He was not a truly exceptional individual by most statistical measures.
He was dedicated, but lacked the genius to make connections to things he had not been explicitly taught. He was curious and great at memorization, but unfocused and unsociable, often slipping into an internal dialog and missing important social cues. He struggled to come to terms with the world around him throughout his childhood and found himself floundering in every aspect of his life. It seemed he was destined to be one of those citizens who “did not quite make it” in life, if put generously. A new statistic among the tax moochers and criminals who were a burden on the normal people of society. It was in this way that he found himself reading every scrap of non-fictional information he could find, desperate to find his place among the successful.
Then he found it, hidden deep in an Economic Textbook he struggled to memorize, he had found his chance at redemption.
The Chicago School of Macroeconomics.
Of course, it was not the topic itself that was of true importance – although it is very interesting – rather it was that the topic catalyzed his understanding of the world. Society, he found, was underpinned by a set of solid, foundational rules through which it functioned. It laid out a path such that even a mediocre talent like himself could become successful.
‘How has no one told me about this?! Be kind to others? Respect your parents? How can someone go through life with such vague guidelines?! Is it not better that the world is shaped by a clear and easy-to-understand structure? Society has worked hard to construct this rational and logical framework. Why is it ignored? It is a travesty of the highest order!’
It was here that he soon delved into the world of economics and psychology. The Social Contract made it clear that everyone was bound not just by the legal rules, but numerous social ones as well. Likewise, Signaling Theory showed that so long as one exuded the proper auditory and visual responses expected of one in their current role, everyone would treat them like they fit that role. He laments those like him who struggled with this before the advent of the Internet. With the near infinite knowledge of the world at his fingertips, he needed only to memorize the expectations of himself for the various situations he could reasonably find himself in. There were numerous scientific and qualitative studies on all manner of situations: what one expects of a candidate in an interview, conversational topics to bring up with your boss at a party or casual conversation with coworkers by the water cooler.
Of course, he was no robot. He had feelings and opinions of his own about how he would prefer the world to work, but the world was good enough to him that he had no concern in keeping those thoughts to himself. He felt no more hypocritical than the average human; at least he was aware of the hypocrisy. So long as he kept his head down and focused on his path to the top, he was free in every sense that mattered. After all, being able to do and say whatever you wanted was just another name for Anarchy, and no sane individual wanted that. By the principles of Liberalism, it was better to sacrifice a few unimportant freedoms in order to maximize the rights of all members of society. The people who would refuse to let go of their “freedom to kill” in order to gain the “right to not being killed” were not worth keeping among the population.
By the time he had graduated, no one could doubt that he signaled the role of the ideal job candidate; someone with a degree in a sought-after field that would do exactly what was expected when it was expected.
---
February 22nd, 2013 – Corporate Head Office, Tokyo, Japan – Salaryman POV
In a modern glass skyscraper in downtown Tokyo, he sat working at his desk. His office was pristine; containing everything one would be expected of an ideal Salaryman. Numerous awards he had received for his exceptional loyalty and service to the company lined his desk, employee manuals and training material covered his shelves and his college degree hung proudly behind his head. No matter if they were the receptionist or the CEO, to any rational person employed at his company it was a room which commanded respect.
An Employee entered his office with a face full of anger and slammed the door behind him. It appeared that an exception towards the respect he usually received was going to be made today. He let his right eye twitch in annoyance but remained professional.
He pointed to the seat across from his desk.
“Have a seat.”
The Employee quickly took a seat but also took the request as an invitation to begin a rambling diatribe.
“What the hell is going on here?! I have been an employee of this company for over 5 years and this is the thanks I get?! My wife is in the hospital and you people think you have the right to demand I work though that?! She could damn well be dead right now while we're having this conversation! The only reason I am even here is because HR sent me an email saying I'm going to be fired! I demand an explanation!”
Throughout the cobbled together sentences, the Salaryman could only focus on the spittle from the man’s mouth fall on the edge of his desk. It took more willpower than he expected to not fire the man right there.
‘I can see now why HR recommended this to me. What a worthless case. If this employee had any sense, he would be dropping into Dogeza and begging me to let him keep his job. Doesn't he know that one bad reference in this industry is enough to permanently remove any chance of promotion?’
However, there were rules for this situation that he had to abide by. It would do no one any good if this man found some way to involve the company in a lawsuit. With a brief sigh, the Salaryman straightened up and faced the Employee with a neutral, professional expression.
“It is unfortunate that this tragic event has affected you so strongly, but this company works under a set of regulations you agreed to when we hired you. Over the past year, you have already used your paid leave and unpaid leave and yet you continue to be absent from work. The company has a generous bereavement plan for circumstances just like yours, but you must provide regular updates with your supervisor and it requires that you to work at least half of every month. You-”
The Employee got up from the chair and slammed a hand on the desk.
“How many times do I have to go through this with you people?! That paid leave was for a vacation before my wife's health took a turn for the worse. Because of the shitty pay and insurance I get with this crappy company, I can barely cover the hospital bills but I can take out loans as long as I have this job. I need to be there for my wife, can't you understand that?!”
While he could strain his mental faculties to try to find something to sympathize with the Employee, he found nothing.
‘There is a famous quote which says “Compromise is the best and cheapest lawyer.” That the Employee is unsatisfied with his circumstances is only natural. I have issues and grievances in my life too, you know, like hearing you yell at me! But I know better than to air my dirty laundry and risk my job for it. How ironic that he is the only one in the company that can’t see where this line of inquiry is heading. The fact that this is coming to my desk at all is proof that he’s gone too far.’
He did not give voice to these opinions and instead spoke out in an even tone.
“You're going through a hard time, I understand that, but you need to come back into work. You are not being paid for when you’re absent and it this is going to affect your future prospects. You only need to come in every other day-"
The Employee looked like he was going to pull his hair out. The man clenched a fist at him with a face going incandescent with rage.
“You- you bastard! Is this how it is going to be?! I worked tirelessly for this company! I’ve earned at least this much!”
For the first time in the meeting, he showed a non-professional emotion. Rubbing his eyes, he could feel a headache starting to come on. Reluctantly, he felt that there was no way to salvage the situation. He let the polite fiction of the professional social contract drop and unveil the cold, hard facts as it stood.
“I do not see how you are going to achieve what you want with this. This company is not going to entertain your specific needs. HR has pushed this to me because of your belligerence, and I can only bring this up with your VP in Accounting. What do you think they will say? They will tell me to do my job and fire you. It is because of your history here that this has not already happened. We have no strong need for employee retention at the moment, so I just can’t see how we can accommodate you. Please give up before you do something you'll regret.”
The Employee seemed to take this as an invitation and got up from the chair, kicking it over.
“I'm not going to let this company boss me around!"
Not getting up from his desk, the Salaryman sighed.
‘I think that should do it. No one can complain to me that I didn’t try.’
"Then I have no choice. You're fired. Collect your things from your desk. Your manager might-"
The Salaryman stopped as he looked up. The Employee looked like he was going to throw a punch and so he leaned back in his seat, unsure what to do. Luckily, it seemed the man still had some sense left and stormed out of the office.
The Salaryman sighed and quickly opened a new email. He would make sure that he had a sufficient paper trail detailing the specifics of the case. He made sure that there would be no legal consequences either for the company or himself, but that did not mean he was happy with the result. Such cases always disappointed him and he could only confess his confusion.
“What an utter waste of Human Resources...”
---
March 14th, 2013 – Downtown, Tokyo, Japan – Salaryman POV
It had been just over two weeks since that last awful interaction with the Former Employee.
While it always felt like a waste of time to manage such troublesome cases, there was nothing for it. Every society had its outliers and often it was too difficult to correct for every little mistake others made. The Sunk Cost Fallacy established that not quickly moving on from a mistake was often far worse than the original mistake. And so regardless of the time and effort in recruiting and training a replacement, it was the right thing to do. He had to rely that while the company stock would have plenty of dips, it was ever increasing. With that optimistic outlook, he carried on with business as usual. The only exception to he wonderfully ordinary routine was when his Supervisor came by to tell him to “watch his back”.
He could not understand what there was to worry about. The Former Employee had obvious issues with authority and was prone to emotional outburst, but there were doubtless many more people to blame than himself. He was reminded of the many bullies in his elementary school days with similar traits and wondered how many of them grew out of their proclivities in adolescence. While logically he knew that even ordinary people could turn to crime, statistics laid bare the fact that the world has never been a safer place. It would be paranoid to the highest degree – and even a bit arrogant – to think he was significant enough to fall into the statistic of “victim of violent crime”.
He was vindicated as more days passed.
So he found himself leaving the company in high spirits after a long day at work. With a confident stride, he waded though the dense crowds of the downtown Tokyo sidewalks.
As he pushed through the throngs of people, he felt a particularly hard shove push him into the back of a car parked on the street. He was confused at first why a car door would be open, then marveled briefly at the coincidence of him falling into one.
“What-”
He strained to get the words out and found himself suddenly weak. A sharp pain began to spread from his stomach. He looked down to see a knife now sticking from his body and a red stain spreading on his white shirt beneath his open suit jacket.
Knowing he could not speak properly, he struggled to reach for his phone and call the emergency number, but was stopped.
Someone twisted the knife and stuffed a rag in his face.
“Now, now, now. Can’t have that. Don’t want you crying for help.”
---
He struggled to open his eyes as pain filled his mind and blood filled his vision. He could only assume he was drugged for he knew he could not possibly have stayed sleeping while being in such agony.
He was in a dark room filled with macabre elements. Candles served as the only light source in the small room. Some sort of runic circle covered the floor he lay on and various metal blades and chains filled the walls. In any other situation, he would have considered the room an absurd caricature of an evil cultist’s dungeon or a mad scientist’s laboratory. As the circumstances currently stood, he was in no mood to be amused.
“Why...?”
A clang of something metallic could be heard behind him. A man’s voice rang out in the darkness
“You dare to ask why when you took everything away from me?! The last moments with my wife, robbed by you and your greedy company?!”
He could only assume that his would-be murderer was the Former Employee.
‘How ridiculous... my manager was right, but I doubt that even he could imagine a farce like this...’
He briefly tried to rationalize the situation, but could only stare blankly; there was no point in trying to understand the reasons of a madman. He did not know whether to laugh or cry. That his final moments could be experiencing this sheer contradiction of the rationality he believed in seemed like the sort of irony he did not deserve.
Nevertheless, as the Former Employee began to speak, he found himself the involuntary captive audience to the man’s mad delusions.
“My wife died during that meeting in your office, you know. While you were sitting high-and-mighty firing me, my wife couldn’t breathe! She died in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers and could not even signal to anyone she was dying! My last words to her that day was that I was going to get some more time with her! That’s all I wanted! Why couldn’t you just give me what I wanted?!What’s fair!”
‘What the hell does that have to do with me? Why not your supervisor? The HR rep that gave me your case file? I didn’t give your wife whatever disease she had. Nor did I convince the majority of society to organize itself the way it does: to maximize the productivity of the workplace so as to provide for everyone to the greatest extent. Your circumstances weren’t anyone’s fault until you attempted to ‘fix’ it. Now your career is ruined and once this crime has been uncovered, your life will be too. And for what? The momentary satisfaction that someone you didn’t like now has it worse than you? Should I get in touch with a starving child in a war-torn nation that it is fine to kill you because your prospects are better than theirs? I do not think you would come out on top if this ‘fairness’ you talk about actually applied.’
Of course, even if he wanted to vocalized these thoughts, he could not. He could hardly breathe. He could only hope that the Former Employee was sloppy enough to leave a trail the police could follow and rescue him.
The man kicked his injured and prone form causing his view to shift. He could have sworn that the runic circle surrounding him seemed to be glowing, but he could only assume it was a figment of his adrenaline-addled mind.
The Former Employee leaned down to look at his face.
“Do you know why I waited until today to get my revenge? Who am I kidding, a robot like you could not possibly know. It’s White Day: a day where boyfriends give their girlfriends gifts. I could not possibly think of a better gift to give my wife than your life. When you see her, I hope you act exactly as you normally do. I want her to see the shit I had to put up with and that she can forgive me for not being there for her. Now-”
Sirens sounded out in the distance as he suddenly felt numerous painful stabs and then-
---
One moment he was in that dark basement, and the next moment he was in a white void. He struggled to think what he had been doing.
Then it came back to him. He looked down to see the pressed black suit he wore was once again pristine. His wounds were healed as though those last moments had never happened. Considering the fact he believed he was drugged, he wondered if this was real. Perhaps the moments in the “cultist basement” were also some sort of drug-induced hallucination.
‘Better to leave thoughts of whether this is reality be. That just leads down a road towards the Malicious Demon Hypothesis and absurdity. It is real enough to be indistinguishable to my eyes so I will assume so until proven otherwise. I can laugh about this to my family if I am actually comatose in a hospital bed somewhere.’
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
An echoing voice spoke out before him.
“You are not hallucinating.”
He looked up to see the form of what his mind interpreted as a man of roughly his height and age wearing a similar suit to himself, albeit white instead of his black. Despite his brain trying to convince him of that, nothing about the form could justify such a conclusion. The pure white of its form somehow stood stark and separate from the white void surrounding them despite there being no clear reason why. It lacked any defining features that could lead him to believe the creature was human beyond a vaguely humanoid shape.
“Sorry, what -er, who are you?”
He did not want to insult the thing by assuming it was something less than a person; it could speak after all. To find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings, it was only logical to be friendly. Game Theory proved that symmetric reciprocity lead to the best outcomes when the motives of another was unknown. While he could think of a number of holes in the idea of “treating others as one wants to be treated”, he could get behind the concept of “treating others as they treat you”.
The Other contorted their face into a large grin.
“Your struggle to be polite is unnecessary. I have been called many vulgar things: the Unmoved Mover, the Universe, the All, God, Truth, and more. Call me what you like.”
It was clear that whatever it was, they were clearly more familiar and comfortable in this impossible space than he was. That it could defy his logical understanding of reality did lay credence to their claims of Godhood, but there was obviously no God. This “Being X” could have played some part in his kidnapping and that it had not already returned himself back to Tokyo was clear it was not necessarily on his side, even if it had not done anything to him directly.
It tilted its head.
“Being X?”
He leveled a heavy glare at Being X.
‘I had not said a word and yet it seemed to follow my line of thinking. Could it read my mind?’
Being X nodded.
“Yes.”
‘So it can. In that case, such an invasion of privacy is yet another mark against it. I have been nothing but courteous to this Being X, and yet it continues to be antagonistic. How am I expected to remain tactful if nothing is private? Is this some sort of joke at my expense?’
Being X smirked.
“It is true that you have been done a disservice, if not for the reasons you think.”
He furrowed his brow, not excepting this arrogant being to admit to something wrong.
“A disservice?”
Being X’s grin turned into a more neutral smile.
“You are no longer in the Cycle of Reincarnation.”
He could only shake his head in disbelief at the concept.
“Cycle of Reincarnation? Am I supposed to honestly believe that there really is a soul? Something that leaves no trace of its existence? If I’ve had previous lives, where are the memories? Regardless, let’s assume you’re right. Such a process which handles untold thousands of deaths every day would be largely automated and foolproof after being in operation for any length of time, so can you cut it out with this nonsense?”
Being X had the audacity to shrug.
“The nature of your death was unexpected, but your understanding is not required. Believe what you like. This conversation is more formality than necessity. Your soul is no longer in the Cycle and that can only mean one thing: you must go through there.”
It pointed behind him, and so he dutifully turned to see what it was gesturing towards. Behind him was a door with a symbol vaguely resembling the Jewish Sephirot – a symbol he only knew because of a certain popular Japanese video game franchise. He found himself subconsciously attempting to memorize the symbols and diagrams on the face of the door, but it was no use. It appeared to be written in some type of Latin-based language he could not understand.
After a few moments, the door opened slightly, revealing an inky blackness that stood in sheer contrast to the otherwise white surroundings.
He could not help step back in caution. He turned to Being X to ask about it.
“And just what exactly is that?”
“That is the Gate. A place of knowledge for those willing to pay the price. Regrettably, you have no toll left to give, but your circumstances grant you a one-way, amnesic, trip. While such a thing does not violate the letter of the rules, it goes against the spirit, but exceptions can be made.”
It sounded like it was mocking him.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Knowledge? Toll? If you are trying to bind me to some type of contract, I would hope you would explain such conditions clearly.”
Being X frowned.
“There is little time or need to explain. Your situation will correct itself one way or another. Stay here if you wish. Soon, you will cease to exist, soul and all; sublimated into this space. For an Atheist like yourself it is a fitting end, is it not? Alternatively, you may step through that Gate.”
He brought a hand to his chin, considering the choice. It hardly seemed like one: die or live, but was there more to this than met the eye? This Being X – despite it appearing to be so capable and powerful at first – now seemed rather limited in what it could do. Rather than a God, it was more like a convenience store worker apologizing for a company mistake with a coupon. He wanted to take such a deal just to get this craziness over with, but...
“What do you get out of this? Why do anything for me at all? I am not exactly in the position to write you a good review.”
It stayed silent for a moment, continuing to frown.
“It seems that perhaps some part of me is sorry for you. One last answer then. I observe the experiment of human existence. While one soul in billions being misplaced might seem insignificant, any deviation to a closed experiment has radical changes. Whether indirectly or not, an unintended mistake has been made and an action must be taken to redress it.”
It disappeared before he had time to respond, its white body fading into the background.
It seemed that whatever its motivations, it clearly had enough of the conversation. Despite its arrogant attitude, it at least was a somewhat rational being. While he had numerous questions, he was not willing to stay in this void any longer to ask them. The featureless background grated on his psyche. He only hoped that if this was a dream, he would soon be waking up.
He took a step towards the Gate, but hesitated. Something about the inky blackness within seemed even more wrong than the surroundings. He could not help but feel he was making a mistake, but regardless of how truthful Being X was, what else was there to do? Should he travel the empty irrational void? Should he try to find some way to attack Being X with his fists? Those might seem like choices to a more emotional or reckless man.
For him, he was a rational human being. There was an open door before him, and so he would walk through it.
---
July 15th, 1899 – State Orphanage #3, Rivera, Amestris – Salaryman POV
There was light. There was warmth and cold. Soon, other sensations began to give rise inside him.
His eyes struggled to focus. His mind was numb and his senses were dulled to the world around him.
“Tanya, please stop your struggling, I have others to feed besides you.”
Someone called out in a language she did not quite understand, a mixture of English and German... maybe Dutch? Wait, she? No, he was a man. What was happening? He tried to move his body but struggled inside the confines of some fabric harness around him. It felt like a straitjacket and a sudden fear swept his entire body.
‘Have I gone insane? There is a gap in my memory. Have I been drugged? What was the last thing... that void! The Gate... that... thing?’
In an instant, his mind focused. He could now more clearly see the world around him and found a giant woman feeding some vaguely orange goop to him via spoon. As it forcibly entered his mouth, he got the vague taste or carrot and some other vegetables. It was the most disgusting slop to ever touch his tongue and he turned away.
The woman sighed.
“Please Tanya, you need to eat.”
‘This... this isn’t right. I am not Tanya. I am not a baby girl. I was a successful Salaryman! I had prospects, a path to the top! How could someone like me be eating vegetable gruel?!’
As the food was forced into his mouth, he could only uselessly cry out into the world.
“Dab ba beh bek!” [Damn you Being X!]
His caretaker smiled.
“Aw, isn’t that cute!”