Jack never thought he’d be grateful for the hours Emily’s job asked of her, but him not needing to explain or talk about his new job situation because she practically fell into bed after getting home was a relief. Equally reliving was her hopping out of the apartment at a near full sprint in the morning with barely a moment to kiss him farewell, though he would have preferred at least sharing breakfast with her. Apparently, the investigation had found some new evidence, something or other, and the lawyers were drowning in coffee to meet some deadline Emily had yet to fully explain to him. This meant that as 9 am approached, Jack was alone in his apartment with his phone in front of him, the app opened up on screen.
Due to his earlier, private concerns, Jack had never before opened the app before. The icon had been a cartoon goblin-like creature holding a wrench in front of a tire and part of a vehicle with the initials ‘BUS’ above it, the most generic kid-game looking game app the young man had ever seen. Jack could just imagine the embarrassment if someone saw and asked about the app by accident, so he’d moved it into the back of one of his folders to hide it. Eyes flicking up to note the time, he couldn’t put it off any longer. With a deliberate poke, Jack opened the app.
As if to mock him, a larger version of the app’s icon took over the entire screen. The cartoon goblin creature was now smiling in HD, and more of the vehicle was revealed as being an actual school bus with a load bar underneath moving slowly across the screen. When it reached the end, the image on the app shifted to that of a corkboard wall, with a collapsed menu icon in the top right corner. The goblin creature poked his head out from the bottom of the screen and waved in greeting.
“Hi, welcome to B.U.S,” it greeted in a text box. “Ready to get to work? Someone has to keep everything moving after all. I’m Gimmy the gremlin, and your guide!” It waved again with a big smile. “To get started, are you under the age of 18?”
Jack, grimacing all the while, pressed ‘No’.
The gremlin raised an eyebrow and wiggled it comically. “Hey now, no lying,” he chastised. “I can see you, you know. Are you under the age of 18?”
Again, Jack pressed ‘No’.
Gimmy folded his arms and winked. “Oh, right, got it. Okay, then, answer this simple question any adult can. What makes the world go round, and round, and round. . . and round?” He spun with each utterance until his eyes began to spin comically in dizziness.
Jack frowned as he considered the answer. To him, there were too many possible answers to such a simple question: money, gravity, motion/force, economics, politics, family, and the list went on. The app had some good camouflage all things considered so far.
However, given who had made the app and what Jack knew of them, the choices shrank down to only a few. He first typed in ‘fear’. The gremlin made a ‘No’ cross arm gesture and shook his head. Jack tried ‘secrets’ next. The gremlin let out a yawn and shook his head. Jack clicked his tongue in annoyance, and then typed his last guess.
‘Monsters.’
The gremlin suddenly froze and slowly looked up out of the screen. Heart trembling, Jack had the strangest sensation that the little cartoon monster was actually looking at him for a moment. The moment passed, and the cartoon gremlin nodded slowly.
“Hm, well I guess you were being truthful,” Gimmy said, arms still folded. “Well, that’s too bad I guess. No time to play with me, but oh well. I’ll give you a brief tour, and if you ever need help just hit the ‘Help’ button to bring me back.”
With a hop, the gremlin seemed to jump down onto the corkboard, appearing now from a top-down perspective and looking up at jack by bending his head back.
“This is the board,” Gimmy explained, pointing down at the cork. “Once you get a handle on things, you’ll be able to post notes and links on here to help you keep track of things. Like this!” With a flourish, the little gremlin pulled a large orange ‘Help’ button from his pocket and slapped it onto the bottom right of the board. He looked back up and winked.
He then walked over to the collapsed menu button, a square enclosing three parallel horizontal lines. “Give this a press!”
Jack did so, and the menu appeared down the left side of the screen.
“This is the main menu,” the gremlin continued, pointing at each section. “Type anything into the search bar on the top to look up related topics and articles. Use the phone button to contact other users. The scoreboard button you can use to keep track of deadlines and achievements. Open the map to get your bearings. And finally, you can use the piggybank to keep track and change financial information. Feel free to tap outside the menu or the ‘X’ at the bottom to close the main menu.”
The gremlin demonstrated, then looked back up to Jack. It waved at him before wandering off screen, leaving the image of a blank corkboard as the only thing to see.
“That was, oddly advanced,” Jack muttered after he had a moment to process what he’d just seen. The app had come across as something like the old ‘Talking Tom’ type of games that were popular when iPhone originally came out, but someone had designed to invest in the animation here, that was plain to see. What kind of workplace invested in their internal communications like this?
Shaking his head, Jack tabbed over to the phone section, where only a single contact was to be found. He pressed the number, and his phone changed to that of the usual phone-use interface as it rang.
Mrs. Green picked up on the second ring. “This is Mrs. Green,” she said curtly. “May I ask who is calling?”
“It’s Jack Smith ma’am,” he said. “You said to call you at nine am.”
“You are one minute late,” she noted, which Jack realized was true after looking up at the clock. “Likely, I imagine, as a result of you only now opening the app for the first time a short while ago. It would do you good to be better prepared for situations like this in the future Mr. Smith.” There was a short pause before she continued. “In any case, we must begin your training post-haste and ensure you are best prepared for your duties despite the irregular circumstances.”
“I still don’t know what I’m expected to do,” Jack spoke up in reminder.
“That will be explained to you once we have established your baseline,” Mrs. Green said, her tone clear she would accept no further comment. “For now, as a part of that task, your first task is to engage in a significant workout.”
“I’m sorry, you want me to work out? Now?” Jack cocked his head curiously. “Is there a company gym on-site?”
“There is a gym within the bureau, however you are unable to enter it at this time without a badge. As such, it is inconvenient to determine your current physical prowess and your physical potential,” Mrs. Green explained cooly. “As such, the best alternative is to read the limited health data your cellular device can detect on you during a regular workout. I see you have a gym membership on file to one near your home. I recommend going there.”
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***
“An average reading it would seem,” said the voice of Jack’s new boss several hours later after Jack called her back, feeling slightly fatigued as he recovered from the hot shower. “Given your previous lifestyle and habits, this was expected. I imagine a more in-depth reading would put your fitness into better terms, and likely reveal a healthier gut thanks to your usual diet.”
“My fiancé is big into eating healthy,” Jack muttered as he attempted to relax.
“So it would seem,” Mrs. Green said. “This at least establishes a baseline for us to work with, a very important thing to have given how important physical condition is to agents.”
“Agents huh. Is that what I’m meant to be?” Jack asked curiously.
“It is the most likely possibility,” the lady answered. “Your baseline is highly determinant on what position and which department you will be assigned to. If you were academically gifted but physically inept, for example, you would likely be placed in a department with minimum fieldwork. This may sound odd to you, being hired before having a job, but as I told you before, the people we want are hard to come by. It is easier this way.”
“If you say so,” Jack shrugged. “So, would the next step be a mental proficiency test? To see if I’m gifted academically and such?”
“We already have your academic records, internet use history, and recorded actions and speech from within the bureau for that. You are not academically gifted Mr. Smith,” Mrs. Green said rather bluntly, “but neither are you an imbecile or invalid. Average is perfectly acceptable.” Somehow, Jack got the distinct impression she had enjoyed saying that more than she should have. “But I digress. We are not here to discuss your academic shortcomings-”
“Hey!” Jack protested lamely.
“-and neither are we here to listen your reasons for such,” Mrs. Green continued. “Your previous medical diagnosis speaks for itself and how close you brushed with an early death. It is good your inheritance has insured you remained as debt-free as you could have been. Moving on to the next step, your introduction to fieldwork. I have sent your phone a meetup location with an agent on site you will be following today. The agent will be in disguise and will approach you at the meetup location. Do you understand?”
“As much as can be for an average joe,” Jack answered sarcastically as he walked over to grab his shoes. “I assume I’m meant to go now?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Green said. “I will notify the agent that you are en route. Signing off.” With a click, the phone call ended and the screen returned to the corkboard.
Having tied his shoes, Jack checked his original phone app. Just like before, there was no record he’d made a call with his phone. Shaking his head, the young man finishing prepping before leaving the apartment and walking down to the street below.
***
According to the map, Jack had to walk to somewhere closer to the inner city several blocks away. It wasn’t a route he’d ever taken before, and the transition from city outskirts to city core slowly made itself known every two or so blocks. There were more cars on the road, more people on the sidewalk, and a greater sense of concentrated work life all around, especially in the building architecture as brick and façade fell behind concrete and glass.
Following his phone, Jack turned into a parking lot at one of the corners and found a small coffeeshop adjacent to it, to place the map had directed him to. An old sign above the entryway read ‘Keith’s’. While it appeared to be closed from the lack of people, a flickering neon ‘Open’ side indicated otherwise, and Jack walked in without issue.
Inside, he found a quaint and rustic small coffeeshop that may have one point been a dive bar or the like. Round metal stools lined up against the bar separating a wide row of machines, beans, glasses, and cups Jack could barely recognize. Along the opposite wall, tall-back booths of stained wood and stuffed cushions sat under old style multi-colored fluorescent lights, each booth a different shade of color. There were only a few customers inside, two reading a paper at the bar and another sipping a drink in the booth nearest the door. A barista behind the bar looked over at Jack’s entrance and nodded.
“Sit wherever, order when you’re ready,” the woman said gruffly without further explanation.
Jack nodded politely before grabbing one of the middle booths, this one under a black white that turned parts of his jacket purple as he slid in. To his surprise, there wasn’t a menu to be found, nor a sign anywhere inside that would tell someone what they could order.
At a loss for words, Jack was left in a dilemma until someone walked by him and slid into the seat across from him. Jack examined the newcomer; black pants and shoes that would pass for professional, zipped up black jacket and hoodie covering a ballcap, a mask over his face and sunglasses over his eyes. Jack had never seen anyone more suspicious.
“Can I help you?” Jack asked carefully with a frown.
The figure shrugged. “Depends,” came an oddly high-pitched voice that took Jack aback. “Are you here for some training?”
Jack nodded.
“Alright, then I’m here to help,” the voice said. “Ah, sorry for the look. I’m a bit sensitive to light and I’ve had a cold for the last week.” The person in front of him reached down and lowered the zipper, revealing a bust encased in, at first glance, a professional suit that after further examination was actually fake. The hood came down next, revealing long brown hair, and under the sunglasses were some brown eyes. She didn’t bother taking the mask off as she suddenly covered her mouth and sneezed, followed by a small coughing fit.
“Ah, excuse me,” the woman sniffed. “I’m not sure if it’s a cold or allergies anymore. Call me Crista. You order anything yet?”
“No-” Jack began.
“Two hot chocolates to go please Keith,” Crista called over to the barista, who nodded and turned to get to work on the order. “Don’t worry about paying, it’s going on my work tab here. I can’t imagine getting any work done in this city for half the year without this place’s hot chocolate.”
“Um, sure,” Jack blinked, taken aback at how talkative the woman was. “So, uh, what are we-”
“Come on,” Crita said as she got up, forcing Jack to follow. “We’ll walk and talk. Ah, thanks Keith, you’re the best,” she said happily as she accepted the two covered cups from the barista. “Here you go new guy. Open the lid and let it cool for a couple minutes before sipping. Burning your tongue doesn’t count as a workplace injury, believe me, I asked, so no point ruining your tastebuds and wasting the taste. Come on now keep up, walk and talk. We have places to be.”
As it turned out, Crista was a bit taller than Jack, apparently concentrated in the legs as her unhurried strides out into the city forced Jack to jog to keep up with her. She waited until he was closer before resuming talking to him.
“So you’re the new guy huh? Heard about you, well not really much or in any gossip since you just started, but you know how things can spread in the office. You’d think a new hire wasn’t such a big deal, but I guess for us it is given the time of the year and all. Most new hires are brought in the spring and summer for what reason I don’t know, and it’s all more standard and what not, so someone like you popping in so late in the year by yourself is talk worth as you can imagine. Not that that’s a bad thing, not by any means, but it is something to talk about when there isn’t much else to talk about. You’re been inside right? Of course you have, silly question. Kind of a buzzkill isn’t it, so moody and solemn and everything. So serious, and a lot of the others are just like that. So what do you think?”
“I’m, sorry?” Jack blinked, his mind struggling to keep up with the blast of words he’d just been struck with. “Um, think about what?”
“The bureau silly? What do you think?” Crista asked helpfully.
“I honestly have no idea,” Jack admitted with a shrug. “Not sure whether I should be terrified or amazed, or confused. I’m mostly that last one, I guess.”
“I get you,” Crista nodded in agreement. “Everyone is so serious about their job and their duties and their paperwork, but weird no one is as into their coffee, right? You’d think that it would be a big deal, but nope everyone is focused and serious and concentrating and all they have to offer is water by the gallon like you wouldn’t believe. Coming in days are the worst, I tell you, so I try to stay out of the office whenever I can. Be a part of the outdoors and all that sweet jazz, except I’m really not supposed to have coffee anymore so I have to stick with hot chocolate which is shame because it never has enough caffeine for me which I guess isn’t really a problem but I’d much prefer coffee anyway. Not that I want you to think I’m addicted to caffeine, not anymore ha ha, but yeah I really would like some but it’s the doctor’s orders so what can you do am I right?”
“Uhhhhhh,” Jack stammered. “Um, right, I’m supposed to be shadowing you?”
“Oh of course you are, that’s why you’re here,” Crista agreed. “We have a bit of a walk to where we’re going though, so come on, spill the tea. What do you like to do? Where do you like to go? Anyone special in your life? I knew it, you have the smell of someone’s perfume. Not that I’m saying guys can’t wear perfume if that’s what you’re doing, but it’s unlikely is all. It smells nice, that’s for sure, so she or he must have good taste. Reminds of something one of my girlfriends did once. . .”
Jack had a feeling this would be an interesting training day. He wondered if his ears would survive it.