For the beginning of the story, see the first and second installments.
After that, Dave started avoiding Phil, and the other employees of Subbasement 5 took their lead from Dave.
Every time Phil saw Dave ducking in or out of the hallway, he felt less guilty than annoyed, but the lack of interaction with his coworkers quickly began to take a toll on him. It was just small habits at first, such as reading the sock-bin labels aloud, but soon he was having full-blown discussions with himself, making up rhymes, and even singing to himself—anything to break the silence. Because in that huge underground silence, unbroken but for the whisper of falling socks, he imagined always a pressure over his head and a presence at his back, as if he were being watched. He could tolerate the mind-numbing task, the overwhelming scent of fabric softener, and the static that made his clothes cling to his body and his hair reach for the ceiling. He could not, however, stand the silence. Perhaps if he’d been able to talk at home it wouldn’t have been so bad, but his mother was too ill to speak much. By the end of the week, he was ready to beg Dave’s forgiveness.
It was Friday and everyone in the break room was chatting. Phil opened the door and the party abruptly ended. Fred had been in the middle of a joke, his mouth wide open and his hands mid-gesture. He snapped his mouth shut and glared at Dave. They all started to pack up their things. Phil hurried over to where Dave was sitting at the end of the table. “I’m sorry, Dave.”
Dave put down the milk carton he had grabbed while preparing to leave, but didn’t say anything. Phil sat down next to him. “I didn’t realize how much you like your job. I can tell you really love it here.”
Dave nodded. “Yeah.”
“Keys must be a great department,” Phil said, “I hope I get to try it someday.”
“Keys is the best department on this floor,” Dave said.
Phil left it at that. He didn’t dare say anything else lest he jeopardize the truce. He turned his attention to his lunch. Dave stayed at the table and so did the others. Conversation returned to the break room. Phil happily soaked up the noise as he finished his lunch. He was just about done when Dave said, “Hey, Phil. Do you want to see my collection?”
“Collection of what?”
“Keys!” said Dave. “Sometimes they let me keep some of the more interesting keys, like the big rusty ones that must have been used in a dungeon or something. Those are my favorites. I have lots of them now.”
“So it’s just like Socks,” Phil guessed. “You get all different kinds of keys from all different kinds of places. That’s cool.”
“Of course. Anywhere keys are found. And lost. You know.”
Phil didn’t know and he couldn’t ask. A collection of cruddy old keys didn’t sound appealing, but he wasn’t going to pass up the offer of friendship or the opportunity for information. “I’d love to see it,” he said, then he caught sight of the clock. “Lunch is almost over, though. I should get back to Socks. I don’t want to cheat the company out of any time,” he joked.
Dave smiled approvingly. “That’s solid thinking, Phil.” As they left the break room together, he slapped Phil on the back and said, “It only gets better from here.”