Luca barely had time to blink—could he blink? Wasn’t he just slumped with his eyes closed, floating unconscious?—before an explosion of white light engulfed him, leaving him disoriented and far from fine. As he found himself coming back to his body, colors began to bleed into his vision, undefined shapes at first.
His eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden shift, and at the same time, he became aware of the itch in his eyes–an irritating sensation that made him rub them. Only when he finally lowered his hands, relieved that he didn’t feel like clawing his eyes out anymore, did he take in his surroundings.
He was in the same place they’d been before–the white walls, the large table in the center. But now, only three other people were slumped over the table, their faces pressed against the polished surface. The curly–haired woman, a black man, and the baby–faced man. Applicants. No–survivors, like him.
Luca’s gaze lingered on the woman. At least I’m sure one of my coworkers won’t be a problem.
That was rarer than one might think.
As he glanced around, his mind worked through the information he’d seen before waking up, now with a clearer sense of focus. Most of it aligned with his expectations–except for the Mystery Level. He’d anticipated something higher, given some personal circumstances, but 0.9 wasn’t bad. Fewer questions, fewer complications.
Except for the 97%.
Let her have a 97.1%, he thought. His gaze lingered briefly at the mop of curly hair before drifting to the door.
It was closed, likely locked from the outside if he had to guess. But the wall to his left was floor–to–ceiling glass, offering a breathtaking view of a cloudless blue sky. They couldn’t have lost the entire morning, then. At least, he hadn’t. The others, however, looked like they were still deep in whatever dream–or nightmare–still held them. How curious.
“Good evening, Mr. Olson.”
The voice came from a speaker in the corner of the room, crisp and professional. Luca turned his head toward it and gave a curt nod.
“Please wait for Lady Boss. She’ll give you an explanation about the Interview,” the voice continued, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone. “It’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”
Luca’s mouth twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. He raised his hand and made a so–so gesture.
“Oh? That’s great, then,” the voice replied, softer now. Almost conspiratorial. “You’ll do well in this job.”
Before Luca could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing louder as they approached the door. The conversation was over.
“Hello again,” Miss Santos greeted as she stepped into the room, her professional smile polished to a blinding sheen. “I’m glad to see you’re already awake. The others should be stirring soon, so let me get the presentation ready.”
Luca gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He did notice the slightly out–of–place locks in her golden hair and the faint lack of breath in her greeting–but there was no reason to point that out, of course. Instead, he looked at the ‘sleepy beauties’ and noticed they were starting to show signs of life.
Their eyes fluttered open–only to snap shut again as they groaned and shielded their faces from the light. It seemed Luca wasn’t the only one who’d felt the lingering effects of that blinding explosion. Which, truth be told, was it really necessary?
“Welcome back,” Miss Santos called out, her voice flying over the groggy murmurs. She stood at the head of the table, tall and glamorous, her notebook resting neatly in front of her. With a flick of her hand, a screen illuminated the wall behind her. “Congratulations, everyone. You’ve all done exceptionally well. I’m sure you have questions–”
“What kind of job is this?” The youngest-looking of the group interrupted, his voice sharp with frustration. He was still slumped in his chair, his brow furrowed. “There was nothing about this in the job posting. Nothing about–about whatever the hell we just went through.”
Miss Santos smiled, unflappable. “No, I suppose the posting was rather light on details,” she conceded smoothly. “But don’t worry. Everything will become clear shortly.”
The presentation began, the word MYSTERIES appearing at the top of the screen in bold, imposing letters. Below it, a question materialized: ‘What are they?’
“In our line of work,” Miss Santos began, her tone measured. Deliberate, “we refer to ‘Mysteries’ as fragments of self–contained worlds–realities not unlike the one you experienced over the past few hours. The founders of Pendulum have been dealing with these phenomena since the company’s inception, though it was only about a century ago that they formalized their efforts. That’s when they began to see these Mysteries not as anomalies, but as opportunities.”
She gestured to the screen, where a series of images flashed into view.
“You’ll likely recognize some of these products–Milky Way, our flagship satellite network, the most secure and comprehensive in existence; Harmony, our revolutionary beauty treatment that transforms you at the cellular level; and, of course, Panacea, our medical marvel capable of restoring a body from 94% damage to full health.”
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“By now, you’ve likely connected the dots. Pendulum’s unparalleled success—our dominance across every industry—stems from our access to worlds no one else can reach. These Mysteries are the foundation of everything we do.”
The screen shifted again, revealing a new question: ‘What are we meant to do about this?’
“In short,” Miss Santos continued, her smile widening, “this is about your job.”
The title ‘COLLECTORS’ appeared in bold, stark letters.
“Pendulum is built on three pillars: Collectors, Scientists, and Engineers. Collectors are the first link in the chain–the ones who venture into these Mysteries to gather data. Scientists analyze that data, and Engineers turn it into groundbreaking products. It’s a seamless collaboration, but make no mistake: your role as Collectors is the most hazardous. And if you rise through the ranks, the challenges will only increase. Death will be a kind end at the time when even your soul is at risk.”
Her voice softened. Inspiring. “But you’ll also experience realities no one else can imagine. Are they dangerous? Absolutely. Are they horrifying? Often. Are they beyond human comprehension? Sometimes. But aren’t they extraordinary? Will your heart race and your breath catch as if you’re on the most thrilling roller coaster of your life? Without a doubt. And if you’ve paid attention at your evaluation, you’ll see there’s a lot to find about the system. Who knows? One day, you may even trespass the barrier of humanity.”
She then smiled. “And let’s not overlook the current benefits. Collectors enjoy a payment system that rewards even average performance with a three–digit monthly salary. That’s not to mention the medical coverage, gourmet meals, and recreational perks. You’ll risk your lives inside nightmares, that’s true –but you’ll enjoy a dream the rest of the time.”
The screen went dark.
“That’s enough information for now, don’t you think?” Miss Santos said, her smile unwavering. “The rest will be explained during your flight to our Core HQ–Island G–zilla. You’ll have three days to settle your affairs and gather your belongings. Pendulum’s Legal Department will be at your disposal should you need assistance.”
For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
Then, the black man at the table leaned forward, his expression a mix of disbelief and incredulity. “Excuse me, Miss Santos,” he began, his voice tinged with skepticism, “but are you for real? This–this whole thing? It’s not some elaborate prank, is it? Because this sounds… insane.”
Miss Santos remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the man. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of blank professionalism. Finally, she tilted her head slightly and said, “How strange.” She turned toward the camera mounted in the corner of the room. “Control, analyze Applicant 023042’s results. What’s his mark?”
The man blinked, his incredulity deepening. “Hey, come on, you can’t seriously be buying into all this–” He turned to the others, his expression screaming ‘Are you kidding me?’ as if hoping someone would back him up.
Miss Santos ignored him, her focus unwavering.
The woman who had spoken earlier–the one who had seemed so shaken–frowned, her voice trembling slightly. “Do you… really have doubts?” she asked, her worry palpable. “I mean, I–I know it’s all strange, but–” She bit her lip, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“This is real,” Luca said, his voice calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a knife.
The woman nodded emphatically, her eyes wide. “Yes. It’s real.”
The youngest of the group leaned back in his chair, a sneer curling his lips. “You don’t actually think Pendulum has so much money and so little to do that they’d waste time pulling pranks on people, do you?” His tone was dripping with condescension.
Luca’s eyes flickered to him for an instant, hiding his surprise. Don’t tell me this guy is… Ah. He should have been noticed the moment he saw his face. Luckily, there’s still you, he thought, barely suppressing the instinct to glance at the curly–haired woman for an instant.
He didn’t ask for much. Only coworkers that didn’t put their feet next to his, and sent him stumbling into a monster’s mouth. The rest didn’t matter. Much. Not against the weight of the sweet promise of zero debt (which meant no black plastic bag and cement shoes on his future).
After a couple of seconds of silence, the man -Webb–let out a long, exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “You’re all fucking nuts,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “I should’ve gone to that interview in Mosko like my grandma told me.”
At that moment, the same voice that had spoken to Luca earlier crackled through the room. “Sorry, Mari–Miss Santos,” the voice said, hesitating. “Applicant 023042’s mark is 61% but his M–value is of… 0.1. He–he shouldn’t have passed. I don’t understand how this happened.”
Miss Santos sighed, her expression softening into one of mild disappointment. “It’s alright. Accidents happen.” She turned back to Mr. Webb, her tone polite but firm. “Well, this is a bit awkward for us, Mr. Webb, but it seems there’s been a mistake. You don’t meet the necessary requirements for this position. But don’t worry–you won’t have any trouble forgetting this little matter.”
Her words were delivered with a smile, but the underlying implication was anything but reassuring.
Mr. Webb’s eyes widened, his hands rising defensively. “Wait, hold on–I don’t want any trouble, alright? I know how to keep my mouth shut. You don’t have to–”
Luca suppressed his amusement and half-empathy at the man’s obvious panic. If Webb didn’t know about the “side effects” of the contract they’d all signed earlier, his reaction was understandable. Poor man.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Webb,” Miss Santos said, her voice smooth but firm. “You won’t be harmed. In fact, we have other opportunities that might suit you. Shamaila?”
As in clue, a woman appeared at the door, her face framed by a colorful headscarf. She had a gentle, approachable demeanor, and her smile was warm as she stepped into the room. “Yes, Miss Santos?”
“Please accompany Mr. Webb to your office and discuss the other offers we have available.”
“Of course,” Shamaila said, turning to Mr. Webb with a kind smile. “Please, come with me.”
Mr. Webb hesitated, his eyes darting between Shamaila and the others in the room. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, but then he exhaled sharply and stood. “Fine. Whatever.”
As the other man followed the woman out of the room, Miss Santos turned back to the remaining three. “Well, now that that’s been resolved,” she said, her tone businesslike, “I’ll let you go. You’ll receive your performance results from the Technical Test. And, of course, your payment.” She smiled pleasantly. “It will depend on your results, so I hope you did well.”
It seemed like she hadn’t thrown a big enough hook, so she added, “As an Intern, you may calculate 1k for each mission point.”
“1k?! For each point?” The young man leaned forward in his chair, his emotional outburst betraying his excitement. His eyes were wide, his voice tinged with disbelief. Then, realizing his reaction, he cleared his throat, and pretended it had no happened, his shoulders tense.
“That’s right,” Miss Santos replied, her smile widening just enough to be polite but not enough to show her teeth. She gently pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “While you remain at Rank 1, or Intern, you’ll receive that equivalent amount.”
She let the words settle for a moment before finishing. “Please stay tuned for further communication.”
Glancing around, even after catching the slightest hint of hesitation, Luca knew no one had thought to run for the hills.
Money.
A trap more dangerous than honey.