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Chapter 8: To the Bottom

  My obligation is to the dungeon... --4.1 Seconds Post-Integration.

  He was non-responsive after their atrium escape. For over an hour, according to the boy and woman. What happened? He had glanced back to the hallway and then froze -- "We can't blame you for freezing," the boy said. "I was scared shetless when I rushed out to pull you in the elevator then saw that shadow-guy goose-stepping down the hallway!"

  The woman agreed with the boy. "I only caught a look for a moment. That dry moment was all I needed. Whatever that thing was, it was evil."

  Evil? Was it? Clark asked himself. Hadn't it asked him for help? Like the statue...

  Good. Evil. Did it even matter? He was tired. No, beyond tired. Exhausted.

  Right now, I only want to kick back and relax. What does relaxing even mean, here, though? I am gone from home and everything I once knew, Clark thought morosely, his head tilted lazily against the tube wall and toward the ceiling. His Lifer contract demanded non-stop commitment to the store -- which meant he would never again set foot outside the superstore tower. Or my fishing hamlet: a sadness welled inside. He suppressed his crying, for now, opting to wait until he was alone.

  "Where are we going?" Clark asked, finally managing words. "Who are you guys? I'm sorry I never asked your names..."

  Both of Clark's companions sighed or made a small gesture. "Everything happened too quickly. My name is Hera," the woman said as the blond-boy, sweat still dripping from his dampened curls, sucked in a gush of air before replying. Gently, the boy let out his breath -- "And me? Theo. Nice to meet you... ah, Clark?" Theo said.

  "Yeah. How did you know that?" he asked, wondering if he had told them his name and then forgotten.

  "Your name tag. It says your name, now. Oh, shet. Mine says mine. Wicked!" Theo declared.

  Clark looked down at the slim rectangle which had been magneted into his shirt. It now read his name. In parentheses, it displayed "NEW HIRE" in all capital lettering. He hadn't even remembered attaching a name tag to his shirt. Clark reasoned the slim rectangle must've come already attached to his shirt. He simply hadn't recognized it. Cool. Now everyone knows my lowly stature...

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  "Nice to meet both of you. I'm Clark..." he said, almost whispering that last bit. "Wild first day..."

  For a time, no one said anything. Should I have spoken? Maybe I should've let them process that crazy, traumatic thing? Gosh! Just when his engine ran a touch too hot, Theo blurted a snickering exhale, like he couldn't decide if he was being serious or comedic. "You could say that man! Yeah! Crazy..."

  Hera smiled. Her lips pursed as she spoke. "By the whims of fate, I am happy I met both of you young gentlemen. I debated if I should return working here. What happened in that atrium rattled my confidence to say the least. Meeting you two, though, has changed my tune. A little, anyway."

  Somehow, he smiled. Not a bleak smile, like they mustered when the escape tube doors first closed, and no one had any hope to spare. But a real smile. Clark reflected how it was a shame New Hires weren't allowed to form their own Work Details. He would have loved to form a Detail with Theo and Hera. For better or worse, and only for the time being, however, there was nothing he could do -- the forming of Work Details was a privilege. A privilege he would have to earn.

  "SIMP? Spirit-Consciousness? You there?" Clark asked. "Where are we going?"

  "You may exclusively refer to me as SIMP. Please, while you are one the clock, Clark, interact with me as you would any work-related Aritficial Intelligence. Your role as my Champion will comes -- in most situations -- while you are off the clock." He told the A.I, SIMP, he reminded himself, that he would do as they asked: on the clock, use them as the AI. Off the clock, the actual sentient being known as the dungeon's Spiritual Consciousness, would be the dominant personality. Easy enough to understand.

  SIMP continued, "Answering: due to events out of the company's hands, your orientation has ended early. Your commitment to the store will resume tomorrow afternoon. Until then, you will be directed to your dormitory in our world-famous on-site living facility."

  The airwaves over for a flat second, prior, that is, to another System communication.

  "Error. Error," SIMP's austere Sire Augustford tone, blared like a rote machine. "Dormitory formation procedure not yet ready. Re-routing to basement, level one."

  The mood remained elevated for the rest of the ride. Which was a full hour. Why this ride lasted so much longer than his first ride, he had no clue. Different elevator tracks? Do elevators have tracks like trains? Regardless, Augustford is far from normal... Maybe there are tracks inside this tower? He continued to reason and rest his back against the smooth tube wall. He was so tired... so... tired...

  About to fall asleep, the elevator's ding instead broke him back awake.

  The readout displayed: Basement - 1.

  Basement - 1

  Superstore on social media.

  When Do You Get a Breather at Work?

  


  


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