The Captain and I soon reached what looked like a large marble library with incredibly wide steps. The building had statues of what I assumed were important people, lining the side in recessed alcoves. The building rose into the air for several stories and the roof had crenelations that gave it a sense of grandeur.
I whistled in appreciation as we walked up the stairs and through the large open doorway into what looked like the entry hall of a church, or a library. People milled about, looking at paintings or talking softly in groups. There were people in fancy Blue robes throughout the large hallway, interacting with people while looking all priestly. ‘Those must be the Wayfinders,’ I thought.
Judging by the way this place looks like a church crossed with a college library, I should probably have had some insightful opinion. But to be honest, this is exactly what I expected. All along the walls were doors intermixed among large paintings of exceptional quality. The ceiling must have been 30 feet and had church-like murals with fancy architecture. The paintings didn’t really seem to have a theme. There were ones depicting a beautiful meadow at sunrise/sunset, images of heroic battles, people working together to raise a barn on a clear day. If I were more snooty, I’d say the theme was “the greatness of man”. However, if I spent too much time on that thought, I’d have to kick my own ass.
While my mind was occupied on how to judge the paintings without feeling like a tool, Captain Angelton was speaking to a few blue robed guys and gals at what looked like an information desk. I decided I should probably pay attention to things that were more relevant, so I walked over to see what was going on.
“Here he is now. This is the boy I told you about. I sent you all the information we have on him, and here is his paperwork. As you can see his picture doesn’t match what’s in the file.” the Captain stated while pointing at something on the other side of the desk.
“What picture?” I asked. No one told me about a picture. I’m in a book?
Evidently they were ignoring me for the moment. The Wayfinder just flipped through the paperwork, and nodded with a thoughtful look on his face while rubbing his chin with his free hand. “Interesting” he said. “Leave the boy here, we’ll take care of him. You have done your service Captain, and it’s up to the community from now on.”
The Captain nodded, as if this was expected. He turned to me and looked down to meet my eyeline. “The Center will provide you with a path forward, as is their purpose. You can trust in them. It was good meeting you, young Nero.” He started to turn, then paused. “If you need anything from me, you can find me at the Gate 7 army compound. I hope we meet again. You’re an interesting kid; weird, but interesting.” And without even waiting for a reply or a thank you, he just marched off.
Surprised at the quick separation, I watched his wide back shrink in the distance. He is always marching with a straight back and squared shoulders and seemingly leading with that amazing chin of his. ‘What an odd dude.’ I thought.
Turning back, I put the captain out of my mind and looked across the desk to the blue robed guy. He was taller than me, which isn’t saying much, and looked to be in his mid 30’s. With a clean shaven and scholarly look to him, he’d fit right in at a human resources department. It’s like I could sense his inner desire to ‘sort’ me into group so he could fill out paperwork on my behalf.
“So Mr. Tipsman, let’s take a walk and have a conversation about your future.” He said while seemingly annoyingly pleased with himself. He started to walk to his right and I followed to meet him at the end of the desk.
‘Well this guy sucks.’ I thought.
“If you plan to give out ‘life advice’, then you should probably introduce yourself first. Also, knowing the name of who you’re advising is probably pretty important. My name is Mr. Walker, not whatever it was that you said.” I said snidely as we walked past the other people at the desk. I made sure that I was loud enough that everyone heard what I said, without being particularly abrasive. That wonderful talent that was so common in my old world: talking to the crowd while seemingly speaking to one person. ‘Ha! Look at his face.’ I thought while not displaying my inner smile.
We met in front of a pair of large double doors. They were wide open, and I saw what looked like a hallway with meeting alcoves along each side. The hallway was obscenely long, and I doubted I could throw a football to the end. It looked like it was for bank managers to address customer service issues. There were doors interspersed with art between the desks, and the fancy theme seemed to be carried over.
The blue-robe-guy walked on as if he didn’t hear me, but I could see the tension in his neck. We walked along the hallway until he chose, what to me was, a random desk which he sat on one side and offered the other chair to me. He then ignored me as he got all set up. Putting his papers in row and pulling out a crystal paperweight or something, he moved a cup of pens to be more accessible. When he was happy with his preparations, he folded his hands on the desk and finally looked at me. I was not amused.
“Mr. Tipsman, you were brought to us by Captain Angelton of the Dorchester 7th Gate army command after finding you among a raided merchant train en-route from Hillpenny. My records indicate that you were asked by the leader and wayfinder of Oakleaf, along with the consent of your parents, to be sent here to join the guard after being found stealing. Do you have anything of relevance to add?” asked the smug little prick, his condescending sneer proudly on display.
So this is where the power plays in this society come in. Instead of being about how rich someone is, it’s about your history, and how personally powerful you are. Here power is derived from knowledge and accomplishments. People are still assholes, they’re just a different kind of asshole. It seems that in every universe there are people behind desks fucking with people seeking to resolve an issue.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. Looking up at the ceiling as if begging for the strength to deal with incompetent people. I took a deep breath and said, “Look guy whose name I still haven’t been told. My name is Nero Walker. I don’t know what your records say, but I’m guessing that the records that you have were handed to you by the Captain. He knows that I have no recollection of anything that happened before I woke up surrounded by dead bodies on the road to wherever we are. I’m betting he told you that. I’m also betting that you, being the bureaucrat that you are, ignored everything he said and just started reading what he gave you. So I’m going to take a lesson from pop culture and do the smart thing.” at which point I stood up and righteously raised my hand into the air, full of self importance and loudly declared “I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!”
All of the quiet conversations at the many little desks seemed to come to a halt. I glanced around at ton of confused faces. ‘Ha! Never seen a blogger making a scene, have you.’ I thought.
Fast walking from the back of the hallway was a tall woman and another man, both in impeccable blue robes (maybe velvet?). She had her light brown hair in a tight, sensible bun and was only missing glasses to complete the “I'm in charge here” look. The man next to her seemed to be in his late 40’s and tired. Everything about the guy screamed “my work is my life, and it’s important to no one but me”.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
I’ve always loved the hard working middle manager that puts everything he has into his job. The woman on the other hand was the epitome of the corporate troubleshooter. This lady could walk into a room full of problems, and the only thing coming out would be her covered in ink stains and sporting a smirk.
“What’s the problem here young man?” She asked before she even stopped walking. As soon as she reached the desk she elegantly paused and crossed her hands in front of her waist while looking every bit a leader. The man next to her pulled out a clipboard of some kind and started making notes. Meanwhile the guy-whose-name-I-still-don’t-know paled as all the blood left his face.
“Mrs. Salvatore, there is no problem. This young man was brought in by a captain in the 7th from a merchant train. He has a history of trouble-making and is being sent to join to guard by his parents and local leaders. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” guy-whose-name-I-still-don’t-know said as he stood up and interjected before I could speak.
She turned her head to him and raised one eyebrow. “I believe he asked to speak to your manager. Mr. Bennings, that would indicate that this situation is something that you can not handle. Please sit down and let the young man speak.” She then turned her attention to me, as the now named Mr. Bennings shrank back down to his seat.
I made sure that my face showed none of my internal victory dance. I mirrored her pose with my hands crossed at my waist and said, “Thank you ma’am. I seem to be in a difficult position where my life is in this man’s hands, but he won’t listen to what I’m telling him. I would very much like to tell you my story and see if there something that can be done.”
She nodded, then turned to Mr. Bennings. “Mr. Bennings, I will be taking over for now. Please stand next to Mr. Farthing and we’ll see what we see.” She then ignored the man as he leapt to stand next to her second-in-command. Sitting down, she moved all the papers and whatnot off to the side and placed her hands, one palm over the other, down on the desk. She did her best to look as welcoming as possible. “Hello. My name is Vera Salvatore, I’m an intake specialist here at the Dorchester center. How can I help you today?” She finished with a pleasant smile.
I almost wanted to clap. It’s always so amazing seeing someone who is actually good at what they do. It doesn’t matter what it is. When someone, seemingly without effort, paints the corner of a wall without using painter’s tape. Or when those guys in the pit crew of NASCAR do a perfect tire change. Or one of my favorites, when a waiter or waitress carries a ridiculous number of plates, as though they were dancing, through a crowd. It’s simply amazing.
I returned her smile and started from the beginning as concisely as possible. She did not seem to be a person who tolerated her time being wasted. “Earlier today I woke up alongside the remains of a merchant wagon train. Everyone around me was dead. I had no knowledge of who I was and my body didn’t feel right. Not much later a bunch of soldiers showed up. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should refer to them as soldiers, or knights, or something else. Anyway, their leader was Captain Angelton of what I now know is the 7th gate division of the army. He gave me some basic information about the world and then told me he would take me to the Center to be given some help. He said that I was a ‘newly awakened’ and that I could find my path forward here. Although, he didn’t say what that meant. When we got here, he dropped me off at the desk in the big lobby.” Here I paused and frowned for dramatic effect. “Then this guy doesn’t introduce himself and just says ‘come along’ then calls me by some name I’ve never heard of. Then he starts accusing me of things. When I told him that I didn’t know what he was talking about, he ignored me. When I tried to tell my story, he shut me down. That’s when I asked to see a manager.”
Mrs. Salvatore listened attentively and waited for me to finish. She then turned to Mr. Bennings and said “Is anything he said untrue or that he left out?”
Mr. Bennings seemed to sense a chance and then walked quickly to the desk and grabbed his files to show his side of the story. “Here,” he said, “this shows that his real name is Rody Tipsman and that he is a criminal that is being sent to the guard. I was simply following procedure. Once I had his acknowledgment that this was him, I’d have called the guard and have him sent to his path. Everything else is irrelevant.” He finished proudly.
Coldly reading the files. She flipped to the front page and saw the picture. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, then she looked over at me. After giving me a once over, she turned back to Mr. Bennings. “Did you listen to a word he said? You have truth sensing like everyone else in intake. You KNOW that he had no idea what you were talking about. We guide people to find their paths. We DO NOT force a path on them. When we force a path that doesn’t help a citizen, it stunts their growth and hurts our community. You and I will be having words later.” She paused and held up her hand. “I don’t want you to say anything. What I want you to do, is to go to the office break room, and sit down. Stay there and think about how you handled this situation. Furthermore, I want you to reflect on what you can learn from what happened. We will talk about this later.” She then turned back to me as though Mr. Bennings had dissipated into thin air. ‘Wow. Now that’s how you dismiss someone’ I applauded in my head.
“Now young man, if you are not Mr. Tipsman, what would like to be called?” Mrs. Salvatore asked.
“I guess I go by Nero Walker. It was the first thing that popped in my head when the Captain asked my name.” I replied.
She reached behind the desk and pulled out a fresh form of some kind. She then started to fill it in at an impressive rate. It must be some kind of ability to be able to write super fast. That is very cool, but I’d rather be able to blow stuff up.
Looking back up at me, she said “Let me start off by saying ‘thank you’ Mr. Walker for being so understanding. Many people in your shoes would be very unhinged in your situation. Seeking the right path is not for the timid, and you are off to a wonderful start.
“That being said, where we go from here is a little complicated. The first thing we have to address is whether or not you want to follow the path that you… or Mr. Tipsman was on before you awakened. Do you want to join the guard?”
I took a second to think how I wanted to say this, “I don’t know what I want to do, but I want the option of doing it. Does that make sense?”
She smiled and replied, “Yes it does. You don’t want your path dictated by choices and circumstance that you don’t recall. How about this… Either way you’ll have to see a mind specialist to see if you can recover any memories. I can assure you that you will not lose agency. That is to say, you will not lose the personality that you are developing. The mind specialist will just see if they can help you remember. Sound good?”
‘Crap. That sounds perfectly reasonable,’ I thought.
Without seeing any way out of it, I said, “Um… Sure. As long as there is no chance of me being rewritten or something.” That question of mind specialists made me think of my stats. On my identity panel there was a mind stat. Throwing my hail mary, I asked, “I leveled on my way over here and got a star, would putting that in my mind stat reboot my brain and get my memories back?”
Her head snapped up from whatever she was writing. “Did you just say that you leveled on the way over here. Earlier you said that you awakened today.” She started going to the paperwork that Mr. Bennings left. “You were forcibly awakened! You weren’t supposed to turn 14 for months. That might also explain the physical discrepancies.” She seemed to be talking to herself now. “I’ll have to call Nick. The forced awakening, hair and eyes changing color, not to mention gaining his first level in an afternoon. This boy is an unusual, who knows what he can learn from him.” She stood up and started walking away. I tried replaying what she just said to try and figure out what the hell she was talking about.
She suddenly stopped, turned around “I am so sorry Mr. Walker, I just got ahead of myself. Please come along and I’ll introduce you to someone who can help you.” She then turned to the man who came with her at the beginning, “Jacob, grab all the paperwork concerning Mr. Walker and take it to my office. Then afterward send Mr. Bennings home. Schedule a review with him tomorrow. Then come back and cover the floor. I’ll be taking Mr. Walker over to Nick’s office. Got all that?”
Her second in command was furiously scribbling on his clipboard. “Yes Mrs. Salvatore. I have everything. No problem. It will all be taken care of. Would you like me to reschedule the end of day review for this shift, or would you like for me to handle it?”
“You can handle it. Thank you Jacob.” She replied.
Jacob then turned back to the table and started collecting everything. ‘What an intense dude.’ I thought.
“Alright Mr. Walker, follow me. We’ll be going to see Nicholas Salvatore, the head of the Research division of the Center for Dorchester. If there is something concerning the path, he’ll know about it.” She said.
I noticed the name and asked, “Any relation to you? Mrs. Salvatore?”
She proudly replied, “Yes of course, he’s my husband. We’ve been together almost 50 years.”
As she looked at most 35, I realized that I had no idea how old anyone here was. I’m gonna have to start policing my preconceptions. I thought of her as a young go-getter headed for upper management. With this new information, I realized that she already IS management. And also, she is apparently part of a power couple in the Center. ‘She must have some serious clout around here.’ I thought.