Chapter Nine: I’ve Already Waited Too Long
March 25, 2003
Silver City, NM
“Nice to see you remembered where the office is.” The sarcastic quip greeted Marc as he found his way to his cubicle.
Marc turned and saw the team lead leaning against the wall under the intraday monitors. As their eyes met, the man’s demeanor shifted. He let out his breath while averting his gaze.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that. That was wrong. It was just…” Ryan stammered. Marc raised his head and shook his head, letting the man know that no offense was taken.
“Seriously, that was a stupid joke. I’m sorry… about your dad… I mean… I’m sorry for your loss Marc. You doing okay?”
Marc really wasn’t bothered. He realized that although he had honestly despised this man just days ago, he no longer cared. Not about him, nor any of the bullies he had met throughout his life, the other kids in school, teachers, or relatives. None of that stuff bothered him in the slightest anymore. It was petty, insignificant stuff. He smiled reassuringly at Ryan.
“I’m good. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for asking. Everything here going okay?” He reached his fist out.
A mix of surprise and relief washed over the other man’s face as he met Marc’s hand and bumped it with his own.
“Uh. Yeah. Actually, volume has been pretty low. The war and everything. I guess people aren’t playing games now. Everyone is plastered to CNN 24–7.
Marc nodded as he walked over to his desk, put his bag down, and reached around the back of his workstation to turn it on.
“You sure you are okay? I mean, if you want to take some more time off, we’re basically overstaffed anyway. I can ask HR to extend your bereavement leave. It’s paid so-“
Marc shook his head, cutting him off.
“It’s fine. Really. Dad’s lawyer took care of everything. How about you? Any word on deployment?”
Ryan cheered up a bit. “Oh, nah. It’s good. They said probably nothing anytime soon. Have you seen the coverage? They are taking down Baghdad with air strikes. It might even be all over in a couple of weeks. Kind of a letdown. Bet we never mobilize at all.” He said looking considerably more confident than he had a week ago.
Marc’s computer had finished booting up, so he started logging into his tools. Ryan stepped back, but then came back and grasped Marc’s shoulder.
“Anyway, good to have you back. Let me know if you need anything. And again, sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. Let’s grab a coffee later. Cool?” Marc smiled. Was it really this easy? He chastised his younger self for his inability to avoid so many pointless arguments and problems.
Ryan nodded and went back to his desk.
The work was indeed very light. Not just that day, but for the next week, calls continued to slow down and work became mostly just sitting at his desk waiting for a call to come in.
By the second week of April, on the same day that the news broadcast images of a statue of the Iraqi dictator being torn off its pedestal in the center of Baghdad, the news also carried another small and mostly ignored story. The creators of the online game that Marc supported had declared bankruptcy and the game was shutting down.
Calls started to pour into the support line almost immediately. After two days of packed queues of people demanding refunds, or at least some information about what was going on, management made the decision. The call center was shutting down and everyone would be laid off. Effective immediately.
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Marc got the news over the phone. An HR rep called him and let him know the situation, thanked him for his work, and told him that he could come by the office and pick up his things and final check at the security desk. His unemployment information and COBRA application would be mailed to him at his current address.
Marc pondered whether it was worth the drive just to pick up the check, it was probably only a hundred bucks or so. In the end he decided to just go. It’s not like he had anything else to do that day.
When he reached the parking lot, he immediately regretted that decision. There was a line of people at the door, and none of them looked the least bit happy or calm.
As he got out of his car, he spotted Ryan and walked over to his former superior.
“This is Bullshit!” Ryan spat when he saw Marc walking over.
“This is how they fire us? No respect at all for us as human beings? For all the time we have put into this company?” He practically screamed and several other people started to move over towards them, while others quietly moved away.
It soon became clear that two groups were gathering in that parking lot. Former employees and former customers. The tension started to rise as the two groups started to gather around the entrance.
Marc moved closer to the building and could see that the entrance was locked and all the security guards were standing inside the lobby.
It wasn’t long before people started to pound on the doors, but there was no reaction at all from the guards inside.
Sensing what was coming, Marc grabbed Ryan by the elbow and pulled him back away from the building.
“We should move away from the building for a bit. I think things might be going south.” He said.
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At first, Ryan seemed angry at Marc’s suggestion, but a few moments later they both watched as several patrol cars pulled into the parking lot.
“Let’s meet up at the Denny’s,” Marc said and walked over to his car.
Ryan looked back at the building, then at the police diving right up to the front of the building, lights now starting to flash. He scowled and then jogged over to his own car.
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“I asked Larry about this just last week. He said there was no problem. He said even if they shut down the game there would be another contract soon enough and I might even be able to apply for a management role.” Ryan was fuming over his cup of diner coffee. Larry was the Operations manager and Ryan’s direct boss.
Marc wasn’t sure why he had pulled Ryan away from the building. After all, He had been the one responsible for Marc’s firing just a few weeks ago. In the other life that is. It just felt like the right thing to do. If he could save this person some trouble, it’s not like it cost him anything to do it.
“Now the whole center is getting shut down. I heard the bosses are all moving back to the corporate HQ in Utah, Larry included. Asshole didn’t even have the guts to call me and tell me directly.” Marc had to put some effort into not smirking at that admission. Instead, he just nodded and sipped from his own cup of coffee.
“What are you going to do?” The question caught Marc off guard.
“Hmm. Not sure. Maybe go back to school. I’m getting some insurance money so I’m okay for now.” Marc admitted.
“You’re lucky… Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean-“ Ryan apologized.
“It’s okay.” Marc cut him off. “I get it. We’re all kind of stressed now. What about you?”
“I could always transfer to active duty, but the timing is pretty bad now. That’s just begging to be deployed.” He transitioned back to his own story seamlessly.
“I have a cousin who told me awhile ago I can help him with predator hunting. Money isn’t great, but I got my Designated Marksman certificate so I should be able to pick up some contracts with a few ranches.”
Marc was intrigued when the other man mentioned the word “hunter.”
“What’s that? A predator hunter?” He asked.
“You know, you hunt coyotes and wildcats in the hills. Keep them away from the ranches. They pay a bounty, or when things get bad they’ll even hire you to patrol the property. You ever do any hunting before?” He asked skeptically.
Marc thought about how to respond.
“A bit. Some bow hunting when I was a kid.” He settled on that.
“Bow hunting? Seriously? Were you any good? Well, not that it matters. Can’t hunt coyotes with a bow. Gotta use a rifle.”
Marc nodded. He had heard about coyote hunters before, but didn’t know it was an actual job. It was a piece of information that he would think over. Most of his memories from the other world were useless. There was no magic here, and the languages, history, and culture of the other world were nothing but fantasy, He did remember some things that were more practical, such as hunting and survival techniques, as well as some crafting and smithing.
“Hey, think you can teach me a bit about hunting? I haven’t fired a gun since I played around with a .22 when I was kid though.” Marc asked.
Ryan was surprised by the request but seemed open to it. They agreed to meet up at a range sometime to see if Marc could handle a rifle.
They stayed there for another hour, talking about unimportant things and office gossip, until Marc said he was going to head back home.
“I’m going back to the office to see if things have settled down. You want me to try and pick up your check for you?” Ryan asked.
While Marc considered it, Ryan added, “I’d need to take your badge to hand it in. They always swap your check for your badge. That’s how they do it.”
Marc remembered his ID badge. The thought brought back a flood of memories. Of all the things Marc took with him to the other world, nothing had ended up being as important as that badge. Of course, It had not been his real badge. He had turned in his old badge when he got fired.
He took the ID out of the pocket of his hoodie and turned it over in his hand. This was the same badge he had always used at the office. Not the one that mysteriously appeared along with his other possessions when he transferred to the other world. Still…
“You know, I think I want to hang on to this. Kinda feel attached to it after all this time, you know?” He said.
“Well, they are not going to give you your last paycheck without it. You know what? Who cares. It’s not like the office is staying open anyway. Keep it if you want. It’s your money.” Ryan pulled out his own badge and flipped it over as if considering keeping it as well, then shook his head and stuck it back into his jacket pocket.
As he pulled back onto the highway and drove North toward his home, Marc pulled out the badge again and glanced at it. It looked perfectly normal. He didn’t feel any energy or power coming from it all. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t something special about it.
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In the end, Shiela came through like a hero. She took care of the insurance payments, outstanding contracts, and the sale of his father’s truck. Within a month, a ridiculous sum of money had been deposited into his account. An accounting firm took care of the taxes so Marc didn’t have to worry about anything else.
The one point that Shiela kept nagging him about was the investment issue. She kept pushing him to allow her to invest at least some of his money in mutual funds, or money markets so that it could generate enough interest and dividends to pay him a living wage without having to touch the principle.
Marc was adamant on that point, however. As he adjusted to life back in his old world, he found he wished to follow the tenets of the Path even more. It created a connection between his two lives that helped him maintain his balance.
They finally reached a compromise, with him agreeing to find some real estate to invest in. He was more than happy to get away from the noisy trailer park that had been his home for his entire life, even if it meant losing his only physical ties to both of his parents.
He also contacted WNMU and found out that he could easily re-register as a student for the fall semester by paying a small fee to return from leave. With both work and money taken care of, he decided to go ahead and try it out for a while.
He was also intrigued by his conversation with Ryan. While he wasn’t overly eager to hunt wild animals, He did want to see what the limit was for bringing the knowledge and experiences of his other life into his current one.
With a plan starting to form, Marc had one more idea he wanted to look into. He did some research and stopped by the Chamber of Commerce to get help. In the end, they were able to point him to a few candidates for what he was looking for.
Marc pulled up to a small house on the outskirts of the city. It was an old building with a large yard. Aside from a couple of trees and bushes, he noticed a few unusual objects scattered throughout the property. The largest was a life-sized statue of a Mexican grey wolf, beautifully crafted out of metal, as were the dozen other statues.
Marc walked up to the front door and knocked. While waiting for an answer he heard a loud noise coming from behind the house. He walked around and saw a figure standing in the middle of the garage. It was an older man, Asian, with a thin build, short-cut white hair, and a tidy beard. He wore sunglasses to protect his eyes as he pounded on a red-hot piece of metal with a large hammer.
Noticing Marc, he nodded and spoke in a soft but confident voice.
“Just a second. This is the tricky part.”
After pounding on the metal for another minute, the man lifted his glasses to examine his work. Smiling, he carried it over to a large bucket where he gently lowered it, resulting in an eruption of smoke. He took the metal out again and laid it back on the anvil. Setting down his tools, he took off his gloves and approached Marc.
“Hi there, how can I help ya?” He addressed Marc.
“Hi, I heard that you do traditional blacksmithing?” He asked.
“Sure! You lookin for something in particular?” The old man walked over to a mini refrigerator in the garage and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and a couple of small cups.
“Have a drink?” He said, filling both cups without waiting for an answer.
“Thanks,” Marc said, accepting the cup and taking a sip. “Nice.” He said graciously.
“Actually, I’m not looking to buy anything.” He admitted.
The man smiled and nodded patiently.
“I was wondering if you took in students.”