“So,” the woman sitting across from Sepeti said, drawing the word out much longer than was necessary. “You are Mr. Sepeti, correct? I’m saying that correctly, right?”
Sepeti nodded as he fixated on the way she spoke. It was slow and drawn out. Every word was stretched to its utmost. She made one syllable sound like three. And it was already grating on his nerves. He pinched his thigh and tried to sneakily regulate his breathing. If he lingered on her speech pattern for too long it would make this ‘interview’ unbearable. He dug his finger into his thigh and twisted, focusing on the pain so he could concentrate on the nitty gritty of the conversation rather than the woman’s languid speech.
“Excellent, you are currently under the care of the Congregants of the Sun’s chirurgeons, yes?”
He nodded again, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman’s. Something about her eyes made him unwilling to look away. They were a deep dark brown, nothing special in his experience, but they held power. She reminded him of the bureaucrats of ‘Oseni, people who were described as ‘old power.’ They, and possibly she, were people who had been in power for so long that they didn’t know how to speak to others other than speaking down the length of their noses.
It would have angered him, being spoken down to, but he recognized that maybe this was just a first impression gone awry and he was projecting past insecurities onto a person he barely knew. Sepeti was well aware of his penchant for clinging to preconceived notions that he himself had built. And he decided he would work on this flaw. Eventually.
“Your paperwork doesn’t state where you’re from. Can you explain why?”
“I don’t remember,” Sepeti began slowly, mimicking the woman’s speech. “All I know is that I was involved in a magical accident and ended up in the desert where the healers found me.”
Before being wheeled into the conference room, Sepeti had been pulled aside by Gran for a little primer. The giant had reiterated the point about avoiding any mention of his being an Offworlder. The giant had also provided him with a cover story that sounded semi-plausible. When Sepeti had asked about the interview process Gran had simply smiled and told him to enjoy the experience. Whatever the giant’s intentions were, they were currently aligned with keeping Sepeti’s true status and information under wraps and he saw some benefit in following the large man’s plan.
“Interesting,” his interviewer murmured as she scribbled something on a blank sheet of paper. “And how long have you been in Extuahal-Tol? Can you remember when you arrived?”
“From what the healers have said, I’ve been in their care for a couple weeks now.” Sepeti broke the stare down, more out of a need to look around the room than out of intimidation. Definitely because he wanted to absorb his surroundings.
Whoever had set up the conference room had done so tastefully. The desk that the woman occupied had its back against a large, lightly curtained window. It was made out of a dark wood that gleamed metallically under the setting sun’s orange gaze flooding in through the window. Uncomfortable looking chairs were neatly lined up against the walls of the room. Unable to help himself, he counted a total of twenty-four chairs. For whatever reason, he always felt compelled to count certain things when entering a new room and this was his third time counting them since arriving.
The woman was haloed in a ring of deep orange light, enhancing the imagined power imbalance that Sepeti had established in his head.
“Understandable.” The woman flipped a page of the neat little packet of papers. Rather than using her fingers to grip the page, she used her long nails. Sepeti got the feeling that, maybe, she didn’t like touching things. “Now, circling back, you’re absolutely sure you don’t remember anything from before your arrival? What do you remember?”
Sepeti twiddled his thumbs in his lap. He wasn’t nervous. No, not him. He just found speaking to strangers tiresome. Plus, she hadn’t even offered her name or her title. She had just launched right into an interview without even building rapport with him.
“Not much,” Sepeti said, scratching at an itch that had suddenly sprung up on the back of his neck. “I remember bright lights. Screaming. The sounds of fighting. Feeling unprepared. Those are the things that I remember from the dreams, anyway. The dreams are always the same, every night. But I don’t really get a whole lot from them. They don’t even really jog my memory, just bring up some feelings in my gut.”
Sepeti covered his face with a hand, bowed his head, and twisted his mouth in his approximation of pain. He wasn’t used to having to deceive people. He wasn’t used to interacting with people so often. So he wasn’t too sure what kind of face he was supposed to be making. How did one act distraught? Was he supposed to be confused or was he supposed to just act like nothing happened?
“Forgive me,” the woman said, speaking much slower than before. She actually sounded regretful. “I know it must be difficult to delve into, but I hope you understand that it’s part of the interview process. As such, I must continue to dig.”
Surprise wove through Sepeti as he realized what she was saying. He broke into a cold sweat as his mind churned, trying to nail his story down so she wouldn’t be able to poke too many holes in it. Good thing he’d kept the descriptions sparse or else he would have had to go into details he was nowhere near ready to dive into. If anything, he would try to ‘I don’t know’ his way through much of the interrogation. That would be his last line of defense.
“You said these memories, these feelings, come to you in dreams. And that they occur on a nightly basis. How much do you remember when you wake up?”
“Honestly,” Sepeti said, speaking with his hand covering his mouth. He still hadn’t made eye contact with the woman and he planned not to until the worst of the storm passed. “I don’t remember much. Just the feelings. I feel like I was running from something. Pain and fear stand out the most. And the voices usually stick with me when I wake up.”
The woman hummed in the affirmative as she jotted down notes on her piece of paper. That annoyed Sepeti, the way she was writing on a single sheet rather than using a notebook or a couple other papers to cushion her notes. Didn’t she know that writing against a hard surface made the words come out weird?
He mentally chastised himself as he forcibly pulled his attention back to the conversation. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander. Not right now and not for too long. It would only make things harder on him.
“If you can’t remember the contents of the dreams, how do you know that the same one occurs every night?”
Sepeti shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“I dunno, really. The feeling in my gut is always the same when I wake up. Like my insides have twisted in on themselves.”
The woman nodded and hummed again, scribbling more notes on her paper. The way she held the metal cylinder that acted as a pen was funny, in Sepeti’s mind. Her long nails all converged on a single point, allowing her to keep her fingers free of touching the pen while also giving her precise control of the utensil. He was impressed.
“In the past few days, how many times can you remember waking up with the same feeling?”
“Every day, honestly. The pain and anxiety is always there when I wake up. I know I remember flashes of the dream when I first awaken but I can never quite hold on to the details for longer than a few minutes. I’ve tried writing them down immediately after waking up but it usually comes out a jumbled mess.”
The woman was busy scribbling her notes the whole time Sepeti was struggling to make up his bullshit. He was thankful he didn’t have to look her in the eyes as he scrambled mentally. It would have probably caused him to forget where he was going with his spiel.
“Remind me, where did the chirurgeon’s find you?”
“The desert,” Sepeti answered truthfully. At least he didn’t have to lie about every single thing. But he was sure lies were going to spill out of his mouth more than truths. “They took me in and nursed me back to semi-health.”
“What condition did they find you in?”
“Almost dead, as far as what they told me. I was badly beaten and bruised, my ankle was broken, and I had lost an eye and a lot of blood.”
The scratching of the woman’s pen as she wrote began to grate on him. Anything to break up the oppressive silence between questions and answers would have been welcome. Even the Extuano’s odd speech pattern would have been preferable. Maybe.
“Alright, alright,” the woman murmured before looking up and catching his eye just before he quickly averted his gaze. “As far as your memory can go, what is your earliest memory?”
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“Well, uh,” Sepeti scratched his head as he attempted to look confused by the question. “I remember waking up in the healer’s sick bay. They had me laid out in a bed and strapped down, for my own safety.”
“What else? Nothing before that? How do you remember your name but not the circumstances surrounding your arrival or where you were originally from?”
Sepeti willed himself not to get too tense as the woman appeared to be turning up the heat on the interrogation.
“I don’t know?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why he was turning a statement into a question, but it felt right. Maybe it would help him deflect some of her suspicion. “It’s the only thing I can actually remember without too much trouble. I want to say I remember it being said in my dreams but I can’t be one hundred percent sure.”
“Interesting,” she said as she tapped her pen against her chin. She stared at him down the length of her nose, somehow able to hold the gaze without going cross-eyed. “Is there a chance that it might not even be your real name?”
Sepeti sat up straight, trying to look as surprised as possible.
“Is there? I dunno, honestly. I just know that it feels like my name but I really don’t know for sure.”
He scratched his head, running his fingers through his hair as he attempted to look innocently confused and befuddled. He’d been expecting some form of the question but hadn’t expected her to approach it head on.
The woman’s hard stare made him want to shiver. It felt like she was looking deep into his soul. It also felt like she knew that everything he said was complete and utter bullshit. But he couldn’t be too sure. He just needed to continue to play his hand to the best of his ability.
She finally broke eye contact so she could quickly go over her notes and add further annotations. Sepeti let out a quiet sigh of relief, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” the woman said, face still turned down to the paper as she continued to fill her notes. “The Association takes identity fraud very seriously. You may have noticed the extensive language surrounding classes and levels. These also extend to the name you provide us, to a lesser extent. We are happy to take on and register anyone as long as they provide sufficient background information that allows us to identify them. So your case isn’t all that special, just a little odd, all facts considered.”
She stopped scribbling on her paper, sighing as she laid the pen down.
“The interviews are used to weed out those with ill intentions that might harm any of our partner organizations. How much do you know about the dealings of the Association?”
Sepeti was pretty sure he had made it through the worst of the interrogation. But he wasn’t going to let his guard down until Gran or the healers retrieved him and his magical chair.
“I know you guys act as a foreign embassy with branches in most countries and large cities across the southern Hemisphere. The Association acts as an intermediary between the common people and their local governments, or so I’m told. Other than that, I haven’t really learned much.”
The woman nodded. Her shoulders relaxed a tiny bit but little else about her demeanor changed.
“The Association is an umbrella name for the various activities that we preside over. In short, the Association is an extra-governmental group that organizes, oversees, and coordinates the efforts of citizens of allied nations who have pledged themselves to the Association. We provide services to the local governments in exchange for the ability to operate within the territorial lines of each country. They also gain access to our various partner groups who fall under three distinct collections. They are the Artisans, the Peacekeepers, and the Hunters.”
For some odd reason, Sepeti wanted to pull out his notebook and take down some notes. He felt that he was being given some helpful information. Alas, he didn’t want to alert her to his special hidey-hole. She would probably revert back into rough interrogation mode if he tried to access his pocket dimension in front of her. He settled for trying to remember as much of the provided information as possible. Keyword, ‘trying.’
“The Artisans are a collective that focus on various life skills. They cover a wide range of professions, from smithing to construction to the mercantile arts. Members of the Artisan collective have pursued levels and developed skills fit for their line of work. The Artisans also cover those who deal in commerce and trade, ranging from small localities all the way up to intercontinental trade. In summary, the Artisans focus on life skills and are an umbrella corporation dealing with the creation, trade, and acquisition of goods and services.”
The woman pushed a piece of paper at Sepeti and he eagerly picked it up. It contained a much more in-depth description of what the Artisans were, the prerequisites for joining the collective, and the benefits of becoming a member. He gave the paper a quick once over before folding it in half and tucking it into a fold of the vibrant shawl Ciel-Ko had dressed him in.
“The Peacekeepers are a collective that focus on law enforcement through the use of martial skills. They organize and stabilize the security forces within individual cities and nations. Many who belong to the Peacekeepers are locals themselves who have answered the call to serve. Not only do the Peacekeepers serve as law enforcement, they also serve as emergency services. Some factions within the collective are specifically tailored toward disaster preparedness, extra-judicial enforcement, and even internal investigation. To summarize, the Peacekeepers are the long arm of the law who are intrinsically infused with the local governments to provide a safe and stable living environment for the layman.”
She pushed another piece of paper at Sepeti. Much like the first paper, this one gave a basic but detailed outline of the Peacekeepers, highlighting some of the career choices within the collective. He skimmed through the recruitment document, finding some of it interesting and mentally marking some so he could ask Gran about them. He was sure the giant would have some sort of knowledge pertaining to the collectives.
“Lastly, we have the Hunters. The largest collective falling under the Association umbrella, the Hunters deal with external threats to the cities where they are stationed. Those who join the Hunters are generally commissioned, either by private citizens or Association grants, to take care of local irritants, be they non-humanoid or humanoid. Some of the notable affiliate associations flying under the Hunter flag are the mercenary corps, game hunters, and non-humanoid specialists. In short, the Hunters often deal with threats that are either non-humanoid or humanoid that do not fall within the bounds of conventional laws.”
Sepeti accepted the third piece of paper she pushed his way and gave it a cursory glance as well. He tamped down some of the excitement that was coursing through him. He was half-convinced it originated from the host body’s memories. But he couldn’t deny that part of him was excited to find something he could do. Even if it was only a temporary distraction from his ultimate goal.
“Do you have any questions about the collectives and the Association as a whole?”
Sepeti had a lot of questions, actually. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t shrug off the thought that the Association was some sort of super governmental corporation that was specifically made to bring various unrelated nations into the fold. It reminded him of the super corps from his homeworld and how they’d formed monopolies that eventually turned most governments into corporational oligarchies.
“Are there any trial periods? Can I spend some time in each collective if I’m not sure what I want to pursue?”
“There are apprenticeships available for prospective members,” the woman said as she slid another piece of paper in his direction. “Each member is not limited to joining just one collective, rather there is nothing stopping a member from being a part of all three and as many factions as they wish. The problem lies with responsibilities and stretching oneself too far by pledging to too many causes.”
“Understandable,” Sepeti said as he folded the paper without looking at it. “Other than that, I can’t think of any other questions.”
“Very good,” the woman sighed as she leaned back into her high back chair. Unlike the other chairs in the room, hers exuded power. A common tactic, or so it seemed to Sepeti, for someone in power to use. “Then I have one more question. Are you sure you don’t remember anything from before your arrival?”
“Unfortunately,” Sepeti flashed a strained close-mouthed smile, trying to look contrite. Or his approximation of contrite. “I still don’t. As informational and enlightening as our conversation has been, nothing new has popped up.”
The bitch had lulled him into a false sense of security. Or so she thought. Her smile never faltered as she stared at him, readopting her haughty posture as she peered down her nose in his general direction. The orange halo had mostly faded as the sun disappeared behind other buildings but there was still enough light to highlight the woman and her domineering chair.
Sepeti felt a tinge of annoyance yet again. He hated, absolutely hated, repeating himself. It made him feel like a child and he hated that as well.
“Well, that truly is unfortunate,” the woman said as she folded her hands across her lap. “If you do happen to come up with any information, we would be happy to amend your registration. Now, let us finish the rest of this questionnaire before we retire for the day.”
She launched into more questions, giving Sepeti no chance to breathe. Fortunately, the questions were much easier to answer and less off-putting than her dogged approach to jogging his memory. Most of his answers amounted to ‘no’ and ‘I don’t know.’
The last bell tolled as the magical lamps placed in the corners of the conference room sprung to life. They provided a soft illumination as shadows were cast in every direction.
“Well, the bell signals the end of our interview. Thank you for your time, Mr. Sepeti. Your identification will be ready within the week. Until then, I wish you a speedy recovery.” The woman clapped and the door behind Sepeti swung open.
“All done, Director?” Sweets said as she entered the room. The young receptionist was accompanied by Gran and the caretakers.
“Yes, thank you for your hard work Ms. Sweets. Gran, it’s good to see you alive and well. Please stop leaving such long intervals between updates or I’ll have to put you on a Peacekeeper watchlist.”
“Yo, Seiluana, good to see ya,” the amiable giant said, waving at the Director. “Ya don’t have to go that far for me. I’ll be sure to check in regularly. Promise.”
Seiluana, the hawk-eyed Director, snorted and harrumphed at the same time, waving them out of the room. Gran led the way as Ciel-Ko pushed Sepeti out. As soon as they were out in the hall, the giant turned to him.
“So? How was it? Interesting, right? That woman can be so tiring, I bet she really went after ya and yer mysterious appearance. Didn’t she?” The giant barked a gruff laugh as he slapped Sepeti’s shoulder. “I can see it on yer face. She wrung you dry. That woman’s something else. Well, at least ya got that outta the way.”
Sepeti didn’t have the energy to reply. He needed some rest and some time away from people. Social interaction was tiring.