Slumrat Rising

A Slow Day At Work

“I miss the pet café.” Truth thought. “I miss Captain Floofy and Wigglebut. They got me. Spiritually. Mr. Mittens was a bit standoffish, but I respect his not wanting to be touched until there was trust and a connection. I respect the hell out of it.”

“And then, THEN, the little idiot was like, “Oh, but I don’t see your Weekly Employee Efficiency Evaluation Review Reports linked in the database!” And then I was like, “Um? Excuse me? Is this the demon right here? You know, the one with the WEEERR Reports memorized? Because it’s been the same demon for forty years? You know? That demon? And then she got super embarrassed and stomped off to the bathroom. I know she cried in there. And then everybody clapped.”

She drew a single short breath and continued.

“But anyway, are we almost there yet? I don’t think these seats are ergonomic, and there is NO WAY I can spend all day in unergonomic seats. Not with my legs. The witch was very clear- ten minutes moving around for every fifty seated, and we’ve been here for hours. I don’t know how many hours-”

“Five hours, thirty-eight minutes, and twenty-three seconds. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.” Truth said. He hadn’t been watching the clock, but by Prager, he was now.

“Oh, that is really no good, young man. Not good at all. You will never get promoted, being a clock-watcher. Not good at all! In my department, you can always spot the clock watchers. They are like little toasts, popping up at exactly six o’clock….”

He wasn’t even protecting this nattering woman. He was protecting a box they were sharing the hold with. She was “supervising” the box. They were sitting on foldout jump seats in the back of a cargo bird flying from one end of Jeon to another, surrounded by thousands of other, unsupervised boxes.

This box was so damn special that it required a notably hard-to-kill Corporal and the South Rejin Island Regional Champion Yammerer. Her ability to monologue pointlessly had seamlessly moved from boring, to painful, to horrifying, to redefining hell.

For once, we are in complete agreement. Would they notice if you just… shoved her out the hatch? Or maybe one of the loading slaves didn’t properly secure one of the boxes, and it fell and crushed her head into paste? Possibly that box way up there, with the metal reinforced edges?

Desperate to escape the yammering, Truth tried to escape into fantasy. He imagined putting the yammerer into an armbar, marching her to the hatch, and shoving her out. Just… watching her fall twenty thousand feet onto the mountains below. But no, the doors were alarmed and warded against that sort of thing, and he remembered hearing about how you couldn’t open the doors when you were high up. No, an accident inside the bird would be necessary.

He started looking around. The guys at the loading dock were good, but it was a busy, high-speed job. Wouldn’t be surprising if a box wasn’t tied down properly. He started scanning the top shelves, looking for likely volunteers.

She shook her head in disgust. “They try to claim their parents died and they “need” to go to the funeral. Well, do you know what Starbrite needs? They need you to do your job! And with a good, positive, cheerful attitude. We need to be happy value-generating warriors, maximizing shareholder returns through energized and empowered forward-focused core competency engagement across departmental achievement milestones….”

“Oh, she’s had a stroke. How wonderful.” Truth thought. “Fingers crossed the bird gets hit by AA fire, and I have to kill my way out, dragging this two hundred kilo chest of whatever it is across jungle-covered mountains.”

Alas, life does not always give us what we want. The bird safely landed an hour later. A passenger bird could have done it in half the time, but these big cargo carriers flew slowly to maximize energy efficiency. Or to torture Truth. Either could be true.

“And I know we can’t just fire people. This is Starbrite, for heaven’s sake! But I do make a point of letting everyone know that a transfer to a fish cannery’s production line is always an option. I had a wonderful program for a couple of years where the bottom five percent of performers in my department were automatically transferred to the canneries. But like I told you, the Regional Manager, or should I say current and soon to be former Regional Manager, is a person without vision….”

“I must kill her. She is departmental poison. Her sickening incompetence is damaging productivity and morale and sets a terrible example for other managers. Her supervisor is also responsible, and he will be taken care of next. But right now, for the good of Starbrite, she must die.”

Truth reached a place of calm resolve. It was a violation of his oath. He would probably die. But it was necessary. For Starbrite.

Yes. For Starbrite. Farewell Truth. I hated you, but in the end, you managed to do the right thing.

His hands started rising. He would throttle her. It was the only way.

“Corporal Truth? We’re here to take delivery?” A tidily dressed pair of delivery men waved at him.

“Pardon?” They didn’t look like undertakers.

“Delivery? You are supposed to be delivering a crate to us?” One asked, starting to look puzzled.

“Oh. Right. Yes. Right here.” He waved them to the box. They pressed a spell gem to the binding talisman on the crate.

MISSION COMPLETE! You have successfully delivered the package and District Manager Y’Vette to Poyussan International Airport Cargo Terminal.

REWARD: Fifteen performance points, no bonus, Second Mission in Chain unlocked.

Eh? Chain mission?

MANDATORY FOLLOW-UP MISSION: Work with the delivery team to escort the package and District Manager Y’Vette to the secured holding facility attached to Poyussan International Airport Cargo Terminal and facilitate the transfer. REWARD: one hundred performance points. PERFORMANCE BONUS: Three vials of True Sight Drops.

Huh. There was a nice chunk of performance points, and True Sight drops were always helpful for breaking illusions. Not… life-changing or anything, but nice. Everyone looked at each other and nodded. They all got the mission update too.

The secured holding facility was a storage unit attached to the warehouse and “secured” with a padlock, a ward strong enough to stop most hamsters or half a rat, and an alarm loud enough to wake the dead. Metaphorically. It was clear no one involved with this would spring for actual necromancers, as those cost money. The small storage unit had the sole virtue of having a decent ritual space etched into the floor. Looked like a binding ritual, so maybe that’s what they meant by “secured?”

“Alright, Manager Y’Vette, if you could stand on the Sigil of Roth Esham, perfect, thank you. Jer, you got Melchior?”

“All day.” Jer was already standing on the spot.

“Great. And I’ve got Penz’ap’nem. OK, Corporal, could you pop the chest? Please do be careful, as the contents can shift during transit, and that can make it cranky.”

“I am always excited to work on new projects, but could someone please explain what this is about? I was told I was going on a career development retreat and was flying with cargo for efficiency.” Y’vette asked.

“Yes Ma'am, all of that is correct. This is step one, as it were.” Jer nodded. Truth eased over to the box and felt the spells activate. They resonated with the binding on the floor and, once satisfied with that, tested Truth’s lapel pin. All being in order, the latches popped free. Truth gingerly eased the lid open.

A shadow whipped out, clawing for Truth’s throat. He slapped it away and shifted back a half step. “Load Sword Of Wold!”

Sword of Wold Loaded. Five hundred credits deducted from your account.

Truth’s hand turned into a glowing point of light, hacking down on the squirming mass of darkness and tentacles as it poured out of the chest. There is no hope; it seemed to whisper. There is no future for you. You will die horribly, horribly. And it won’t matter. Better to just let it happen. Better to just accept.

Truth stabbed the thing where it looked like it would do some good. The mass of shadows and twisting hooks and suckers screamed.

“Whoa, there, Corporal! No workplace violence!” The delivery man exclaimed. “Jer, quick, hit it!” Jer nodded and started chanting. From the breast pocket of his overalls, he pulled a little silver plate and aimed it at the horror. The other delivery driver did the same, but where he was standing, his talisman put the horror and Y’Vette in a straight line together. Y’vette stood stock still, clearly trying to process what she was seeing.

The creature lunged once more at Truth, who focused on defending himself. The chants soon had it bound to stillness, then compressed into an inky black ball the size of an ostrich egg. The delivery man yelled “Rem’kah!” The ball flew at Y’Vette. She tried to scream.

The demon unfurled its hooks, wrapping around her face. Burrowing in through her mouth, her nose, her eyes, and her ears. She tried to scream again, but nothing came out. Her eyes were flooded with blackness. Something inhuman blinked once. Then the eyes reverted to normal.

“Oh my.” The voice poured like warm milk out of former District Manager Y’Vette. “I knew I was up for a bonus, but this is just spectacular.”

“You earned it, Madam. It says here that we are to take you directly to some blood pools for a spa treatment, then later in the evening, the local prison is holding a private execution. We arranged a special seat just for you.” The delivery man said with pride.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. And this body is a delight too. Did you know she put an employee on a performance improvement plan for not “Displaying a positive and productive attitude” the day his pregnant wife died in a flying carpet accident?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised, Madam. I’m sure you will whip her into shape.” Jer said loyally.

“Whipping will be a reward.” The demon chuckled, running the fingers that used to belong to Y’Vette through the hair that Y’Vette used to obsess over. “There are so, so many lessons to learn first. And you, young man! Swinging that nasty thing around. I am quite entitled to feel cranky after such a rough flight and your attitude Did Not Help.”

Her voice was warm but firm. Truth felt a sudden overwhelming sense of shame. Like he should offer her something to apologize. Anything. Everything. His lapel pin blazed bright blue for an instant, and the feeling passed.

“Sorry about that.” He tried to remain affable. The demon sniffed, then turned to the delivery man.

“So, are you going to let me out of here?”

“Certainly, Madam, at once! But you know the rules.”

“Yes, yes. So tiresome.” She chanted something infernal; the delivery men chanted something in Enochian, their silver plates burned with all the colors in the rainbow. Truth just stood there quietly. Soon a ring of silver runes etched its way around the base of “Y’Vette’s” neck. Everyone nodded, and she stepped out of the formation.

“Ah, before I go, Corporal Medici. A quick word, if you please.” She crooked her finger at him while giving the delivery guys a look. They wandered a short distance away.

“Corporal, you aren’t one of my reports, but I can see you are not a people person. And, not to put too fine a point on it, a virgin. Nothing wrong with that, of course. But I want you to ensure you are taking full advantage of the services HR and the System can provide you.” Somehow, her voice just oozed sincere concern.

“I understand it can be scary trying to make a connection.” She murmured. “It’s terrifying to be vulnerable. You can handle physical dangers, but emotional vulnerability? The Army doesn’t train you for that.”

Truth just nodded, lost.

“So my candid suggestion is this- practice.”

“Smalltalk?”

“That’s a good start, but I was thinking slightly more advanced. For certain people, certain things become available in the shop. For example, a lover.”

“Madam, I think this is getting a little inappropriate.” Truth said.

“Nothing inappropriate about it. It’s a benefit, and you are entitled to it. The credits are significant upfront, depending on the degree of customization you want and whether you want a modified human or a full demon. But you would be safe. Safe. They would never hurt you. You could open yourself to them fully, and they would never hate you. Never look down on you. Despise you for being from the slums. So long as you made the monthly payments, they would be yours forever. Or until you are tired of them and find someone new. At the very least, they are someone you could practice with.”

She smiled warmly. “Think it over. And now, I am off for my retreat!” And she merrily strode away.

“Thanks. She can be a handful right out of the crate, but really, she’s a sweetie. One of HR’s top demons.” Jer told Truth appreciatively. “She’s been on some shit details recently, so this is a well-earned break for her.”

Truth wasn’t quite sure how he felt about all this. All he could think of to say was- “You guys are HR? You look like delivery guys. No offense.”

“None taken, we are. We just make sure our non-corporeal colleagues get where they need to go rather than packages. If you follow me.” Truth nodded. The delivery men packed up the empty crate, handed Truth his bonus, and everyone went home.

The flight back was in the hold of another transport, just him and tonnes of paper goods. Eight hours of blessed silence. Just another day on the job.