slurping up some milk. "Just this show about pink mouse people in space. And before that there was this other cartoon with a penguin that said 'noot noot' all the time, which kind of made me feel like I was losing my mind, but the penguins were cute so I didn't really care."

Jen crossed the room to Roy's desk and began organizing a stack of papers. "Everyone seems to be losing their minds these days. That's all anyone ever says anymore. 'I think I'm losing my mind.' If I hear that phrase again, I might just lose my mind and pull the plug."

"Don't kill yourself, Jen."

"That's very encouraging. But I meant pull the plug there."

She pointed to the power strip near the wall, which was a mess of tangled wires.

"I'd have to be real crazy to undo that, now wouldn't I? Roy and Moss would bloody murder me if I ever even touched that thing."

"From what Moss and Roy have told me about your knowledge of 'computer things', I doubt you'd even know where to start. I'm not concerned."

Jen opened her mouth to protest, then closed her mouth and said, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Imogene wiped away a long line of milk that had dribbled out of her mouth. "I can just picture you struggling with it as we speak. You know, that might make a good fanfiction—Reynholm Industries RPF." Her eyes widened. "Reynholm Industries RPF! Now THERE'S an idea! Jen gets all hyped up on a hyper-intelligence rage serum and tries to destroy all the computers at Reynholm Industries, so Moss, Roy, and Imogene have to fight her using newfound ninja powers because the rage serum has a different effect in people who know about computers!"

Jen looked up from her papers. "You know, this was all going very well here for a moment, up until a point, and then it got sort of weird and unpleasant. Why don't you do me a favor and just...not talk for the rest of the day, yeah?"

Just then, Roy moped in with Moss right behind him.

"I told you, Moss!" Roy scolded. "There is no way you could have cheated at MarioKart. I lost fair and square!"

"I did cheat," Moss said quietly.

"NO!" Roy almost yelled. "No, you didn't! Only the least dignified gamers in the world cheat at MarioKart, and you're one of the most dignified gamers I know. No matter the stakes, you wouldn't even resort to the classic Konami code if your life depended on it!"

"I know the Konami code!" Imogene piped up. "Isn't it up-down-left-right-B-A—"

"Yes, that's the one," said Roy. "But Moss is too much of a wimp to even consider using it. Moss doesn't cheat!"

"I'm so lost," said Jen.

Moss sat down in his swivel chair, narrowing his eyes and folding his hands. "Just try me, Roy. One of these days, I swear...I will surprise you."

"Oh, please," said Roy. "It is against your very nature. Besides, the only decent cheat in MarioKart is the one where you fly across the track by finding the tree at the starting line and positioning your Kart at a thirty to forty degree angle—"

"I wouldn't give him any ideas," said Imogene.

"There was no way! There was just no way. You played the game fair and square. You know I can spot a cheater when I see one!"

"Oh, Roy," Jen whined. "Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of everything? Quit yelling and make everyone a coffee, now would you?"

"I'll make it," said Moss, standing and heading into the kitchen. "Roy needs to update his answering machine."

Jen chuckled. "Why do you need to update it? Do you have to rephrase the 'turn-it-off-and-on-again speech so people don't get suspicious?"

"Nah," Roy slid into his desk and pulled the answering machine up onto the table. "People keep complaining that their computers are too slow because no one on the upper floors deletes their cookies. It's getting so tedious that I've been meaning to do a temporary update on the machine so I don't have to keep heading up there all the time for the same old thing."

"You're so lazy," Imogene laughed. "If I were you, and I'd been working here for years, I'd be ECSTATIC if there was more to do around here."

"What are you talking about? There's plenty to do."

"Well, yeah, but don't memes and MarioKart get boring after a while?"

"Quiet down," Jen mumbled. "I live for memes. And Googling myself—that's fun, too."

Roy groaned. "Oh, don't remind me. When I Google myself, a picture of this really attractive guy comes up. It does a huge number on my self-esteem. He looks like Leonardo DiCaprio." He paused from fiddling with his machine and looked up wide-eyed at Imogene. "Wait a second. You're rich and famous. What happens when you Google yourself? What does that look like?"

Imogene winced and squirmed, pulling her cereal bowl closer into her. Her stomach churned. "I don't...It's not pleasant."

"Sounds fun," said Jen. "Let's do it right now."

Imogene's eyes widened. "Please don't. There's so many horrible pictures on there—"

"Good," said Roy. "I'd love to see them."

"No!"

Roy went to his computer and Jen dropped everything to look over his shoulder.

"Let's see. Imogene Eklund—oops, I spelled it wrong. Hey, here's your dad's Wikipedia page. Oh, you have a sister? I didn't know that. Her name is Henrietta. Oh, and your middle name is Annemarie! How lovely."

"Click on images," Jen instructed.

"Let me see here. The Eklunds at a baseball game, at the beach--there's your lovely sister in a bikini--"

"Please stop, guys!" Imogene whined, curling up into herself.

"Oh, these are just—" Roy cooed. "God, I love my job."

"Is that your mum?" Jen exclaimed. "She's beautiful! And your father's not all that bad-looking either. They all look like bloody models."

"And I don't?"

"Wait a second," Roy wondered aloud. "What's this? Is this you at the Met Gala?"

Imogene turned red in the face. "Oh, no."

"It is! Look at that pretty dress. It's a space dress. And you're not wearing your glasses! Look at those pretty brown eyes without your glasses. This is just too precious."

"I only went so I could meet Marissa Mayer!"  

Jen started howling with laughter. "Look at how awkward you are! You barely know what to do with your arms. Look at you, doing jazz hands next to Jennifer Connelly!"

Imogene stood up. "Stop it, guys! This is so embarrassing! Look, I only went to that stupid thing so I could meet Marissa Mayer from Yahoo."

"And look at that silly little nineteen-sixties haircut—"

Suddenly Roy paused. He looked up at Imogene. He looked back at his computer.

"Roy, what is it?" Jen asked.

Roy stood up with an intense determination and walked into Jen's office. There was the sound of rummaging through drawers, as Imogene and Jen looked on with confusion. Then he reemerged holding a piece of white paper.

"What's that?" Jen asked.

"Oh, nothing," he said coolly. "Just Imogene's curriculum vitae."

She froze, with dinner-plate eyes, and swallowed.

"You see, Jen," Roy continued. "I knew there was something off about this Imogene girl from the first moment I met her. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew something just wasn't right. Nobody believed me. Not one of you! But all anybody has to do is take a few glances at this CV right here and it's got all the information you need."

Jen went and put an arm around Imogene's shoulder. "Roy, you're being ridiculous! Leave the poor girl alone."

"I will NOT!" Roy cried. He shook the paper once in his hands to straighten it out. "I will now conduct a thorough analysis of why our new employee Imogene Eklund is as bent as a nine-bob note!"

Imogene's fingers went to her mouth as she began furiously chewing on her fingernails. "I--I don't know what you're talking about--"

"Number one," said Roy. "In this picture, our beloved Imogene sports a classic nineteen sixties haircut, complete with bangs down to the eyebrows and hair down to her armpits."

His gaze settled on her. "Let me say that again. Hair down to her armpits."

"It's...It's an old picture," she defended.

"So it is. An old picture where you don't have any acne, your face is, oh, an inch skinnier, your eyes are bigger—tell me, what did you use? Bloody Photoshop? Jen, take a peek at this."

Jen took the paper from Roy and stepped closer to him, her arm sliding off of Imogene's shoulders. She examined the picture carefully, her gaze growing more concerned the longer it stayed fixed on the image.

"Why, this looks nothing like our Imogene! Nothing at all! She's so..." She searched for the right words. "Beautiful!"

"It's an old picture," Imogene repeated. "I've gained weight since then. I cut my hair."

"Lies!" cried Roy, sauntering back to his computer. "That very same haircut is depicted in this image of the perpetrator at the 2015 Met Gala, where one can clearly see that the face is thicker, the eyes are smaller, and there are numerous acne scars all over the face that even a very generous amount of makeup can't conceal. But, you see, the hair is the key. The hair is the exact same length in this VERY PICTURE as it is on her CV. So even the explanation that she lost or gained weight is completely invalid. It takes months to lose that much weight, and in that amount of time, her hair would have grown out at least a few inches."

"Oh, my God, you're right," Jen breathed.

"I...I got a haircut..." Imogene whispered, but her efforts were futile.

"Moving on to Piece of Evidence Number Two," Roy continued, snatching the paper back out of Jen's hands. "The 'extracurricular activities' portion. Here Imogene has listed her favored 'extracurricular activities' as, apparently, 'kayaking, sketching fashion designs, and traveling'. Even though, from what we've learned about her these past few weeks, she'd much rather stay inside and watch movies than be outside, she knows absolutely nothing about clothes, and this little job in London is the first time she's ever been out of the country—which is strange, considering her father is a GIANT TECH MAGNATE who goes to Paris twice a year on vacation."

"Okay, so I lied!" Imogene confessed. "I lied about those two things. But I looked at your guys' website and you said you only hired people who were sexy!"

Roy pointed to her. "Yet another suspicious thing. Reynholm Industries only hires people who, according to Douglas, are 'sexy, sexy, sexy'! How is she even here?"

"I..." Imogene shook her head and frowned. "You...you asked for me! You were begging for me! Douglas said there was no one else more qualified—"

"No one else more qualified? It's bloody IT!" Roy yelled. "Any idiot can figure this out! You know how many calls I get where all I have to do is tell people to turn it off and on again? Any basic moron can do that! Why would we hire some twenty-two year old from overseas? A rich girl with a trust fund, no less!"

"Wait," said Jen. "Wait, Im...what do you mean, we asked for you?"

Imogene's eyes widened. "Douglas asked me to come here. He said you needed someone extra qualified to revamp the IT department. I was interviewed and everything...I sent in my resume, I waited for a response for months..."

Roy and Jen glanced at each other, confused. The room went dead silent as Imogene tried to read their expressions.

"What?" she begged. "What is it?"

"Imogene," Jen said quietly. "We never asked for you."

She stared at them both.

"What do you mean?"