Unlike most, I lack a warning period. They cannot trouble me with their bureaucratic chains and senseless termination... --22.4 Seconds Post-Integration.
Clark spent the following days in an overly productive haze. He woke up on his eighth day of employment and checked his Calander. Week one, done.
His previous shifts had been fine, but the hours blended together. "Where are your pinto beans?" "Can I speak to a manager, please?" "Who are you, I have never seen you in here before, are you new?" So many more questions besides, so many challenges to his patience.
People. Endless people and their demands masked as requests. How many more days did he have on his probation? Surely, he had to be close to the end, by now, right? What did the manager say when he talked to him? If he had said anything specific, he couldn't remember it now, mechanically readying himself for the day's labor.
Weather by fortune or ill-fate, his shifts during those days were longer, and so after having already been put through the wringer during orientation, and then the rigor of learning his trade, his legs and mind were jelly, sure, but he earned his keep. He went in for his shifts, clocked out. With his probation period coming to an end and with that goal in mind, he became single-minded on simply getting through the day. His hard work was rewarded well, though. He gained several Imbued Power Levels and reached level nine while also acquiring several more Opportunities, bringing his total (as of yet unopened) boxes to a full sixteen.
His pay during this time was a standard check. Twenty-credits per day, give or take a few credits for overtime and the invariable usage of credits to off-set living expenses, such as water at lunch, and the sandwich to eat with the water.
Three shifts, three days elope. His account [105 Standard Credits].
Taking an elevator down to the first floor, he went to clock in for another day of being a Floater.
He toggled his System Link Core -- still hanging from his headband circuit -- and clocked in effortlessly. He didn't know when his fingers finally learned the measured pluck of toggling, inserting, de-inserting, and sheathing the toggle, but he was happy he didn't stand out like a sore thumb.
Once he clocked in, he received a notification:
[Accomplishment Unlocked: "Show Up," First week streak and still employed? You kids and your work ethics. Jeez]
Clark wondered about the Accomplishment descriptions. Who wrote them? Were they generated by the System AI or by the dungeon's Spiritual Consciousness? He wondered this once before and knew there wasn't an answer waiting for him. It seemed to still be written as though Sire Augustford himself was speaking. Though because the Spiritual Consciousness fused with the System AI, it was hard for him to tell where one ended and the other began, despite his efforts at categorizing them to the contrary.
[Accomplishment Unlocked: "Probation Completed:" You didn't get fired. Good job, son.]
His gaze lingered on the word 'son.' Clark didn't like it when the System tried to appear human. Not when it attempted to connect to him on a personal level, one he knew for a fact did not exist.
He pushed the System's peculiarities from his mind. He knew there was nothing he could do except get used to its snark. A whole life was what he would have to adjust, so why rush. For the time being, he was happy his probation period was over. That at least meant one less requirement for the anti-monster league. "Good," he told himself. "It means my community might make it yet."
Seeing Dani after he dismissed the notification from his blue screen, she took him for surprise. "Ready for graduation?"
"Graduation?" he asked, dumbly. "Like, school?"
"Sort of... if you count now having all the same rights and responsibilities as a normal Associate as 'graduating.' Which it is! Or I would count it, anyway. When you work here, you got to appreciate what you are given. There's some tables set near the water fountain square. Let's go over and check it out, make some small talk. Today's going to be an easy day," Dani told him.
Easy it was. Dani and he talked with the other associates, both fellows Lifers as well as normally waged associates. Few were genuinely new Lifers, as most of the people in attendance were retired Augustford workers who returned for little ceremonies like this. Why the store would bare such an expense he didn't know, but he was fine with not knowing everything. It wasn't his paygrade to know, after all.
"Attention! Attention everyone, please!" said a voice from one of the mini elevated stages a custodian hastily set-up. "Can I have everyone gather?"
Not liking the conversation, which consisted of air and the same basic questions repeated endlessly among the attendees -- such as, 'How are you liking the job so far?' and 'Are you contemplating running away?' -- Clark was more than glad to end the insipid line of questioning. He turned his attention to the speaker and listened in.
"It is time to begin the Lifer Graduation Ceremony. A joyous day, yes. Do note, if you are a Lifer and have not yet finished your probation, please wait until another ceremony and return to work," the voice on stage said. The man who spoke was well-dressed in a business suit and tie. Clark thought he his dress was incredible, at least compared to his community, but it was not quite as well dressed as the general manager of the first floor. The speaker continued: "Now that everyone is assembled, let's begin. I look down at all of you, I think to myself many things. Chief amongst them, how did I get so old?!" The speaker laughed but few others did, not understanding his joke.
Clark listened to the man's speech. Its contents were not anything more complex than any speech he already heard in his life. Yearly, his community's chief would give the Harvest Speech. Which was a lot like what he heard from the well-dressed managerial. Both his chieftain and this manager said many of the same talking points. Lots of goodwill to the audience, cheering for their victories, while lamenting their defeats as inevitable though only a bump along the road. He clapped politely at the end despite his dearth of enthuse.
"You seem rather put together for your age," a voice from beside him said. He turned expecting to see Dani but instead saw Hera.
"Oh?" he said, unsure of what to say.
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"You were clearly bored. But still clapped. A lot of the younger folk I've encountered wouldn't bother giving the older folk the courtesy. You Wasters are a different breed, clearly," Hera said.
'A different breed?' What did that mean? Clark wondered. "Maybe so. I am only me, though. I didn't see you come in. You must be more fleet-footed than most here, who trample."
"Nah. I am a brute like them. You were just distracted."
The speech ended and with it, Dani joined their conversation. "You talking about Clark's personality? Isn't he great?"
"He is a different boy than those I met in my life, that is for sure. You train him?" Hera asked.
"Sure did. He was an easy pup to housebreak--"
"Okay. Guys, please. I'm right here. And this 'pup' doesn't like being talked down to like I am an animal."
Silence briefly overtook the conversation before Dani broke it. "Any who! Next up is some mingling. Clark. Take care to talk to anyone who looks important. Once the ceremony is over there will be a brunch."
Hera already had left by the time he managed a response while Dani vanished to talk with another new Lifer. When he spoke up, he hoped for an apology for the way they were talking about him; sure, their tone had been jokey, but it was a kind of 'humor' he didn't appreciate. But they fled, and without even giving him an explanation. Dani did tell him to talk to 'important looking people,' whatever that meant. So, that was what he did, unsure as he was of the deeper particulars.
"How do you do?" "Good day and speech, yes?" and "Tell me about your corporate experience, if you would be so kind." These were the things he said on automatic while combing his way through the crowd of demi-dignitaries. None of who he talked to, however, appeared moved by his words or him. On the contrary, they appeared to ignore him. He was about to end his do-gooding when he saw the first-floor manager between conversations.
"Sir. I am pleased to see you, here," Clark said while holding out his hand to shake.
"And you too, lad," the manager said. "Off probation already? Seems like yesterday I, too, was a bushy-eyed new hire all too eager to serve the store. How did you enjoy the ceremony?"
"I liked it well enough. Reminded me of my village's annual harvest festival. Our leader would give a speech highlighting the previous year. You know the rest, I bet, sir."
"I do, lad. Now, I know everyone has asked you this by now, but where do you see your career trajectory while with the company? I have noticed unusual things about your aura and was curious..."
That last statement confused him. "Aura?"
"Your spiritual output. Not everyone can sense auras, whether it is their own or another's aura, but I assure you, there are benefits to being able to sense one's aura, such as..." the manager said, launching into a discussion of how sensing auric-energy could be useful in both battle as well as retail work. "Sensing when a customer is upset," the manager continued, "is always a good trait to have. It allows you to pivot on your customer service or predict what a monster will do..."
Clark enjoyed talking to the first-floor manager. He had a way with his speech which hooked him from the first word. Which was good since he didn't care much about aura talk.
Or monster talk.
Certain things couldn't be helped, though. He knew that. And so did the manager, who saw someone he knew in the crowd and parted ways abruptly.
Seeing many others in the crowd had either departed or left for the brunch zone, Clark did likewise. His belly was rumbling. With free food on the horizon, it was hard to think of anything else. He followed the others to the brunch zone and made himself a large plate of goodies. He finished his meal in the nick of time. Another speaker began to talk from a stage on the far-side of the room: "Can I get everyone's attention? Thank you. Now that everyone has had a chance to enjoy the refreshments, I would like to take another moment of your time to guide our new Lifers through what they should expect now that they are no longer on probation." At this, Clark's attention piqued. He had been intensely curious about this very subject, as his initial week turned from 'terror' to 'lethargy' in the hustle of learning the trade. The speaker continued: "What should you expect? More pay, bigger rewards? Sure. That and more. Ultimately, as full-time Lifers, what you can expect is to receive more responsibility..."
The mandatory workday ended. Everyone either left the store or returned to their dorms. Clark wanted to befriend a few of the Lifers who were closest to his age, a gaggle of twenty-somethings, but they had left as a group before he could even get a step in toward them. He would've tried to talk to either Theo or Hera, but, once more, they were nowhere to be seen. Which was fine! As once the ceremony ended and he saw his opportunities for socializing ended before they began, Clark felt tired, and wanted to return to his dorm.
While on his way to clock-out, however, a customer had a request for him. "Oh, lad! You lad, the one with dark skin!" she shouted.
Looking around, Clark saw no other 'dark-skinned' people other than himself, so he reluctantly approached the customer. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I need help. There's a bag of dogfood on a high-shelf I can't reach!"
"No problem, ma'am. Lead the way and I will grab it for you," he replied, his muscles were ready for a decent workout.
The woman led the way. Sure enough, on the highest shelf were a number of strangely large bags of pet food. Why couldn't the Center Store guys place this on the bottom?! That bag has to be -- at least -- fifty-pounds!
Clark was about to look for a ladder when he realized a ladder wouldn't be sufficient. The bag she wanted was too heavy. If he tried to move that to her cart from eight shelves up, he would break his spine. He had to find something sturdier if he wanted to remove that bag from such a high point.
"System," he mouthed. "How can I remove that bag of pet food?"
The System gave him a response: "Locate a power lift, kid," the System replied, the AI-Sire Augustford voice displaying its characteristic non-chalance at his request, though he knew the System was actually SIMP, the Dungeon's Spirit, so he couldn't help but think the Spiritual Consciousness was having some fun at his expense, even if -- officially -- supposed to be 'work-only' while he was clocked into his mandatory shift. Still not used to this duality, he lamented, as he scanned the immediate vicinity for a 'power lift.' Finding nothing, he turned to the customer. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I need to locate a service tool before I can remove your requested item. I will be back very soon, I promise."
Clearly, the customer was not happy with his response, but there was nothing else he could so. He ignored the beeps from his System, undoubtedly his Core Metrics, and followed the breadcrumb trail set up for him by the System which would lead him to where a local power lift platform was located. Although he had help from the System to find where it had been stashed, finding the exact closet it was in, within a storage room lined with closets, and then miniature interior-closets, was a pain, especially with each door requiring a different passcode. The System gave him the passcodes without any fuss, but it remained a tedium to go through the process, unplug, remove, and carefully bring the machine out to the salesfloor. A task which was far harder done than said as it involved a slow process of angling it between customers and waiting for customers to pass before he could resume the inch-by-inch crawl back to the dogfood asile.
"Ma'am?" he asked, not seeing her right away. Heading down the aisle and then a bend -- he had mistakenly gone down a similar-looking aisle, easy to do when literally all of the aisles looked the same -- he found the customer. Only she was being helped by another Associate.
His co-worker had finished placing the large bag of dogfood into her cart when the customer glanced back at him and said, "Oh. You're back. You took too long. I found someone who was competent. Have a good day."
"Have a good one, ma'am," was all he said in response.
"You can take that back to the lodge," was all his co-worker said to him upon seeing he had brought out the power lift.
"Sure will," Clark said, slowly maneuvering the power lift back the way he had come. He sighed but otherwise did as he was told.
By the time he clocked out, he helped an additional six customers. Which eat an extra ninety-minutes of his time.
[Congratulations! You've reached level 10!]
I like! Clark exclaimed. Now, only if there was something more to it, like a--
But the System caused him to interrupt his thought when it notified him of not only acquiring another Opportunity, but something he had not at all been expecting -- [You've been Promoted!]
Probation: How Was It?
