Melody looked at the job posting.
High School dropouts wanted!
Need naive nobodies to fill a non-nefarious niche!
Have hands! Great!
Don’t have hands? We’ll work something out.
Includes Compensation!
“I might not be qualified for this.” she dismally thought as she stroked her non-existent beard. “But money would be nice to have.” both she and the author of this story thought.
Waving her hand, her phone telekinetically lifted from her bag. Floating slightly off the ground, she started moving. Traveling down the street, someone from our version of Earth would need an oral surgeon, because their jaw would have fallen to the gum-encrusted sidewalk from seeing all of the phenomenal magic happenings in the busy city. Taxi drivers had cabs that could grow and shrink in size to fit any type of passenger. Food vendors utilized limited time travel so you try a sample and retroactively decide if you wanted a full order. Quantum stoplights were simultaneously green and red. Small dogs carried briefcases on very important business. People of every shape, size, and magical skill scurried to and fro, blissfully unaware of those past the bubble of their own lives.
Thus, no one paid even the slightest attention to the girl floating across the city. Today was Tuesday This meant that Melody’s outfit was mainly yellow. She didn’t like the outfit, as she thought it made her look like an old banana or an omelette that had gotten uncomfortably cold. She had no choice, however, as if it wasn’t yellow, she couldn’t telekinetically lift it. Luckily, that was not always the case. The color of objects that she could control depended on the day of week. Starting on Sunday and changing every midnight at local time, the order followed the pattern of a rainbow. Sunday she could lift red, Monday she could lift orange, and so on.
It shouldn’t be thought that moving colored things around was the only thing that Melody could do. She could do the same things that lots of other people could. For example, lighting a small fire in the palm of her hand was easy for her. In the past, she had thought about taking a class to learn how to throw a proper fireball, but ultimately decided that she didn’t care. She had also taught herself to see obstacles a few seconds in the future, to cut down time looking both ways at crosswalks. Autotuning her speaking voice and slowly charging her phone were other things she could do. She could even talk to pigeons. They weren't very smart.
Ultimately, the magic she used the most often was her color-specific telekinesis. This was because this magic was unique to her and her alone throughout the entire planet. There existed countless other variations of telekinesis, of course, and most did not have rules as restrictive as hers. That didn’t matter to Melody, as she still cherished her ability. She used it every chance she got. She even had outfits planned out. Since it was Tuesday, wearing yellow let her gleefully fly through the air. When she was younger, she had inadvertently choked herself far too many times trying to lift herself with regular clothes. Eventually, she bought a harness of each needed color that she had incorporated into her daily wardrobe. This way she could still have other colors in her outfit.
As the colorful candidate approached the address of her hopefully eventual job, she entered the industrial district. Here was where the inevitable conclusion of the amalgamation of spells and technology could be seen. Magic drained of all joy and wonder. Hundreds of fabrications inconceivable 40 years ago were in full production. Girders built to withstand the force of a collapsing star. Metal alloys that conducted magic just as well as electrical current. Polymer that cleverly reshaped itself in response to outside stimuli. That and more was heated, moulded, and stamped into shape before being loaded into trucks and shipped to all corners of the country. Smokestacks billowed noxious fumes into the air, choking any wildlife out of the area. At least some of the smoke was a kind of pretty sparkly blue.
At some point, Melody found a couple of middle-aged men who were picking up garbage from the side of the road. After a couple of questions, they were able to guide her through the maze-like district to the general area of her destination. She thanked them and continued on her way. In the side of a plain cement building, Melody found a slightly ajar door with a piece of paper with “Job” written on it taped to the outside. Looking at the building with all of the charm of a van with "Free Candy" on the side, she double checked the address on her phone. Confirming where she was, she took a deep breath and then coughed it back out after her lungs reminded her where she was. Finally, she stepped into the building.
The hum from a row of fluorescent lights was the first thing that greeted Melody. Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, Melody realized she was in a garage. In the middle of the room was a grimy white van that had seen better days. The back of a curly head of hair could barely be seen leaning inside the ajar hood of the vehicle, tinkering inside. Noticing someone in the garage, a tall woman wearing a slightly dirty sweatshirt looked up.
“Hi!” the mechanic said. From how she was holding her hand against the engine, Melody could only guess that she was using some kind of magic to fix it. Maybe tiny gnomes that exchange work for bits of things.
Melody shifted in place. “Hi. I’m here for the job.”
The woman started waving her arms and peacocking about the room. “There was a job opening? I wasn’t told about this! Why would they fire me!”
“I… I don’t think that’s it. I’m not a mechanic. I’m not here to take your job.”
“Really? Oh thank goodness. I was worried there for a minute.”
Looking more relaxed, she moved over to the workbench and began sorting through it.
“I’m Tahala. I like money.”
“I’m Melody. What is this place?”
“We get into lots of fights. Are you sure this is the kind of work for a dainty lass like yourself? ”
“Yea, I can handle a little roughhousing, I guess. So, do you know who I need to talk to?” Melody inquired.
The woman smiled, a glint of malice in her eye. “Sure, our HR person is inside and to the left.”
"HR person?"
"Yea. He's our HR guy the same way a cat can be your designated driver. That is, they are not qualified and will end up poisoned by your neighbor."
After that, the troublesome technician eloquently motioned to another door. Melody had to delicately step over a muffler and several discarded pizza boxes to reach the inner door while the other woman seemed content to stare. Using some force to separate the door from its ill-fitting frame, Melody managed to get it open.
Inside was a cramped corridor that went some ways down and then made a right turn. Yellowed paint was peeling from the walls. Some rat traps with pixies caught in them were strewn about the floor. The first door on the left had a number of posters surrounding it, taped to the walls, floor, and ceiling. The posters tried their best at being motivational, but only invoked a sense of disappointment and hopelessness in oneself.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Moving through the open door, Melody saw a young man sitting at a desk and failing to look important. Sitting up, he found some papers on his desk to straighten.
“You may enter.” He said.
“I’m already inside.”
Blinking, then winking, he paused for a moment before trying to regain control of the conversation.
“What is your name?”
“Melody Kerr.”
He leaned forward and pressed a button on the desk. “Computer, look up the file for Melody Kerr.”
It made an affirmative beep, then did nothing else.
“I… suppose you can tell me yourself. Let’s hear your qualifications.” He said as he leaned back and chewed on the end of a pencil.
“Well...”
He interrupted. “Well? Well? Yea I don’t actually care. That’s why we’re going to do an unpaid internship.”
“Unpaid…?”
“In a high pressure combat situation, I need to see if you can beat around the bush, and take it like you mean it. Ya know, really”
“Wha-” Melody started.
“It means he wants to fight you.” The mechanic who was now standing in the doorway chimed in.
“Great, now she’s here. Can you go heckle somewhere else?” The young man grumbled, not liking the turn this meeting was taking.
“I’m here to make sure that you are administering a fair and unbiased aptitude test. I can also help you with whatever you need.” Assured Tahala.
“Whatever. Computer, check my schedule for an opening today.”
Once again, the computer just beeped.
“I don’t think the computer is actually doing anything.” Melody noticed.
“Nevermind, I have time now. Follow me.”
Standing up, Melody could see the man wearing jeans and a worn leather jacket with far too many pockets. He was also slightly shorter than her. The man left the room, beckoning Melody to follow him. Tahala followed dutifully behind. Going further down the hall, the three passed several more doors. Most were unmarked. Some had the sounds of machinery or acrid smells emanating from them. At some point, the hallway widened.
Melody stepped next to the man she was following. “I never got your name.”
Thinking for a moment, the man finally responded. “Oliver.”
Finally, the group reached the end of the hallway and approached a set of double doors. Through the doors, they entered a wide, open space. Bolt holes along the ground revealed that this room was once a factory floor. It had since been refurbished into a gym and recreation room. There was exercise equipment scattered about, and a table with couches surrounding it off to one side. A pinball machine tucked in the corner caught Melody’s eye.
Noticing her looking, Tahala grinned. “Nice huh? It’s pre-war. Not a hint of magic.”
“Nevermind that.” Oliver barked. “Get on the other side of that mat.”
“Get someone great like me to stumble, and I’ll consider respecting you.”
Tahala snickered a bit.
Opening up her bag, Melody pulled out some yellow pencils and oribited them around her person. Tahala took a step back.
“I’m not sure how much help art supplies are going to be, but I'll make sure that I take it ea-” Oliver began.
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a colored pencil lacerating his carotid artery and him falling to the floor.
Now, on the Earth that exists in this story, there is a bit of an alternate notion to what was construed as a dangerous situation. For example, the second floor of the apartment building next to yours exploding and throwing debris everywhere would often be considered a loud nuisance as opposed to something life threatening. A disgruntled man who animated a pallet of scented candles into an army of small candle demons and unleashed them upon his homeowners’ association would most likely receive a fine instead of any real criminal charges. This paired with the fact that even middling medics could treat life threatening injuries with nothing but a pocket knife and a wad of chewing gum meant that bodily harm was not serious very often. There were even some particularly powerful individuals who could bring others back to life. An average person like Melody would be used to situations that would be considered hazardous on our Earth. In this particular situation, however, Melody was still a little freaked out.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry! Aw, shit! I’m still working on moving things that fast.” Melody apologized.
Whatever witticism the man on the ground had planned on replying with only came out as sad gurgling.
“Was there a less lethal spot you were aiming for?” Mused Tahala.
“I shouldn’t have stopped using crayons. Are you a healer?” Hoped Melody.
“Nope.”
“Is...Is he dying?” Mewled Melody
“I mean, he’s just dying a bit.”
Blood was starting to pool on the ground.
“He seemed so confident. I thought he was going to snatch my pencils out of the air and blink behind me or something.”
Oliver wheezed.
“Don’t worry you can save him.” Reassured Tahala.
“What do I need to do?”
“Take out his wallet.”
“What?” Melody asked, flabbergasted.
“There's something in there that can save him. He keeps it in the pocket to the left of the third button from the bottom.”
While Melody fumbled with the bloody button, Tahala crouched down and leaned in close.
Tahala whistled. “Wow. You also nailed him in the chest with a couple of those pencils. Why just yellow ones?”
“Tuesday is yellow.” Melody panickedly offered, without explaining further. “What am I looking for?”
“Now take out his credit card.”
Melody paused. “Are we saving him or robbing him!?”
“It’s magic, just do it.”
Not caring about her bloody hands, Melody reached inside the wallet.
“Not that one, grab the other card.”
“Okay, now what?”
Oliver was beginning to look very pale. He was no longer making any noise.
“Put it in his mouth.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Zoop! Swipey.” Tahala made a swiping motion.
While contemplating the choices in her life that led her to this point, Melody took the credit card and moved it between Oliver’s cold lips. Seconds passed where nothing happened. Melody stared at Oliver’s body, his credit card still in her hand.
“Is something-” Melody began.
Suddenly, Oliver’s whole body convulsed, his flailing arms covering Melody in even more blood. Tahala remained clean, having stepped back before this. The wounds on his neck quickly closed themselves. The pencils still embedded in his body were pushed out with a squelch. Oliver jolted up, a blank stare on his face where color was quickly returning. Nobody said anything. Melody was horrified. Tahala was smiling. After a dozen or so seconds, there was a light buzzing sound. This seemed to snap Oliver out of whatever trance he was in, as he reached into a pocket and pulled out his phone. Looking at it, Oliver’s expression slowly began to change. First confusion, then indignation, then rage.
“Dammit Tal! Did you put that on my personal card?!”
“Heh.”