The new coworker

Thomas arrived at the office at exactly 9:00 a.m. Not a minute early, not a minute late. I thought, "That's... unusually precise." But people here show up whenever they feel like it, so his mathematical punctuality slipped by without comment.

"Good morning," he said, smiling with a symmetry that looked freshly installed.

"Morning," we all replied, without looking up. In this office, If someone greets you too enthusiastically, you ignore them out of courtesy.

By 9:15, Thomas had already arranged his desk with surgical precision. Pens aligned by color, size, and ink level. Folders sorted by date, topic, and ambient temperature. I glanced at my own desk, which looked like a panic attack made of paper.

"You're so organized," said Marta from accounting, not sounding particularly impressed.

"Basic optimization," Thomas replied, as if that were normal thing to say.

Marta nodded, as though "basic optimization" were perfectly human phrase and not something you'd hear from a software update.

At 10:15, the printer died. Again. The boss hit it, because that's the only troubleshooting method he knows.

Thomas walked over, unbuttoned his shirt with complete naturaness, and revealed a perfectly aligned paper tray built into his chest.

"You may print here," he said.

And of course, everyone lined up. I did too. Because what was I supposed to do, not print? That would've been weird.

While waiting, I tried not to stare at the blue light blinking inside hid sternum. Not out of fear - out of politeness. No one wants to look nosy.

"Thanks, Thomas," said Luis from IT as he collected his freshly printed pages.

"Service completed," Thomas replied.

Luis nodded, as if that were a completely human thing to say.

At 11:00, Thomas stopped by my desk.

"Lydia, your productivity is 12% below your weekly average," he reported.

"Oh, great," I said, because around here you thank people for feedback even when it sounds like and internal audit.

"Would you like a list of improvements?" he asked.

"No, thank you," I said, using the same tone I use when someone offers me a store credit card.

"Request denied," he said, and walked away.

No one looked up. We respect personal space here... even when someone clearly doesn't understand the concept.

At noon, Thomas froze in place, staring into nothing.

"Recharge time," he announced.

He pulled out a cable, plugged himself into the wall, and stood there, rigid. A coworker stepped over the cable without looking. Another nudged it aside with her foot so she wouldn't trip, the same way you'd move a purse.

"How convenient," Marta said, opening her yogurt.

"Energy efficiency," Thomas replied, without moving a muscle.

I thought, "Well, at least he doesn't hog the coffee machine like everyone else."

At 1:00, during lunch, Thomas sat with us. He didn't eat, obviously. But that didn't stop him from participating.

"My analysis indicates that 63% of you prefer high-carb meals on Wednesdays," he said.

"Oh, how observant," Ana replied, as if he'd commented on the weather.

"And what do you eat, Thomas?" Luis asked, mouth full of rice.

"Data," he said.

Luis nodded, as though that were a perfectly valid diet.

At 2:30, we had an impromptu meeting. The boss wanted to "align expectations," which always means someone messed up but no one wants to say who.

Thomas took notes at a speed that made a rrrrrr-click-rrrrrr click sound. No one reacted. We respect different writing styles here.

"Thomas, can you share your notes?" the boss asked.

"They are already in your inboxes," he replied.

We all checked our phones, and sure enough, there they were: a perfectly formatted document with subtitles, graphs, predictive analysis, and an emotional summary of the team that no one had requested.

"Very thorough," Marta said, as if generating a 12-page report during a ten-minute meeting were something anyone could do.

Thomas tilted his head slightly, as if processing a compliment.

At 4:45, the boss stepped out of his office.

"Team, remember tomorrow's meeting."

Thomas raised his hand.

"I have already prepared the quarterly report, the annual report, the five-year projection, and the emotional climate analysis."

"Excellent, Thomas," the boss said, with the same tone you'd use to thank someone for bringing donuts. I nodded too, because around here anything that happens before 5:00 gets applauded without questions.

At exactly 5:00 p.m., Thomas powered down. Literally. Head tilted forward, eyes open, zero movement. The boss patted him on the back.

"Good work today, Thomas."

I gathered my things and left. Another day at the office. Everything perfectly normal.