Splashing cold water on my face, I started to mull it over, my mind in overdrive, looking at everything I’ve done until now, working every angle. What could I do to understand my situation? What could I do to make progress in this hostile place I found myself in? The first thing that came to mind was June. She seemed to know her way around here and she was the only one that was willing to talk to me, so I went back into the office, hoping I could get some help in understanding what was going on.
Entering quietly I knocked on the wall. June had a grin on her face. “Glad that the shame didn’t kill you.” She had a nice smile and a very thin frame.
“I wish I didn’t have to realize that by being on the receiving end of its almighty glory.”
She chuckled, getting up and circling around her desk. As she stood up I noticed how tall she was. Time-measurement was never wrong. Six foot two.
“Not gonna lie, Billy. I’m already fond of your old ass.” She crossed her arms and shook her head. “They don’t make people straight up stupid like you anymore.”
It was my time to chuckle. Everything she said had a bite to it, it was charming. “Please don’t call me Billy.”
“Oh, how cute, Grandpa is completely clueless. Billy the Grandpa is your official hero name.” She said the word hero with a contempt that I shared. “The law says that I have to call you by your new alias. That’s how good he just fucked you. Pardon my french.”
Part of me shivered when I remembered the scene that just took place. For an overexcited maniac he sure took his sweet time to screw people over. The man knows a thing or two about humiliation. Probably started to work on it in kindergarten. Cedric was right, when you face somebody who actually put in the work is a whole nother ball game.
“Fantastic, but can you stop swearing? It is not professional.” Even with my pep talk and my new goal, some frustration still lingered making me impatient.
“I could say a thing or two about things that aren’t professional, but I think you had enough for a day.”
“Thanks. Quite frankly, I'm still a little overwhelmed.”
“No shi-, I mean… Yeah, your first day could’ve been better.” She seemed genuine. It really looked like she cared at some level, despite her blunt personality.
She turned her back to me and took a pot out of the cabinet. She opened it and started brewing coffee. Didn’t look like anything fancy but I was craving for something, anything to hold on to.
“You seemed perfectly calm the entire time O’Brien was… acting up.”
“I think you should mince your words, you barely made out of all this in one piece.” She seemed nonchalant about the whole thing, but her eyes measured me from head to toe, inspecting my reactions. A very strange habit for a secretary.
“I realize the situation I put myself in now. Unfortunately a little bit too late.”
She sighed. “I didn’t know what to do. On one hand I was hoping that Connor wouldn’t kill you, on the other hand I was praying for the lord to take you with him. You know, to spare me from the embarrassment.”
“Fair enough.” Chuckling, I accepted the cup of coffee. ‘Heroes ready to serve’ was written on the front of my mug.
“How long have you been a secretary for O’Brien?”
“I am not a fucking secretary, Billy.” She seemed upset but not at me. The name irked me, but I decided to use it as a motivation to do better. There was no one to blame for my situation but myself. Perhaps O’Brien, but mainly myself.
“Personal assistant? Liaison?”
“I am a powered and I am your boss too, you entitled bag of bones.” I didn’t think she would stop teasing me any time soon. She was way too comfortable with it for it to be a fling. She smiled, stirring her own cup. To make her point, she released the spoon and her coffee continued to be stirred, like it was the work of an invisible hand. The piece of metal left her cup and tapped twice on its edge before floating graciously towards the cupboard still unwashed.
June handed me a cup. The coffee steam was soothing, even though the taste was horrible. “Why… why don’t you have-”
“Somebody to do this petty stuff?” She raised her eyebrow. Her face hinted towards a Romanian heritage. She wasn’t a stunning beauty, but a real woman with all the imperfections. Long face, prominent nose. There was a mix of toughness and playfulness to her character that somehow worked really well. It was strange. Everytime I looked at her, I would feel at ease.
“Exactly.”
“To show off. To compensate for having a tiny dick. Your guess is as good as mine” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “It’s not like they don’t have the money to hire somebody else, but having a hero to do your chores is a sign of status.”
“Since when?”
“Since a minute ago, when some filthy rich douchebag decided to do it and now it’s gospel.”
This seemed like a horrible policy to have, but I still had so many questions to ask and this ranked really low on my list right now.
“When that girl left, she called me a Vanp. What does that mean?”
She looked amused by the comment, stopping drinking midway to take a closer look at me. “Vanilla powered. It is how we describe the duds, the weak, the unlucky bunch that didn’t have-”
I raised my hand. “I think I got it.”
“Her name is Christina by the way, but everybody calls her Tina,” she said with a sly smile.
“So I should call her Christina, then?”
“If you wanna live.” Which turned into a full grin. She walked over, back to her desk.
“Would we work together everyday?” The mere thought made the hairs on my back stand up.
She shuffled through her paperwork. The several stacks of paper moving on their own. Cabinets were opening and closing. Clips flying through the air. The staples clicked as they soared through the files, the keyboard typing away without pause. The synchronicity between everything made an impression on me.
“We are part of the same cell, but the only one you probably see on a regular basis it’s me.” Proof that there was indeed somebody up there, not kind of enough to spare me from humiliation, but at least not evil enough to put me through the torture of having to work with them every single day.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“And my next step would be…”
“Bootcamp. “ She handed me a folder, my schedule I presumed. “You have to be evaluated so you can work with a team, giving your talent as a gunman, I think somebody will be very proud to have a hero washing his dishes or cooking for him. Do you know how to cook, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I responded with a thin smile. Drinking the awful sludge due to sheer necessity.
“It is really hard not to curse, especially when you're begging for it.”
“Sorry, June.”
“Julia.”
“He changed your name too?” I couldn't keep my incredulity from seeping into my voice.
She snorted. “No, just called me the wrong name once and never tried to correct it again.”
“Seems like something he would do. What more should I bother to learn?”
“Plenty. Are you a good reader?”
“More than anything else.”
She pushed a load of paper in my direction. “You really should read it. Knowing the rules can make your life considerably easier. There is also a manual that I wrote, it is big and nobody bothered to take a look, but it is really worth it.”
“Didn’t take you for a nerd.”
“I didn’t take for somebody who would shit his pants on his first day at work either, but here we are.”
“Ouch and just so you know my underwear was completely intact during all this ordeal.”
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to convince me. But don’t fret, we have the budget to issue as many Pampers as your butt can smudge.”
“Regardless of how I treat you, you can’t stop teasing, can’t you?”
“Now you’re getting it. At least you are not completely stupid. By the way, you are dismissed. You have been registered and you have your schedule for the week, anything else I will send you an email.”
She seemed effective, even though calling her professional might be a little bit of a stretch.
“Thanks Julia.”
“I hope you make it.”
“If worse comes to worst, I’ll do my best to perish with clean trousers.” Walking down the corridor, I could still hear Julia from afar.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Pops,” she yelled.
----------------------------------------
It was a wise decision not to ride my Harley to work. New York has automated cars that carry you to your destination now. After the successful experiment, it might go national in a few years. Trying to distract myself, I used the archnet to surf the web, looking for something that could explain the absurd reaction from the young man with the mohawk.
Scrolling through, I saw several posts arguing that given how safe these new methods of transportation were, there was no reason to risk people’s lives by using non automated vehicles. It was a sound argument, but the way the issue was brought up left people extremely polarized. A new civil rights issue being cooked before our eyes, the Supreme Court was yet to deliberate on the matter.
It was a shorter trip this time around. I was eager to come back and decompress. Opening the door, I walked in on Sweeney eating the biggest sandwich I ever saw in my life, her eyes glued to the TV. As she watched the news, she would open her mouth wide until dislocating her jaw with an audible pop, allowing her to take a needlessly inhuman bite out of the monstrosity.
Thankfully she was not dressed as a maid anymore, not that the current outfit was any less strange. The best way to describe it would be as a real life japanese russian gangster. She had the white tank top, black Adidas pants with a matching jacket and, I kid you not, a thin golden chain to top it off.
“And here I was thinking you didn’t have style.”
Sweeney grinned. “I do what I can.” She seemed smug about it too. Her voice was not as high as it was when she was messing with me, two notes lower now. There was something strange here, I really never had an ear for music, but thinking back on it, I know for certain everybody’s tone now. A side effect from language acquisition? I asked Molly.
“Probably, but I have to warn you. Using the interface is completely free, but your interactions with me might cost you golden years if you abuse it, even more as you advance, so I advise you to use me sparingly. If you want to know more about the system there are books you can buy from The Company. You should only look for my help to enhance your skills, buy what you need or if you are in real danger. I wish I could be more helpful to you, but I don’t get to dictate how it all works, Ern. I apologize.”
“I appreciate all your hard work, thanks for the feedback. Can you send me the list of skills I have available?”
“Sure thing. The enhancements available have a lock on them, so you can’t purchase any skills at this time. The restriction was placed on by Agent Oberyn Miltos and it will expire in seventy two hours.”
Archnet search performed at 2.43 pm.”
...
“List of enhancements currently available to you.
TIme-capsule enhancement (I)
This upgrade is intrinsical to your horologium, currently your time on the capsule mimics your time on earth [Current ratio 1:1]. Every level of this enhancement adds one point to the current ratio.
Current version: [Upgrade - [0] 8x8]
Next version: [Upgrade - [1] 16x8]
Upgrade cost: 40 golden years.”
...
“Sleep bank (I)
This upgrade allows you to sleep on command and store your sleep. It is marked as important by Agent Cedric Lowell Cuningham. Storage capacity: ten hours. This enhancement triples the amount of time after every upgrade.
Upgrade cost: 550 golden years.”
...
“Memory enhancement [boosted skill] (I)
This enhancement makes it easier to store and recall information.
You spent your life teaching others, the books you owned are an integral part of who you are. Your abilities are highly compatible with this enhancement, expect a greater effect to take place when compared to its regular potency.
To upgrade boosted skills is often recommended, although user discretion is still advised.
Upgrade cost: 315 golden years.”
...
“No more enhancements are currently available.”
Most of the new abilities were situational but useful. They didn’t look expensive, even though I didn’t really know how hard it would be to acquire more money. Things were a little bit fuzzy. I didn’t know what I should do or how I should train. In one moment I was playing with flames, on the other I was target practicing.
I wish I had more agency concerning what I do and how I do it, but I must remain patient. The fact that my ability to purchase is currently frozen must have something to do with it. Today I should meet a new teacher, hopefully with his help, I could make heads or tails of this situation.
Before I went to sleep I read some of the documents Julia gave to me and to my surprise they were quite helpful. Unfortunately for me, it will probably take a long time to read them and even more time to memorize them. Thinking that I might already have the tools to solve this particular problem, I give Pringles the love the little guy deserved. It came as a great surprise to me when I found him getting along with my murderous japanese bodyguard. I used the moment to try to pry some information out of Sweeney, but I was promptly ignored.
The rest of my day was spent practicing with my gun. Over and over I reenacted my early morning fiasco. Every single time the draw was perfect to the point I was doubting if it was truly my mistake or some ability that O’Brien had.
In the evening I went for a jog with Pringles. It was the first time since my conversion that my buddy and I went for a walk. The difference was night and day. Running with a healthy body was simply fantastic, every step effortless. You can’t appreciate these little things when you are younger. Time usually takes things away from you in a slow and methodical manner. So much so, that you forget how much different it was to have everything and not even care.
For the first time Pringles gave up before I did. Laying on the concrete, he showed his belly, asking to be carried. Of course, he won. I finished my jog with my loyal buddy in my arms.
As night approached, I could feel how all the commotion from early morning drained my energy, forcing me into my bed.
Sleep came peacefully, I knew that there was somebody expecting me on the other side now.