Across the Border: More Tales of Corporate Horror

by Thomas Ligotti, Jason Van Hollander (Illustrator)

Contains two stories, "My Case for Attributive Action" and "Our Temporary Supervisor." Cover design and art by Jason Van Hollander.

Genres: Horror, Short Stories

39 pages, Stapled Wraps

First published January 1, 2005

About the author

Thomas Ligotti is a contemporary American horror author and reclusive literary cult figure. His writings, while unique in style, have been noted as major continuations of several literary genres—most prominently Lovecraftian horror—and have overall been described as works of "philosophical horror", often written as philosophical novels with a "darker" undertone which is similar to gothic fiction. The Washington Post called him "the best kept secret in contemporary horror fiction"; another critic declared "It's a skilled writer indeed who can suggest a horror so shocking that one is grateful it was kept offstage."

Reviews

[Glenn Russell]

This little Ligotti chapbook is out-of-print. Drat! I love Ligotti's corporate horror. To underscore my love, here is my review of a fantastic Ligotti tale of horror most corporate that's included in his book - My Work is Not Yet Done

I HAVE A SPECIAL PLAN FOR THIS WORLD
Ah, my dear reader, what splendid felicity it is to waltz through the strange, sardonic realms spun from the feverish quill of Thomas Ligotti, where each sentence glows with the somber luminance of twilight fading into the grotesque. Let us now embark, with golden filigree and lace, upon this review of I Have a Special Plan for This World, a tale so divinely dreadful, so artfully absurd, that it beckons to us like a shimmering phantom across the fog-laden corridors of literature.

Imagine, if you will, a marriage of influences—a cosmic union of the grandiloquent H.P. Lovecraft, the ever-bureaucratic Franz Kafka, and that jesting satyr of American wit, Groucho Marx, whose quip, “I intend to live forever, or die trying,” echoes mockingly through the sinister halls of Ligotti’s creation. Here, dear reader, is a tale that—dare I say it?—gleams with a sinister humor. Yes, yes, you heard me right! Ligotti’s macabre concoction dances with laughter, though it be the laughter of skeletons in a moonlit graveyard.

In the style of his grimly poignant My Work is Not Yet Done, Ligotti once again hurls himself with reckless elegance at the corpulent beast of modern industry—specifically, the suffocating, ghastly thing we call corporate life. Ah, the cramped, constipated mind of the corporate drone, stifled by routine, crushed by the heavy yoke of meaningless duty! Ligotti renders this labyrinth of despair with such dainty strokes that one can only laugh at its absurdity, even as one trembles.

Enter our narrator, a melancholic fellow whom, for the sake of fancifulness, we shall christen Sid. His tale begins amid the choking fumes of Golden City, once known, with bitter irony, as Murder Town. What an exquisite jest! For though its name has been painted over with gilded optimism, the yellow haze that clings to its streets grows denser with each passing murder. Sid, ever the unfortunate, toils at the Blaine Company, a grotesque simulacrum of corporate existence, recently relocated to a crumbling edifice as empty as the souls of those who dwell within.

A missive from the company’s elusive master, the somber U.G. Blaine, heralds doom in a few short lines—“companywide restructuring.” Ah, what dark music these words strike in the hearts of all who have known the terrors of corporate life! Before long, the supervisors and senior managers fall, one by one, victims of unspeakable violence. Yet, inexplicably, none of the remaining employees flee. No, no! They linger, like moths hypnotized by the flame, too ensnared by the machinery of corporate despair to break free. Such a delightfully twisted commentary on the folly of modern man!

And oh, what violence! What delectable savagery Ligotti serves us! The employees of the Blaine Company, driven by the very nature of their profession, harbor within themselves murderous impulses towards their superiors. Ah, how like beasts they are, clawing at the thin veneer of civility, trapped in the mire of ambition and resentment! Ligotti, with the keen eye of a naturalist and the precision of an executioner, exposes the brutish souls of corporate lackeys. Beneath the smiling façade of the modern office dwells nothing less than a coven of power-hungry, treacherous wretches, ever plotting and scheming in the shadows.

Then, like a macabre twist of fate, the employees are summoned to the sub-basement, that dank, loathsome crypt accessed only by freight elevator. And there, amidst the sickly glow of failing lights, they are fed absurd promises of corporate domination by none other than the skeletal Mr. Henry Wilson. Ah, Wilson! What a figure! He seems torn from the pages of an old horror novel, a grotesque amalgamation of man and corpse, droning on in lifeless tones about “world market domination,” while all who stand before him wallow in the realization that their lives have been reduced to a farce.

The absurdity compounds itself, dear reader, when new employees, scarcely human, begin to replace those who vanish. Shaggy, bedraggled creatures, barely distinguishable from the derelicts who haunt the streets of Golden City, shuffle into the office, their unwashed beards and wild eyes a testament to the degradation that has now seeped into every corner of the Blaine Company. Oh, what sweet, delightful grotesquerie!

And yet, the tale spirals further into the void. Mr. Wilson, in his pigsty of an office, summons Sid for an audience, and what follows is a masterpiece of Ligottian cosmic horror. The office, filled with filth and dread, becomes the stage upon which Sid’s final descent into madness plays out. For, you see, the plans of the Blaine Company extend far beyond mere murder, far beyond corporate restructuring. There is a special plan for this world, and it is dark, my dear reader—so dark that one can only shiver in both delight and terror as the final pages unfold.

Oh, sweet connoisseurs of the strange and the macabre, this tale is a gem, a brilliant Lovecraftian nightmare, sprinkled with the grim humor that only Ligotti could conjure. I Have a Special Plan for This World is a delectable treat for those who relish the uncanny. Do read it, my dear friends. Read it by the flickering light of a single candle and let the yellow haze of the Blaine Company draw you in.

[Karl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mr. Ligotti gives us a couple of powerhouse stories.

I attempted to write a review of the two stories and after the fourth attempt I gathered the reviews together and took them to my Doctor. He eventually read them and pronounced the reviews to be quite inadequate and not worthy of such fine literary creations. Since, as you know, I have certain cognitive disorders and suffer from unnamed complications I was quite distraught with the Doctors proclamations, where upon the Doctors assistant began to gather together various herbs and serums into a vile for me to consume.

There is no reason why everyone should not read these stories. They are Brilliant !