Enmei felt pressure build in his ears as the elevator he was in accelerated upwards. Ten seconds, twenty floors. The company’s Human Resources Department occupied the entirety of the 78th floor, which meant it would be under half a minute until Enmei reached his destination. He spent that time fidgeting with his tie – though the knot, his collar, jacket, and any other aspects of his appearance were already as crisp as could be. Still he fidgeted, if only to keep his mind off of what was up there.
Enmei was seventeen, a senior in Japan’s Toin Academy, but he had outrun the school curriculum three years ago. The only thing holding him back from university was that the academy hadn’t allowed him to skip grades. He was not applying for a job, though with his perfect academic record and assortment of awards and recognitions, Enmei had no doubt they would jump at the chance to offer him an internship if he only asked. But no. He was here for a different, special position.
Babylonia International was today in 2103 the world’s foremost tech conglomerate. Last Enmei checked, their market cap was listed at over seven trillion. Their simple crescent moon logo was printed across most every computer and datapad produced in the last twenty years. They had subsidiaries across the globe, but the beating heart of their operations was Babylon Tower, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo. This was the Babylon Tower which Enmei ascended through now.
Though it was called a tower, it was a veritable city unto itself. Its lower floors expanded outward into the ward in a massive complex of metal, concrete, and glass. Those lower levels had full public access, filled with restaurants, cafes, clothing and convenience stores, and everything else required of a consumerist paradise. But from the 21st floor up, access was restricted to corporate employees. Employee apartments lined the sides of the Tower, such that any in the company had almost no need to travel outside of the Tower’s complex. Enmei’s admittance into the Tower proper would be considered a massive accomplishment by most. Tokyo University offered specialized courses made to train candidates in Babylonia’s hiring pool, but only a fraction of those students were even offered a chance at an interview.
The elevator chimed its arrival on the 78th floor, and Enmei exhaled sharply before striding out into the lobby. At the head of the lobby sat a secretary behind a wide, semicircular desk, and beyond him stretched rows of cubicle glass offices, most of them opaqued for privacy.
Enmei’s shoes clacked against the cold flagstones as he approached the secretary’s desk. The man didn’t look up from his screens.
“Appointment?” he said.
“Yes. With Dr. Campbell, office 352. Our appointment is for 6:00.”
“Akasaki Enmei?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Campbell is out right now, but she’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ve opened her office for you, so you can wait for her inside.”
“Thank you.”
Enmei moved past the secretary’s desk into the rows of offices. He supposed this is where most of the hiring was done, in floor-to-ceiling glass rooms. The offices he could see into were empty, which probably meant they opaqued themselves automatically when their assigned employee walked in. Or was there a control within the office? It was an eerie feeling – there must have been over a thousand people on this massive floor, yet it felt completely isolated. That was probably the point. With nothing outside the office worthy of your attention, all you had to focus on was work.
He passed no one on his short walk to office 352. He reached for the touchpad on the clear glass door to the office, but the door flicked green and opened inward without even a prompt. Enmei let himself in, glanced around awkwardly, and settled into a chair across from Dr. Campbell’s desk. There he waited, heart beating softly.
It was ten minutes before a white woman in a dark blue Babylonia uniform nudged open the door again, stirring coffee in a paper cup. She looked at Enmei with confusion, then set her coffee down and settled into her own vinyl swivel chair. The glass walls began to opaque themselves. Biometric detection then? Enmei hadn’t seen her touch anything other than the door.
“You’re . . . Enmei Akasaki,” she said in English. “I recognize your face. However, I have no recollection of scheduling an appointment with you. Oh, and you’re fine with English, yes?”
“Of course, Doctor,” Enmei said, then cringed at his own accent. “I . . . um . . . I’ll try to make it short, but . . . um . . . my father was a member of Babylonia’s private military before he died. He had a number of friends within the company himself, so I contacted–”
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“So this is an interview? You pulled strings to get an interview with me?”
“I . . . um, yes. You weren’t informed?”
“No, I wasn’t. But that’s no matter. What is this about? Do you want a position secured at in the Tower? If so, you needn’t have gone to such lengths. With your skills, you would have easily aced a legitimate interview.”
Enmei had to admit he was surprised to find she knew of him. Why she knew, he couldn’t be sure, but if she already understood his talents then that could be put to Enmei’s advantage.
“I’m sorry. No. This isn’t about a position at the company.” Enmei took a deep breath. “It’s about Heaven’s Program.”
In 2084, in cooperation with spaceflight companies and massive federal funding from several governments, Babylonia had established a permanent corporate research facility on the Moon. They called it Babylon Station, but it had become colloquially known as Heaven. Along with several other international moon bases, it now acted as the frontier for planetary colonization in the solar system. Now, Babylonia was offering an academic program there.
Dr. Campbell’s eyebrows rose a touch. “Really now? I hadn’t realized Heaven’s Program had reached public ears. How did you hear about it?”
“A friend.”
“Then that friend must have told you that the candidates for Heaven’s Program have already been chosen.”
“I know.”
“Then you must know that each of the prospective candidates weren’t chosen off interviews.”
“I know.”
“And you must know that each of those candidates are prodigies, who at the same age as yourself are attending top universities across the world. Who are discussing with professors twice, three times their age and are matching them in their intellect.”
Enmei’s gaze was locked to Dr. Campbell’s. Neither broke eye contact. Heaven’s Program was an opportunity for rising prodigies to travel to Babylon Station, to Heaven itself, and be trained by Babylonia’s leading scientists so that they might one day contribute to humanity’s future amongst the stars. “I know all this. But I believe the program can make an exception. And I believe I can convince you that I am worthy of membership to the program.”
Dr. Campbell barked a sharp laugh. “You? Who had to use your father’s connections to get here and speak to me.”
“I didn’t have any other way of proving myself.”
“Sure you did. It’s just that you already failed.” Campbell leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You were a prospective candidate, Enmei. I directed recruitment for Heaven’s Program personally, as you must know, and I took my job in finding the perfect candidates very seriously. I was appointed to this position because the Head Scientist in Babylon Station believed that there was no one better at analyzing people. I have analyzed you, Enmei. Very thoroughly. I’ve looked into your academic records, your awards, your childhood. You’re hardworking, charismatic, talented in every way. A 98 on the national college exams when you were thirteen, perfect scores every year since. But of course, academics are just the surface.”
She took a sip of her coffee before continuing on. “I know, for example, that your father wasn’t just part of Babylonia’s militia, he was Drop-Squad Special Forces, and that he died in a drone strike when you were eight.”
Enmei’s heart sank at this. She hadn’t just heard of him and taken a cursory glance at his profile. She knew him well. Too well. He had planned to talk about the things they wouldn’t have seen. But with the mention of his father, everything Enmei had prepared to say to the doctor shattered in his mind. He finally broke eye contact with her, his gaze falling to the glassy floor beneath his feet.
“I know about your mother’s suicide shortly afterward.”
“Stop.”
“And I’ve read your psychiatric records. I know about your mental health and the trauma their deaths caused you. And let me say, you are incredible for carrying on this far.”
“Please stop.”
“But there are times when perseverance isn’t enough. Intelligence isn’t enough. When the talent of others simply outshines your own.”
Enmei’s fists trembled, clenching the fabric of his dress pants. He did not cry. He would not cry. His eyes were locked firmly on the reflection in the sleek, polished floor between his legs. That figure would not cry.
“I have no doubt that you will do great things in your life. But you have nothing new to tell me. I have taken all of you into account. You are special, Enmei. Just not special enough. You’re not going to Heaven.”
Silence followed. After a moment, Dr. Campbell sat back in her chair. Enmei took this as his cue to leave. As he made for the door, Campbell turned and spoke. “What makes you long for Heaven so badly, anyways? It’s not like there will be any shortage of opportunity in your life.”
“I know,” Enmei said, pushing open the door. “The truth is I don’t care about Heaven, or the program itself. It’s just that . . . there’s someone I’ve always aspired to stand beside. That’s all.”