I have completed a life's work in a moment. All within is mine -- the tower, the air, the spirits, and soon, more. --14.6 Seconds Post-Integration.
RIIIIIINNNNNGG! The blare of his clock sounded.
Having remembered -- this time -- to set his alarm, it woke him up early. Liking the early morning grind, Clark was accustomed to rising with the dawn. Doing so made him feel connected to his community. All of them were all early risers, as one had to be when tending fields and simple waters.
"Where's that light switch...?" he mumbled to himself after disjointedly rising from bed.
As if responding to him, the lights turned on, revealing his hand mere centimeters from the switch.
Clark showered, as his employee training videos had instructed him to do every day, so as to maintain maximum customer likability, and changed into his uniform. Before he left for the day, he looked at himself in the mirror. He could see his reflection too well. His hair was a mess, one he barely got controlled with the help of a wetted comb and his hair's natural tendency to bunch-up like a ball. "That's better," he said, seeing his hair become presentable as he tucked in his associate shirt.
Day three, he told himself. He left his dorm, not bothering to check if the door locked as he knew it did so without his input and without fail; the tower, the dungeon, it was safe. No one, here, would dare try and do others wrong with the thunder of Augustford ready to strike them down.
He found his way to the transportation tube with relative ease. He did not need the System's help this time around. When he was in the elevator and pressed the button to go all the way to the first floor, he felt a simple pride bloom inside for him not needing outside help. It meant he was learning, right?
"Clark," SIMP said to him on the elevator ride down. "What is your prerogative today?"
"My prerogative? What's that mean?" he replied, clear headed though antsy for work to begin.
"Your goals for the day. After your shift, what are you going to do to advance your position?"
He sighed. "My position?" he asked again, irritation with the Spiritual Consciousness sparking within him for using concepts he did not understand.
"Your Occupation, your job, coupled with your obligations as my champion. You should get into a habit of thinking through your day. Not just the morning before your shift and what you are going to do after you work. What you do in your downtime will be just as important. Especially for you, as during your downtime will be the optimal period to conduct champion labors," SIMP explained.
"I will keep that in mind," he said to SIMP.
Did he really want to do dungeon champion things after work? No...
He also didn't really ever want to stop working, though. He had bills to pay and every hour he worked meant another credit to his name. As a Lifer, he was entitled to unlimited overtime. First, though, he had to qualify for full-time hours -- officially -- and then build up his earned hours per week so he could...
Clark shut the details from his mind. Those things, stuff about how many hours he got per week and how much he earned from those hours he worked past his scheduled time, that stuff could be slaved over another time. He had work for now.
He arrived on floor one and entered into a bustling space filled with customers, their shrieking children, and the blare of giant voices from the ceiling.
"Why are there so many people here?" he thought. "It's so early... how can they all be shopping? Don't they have families and jobs themselves?"
No matter. Brushing past the strange feeling when he rose from his rest and expecting a slow start to the day, only to have to (literally) jump out of his way when a couple of teenagers in a shopping trolly nearly ran him over as he made a straight shoot to the service counter so he could clock-in, the day wasn't going to be smooth.
Over by the service counters, actual customers were few and far between. The service counters, it seemed, only had purpose to the employees, not the customers, and so Clark could breathe a little easier in this non-hectic part of the floor. He lifted the wooden half-gate blocking non-associates from entering and lowered it once he was on the other side. He didn't take a single step before a woman's voice called out to him, "Back for more, eh? Most of you kids quit before your fourth day. What's this? Second, third?"
"Uh, my third... second actual shift, after Orientation. And--" Clark said, rambling.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't need your life story, kid. Just congratulating you on making it to another day," the woman said to him. He looked at the woman. She was elderly. To him, she would've looked more comfortable in a nursing home's office, not the bustle of the mercantile trade.
"I signed a Lifer contract. So, not much of a choice," he replied.
"A Lifer. At your age? You're only a child yourself! What could've possessed you to make such a decision?"
"Uh, I was stuck. Between a rock and a hard place. A contact was the easiest way out..."
"Just terrible. What an awful place the world is becoming," the woman said before turning away and muttering to herself.
Weird. That's just how people are, Clark reminded himself and pushed to the time clock.
He waited in line and toyed with his System Link Receiver Core, removing the toggle he would need to insert into the time clock.
Toggle in hand, and turn now ready, Clark quickly inserted the toggle, then removed it once the System gave him his notification. Ready for the working day, he turned back around to the sales floor. He still had a couple of hours, at least, before his shift was actually scheduled to begin. What he would be doing for his scheduled shift, he didn't know. What he did know was that until he was trained on the position's basics, management wouldn't let him start climbing the tower's many floors. His shift today would involve Dani's training. Which was why he would be giving himself a tour. To impress her and push himself along the process.
Time to see if the exercise in that guide will be helpful or not, he thought as he recalled one of several (strictly) unofficial Augustford Boost Start guidebooks his grandfather taught him to read (poorly). The guide had instructed him to ask several questions about the nature of each department as a way of familiarizing yourself with 'the natural economic charka of the grand order.' Clark didn't know about that last part, but he was willing to give it a go.
First up on his tour was the Produce Department. He started here since fruits, vegetables, and the like, seemed most familiar to a bumpkin like him.
Question number one the guide said to ask oneself was, 'Examine the stock. What would you eat? What wouldn't you eat? Are these items near one another?'
Clark initially thought the question was stupid. Why was the guide asking what he would and wouldn't eat? He was a survivalist; he had come from a family of survivalists in a survivalist village, like anyone who lived in the wastes, so he would eat anything. There was no such thing as a 'picky' eater where he came from. Yet, once he considered the question more, he realized the guide was just trying to get him to explore the department, which was what he did, and with enthuse.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
From one end to the other, he investigated the department, taking note of the many kinds of vegetables and fruits on display with wild colors and shapes. Although all of the produce Clark knew had spots in the department's many open-faced coolers, or mid-floor displays, the majority of the goods he did not recognize. Still, the assignment was to find something he would eat and something he would not eat; noticing, now, the many tiny informational signs before each product, Clark read at his leisure, many signs: one sign for a purple carrot sprouting tentacles from its leafy green bits, said, "Sometimes called the 'kraken carrot,' this vegetable is commonly used by farmers in magically rich areas in many meat and vegetable-based dishes. Flavor notes: Carrot flesh is firm whereas its meat evokes a beef-like flavor." Another sign bearing a bright-red peach read, "This fire-melon might resemble a peach, but look-out for its mighty spice!" So, it wasn't a peach after all? Huh.
Deciding he had spent enough time on the question, he made his final answer: "I guess I don't want that weird meat carrot. I like spice, though. I'll take the fire-melon-not-a-peach thing."
The next question was simple: 'Observe the labor of the department, how does it flow?'
That question was easy. He watched some videos on Orientation before shet hit the wall. He answered the question practically as soon as he recalled it: he told himself, "Freight shipments come into the store via a local loading dock during all hours of the day and night. It is the responsibility of the associates on hand to unload, deconstruct, and organize the freight shipments prior to releasing the product on to the sales floor." Simple.
Looking at the time, Clark forced himself to the next department. He had spent over an hour in Produce alone, just looking at the vegetables. He needed to move on; he planned on doing more than one round in his tour.
He next came to the Bakery Department.
Sweet and fresh breads graced his nostrils the moment he crossed into the bakery section. In display cases static and rotating were cakes, plates of brownies, and even dinner rolls. Cases of cookies, sandwich breads, and confectionary supplies graced the shelves near him, too, all of which incited his appetite. Close to him were cases of desserts and pastries -- he evaded their sight and focused on his job.
Pulling himself away before he drove himself to hunger -- or worse -- to buy stuff unnecessarily on a whim, because he was hungry, Clark answered the three guide questions in quick order: 1. 'What is the flow of the department?' Easy: low and easy out front but hectic outback; or so said the training video. 2. 'When cleaning the pastry case, if you are approached by a customer, what is the proper interaction?' Too easy: 'help the customer,' Clark mouthed. 3. 'Is there unique talent at play in the bakery department?' His answer was a slight 'yes.' Cake and muffin decorating required a steady hand. Those confections done by humans, anyway.
'On to the next,' Clark shoved off to the following department -- the deli.
Or would have visited the deli if he hadn't encountered Dani.
"I didn't expect to see you on the sales floor before your shift," Dani told him. "Are you shopping for yourself?"
Clark saw no sense in hiding what he was doing. "No. I am clocking-in early and giving myself a tour of the first floor before my scheduled time."
"Oh? That's neat! Good to see someone who's driven. I'm here just picking up a couple of things. See, my daughter's over there," Dani pointed. "The one harassing that college-aged clerk over a bouncy ball. Lordy, what am I going to do with them?"
It was easy to pick out Dani's daughter from the crowd. She was in the one in pigtails and a long-laced dress frantically jumping up and down, urging -- begging, really -- the young clerk to fetch them one of the large, inflated balls from the bin. "She's cute. She's like a girl I liked back home when I was little."
"Speaking of! Now that I am off the clock, I can speak a little franker. Are you really from the Wastes? I heard a rumor..."
He did not know why him being from the wastes would be controversial, so he said, "Yeah, I am... why? Is it that unusual?"
"Oh, yes, very. Some people are looking a little rudely, at you, you know. Not every day we retail zombies get a Wasted kid like you! Haha!"
Once more in a day which had only just begun, he did not know what to say or to do. So, he just said, and rather plainly, too, "I will see you soon."
"See you soon, Clark! Oh, now that I know you are touring yourself now, I will be able to grill you extra hard once your actual shift begins. We're gonna get stuff done today, bud, I can feel it!" Dani said before excusing herself at a sound and rushing off to tend to her daughter who, it appeared, had attempted to scale the bouncing ball bin in an effort to secure for herself the 'perfect,' ball. Alas, her efforts resulted only in a capsized bin, and a scuffed knee in need of tendering.
No time for that... Clark thought morosely. She said she is going to question me extra hard because of what I am doing now. Crap!
No other choice in hand, he re-doubled himself. His mind, frantic, yet focused, went to work in assaulting the questions he remembered from the guide: time to rise to the top. Focus and answer; concise information -- go!
Sweat rolled off his brow: 'What is the difference between a canned good and a pre-packaged good?' Easy: a canned good is self-contained within a tin container whereas pre-packaged good might entail a process called vacuum sealing and typically involve cardboard and plastic. He knew there was more to the answer, but this would do in a flash. Clark hadn't the time to give an entire answer. Not with Dani saying she would be making her own tour more rigorous for him now that she saw him working before his shift. What if he failed her evaluation? Would he be fired? Talked to -- fined?
'No way am I failing now. I've come too far,' the thought came to him melodramatically, as much of his ideas did.
Clark finished the last question he remembered from the guide for Center Store -- the part of the store with aisles upon aisles of shelf-stable goods -- and rushed to the next department and the following. Deli, then Meat and Seafood. He answered all the questions as well as he could in as short a time as he had given himself:
1. 'How many different types of proteins does Augustford sell as Standard?' Answer: fifteen-hundred unique proteins.
2. 'When handling a motorized Slicing Machine, what is standard protocol?' Answer: bring the machine into an operating position; unclench primary blade from bulk and pull away from you, then place desired customer product into the receiving slow prior to cutting the product in according to the customer's demands. Simple!
3. 'From where does Augustford source its wide selection of exotic animal meats?' Too simple: from many local trade-connected farmers -- 'like you,' or me, in this case...
He was on his way back to Curbside and Instant Fulfillment when a customer blocked his path. They appeared to step out of a side-lane and purposefully into his path. Only his quick reaction time saved the both of them toppling into a display of creamed corn. "EXCUSE ME!" a heavy man wearing shorts and indoor sunglasses yelled. "I have been waiting for assistance for almost ten minutes! Is this what Augustford calls SERVICE?!"
Customer service mode, activated, Clark's mind made the switch from 'human' to 'helper.'
"How may I help you, sir?" he said, cordiality his tone.
"I am TRYING to find your gods-damned creamed corn, but it is NOWHERE in sight, and I am TIRED of you guys advertising the 'best' deals around and then you don't HAVE any of the deals!" the man said, then launching into a protracted bit about parking, which Clark didn't understand how it connected. As the man ranted, Clark nodded his head politely and did his 'hums' and his 'Yeahs' as he placated the customer. Or tried to, anyway. Five minutes later, the customer was still ranting.
Still nodding, Clark slowly made his way around the man to the creamed corn display. He hoped the man would notice that it was behind him and grab a can so he could go back to his job. Alas, such wasn't the case.
Finally pulling a can from the display himself, Clark presented to the customer the can of creamed corn. "Is this what you are looking for, sir?"
"NO IT IS NOT! YOU THINK I AM BLIND? YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE! I WANT LOW-SODIUM FECKING CREAMED CORN YOU GODSDAMNED LITTLE--"
Red. Blood, trickled from the man's nose. Then it fell with the grace of rain on dog crap, causing the man, once he noticed, to stumble back in outrage, as if Clark himself had caused his nose bleed.
The man ran off -- lumbered, really -- and left Clark be.
'What on earth was that about?' he asked himself. Thinking about the encounter, the man's yelling had unsettled him. Yet the yelling was about such an inconsequential thing, Clark found himself laughing about it.
He resumed his way back to Fulfillment, but with a pip in his step.
On his way, he received a notification: [You've gained XP!]
Excited though he was to have more experience points, he had not gained an Imbued Level Up from that encounter, so he could do nothing else except move on. He remembered what SIMP had told him -- he would earn experience for simply doing his job and passively as time went by; therefore, there is no need to focus on the shiny numbers when there is work to do.
Clark arrived at the Curbside and Instant Fulfillment Departments. He entered behind the service counter and was happy to be where only the actual associates could enter as it kept him safe from Lumbering Arsehat with Shorts for Brains. If he was fast about it, he could answer the few final questions the guide had for fulfillment before circling back and--
From the vaulted ceiling came the intercom: "Would Cola Clark please report to the Associate Service Counter? Repeat, would Cola Clark please--"
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Have You Ever Trained Yourself for Work (Outside of Work)?
