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Description
Billy and Zoë were always said to be good kids, not getting in fights, making the sports team, honor roll, debate team, cheer squad, chorus and band. Both moderately popular jacks-of-all-trades, they managed to make prom king and queen even though they were just friends, and got scholarships to the same college. Billy played sports year round, but managed to talk about other things, mainly debating, singing or playing clarinet. Well, not when he was doing those things, as they involved his mouth. He had a tall, muscular build, his features seemingly mismatched. He had soccer legs and basketball feet, baseball arms on a football torso, which his head was thankfully not too small for, his white blond hair contrasting with his cheeks, which were always red for some reason, be it anger, embarrassment, or chill. Zoë’s body, however, seemed more perfectly constructed. Her complexion was warm and comforting like a cup of cocoa and shiny black hair, large brown eyes, long willowy arms and legs rippling with muscles and small, athletic breasts that did not get in the way when she cheered, played the flute, lacrosse, tennis or cricket. Both frequently smiled, especially when the life-long friends found out they were going to college together. 

Finals were over, and Billy was celebrating by drinking enough to make sure he blacked out everything he learned in the last semester. Week two of being legally old enough to drink and finals week happening at the same time was not a good combination for Billy, especially his liver. He had enough opportunity at the parties other students were throwing at the college, but as an intern working in the school’s offices with a hefty scholarship he felt some responsibility to at least get drunk with people over the age of twenty-five. And Zoë. Zoë had applied for an internship exactly five hours and twenty minutes after she learned that Billy had. If high school band was any indication, Billy would not make it through three weeks working in a large group without Zoë to remind him to keep his mouth shut.
Sadly, Zoë had found that Billy’s job involved a lot more data entry and hers more screening calls, taking notes and generally being an eighteen-year-old secretary to the forty-six-year-old head of the English department, which was frankly creepy. So when the only in his thirties and definitely not balding assistant to the math professor offered her an under the table wine cooler to put Mr. Johnson out of her mind, she had leapt at the opportunity. About five times.
Billy had lost track of Zoë sometime around drink three, which he found annoying as she had agreed to be his wingman for the night and certainly couldn’t be effective if she wasn’t there. With some annoyance, Billy worked his way between the staff members, decked in tinsel ropes and festive sweaters, chewing on cheese and crackers and trying to not remember that they were only a third of the way through the year. Some of them managed to be look happy, at the edge of his vision there was a small crowd laughing in the corner of the room. If he had wanted to hear laughter that drunk, he would have gone to the Kappa Christmas party instead. Still, a morbid curiosity drew him to the corner. Or perhaps it was a subconscious ability to find his best friend in a crowd.
Zoë looked quite happy, all things considered. She was laughing, and the people around her clearly thought she was being absolutely hilarious and more than a little bit sexy. Yes, thought Billy, considering how long she would be denying this had ever happened, Zoë looked delighted.
“What the hell are you doing?” Billy asked.
“What’s it look like?” she asked. Zoë took another sip of her wine cooler and pressing the large, green button just to the left of where she was sitting.
“I’ll tell you what it looks like. Spreading a little holiday cheer,” grinned Mr. Johnson, holding up a black and white picture, badly lit but distinctly Zoë’s bottom. She had even chosen to wear festive underpants for the occasion, though Billy sincerely hoped she had not planned this.
Billy shook his head, not quite believing the words he was about to say.
“Zoë, you’re drunk, get off the copier.” said Billy. He reached forward an offered her an arm to climb down with. The gathered crowd groaned with disappointment.
“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport!” someone called. The bright white bar of the copier slid across the glass again, and a nearly entirely black picture fell onto the stack. Billy sighed and picked up the stack. Being her best friend meant that he now needed to destroy all the copies Zoë had just made, except for one to shove in her face once she’d sobered up. It really wasn’t the pictures of his best friend’s butt being passed around the room that creeped Billy out so much as the fact that she was a good ten years younger than anyone looking at them. It was then that he actually looked at the top picture.

“What the hell is this?” Billy asked.
“I think it’s Zoë’s ass!” said a female intern.
“This is not an ass.” said Billy, clearly perturbed. He turned around the stack and held up the top picture for Zoë to see.
“Are you seeing this?” he asked. “Is anybody else seeing this?” Zoë frowned and squinted at the copy. It was nearly all black, but there were two small, white dots near one corner. There even looked to be a somewhat lighter patch around the white dots.
“What is that?” she asked, passing the stack to the nearest person, which happened to be Jill, an older woman who worked in admissions. She frowned.
“I… I have no idea.” said Jill.

The copier buzzed loudly, the bright light passed over the open top, and another almost entirely black copy fell into the tray. Billy picked it up and checked the same corner. There was definitely something there, two white dots fading into the blackness of the ink. Billy passed the paper absently to Zoë as another copy fell out. Now there was a distinct shape around the white dots, and they looked more like eyes shining in the darkness than any of the versions of the image to come before it.
The chatter grew softer and softer as each new copy was passed around the room. Now nearly everyone was staring at the copy machine.
“Someone turn it off.” said Mr. Johnson.
“No.” said Zoë quietly.

A new copy dropped onto the now empty tray. The black spot was larger, and next to the previous one, it looked almost like a film of someone walking closer to the camera, their shape becoming more defined as they grew closer.
“I said, turn it off!” snapped Mr. Johnson. The next copy was passed around the room.
“Does that remind you of…” began Jill. “What was her name? She worked here last year but had to leave suddenly. You know, the secretary Johnson had before the one before Zoë.”
“It’s just a black shape!” Mr. Johnson hissed.
“Yeah, but it is standing the way she used to. Barbara! That was her name, Barbara, she always stood kind of stiffly, with one shoulder raised like that.”
“Like she was wincing. Or scared of something.” agreed someone from admissions, looking at the fourth copy.
Another copy fell into the tray. Now the black shape was definitely shaped like a young woman, staring out at the viewer with glowing white eyes. Her body took up nearly a third of the paper, knees to head only just visible.

“What happened to her?” someone asked. “I know she had to leave suddenly…”
Now the woman was very close to the camera, head and shoulders filling the frame, but still no features on her face could be seen. Except for her eyes, glowing, staring straight ahead, everything was pitch black.
“I’m leaving!” Johnson announced. “I don’t need these accusations!”
“No one’s accused you of anything.” said Billy. The next copy fell from the slot. Now there were only her eyes, a faint sign of her pupils only just visible, a few dots of gray in the center of the white glow.
An error message flashed up on the copier.
OUT OF PAPER
There was a knock at the office door.

Description
Billy and Zoë were always said to be good kids, not getting in fights, making the sports team, honor roll, debate team, cheer squad, chorus and band. Both moderately popular jacks-of-all-trades, they managed to make prom king and queen even though they were just friends, and got scholarships to the same college. Billy played sports year round, but managed to talk about other things, mainly debating, singing or playing clarinet. Well, not when he was doing those things, as they involved his mouth. He had a tall, muscular build, his features seemingly mismatched. He had soccer legs and basketball feet, baseball arms on a football torso, which his head was thankfully not too small for, his white blond hair contrasting with his cheeks, which were always red for some reason, be it anger, embarrassment, or chill. Zoë’s body, however, seemed more perfectly constructed. Her complexion was warm and comforting like a cup of cocoa and shiny black hair, large brown eyes, long willowy arms and legs rippling with muscles and small, athletic breasts that did not get in the way when she cheered, played the flute, lacrosse, tennis or cricket. Both frequently smiled, especially when the life-long friends found out they were going to college together. 

Finals were over, and Billy was celebrating by drinking enough to make sure he blacked out everything he learned in the last semester. Week two of being legally old enough to drink and finals week happening at the same time was not a good combination for Billy, especially his liver. He had enough opportunity at the parties other students were throwing at the college, but as an intern working in the school’s offices with a hefty scholarship he felt some responsibility to at least get drunk with people over the age of twenty-five. And Zoë. Zoë had applied for an internship exactly five hours and twenty minutes after she learned that Billy had. If high school band was any indication, Billy would not make it through three weeks working in a large group without Zoë to remind him to keep his mouth shut.
Sadly, Zoë had found that Billy’s job involved a lot more data entry and hers more screening calls, taking notes and generally being an eighteen-year-old secretary to the forty-six-year-old head of the English department, which was frankly creepy. So when the only in his thirties and definitely not balding assistant to the math professor offered her an under the table wine cooler to put Mr. Johnson out of her mind, she had leapt at the opportunity. About five times.
Billy had lost track of Zoë sometime around drink three, which he found annoying as she had agreed to be his wingman for the night and certainly couldn’t be effective if she wasn’t there. With some annoyance, Billy worked his way between the staff members, decked in tinsel ropes and festive sweaters, chewing on cheese and crackers and trying to not remember that they were only a third of the way through the year. Some of them managed to be look happy, at the edge of his vision there was a small crowd laughing in the corner of the room. If he had wanted to hear laughter that drunk, he would have gone to the Kappa Christmas party instead. Still, a morbid curiosity drew him to the corner. Or perhaps it was a subconscious ability to find his best friend in a crowd.
Zoë looked quite happy, all things considered. She was laughing, and the people around her clearly thought she was being absolutely hilarious and more than a little bit sexy. Yes, thought Billy, considering how long she would be denying this had ever happened, Zoë looked delighted.
“What the hell are you doing?” Billy asked.
“What’s it look like?” she asked. Zoë took another sip of her wine cooler and pressing the large, green button just to the left of where she was sitting.
“I’ll tell you what it looks like. Spreading a little holiday cheer,” grinned Mr. Johnson, holding up a black and white picture, badly lit but distinctly Zoë’s bottom. She had even chosen to wear festive underpants for the occasion, though Billy sincerely hoped she had not planned this.
Billy shook his head, not quite believing the words he was about to say.
“Zoë, you’re drunk, get off the copier.” said Billy. He reached forward an offered her an arm to climb down with. The gathered crowd groaned with disappointment.
“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport!” someone called. The bright white bar of the copier slid across the glass again, and a nearly entirely black picture fell onto the stack. Billy sighed and picked up the stack. Being her best friend meant that he now needed to destroy all the copies Zoë had just made, except for one to shove in her face once she’d sobered up. It really wasn’t the pictures of his best friend’s butt being passed around the room that creeped Billy out so much as the fact that she was a good ten years younger than anyone looking at them. It was then that he actually looked at the top picture.

“What the hell is this?” Billy asked.
“I think it’s Zoë’s ass!” said a female intern.
“This is not an ass.” said Billy, clearly perturbed. He turned around the stack and held up the top picture for Zoë to see.
“Are you seeing this?” he asked. “Is anybody else seeing this?” Zoë frowned and squinted at the copy. It was nearly all black, but there were two small, white dots near one corner. There even looked to be a somewhat lighter patch around the white dots.
“What is that?” she asked, passing the stack to the nearest person, which happened to be Jill, an older woman who worked in admissions. She frowned.
“I… I have no idea.” said Jill.

The copier buzzed loudly, the bright light passed over the open top, and another almost entirely black copy fell into the tray. Billy picked it up and checked the same corner. There was definitely something there, two white dots fading into the blackness of the ink. Billy passed the paper absently to Zoë as another copy fell out. Now there was a distinct shape around the white dots, and they looked more like eyes shining in the darkness than any of the versions of the image to come before it.
The chatter grew softer and softer as each new copy was passed around the room. Now nearly everyone was staring at the copy machine.
“Someone turn it off.” said Mr. Johnson.
“No.” said Zoë quietly.

A new copy dropped onto the now empty tray. The black spot was larger, and next to the previous one, it looked almost like a film of someone walking closer to the camera, their shape becoming more defined as they grew closer.
“I said, turn it off!” snapped Mr. Johnson. The next copy was passed around the room.
“Does that remind you of…” began Jill. “What was her name? She worked here last year but had to leave suddenly. You know, the secretary Johnson had before the one before Zoë.”
“It’s just a black shape!” Mr. Johnson hissed.
“Yeah, but it is standing the way she used to. Barbara! That was her name, Barbara, she always stood kind of stiffly, with one shoulder raised like that.”
“Like she was wincing. Or scared of something.” agreed someone from admissions, looking at the fourth copy.
Another copy fell into the tray. Now the black shape was definitely shaped like a young woman, staring out at the viewer with glowing white eyes. Her body took up nearly a third of the paper, knees to head only just visible.

“What happened to her?” someone asked. “I know she had to leave suddenly…”
Now the woman was very close to the camera, head and shoulders filling the frame, but still no features on her face could be seen. Except for her eyes, glowing, staring straight ahead, everything was pitch black.
“I’m leaving!” Johnson announced. “I don’t need these accusations!”
“No one’s accused you of anything.” said Billy. The next copy fell from the slot. Now there were only her eyes, a faint sign of her pupils only just visible, a few dots of gray in the center of the white glow.
An error message flashed up on the copier.
OUT OF PAPER
There was a knock at the office door.