Omnigalactic Page 2

  “Hello, thank you for calling Reliant Shipping,” said a sexy voice. She sounded extremely attractive. I could smell her feminine pheromones from here.

  “Yes, hello,” I said. “I was wondering if-”

  “Our representatives are currently busy with other callers. Please wait for the next available representative. Your call may be monitored for quality assurance.”

  Oh, right, it was automated. I felt pretty stupid as I waited on hold. There was a click. Someone picked up my call.

  “Thank you for calling Reliant Shipping. This is Kana. How can I help you today?”

  “Hello, Kana,” I said. “My name is Sai Cadel. I'm a pilot. I was wondering if there were any vacant positions with your company. I understand you probably have a lot of inquiries as of late, but I would greatly appreciate any information you have.”

  She chuckled, as if she were laughing at my situation. I was probably the one-hundredth person to call her today. I was so glad I didn't have her job; answering an endless conveyor belt of calls. “Well, we do have one position as of now. There's an open interview slot tomorrow morning. Would you like me to instamail you the application information?”

  “Yes, please.” Thank the Pantheon! This was my chance.

  My PCD vibrated. The files were all there.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  “No, that was all I needed. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Mister Cadel. And thank you for calling Reliant Shipping, the Number-One name in shipping. Please stay on the line for a brief survey.”

  I hung up. No way I was going to take another one of those stupid surveys. Were there people who actually did them? I refused to believe that. Who had the time? I sure didn't.

  I uploaded all the necessary documents required by the application, all the while hoping someone would call me back for an interview. An interview… oh, hell, I hadn't had to prepare for an interview in ten years. I had to get home and get everything ready, just in case they called me back. I needed to get an outfit ready and do a mock interview with myself in the mirror. If I was to nail this thing, then I needed to utilize the rest of my time accordingly. I took a taxi home, unable to shake the anxiety.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Have A Seat

  My head pounded when I woke from the previous night's bender. I couldn't remember too much, only that I had been suppressing the anxiety caused by my unemployment situation. There was still a can of Wat's Master Brew in the cooler next to my reclining chair. The ice had melted into slush. Icy chunks slid down my hand as I pulled the can out and pressed it against my forehead. It relieved my headache but only temporarily. Who knew fermented algae could mess someone up so bad?

  A draft from the window graced my nether regions with cool, morning air. I looked down. At some point, I must have taken my trousers off to combat the heat. The utilities company that powered my apartment received most of its energy through Liberty Freight. So, until they found a new energy supplier, my apartment had no power.

  Jumping out the window and colliding with the ground headfirst sounded all too appealing at that point. Who was I kidding? I didn't have the gonads to do something like that.

  Muffled chiming sounds projected from my jacket, which I had apparently decided not to take off before going to bed. It was my PCD. I pulled it out and read the notification: INTERVIEW IN ONE HOUR! Just enough time to get ready and commute to Reliant Shipping's home office.

  I ripped off my jacket and hopped into the cylindrical, glass hygiene chamber. Normally, when I pushed the button to turn it on, the jets underneath my feet start shooting up moisture. It was supposed to hiss. Instead, all I heard was an ineffectual click. Damn it, I’d forgotten about the utilities company. I held arms overhead and took a few sniffs. Not too bad. A simple application of Balan's Bog Water would cover up any body odor.

  I wore the only professional, collared shirt I owned. It was purple and brought out my yellow eyes. The slacks were a tad tight, though. I would be lying if I didn't admit that years sitting in the captain's chair had made me soft around the midsection. My bomber jacket finished off the outfit. I figured it would give me an air of experience as I walked into the interviewer's office.

  The door whooshed shut behind me as I left my apartment and made for the tramway. I knew that the orange tram towards the industrial district left in six minutes, so I quickened my stride. I zoomed past everyone and weaved between them like I was flying through an asteroid belt. Up ahead, the orange tram doors whined as they slid open. Hordes of Anurans and other aliens poured forth from the tram and filled the streets. I rushed to the front of the pack and stopped just short of the turnstiles. Entry fee was five bitcreds, so I searched my pockets for my digiwallet.

  The Pantheon must have despised me that day. I’d left it at the apartment.

  It was too late to run back for it now. If I did, I would have missed the tram and been late to the interview. My heart sank at the thought of needing to commit the most disgraceful act in Anuran society - asking for money. People who accepted handouts were considered sub-Anuran. This was going to hurt, but if I didn't get on that tram, I'd soon be begging for handouts on a street corner, anyway.

  Someone bumped into me from behind. I turned around to see an Anuran with a belly twice the size of my head. "Move it, swamp gas! I'm trying to get on!"

  I swallowed hard. I could feel my pride committing suicide, laying in a pool of its own blood. “Say, you think you could spare a few bitcreds?” I asked. My voice quivered like a scared child's.

  The fat guy's eyes widened. I would have been better off insulting him for his extreme weight. I mean, I wasn’t in the best shape myself, but I looked like a fitness model compared to him.

  “What did you just say to me?” he asked.

  “I'm short on bitcreds for the tram,” I said, rewording my initial question to soften the impact. “Mind helping a guy out? The crash put me in a bad spot.”

  “You dirty freeloader,” he said and pushed me aside. “Move out of my way.”

  “How about a deal?” I asked. He stopped and looked me square in the eyes. “The deal” is considered sacred amongst our people, as it must be honored. Other Anurans halted to witness the event. I wished I had been able to bathe that morning, as I felt sweat forming under my armpits.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked. His eyes looked me up and down, then left to right.

  “I will offer you an article of clothing for the cost of my tram ride,” I said.

  “Hmm…” he said as he eyed my clothes. “I'll take that jacket.”

  “Jacket's not up for trade,” I countered. I’d have much rather chopped off my gonads than give up my awesome jacket.

  “Then, get lost. Nothing else will fit me.”

  I stopped him as he started walking toward the tram. “Hold on, now. The shirt is elastic and easily cost me thirty bitcreds.”

  He felt the material of my shirt between his thumb and index finger. He nodded. “Okay, we have a deal.”

  I sighed heavily in relief as he paid my way onto the tram. As idiotic as I felt, I was more than happy to give him my shirt. Bare-chested, I zipped up my jacket and sat on one of the multitude of seats lining the cabin. I'd have to keep my jacket on for the interview. Not in my original plan, but there was no turning back now.

  The overhead speaker system came to life with a male voice slightly less sexy than the automated one from yesterday’s phone call. The voice informed everyone of today's weather (soggy and humid, as usual), and the news. Maybe I'd get some information about the crash. It skimmed through some stories about the Cold War between the Koris Republic and the Nivaran Union, two Human factions who hated each other. I didn't get it. It finally got to talking about the economy. An audio clip of a woman interviewing an economist played. Turns out the crash was a bubble. Pop. The economist made the claim that he tried to warn everyone, but I could hear in his voice that he was a filthy liar.

  “I
told you all, it goes up, and it goes down,” he said. “You can't have wild speculation - a continuous bull run - and not expect the market to correct. Unfortunately, this time, the correction was a hard nosedive.” When the economist said “nosedive”, all I could think about was my career.

  My ride ended once the tram reached the Industrial District. I glanced at my PCD - 09:16. Perfect. A crowd of passengers rose in unison as the doors slid open, and they rushed off the tram. They pushed and shoved one another to get to the front of the pack. I stayed back to let them through. No use getting trampled by the mindless mobs before I course-corrected my life.

  Reliant Shipping's home office was up ahead, past my old job. A tarp concealed Liberty Freight's rooftop sign. I won't lie to you; it stung. If I could compare it to anything, it would be like watching a janitorial droid sweep up garbage on the street- except that garbage was the last decade of my life. It wasn't much to some people - probably most people - but it was a lot to me.

  If you can believe it, even garbage once used to be something valuable. Was that the end stage of all things? Something was valuable, got used, and then thrown away? I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts.

  I checked in at the front desk on a lone tablet. Name: Cadel, Sai. Reason for visit: Interview. Time of arrival… I looked at my PCD - 09:20. I decided to shave a minute or two off the time. No one would know. Time of arrival: 09:18.

  I joined the mass of people in the waiting area. My jaw dropped. I don't claim to be a clairvoyant, but I knew, deep down, they were all here for interviews. Looked like I wasn't the only one the crash hit hard.

  At 09:27, I was called into the back by a voice on an overhead speaker. They mispronounced my last name. It’s not ‘Kay-dill’; it’s ‘Kuh-dell’. Moron.

  My heart dislodged from my chest and plummeted into my guts when I saw who the interviewer was - the fat guy from the tramway. He looked just as surprised, too. Just my luck.

  “Ah, the shirt guy,” he said as I shuffled in. “Please, have a seat. My name is Gunlo, and I'll be interviewing you today.”

  I decided to avoid discussing the event further. Best to ignore it and salvage my relationship with him. His first impression of me was already burning up in the atmosphere. I cursed how stupid I’d looked, walking in with a zipped-up jacket.

  He tapped away on a tablet for a few seconds before making eye contact with me. “So, Mister Kay-dill, you want to fly commercially for Reliant Shipping. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I answered. “And call me Sai.” I couldn't stand to hear him butcher my last name again.

  “Sai… yes, I see. And you are a credentialed pilot, is that right?”

  “Yes. I graduated top of my class at the Elaro Institute of Aeronautics, right here in Ritan City. I included my transcripts, just in case.”

  Gunlo squinted at his tablet and swiped a greasy finger along the screen. He nodded. “Yes, I see them. And you worked at Liberty Freight for about ten years.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “So, let me get this straight: You graduated top of your class from a highly-esteemed piloting school, and you decided to get into the shipping industry? Flying cargo ships?”

  “Somebody has to do it. We can't all be ace pilots, flying dangerous missions at the edge of space.”

  Gunlo harrumphed. “That may be true, but you certainly could have.”

  “Listen, I enjoy what I do… what I did, anyway. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the company going under.” Damn it. I’d let that last sentence slip, and I could tell by the disapproving look on Gunlo's face that I’d messed up. Bad.

  “Well, I'm sorry to inconvenience you. Where do you see yourself in the next ten years?”

  “I thought these questions were going to be easy,” I joked and chuckled. Man, that was desperate. That joke didn't even get off the runway, and Gunlo certainly didn't share my sense of humor. “Where do I see myself in ten years? Hopefully, flying for Reliant Shipping.”

  “Interesting,” he said as he rubbed his chin. “And why is that?”

  Another toughie. My cheeks burned hot, and my headache returned as I quickly thought about what the best answer would be. I could either be honest with him or come up with some cliché, corporate platitude. The problem was, I wasn’t sure which was which at that point. “I'm seeking new opportunities, pushing my limits, so-to-speak. To see what else is out there.”

  Gunlo's tablet dinged. I jumped in my seat. “Oh, time's up,” he said.

  “Wait, that's it?” I asked.

  “Due to the sheer number of interviews today, we only had enough time to allocate five minutes for each one,” he explained with a smile on his face. “However, I will have you go next door for your psychological evaluation.”

  My eyes popped, and I raised my brow. “Psychological evaluation? I'm not crazy. Just because I've been flying through Interspace a tad long doesn't mean I need a…”

  Gunlo sighed. “It is Reliant Shipping's company policy that all candidates seeking piloting positions must undergo a psych eval. I didn't write the policy; I simply abide by it because I like my job, and I like paying my bills on time. Will that be all?”

  I nodded.

  “Thank you, Mister Kay-dill. We'll be keeping in touch.”

  It was a little sudden, but I thought I’d landed that ship smoothly. He shook my hand, and I sighed in relief as I left the office. Thank the Pantheon, the hard part was over. Now, I needed to get the psych eval out of the way. They'd probably just ask a bunch of questions and realize I was good to go. Should be easy, right?

  I knocked on a glasteel door with a placard reading “Exam Room”. It hissed as it slid open, wafting sterilized air into my face. I stepped into the all-white room and looked around. Nobody. That was weird.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Please, have a seat,” a slightly masculine, robotic voice said from somewhere.

  I sat in the lone chair in the middle of the room.

  “Welcome to Reliant Shipping's Pre-Employment Psychological Examination. Here at Reliant Shipping, we seek only the best and most capable to ensure our clients receive the quality described in the company motto: ‘Reliant - You Can Rely On Us.’ Please state your name for the record.”

  “Sai Cadel.”

  There was a momentary pause before the robotic voice spoke again. “Okay, Sai Cadel, please state your age.”

  My age? What was the point of that? “Twenty-two.”

  Another pause. I heard a mechanical, whirring noise above my head. A pair of thin metal arms shot down and unfolded in front of my face. With a beep, they emitted a blank holoscreen. Reliant Shipping's logo appeared on it. “Okay, Sai Cadel. In a moment, you will be shown a series of images. Describe what you see in one word. Ready?”

  “Uh, sure thing,” I said. Can't say I was too sure how I'd perform on the test.

  A black circle appeared on the holoscreen. “Hmmm… could be a ball or a plan-”

  “Only one-word answers will be accepted,” the robotic voice interrupted.

  Pushy, isn't he? Fine, one-word answer. “Planet,” I said.

  The black circle morphed into a square. “Cargo.”

  Now, a diamond. “Starship.”

  A triangle. Ha, this one's easy. “Wyn Gate.”

  “Only one-word answers will be accepted.”

  Damn it. What's another word I can use? It popped into my head, accompanied by a bing! “Portal.”

  With the next image, the holoscreen sent me into a tailspin. It took me all the way back to math class my last year of high school, when I was ten - a tesseract. Was this supposed to be some kind of joke? How was anybody supposed to interpret a four-dimensional object? My eyes and brain ached as I watched the tesseract shift and rotate. I uttered the only word that made sense to a dummy like me: “Oblivion.”

  The holoscreen disappeared, and the two arms retracted and returned to the ceiling. “You have completed this section of the exam. We will move on to the
next section. You will be presented with a series of scenarios in which you will be given two possible solutions. Multiple-word answers will be accepted. Ready?”

  Uh-oh. Now, it was getting hard. “Yes,” I lied.

  “Scenario One: You're running late on a shipment to a long-time, high-priority client. In keeping with the company motto, do you call them ahead of time, apologize for the delay, and take a deduction in pay to cover the company's losses? Or do you press on, deliver the shipment, and pretend nothing happened, thereby sticking the company with the loss on a late delivery?”