The first four hours were lost to meandering. Thousands upon thousands of individuals spread outwards from wherever I wandered, it seemed as if the constant busy-ness of the place helped control the flow of the people through it. Everywhere I looked, there were booths manned by sometimes extravagant, sometimes boring, individuals… people that could have been at any career fair or business expo back home. People with magazine looking things, people with banners, people with handouts, people with smiles, people with demo products, people with people on top of people talking to other people.
People. Everywhere.
They varied in shapes and sizes, young and old, all colors and configurations I could imagine. I saw women with blue skin, men with four arms, children that floated in nirvana, others showing their bodies that any greek god would envy. It was by turns both madness and sanity. It seemed odd if you looked too closely at a singular thing, but as a whole, it all fit.
Everything fits, I suppose.
The booths were just as varied as the people. Some booths were pavilons that had comfortable furniture and refreshments, others were like Lucy’s Peanuts psychology store front, just a simple table with sign. I say everything in-between. The selection of jobs was impressive.
After wandering around, I decided to just pick one at random. Although it did not seem too random in retrospect. The booth was more of a space port than anything, with whooshing Star Trek style doors, and soft edges with futuristic lighting. The well lit sign above the door only said DarkComm, as a soft flutter of shadowy energy whirled and swirled through and around the letters, obscuring the lights like a dusty nebula on a star filled night sky. It was a vibrant light that I fluttered towards like a moth.
“Welcome to DarkComm!” A smiling greeter said, grasping my hand gently and shaking it. “We help the universe communicate!”
“That’s it?” I said.
“Of course!” She replied bubbly. “The most important thing is universal communication. We pride ourselves on being the number one communications provider in the verse!”
“So you are a telephone company…” I frowned.
“Well. Kind of. We utilize a principle of dark matter that allows us to send messages across the folds of the verse instantaneously. We maintain the systems that allow for people to coordinate, collaborate, and communicate. It is a cornerstone of the verse!” She enthused. Her glistening name tag read Judy.
I had heard this kind of pitch before. “Comcast? Time Warner? AT&T?”
“Excuse me?” Her smile faltered for a second.
“I was wondering what telco conglomerate you were with previously.” I said. I kept my voice dead level.
“Um… I was with Comcast. How did you know?”
“Lets call it a hunch, Judy. Have a nice day!” And with that I turned on my heel and got the hell out of there. Like I would work for that hell. Are you kidding me? Who in their right mind would pick something that would be as soul sucking as that?
No thanks.
I wandered aimlessly for a few minutes and finally remembered that I had a map clutched in one hand. I opened it up and what I had thought was a massive fold out map turned out to be some sort of intelligent device. It opened like a small magazine and booted up, showing the levels, the roughly organized types of careers, most of which didn’t make any sense at first glance. I pushed the large obnoxiously large button that said Help.
A little motherfucking genie popped out above display. It scared the ever living hell out of me.
“Thank you for summoning Djinn-on-Demand. My name is Tyler, how can I help you today?”
“Hi Tyler.” I said, the initial shock started to fade.
“Hello, sir! Who am I speaking with today?” I held the map up to eye level and looked closely at the genie. It was not looking at me directly, some sort of representation of a genie that made it look like something it wasn’t. Very clever. Poor Tyler was probably sitting in a call center. I shuddered. What did these people do in their previous lives? My god!
“Doug.”
“Greetings Doug, what can I assist you with?” He chimed.
“How do I use the map?”
“I am going to start the tutorial on your map. When the tutorial finishes, I will reconnect and see if you have further questions. Is that acceptable?”
“Uh, yes. Thanks.”
“No problem, Doug. Thank you for using Djinn-on-Demand.” The genie popped away in a puff of smoke.
The tutorial was dead simple. It went over the map from a complexity level that a five year old could easily comprehend. By the time Tyler rang me back, I was an expert. I told him so, he sighed his sigh, and promptly disconnected.
There were jobs for everything one could imagine. I browsed the items that seemed like good ideas. I used the jump feature of the map, the one that Chuck had initially told me about, but they all turned out to be bad ideas once I got there.
After my fifth interview with a vapid blonde at the Ingenuity Tracking Center (where they make notes of cross-verse innovations and attempt to get them replicated in other places… ie patent fuckers), I think officially gave up. I was on the very edge of the Colosseum, with the bulk of the bustle going on behind me. It appeared that most core businesses ran from the center, with huge presences of the Authority and the Angelus sitting in the center of things (duh), and the further outwards (any direction) you went, things became less and less important. The people got duller, or more excited, depending… the booths got smaller and in most ways, cheaper looking.
And that is how I ended up at the end of the road. Literally and figuratively. The booth I had stumbled across was hidden behind two others with a small path between, tucked behind something that looked like a garbage pile. There was graffiti on the wall, something along the lines of ‘fuck the noise’. Whatever that meant. But the little building grabbed my attention.
The booth was older than time, older than sin, and uglier than both. It appeared to be made of stone, but didn’t have a sign at all. Just an old wooden door with a heavy iron latch handle. My curiosity was peaked immediately. It was unlike anything I had ever seen since I had arrived. I grabbed the door handle apprehensively and let myself in.
The door opened into a comfortable foyer, with tasteful, but run down furniture. In the center of the room, a single enormous oak desk sat with an older gentleman in a fedora (crumpled) and half a suit (no jacket) sleeping with his feet in the air.
“Excuse me?” I said. I had no idea why I said it.
The old guy startled to wakefulness and promptly fell out of his chair. I heard a grunt as he hit the floor. His fedora came up first, not attached to a head, but crumpled (further) in his hand. The other hand brought up a flask that must have been in his lap, and finally a head emerged, red bleary eyes looking at me from across the muted green blotter.
“What do you want?” His voice was gravel in a hair dryer.
“I saw your booth.”
“Congrats, asshole. Now step along.” He either smoked more than a volcano or his vocal cords were made out of rusted bed springs.
“What do you do here?”
“The worst job in the world. I am regretting ever taking it.” The old guy took another swig on his flask.
“What is the worst job in the world?”
He sighed heavily. “If I tell you, will you leave?”
“Probably.” I shrugged.
“I work on Prime as an adjudicator. Unfortunately I am the only one. So that would make me THE adjudicator, I guess. Now move on, son.”
“What does an… adjudicator… do?”
“Well, ever taken in a private eye movie or book or show or something?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged again. “I guess.”
“Take all the great stuff, strip it out, throw it in the garbage. Find a whole of bunch of legal assholes and have them jump in to the middle of everything you do, and viola… that is what I do. For instance.” Another swig. “A while back a lawyer dies in car accident. Studies up on codes of interaction on Prime… ends up claiming it was an act of an unfair interference by so and so in blah and blah. So then I have to waste my time and energy tracking down witnesses, evidence, et cetera, throughout Prime and the nearby shadows.”
“And?”
“Turns out the guy was an asshole. Pretty much died because he was an asshole. So I turn in my verdict, and then the fucking guy tries to hunt me down. I had to put him down like a fucking dog, and then I am the bad guy to the Authority.” Another heavy sigh and a swig. “It sucks. You know, I used to be a fucking saint. I mean it. A saint! I was canonized and everything. Saint Anthony. Look at me now… look at me now. Fuck it.”
“Fuck what?” I was getting nervous. How did people have mental breakdowns in the after life?
“Fuck this job. I quit. Its yours kid.”
“Um, I don’t want it?” I tried.
“You are in the realm, aren’t you?”
“I guess?” Was I?
“You are, greenhorn. You and I are occupying the same realm. This realm is bound to that door. You and I are the only occupants. That means if I am unmade, only you remain. Its your realm then.”
He reached into the desk and pulled out a revolver. The old kind, snub nosed 6 shooter, all nickel plated and mean looking. Except the barrels were flickering with bright white light.
“WHOA!” I yelled, putting my hands up. “You don’t want to do that, what was your name, Anthony! Anthony, you don’t want to kill yourself!”
“Yeah… actually, I do.” He sighed.
And he blew his fucking brains out. One moment he was sitting there with a gun to his temple, then the shot, and then he was gone. The desk was unmarred, and no brains were against the wall. But Anthony was gone. And I felt something, snap, to me. Like a rubber band stretched out from a door knob. I felt the door swing towards me, and then I felt the something make contact. I felt a zing run through me.
I felt like I had just drank a thousand cups of the worst coffee in existence.
I felt a knocking sensation. Like someone knocking on my forehead. It was annoying as shit.
I focused on the sensation and answered in the most annoyed tone I could muster. “Yes?”
“WHOA!” Chuck said. “What did you just do? You were supposed to get a hold of me!”
“WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED CHUCK?” I yelled back.
“Just a second, ok. Let me in.” He replied calmly in my head.
“Let you in where?” I looked around, the door I had come in through was gone. It was just the tasteful office, a glass door over to my left had appeared at some point. I could see a man shaped shadow on the other side.
“Over at the door, dummy.” He said from behind the glass.
In three strides I had my hand on the door handle and swung it open violently to find Chuck looking at me with the biggest confused look he could probably muster. He didn’t say a word. He just lifted his hand and pointed at the black stenciling on the door. I looked at it carefully.
DOUG GATES, PI, RE.AUTH, RE.ANGL
ADJUDICATOR, INVESTIGATOR
AVAILABLE FOR HIRE
Then I threw up all over Chuck’s shoes.