By the time I so much as glanced at the application again, several days had managed to pass with little to speak of. My initial excursion into the city had left my parents subdued enough to grant me some time to my own devices—presumably to do research on the job itself—and I filled my schedule in the manner I knew best. The stack of untouched games that had begun to pile up with Aurora’s beta began to steadily diminish thanks to my efforts, and it was with a token measure of pride that I was approaching a full completionist run on one of the RPGs I’d taken a fancy to. With a few pointed questions here, another looming threat there, I begrudgingly set to the paperwork I’d been neglecting for the better half of a week.
The application itself was nothing too difficult and I’d been expecting the pressure on me to increase around this time anyway. It took less than a quarter hour to complete even with my leisurely pace, and although it had gained a few creases and a small stain at the corner, it still looked relatively presentable. Definitely legible, at least.
I’d be turning this in within the next hour or two in order to earn another extension on my stay, but handing over a piece of paper was far less of a chore than getting one in the first place. If things went well, I wouldn’t even have to interact with people directly and there would be a bin I could drop it into; it was very possible that this would be nothing more than an idle stroll with a short detour between.
Or, at least, that was one of my options. I’d received another mail from Monument, after all.
The message was somewhat sterile and unimaginative—even moreso than the first—but it was more agreeable to get into the meat of the matter without having to sift through some PR-tinted fluff, anyway. I’d already responded once before, too, so they’d probably assumed I would again regardless of the phrasing.
I’d gotten a late start and the amount of time I had was equally limited. By now, it was all but assured that a majority of the slots had been filled up or were slated for other, more promising candidates, and I was skeptical that this was anything other than a false cause. Perhaps if I had seen the mail and put my effort in ahead of time it wouldn’t be an issue, but I had the sneaking suspicion that this was going to be another instance of Hope’s Peak: too little effort started too late, with nothing more than memories to show for it.
However… the open interview time block was between noon and 4pm, and it turned out that the local branch for Monument was not too far away from where I lived, either. It would require me to go in the exact opposite direction of Burger Bill’s and extend my “stroll” into a veritable journey once again, but it wasn’t beyond my means. It was just a matter of deciding whether it was worthwhile. Was it worth delaying my completionist run more than it had to be?
A quick glance outside showed that the sky was covered in gloomy overcast of mottled greys. Branches swayed only ever so slightly in the mild breeze, and—although the day was unhappy—it did not seem likely for rain to follow too soon. Couple everything with the spring temperature and it did not seem as though the weather could get much better than this; if ever there was a time for me to go, it would be today.
=====
By the time the building began to come into view, I had already had a good forty minutes to build up my expectations. Was it as ostentatious as the game’s logo was, vibrant and colorful to stand out in the crowd? Perhaps a modern marvel of engineering, just as the game itself was touted to be? Forward-thinking, relying on solar energy to power itself? A building could very well be a representation of the people inside, after all, and I couldn’t help wondering just how Monument decided to show itself to the rest of the world.
Once I arrived, however, I had to double-check just to make sure I’d gotten the correct address. Walls of simple, unadorned white greeted me from every side, and there wasn’t even a logo at front to showcase its owner. A pair of sliding glass doors and a few windows here and there was all that broke the monotony by allowing for glances inside, but even the interior seemed just as insipid as the ex-. The only impressive feature of the building was its raw size, and it quite frankly looked more suitable to be a warehouse than the branch building of a name-brand company.
Another check with the address assured me that this was the correct place, though, and I’d already walked all the way here….
Unlike the restaurants and shops I’d been to before, there was no chime when I walked past the sliding doors, nothing to alert anybody of my presence. The lobby was spotless, the walls lined with a few waiting-room chairs while a prominent front desk presented itself near the back of the room proper. The room all but begged to be filled with people and had seemed designed with that very intent in mind, yet it was bizarrely vacant.
Vacant, yet peaceful.
My shoes lightly squeaked against the (newly waxed?) floor, hands drawing my light jacket closer to my body as I stepped towards that desk. My eyes drew along every inch of the walls, and aside from an analog clock ticking away just above the counter itself, there wasn’t an inch of decoration. Even once I’d reached it, I milled around a bit in mild wonder, curious to see if I was being observed from elsewhere and another would come out to greet me anytime now.
Yet the clock clicked onward without sight of another occupant. One question was answered, but my curiosity only grew; was this not actually the time for the open interviews? I reached out and tapped the buzzer to more formally announce my presence before leaning in against the desk, idly watching the time without anything else to draw my attention.
Although the room had been empty and the building looked practically deserted, it was somewhat surprising that I was not made to wait long; before even a full minute had passed, the sound of hurried footsteps began to echo out from one of the doors at the back corner of the room, followed shortly after by company. She was slightly out of breath, her head bowed at a mild angle as she moved towards the other side of the desk.
Lengthy black hair had been pulled up into a ponytail at the back, and although I couldn’t immediately get a glance at her eyes, once she sat down I was afforded a look to their dark cerulean blues. A white blouse was coupled with a light black business jacket, and the way it was buttoned at her front emphasized her modest chest. The lengthy skirt she was wearing—the same color as her jacket—seemed to flirt with the eye as well, and even though there wasn’t any skin exposed, it still flowed with her movements in an attention-grabbing manner.
A faint color of red had since settled to her cheeks: embarrassment for a slight I wasn’t particularly concerned about. Really, it was impressive that she had managed to get here so quickly in the first place, and even if she wasn’t silently pleading at me with her eyes not to ask any questions, I wasn’t about to start prying after being on my feet for so long.
“Sorry about the wait,” another bow of her head followed her apology despite my decidedly neutral expression. “Welcome to Monument Gaming, where a vibrant world of fantasy and adventure is only a few steps away! How can I help you?”
Yep, this was the right place, and the copy-pasted introduction definitely seemed to align with a company’s methodology. Perhaps not quite as professional in some areas, but I wasn’t looking to be their business partner, just check in on a potential opportunity. “I was informed that there were open interviews scheduled for today?”
The woman’s face went blank for a moment, her eyes blinking several times before she glanced back up to the clock and back to me, not even bothering to hide her troubled expression. “That’s right, from noon ‘til four.” The words came out with some hesitation and uncertainty before she looked away from me entirely, shifting her focus upon the computer before her instead. “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get you in one today, but maybe. Name and handle?”
My brow raised of its own accord at that, eyes returning towards the time. It was only 2:24; I could understand not being able to get me in immediately, but why “today”? I knew I was effectively unhireable, but I’d been holding a small ember of hope that something like this would be different for me. Nonetheless, I kept my expression relatively even as I regarded her, already working to smother some of the kindlings of interest I’d had beforehand. “Brendan Schutts. Moth.”
A nod followed, her fingers preparing to click away at the keyboard before stopping, looking to me with that same apologetic expression before I preempted her question—“With an ‘e’ and an ‘a’. Last is spelled S-C-H-U-T-T-S.”—and she returned to her task, cheeks once again faintly colored in self-admonishment. Seems she was likely new to this job.
“Ok. Moth, then?” she echoed, glancing to me once more as she overlooked the information, a newly speculative expression joining the others she had shown me. “Most of the interviewers have already left for the day, but I might be able to get you in anyway. Gimme a sec.”
… Mm? Just what had she seen on that screen of hers for her tune to change so quickly?
The secretary tap-tapped away while I silently watched on close by, my fingers lightly drumming upon the wood while she apparently checked and verified… whatever it was. It wasn’t too obvious what she had to look up, of course, especially since I had arrived at the right place, the right time, and had been all but invited besides.
A phone call even got involved near the end, as did the words “medium-high priority”, likely in reference to me. It caught my attention, but once again I didn’t go out of my way to pry any further than necessary, simply waiting patiently while we both pretended she wasn’t in clear earshot and I wasn’t eavesdropping every word. Or maybe she genuinely didn’t know; I had the feeling she might have said something I shouldn’t have heard.
Once everything was said and done, though, she returned her attention to me with the beaming smile of someone who had just managed to overcome a particularly challenging trial, filled with good cheer while her earlier unprofessionalism and embarrassment was left completely forgotten. “Matt said he’ll interview you in room A206,” she began, pointing to the same door she had arrived from before. “Go through there into the hallway. Sixth door on the right; you can’t miss it.”
With my requisite nod and a simple thank you, I left her to her station and stepped past the door into the hallway. The corridor was just as expansive as the rest of the building had been, each door accompanied by several meters of distance between them and enough space to fit a genuine crowd without many difficulties. So much vacant space felt just as abnormal here as it had in the lobby, and the pathway seemed to stretch on without end. Each door had a sticker pushed against the front with their numbers on it, and true enough I managed to reach A206 right where the secretary had told me it was, its designation taped on crookedly to the side.
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Not quite what I expected from a large gaming company.
A light knock on the door was answered by a gruff “come in”, and so I did exactly that, pushing my way from the barren hallway and into a room just as lacking. No ornamentation, no color, and— if it weren’t for another desk and a few chairs—no furnishings, either.
The voice’s owner stared me down from the other side of his little wooden island within the featureless sea, and I could tell right away that we would get along just fine. Sure, the man was built like a barroom bouncer and looked at me like he was considering how best to break me over his knee, but it was refreshing to find somebody who didn’t hide himself behind a veneer of forced politeness despite his obligations otherwise.
He motioned towards the uncomfortable-looking chair opposite him with his meaty hand and I unhurriedly complied, setting myself in the seat with my hands folded in my lap. A neutral silence settled naturally between us as I idly studied his features and waited while he cycled through his computer and flipped through a folder settled close by, neither of us seeming inclined to break our natural tendencies. He eventually pulled out a sheet in particular and set it before him, the click of a pen resounding out as he readied it, voice following shortly after, “So... Brendan, right? Or would you prefer Moth?”
A simple first question deserving of a simple answer; a nod of mine chased after his curiosity. “That’s me. Though yes, I’d prefer to go by Moth.”
The man gave a humored snort at that, his free hand moving to jut a thumb in against his chest as he grinned. “Fair ‘nuff. Name’s Matt, but you can just call me Admin, M, or even Admin M if you’re feelin’ particularly fancy.” The man truly wore his emotions on his sleeves, and one minute he’d been plotting my demise and the next he was chatting with me like a friend. “So you decided you wanted to be a part of Monument Gaming after all, eh? Yer a bit late, but that might not be too big an issue.”
Just like Matt didn’t hold back his expressions with me, neither did I bother hiding mine with him; mild bouts of curiosity flickered on my face, and I glanced to the papers settled on the desk before he answered. “You got yourself an impressive list here, Moth. Haven’t heard of ya, personally, but looks like you did a lot, eh?” the man asked before tapping at the folder in question, “In Aurora. You’re a real No-Lifer.”
I bristled at that, my brows curving sharply on my face. It wasn’t a term that was unfamiliar to me, but it certainly wasn’t something I wanted to hear after going out of my way to come here; I’d gotten more than enough of the chastisement at home. “Maybe, but at least I can fix that pretty easily,” my words spilled free of their own accord, each syllable holding a notably acerbic tint, “For you to be interviewing a No-Lifer like me, your own life must have fallen into the gutter years ago. I doubt there’s a “Mrs. Admin M” waiting for you outside of VR.”
That certainly earned a reaction, and the friendliness that had been slowly acclimating itself to his face was replaced by the “I’ll break you over my knee” expression he had had at the very start. He glared at me and I returned that glare in full force; if this was the kind of bullshit I’d have to put up with here, I’d be no better off than if I were elsewhere. The sound of his meaty finger tapping on the wooden top grew more pronounced as his anger grew fiercer, and just when it seemed as though the interview would come to an end then and there, he burst out into laughter.
The tension seemed to drain from him completely in that moment, and with it so did my own, my face returning once again to its more neutral—albeit wary—state. “Looks like the bug has some fangs, eh? Well, no matter!” The man’s hand shot forward like a runaway train, his fingers outstretched not so far from my chest as he held it out in an expectant manner. “Ya, ain’ got anybody waiting for me anywhere other than here and Aurora, ya got me. Rare to be bitten by someone that ain’ even a qualified newbie, but I give ya credit.”
Ah, a handshake. My own hand rose up to greet his, and I was made all too aware that his muscle wasn’t purely for show; with only a few seconds’ grip, the tips of my fingers had gone numb and prickles of pain asserted themselves up to my wrist before he’d released me. Worse still, it looked completely effortless on his part, and I couldn’t tell if it was intended to be a warning or it was just the force he used by default.
“So Moth, it says here ya chronicled almost the entire bestiary and even had a hand in the world map we were using before the end? Cartography? Exploration? Even some guides?” Admin asked as he drew his attention back to the folder, flipping lightly through it to pull out specific points. “Connectivity time upwards of a hundred twenty-five hours per week. Forum karma of around twenty-two to one, positive to negative. Top hundred in total experience gained… honestly, ya didn’t seem like the other superstars we managed to pick up, but I can see why the boss wants you on board.”
Ah, that explained the secretary’s change in demeanor not so long ago. Still, all of this was a bit exaggerated. “I haven’t made any maps myself, I just corrected some here and there. Besides, with the bestiary, it was mainly others that recorded them first. I just verified and discovered a few more details to add to their work.” I couldn’t account for the forum karma, but that number seemed somewhat plausible; since I didn’t say much, it was difficult for me to get involved in disputes that would negatively impact my forum reputation, and it was hard for others to justify downvoting posts that only clarified facts.
“Uh huh. I see,” Admin nodded lightly to himself, scribbling some notes down on the paper he’d pulled out for himself earlier. “No involvement in any guilds, though. No real popularity, not even some arena awards. I’m not sure how ya managed it, Moth, but I’ve never even heard of ya until today, despite this list. Frankly, if I wasn’t sure of my source, I’d say none of this ever happened.” The man smirked at me with a familiarity I didn’t feel in kind, my brows creasing with growing agitation. Sure, my achievements were being blown out of proportion, but it’s not like I spent those hours online twiddling my thumbs; that this was hard for him to believe just showed how little Admin actually did during his own time.
Before I had the opportunity to sting my tongue with a response once more, Admin preempted me with a wave of his hand, his own gruff voice pushing matters along, “What would ya say your strongest area was in Aurora?” he queried, his hand moving up to idly rub at the scraggle forming at his chin. “Assumin’ ya could play it all day every day just like ya were before—and get paid for it—what would ya do?”
… Where was I strongest? What would I do? Two tough questions at once pushed my agitation elsewhere for the sake of genuine curiosity, my gaze drawing up towards the plain white ceiling as I gave it genuine consideration. “I’m not certain, really. I guess I did a little bit of everything and didn’t focus much. I just sort of...—””
“—lived your life freely?” he cut in, finishing my sentence for me when it seemed as though I’d drawn a blank. “We get those kinds of people, too. Some go into it with a goal, with an expectation, and others jus’ pick a random direction and keep on walkin’.” His eyes dipped away from mine at that, his pen once more scribbling into the paper while I was left to silently contemplate upon those words. What he said wasn’t entirely false, but there was something that didn’t entirely sit well with me within it.
“I think I just never found it.” The words had come slowly, tentatively, the tone just as uncertain as the contents themselves were. “I think I just never found out what I wanted to do. So I did everything.”
Silence settled again, Admin watching me speculatively while I shifted my attention to the side. It was somewhat galling to admit to it, to admit that despite having played the beta for two years and putting so much time, effort, and energy into the game throughout its incarnation, this was a question I couldn’t answer. How could I have not found my own little place, my own niche? How could I have not determined what I was after? I’d dabbled in a great number of things, explored and discovered, but no true passion had overtaken me even to the very end, had it?
“Well, we get those kinds of people as well,” Admin eventually chimed in, writing down some final notes on the paper before nodding to himself at last. The atmosphere had become more serious with the most recent questions, and even Admin seemed to be sobered up compared to before. “What kind of hours would you be available for work, assuming you got the job? There’s a few more positions open and some variety in them, but it would suck to put you on midnight only to find out you’re allergic to nightshift.”
“Ah, I’m pretty much available whenever.” This question was much easier than the last two and it came freely. There was no point in trying to act coy with it, either; he’d read out the kind of hours I played, so he was likely already aware and just looking for the official response. “I don’t have any other obligations.”
Another nod at that, another brief checkmark before Admin pulled a sheet of paper from the folder and began filling it in as well. Every so often he would glance up from the form to give his computer some attention, his eyes flickering across the screen with interest before returning the pen to paper anew, a few more scribbles appearing for his efforts. This went on for several lingering moments, although the lack of visible clock on the walls kept me clueless for exactly how long; all I could do was twiddle my thumbs in wait.
“Here.” After Admin tore off an attached copy for his own purposes, he finally passed the paper to me so that I could see the fruits of his handiwork. His name, my name, a few numbers and checked boxes, but even more eye-catching was his signature at the very bottom, flowing from one side to the other in a very ostentatious manner. “Orientation will be this Thursday. If you still want a job here by then, show up here by 4pm, though I suggest you get here earlier than that. Show this paper to the receptionist and she’ll show you where you have to go.”
I blinked at that, my eyes scanning over the paper with incredulity. An hour ago, I had turned in an application at a place I wanted nothing to do with, yet now I was being given an opportunity I had once dismissed as too good to be true. My attention was once more drawn to Admin, a single brow raised, my face full of questions and uncertainty. ‘Did I hear you correctly?’ my expression asked what my voice would not, ‘Not another interview, but a job outright?’
To my unspoken queries, Admin simply waved his meaty hand towards the door, dismissing me without a shred of either duplicity or further interest. “If yer late, don’t blame me if we kick you out and lock the doors. I’m givin’ ya a job here, make sure you manage ta keep it.”
Still unable to shake the uncertainty from my body, I was a bit sluggish in rising from my chair, my expression taking on pensive casts as though uncertain what kind of reaction was called for with the news. “Oh, and tell Claire to get me some coffee while you’re out there.” Admin called out just before I shut the door behind me, likely referencing the receptionist-secretary I had met in the lobby earlier.
The hallway was just as plain as before, but I could already begin to feel it growing on me—even if just a little bit—as my footsteps echoed off the bare walls. Even the near-empty lobby had a bit more vibrancy and color than when I had first seen it, and my pace was a touch more vigorous when I moved towards the counter and informed the newly dissatisfied Claire of Admin’s latest request.
The spring weather outside seemed warmer, too, though that could have easily been attributed to me growing accustomed to the temperature indoors in that span between. The return home was every bit the enjoyable stroll I had once used only in sarcastic reference.
It wasn’t until I arrived at the house that I tucked the paper away, hiding it from view. My thoughts were aswirl with the possibilities to come and I was not in a condition to properly break the news to them right now. I knew how they’d react, I knew they’d shower me with positivity and praise for it, and I also knew that if they did that, I would get sucked into the cheer. I could feel my mouth splitting into a grin even before I’d even ascended the stairs, and by the time I’d placed the paper front and center on the desk beside my computer screen, the shock began to slowly ebb away while excitement filled in the cracks.
The orientation was three days from now. Three days would be plenty to inform my parents what was likely to be my new employment status and to ensure I had everything else set in place to show up on time with all of my affairs in order. I could even do a little bit more research on Aurora on the side, really, or start recording some of the information I had gleaned from before. My general contributions to the forums had improved Admin’s perception of me, right? Perhaps I’ll be doing something similar in a more official manner; perhaps my name would be highlighted in the red of a moderator, lending me the credibility and weight of a legitimate staff-member.
Rather than go to my computer as I was so wont to do otherwise, this time I simply moved to collapse onto my bed and pulled the blankets over my fully-clothed form. The pleasure and satisfaction coursing through me was similar to the time I’d entered Aurora for the first time, and I wanted to savor the moment without distraction for as long as I could.