This feels like a very free-form prompt so I'm sorry in advance if you don't like where it's taken me :)
What comes next Fabian sat down at his desk and stared out of the window rubbing his temples. He and Dread had washed up the plates together and then carried on drinking for a few more hours before Dread had headed back to his apartments at Admiralty House, and while Fabian didn't think he'd drunk a lot, particularly, there was a slight pressure behind his eyeballs that reminded him unpleasantly of a hangover. He considered what he needed to get done today and his spirit quailed at the idea of finding somewhere to begin. Exhaling carefully, reminding himself that he wasn't someone who kept sighing all the time, he decided to do something that was practically meaningless but was an easy way to get started. "Momentum," he murmured to himself. "Once you get started it's much easier to keep going. Just start on something." He picked up a tablet, discovered it was the wrong one and failed to trap a sigh while he looked for the right tablet. Feeling slightly annoyed with himself, and not entirely sure why this all mattered anyway, he tapped at the screen until he established a call with Cass Treblinka, the Museum's HR Director. "Cass," he said when she answered. "How are your plants?" "Fine," she said. She had icy blue eyes that made interviewees and misbehaving employees feel like they were being scrutinised when she gazed at them. She gazed at Fabian now and he smiled; his daughter had blue eyes as well. "Why are you asking?" "Small talk," said Fabian. "It's called social lubricant." "Get on with it," said Cass. "You came in late and you've got more than enough to be doing after an Assessment. Why are you bothering me?" "I want to know how people we send to the Assessors each year." "What?!" Cass's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She caught that quickly and closed it again, a look of annoyance appearing on her face. "We don't send people to the Assessors. We get assessed. Have you been drinking before work, Fabian?" "I didn't mean as a punishment," he said. "Though... can we do that? Never mind, I meant, how many application to join the Assessors do we get a year?" "Sit there," said Cass looking as though she'd swallowed a fly. "Actually, don't just sit there, start doing something productive. I shall be over shortly." "No--" started Fabian but she cut the call and he found himself staring at a to-do list instead. "Curse her," he murmured, looking at the visitor's chair. Thankfully she probably wouldn't stay long, though he'd still have preferred to have gone to her office, but she would definitely not tolerate being sat in a chair that made her knees touch her nose. He started looking for something to put under the chair to support it better.
Cass knocked on Fabian's door and entered without waiting for an answer. He, used to this, looked up from a report from the Maestro on the possibility of residual magic on an eight-thousand year old pottery fragment, and gestured towards the visitor's chair. Cass sat down without formality and if she noticed that the chair seemed unusually firm she said nothing about it. Her eyes did observe the gaps in the bookshelves where various large volumes were missing, but she started with the Assessors. "Why do think we have applications to be an Assessor, Fabian?" Her voice was school-teacherly; Fabian felt like this was a question he was intended to get wrong in order to provide an educational moment. "I was talking to Admiral Dread yesterday," said Fabian, thinking hard. "He's having an Assessment at the moment too so we were discussing how ours had been. He mentioned that it's been five years since anyone in the Navy applied to join the Assessors and I was wondering what our statistic was." "Worse," said Cass flatly. "We've had exactly one application to become an Assessor while I've been working here. That was... probably eight years ago." "How strange," said Fabian, forgetting to be careful. "I would have thought that Oswald would have loved to be an Assessor, you know. Or that friend of his, Amanda, Agatha, something like that?" Cass wrinkled her nose, which was slightly too long for her face and made her look slightly horsey in bad lighting. "You're the Director," she said, sounding as though she was doing him a great favour, "but this really isn't something we normally discuss. Oswald was actually the applicant eight years ago. He was summarily rejected, and I'm not going into any more detail than that. Amanda has asked about it...." When it seemed Cass wouldn't continue Fabian said, "And?" "And I was... guided that no application would be accepted," said Cass. "I wasn't given any more information, but I have been... guided to understand that the Assessors are not accepting applications at the moment." "Then where do new Assessors come from?" Cass stood up. "I imagine there are mummy Assessor and daddy Assessors," she said. "But I'm not asking. If you're that interested in them you can ask them yourself."
Greg - you very rarely disappoint with your writing. Or never, I suspect, but I don't have a good enough memory to declare that so 'very rarely' will have to do for now :)
Cass is an interesting addition to the story. And a useful source of information it seems. I'm impressed you dodged the 'former employee now Assessor is the thief' route, as my brain had already launched most of the way to the end of the tale by the time Cass told him Oswald was the only one and that he was rejected.
3 comments:
This feels like a very free-form prompt so I'm sorry in advance if you don't like where it's taken me :)
What comes next
Fabian sat down at his desk and stared out of the window rubbing his temples. He and Dread had washed up the plates together and then carried on drinking for a few more hours before Dread had headed back to his apartments at Admiralty House, and while Fabian didn't think he'd drunk a lot, particularly, there was a slight pressure behind his eyeballs that reminded him unpleasantly of a hangover. He considered what he needed to get done today and his spirit quailed at the idea of finding somewhere to begin. Exhaling carefully, reminding himself that he wasn't someone who kept sighing all the time, he decided to do something that was practically meaningless but was an easy way to get started.
"Momentum," he murmured to himself. "Once you get started it's much easier to keep going. Just start on something."
He picked up a tablet, discovered it was the wrong one and failed to trap a sigh while he looked for the right tablet. Feeling slightly annoyed with himself, and not entirely sure why this all mattered anyway, he tapped at the screen until he established a call with Cass Treblinka, the Museum's HR Director.
"Cass," he said when she answered. "How are your plants?"
"Fine," she said. She had icy blue eyes that made interviewees and misbehaving employees feel like they were being scrutinised when she gazed at them. She gazed at Fabian now and he smiled; his daughter had blue eyes as well. "Why are you asking?"
"Small talk," said Fabian. "It's called social lubricant."
"Get on with it," said Cass. "You came in late and you've got more than enough to be doing after an Assessment. Why are you bothering me?"
"I want to know how people we send to the Assessors each year."
"What?!" Cass's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She caught that quickly and closed it again, a look of annoyance appearing on her face. "We don't send people to the Assessors. We get assessed. Have you been drinking before work, Fabian?"
"I didn't mean as a punishment," he said. "Though... can we do that? Never mind, I meant, how many application to join the Assessors do we get a year?"
"Sit there," said Cass looking as though she'd swallowed a fly. "Actually, don't just sit there, start doing something productive. I shall be over shortly."
"No--" started Fabian but she cut the call and he found himself staring at a to-do list instead. "Curse her," he murmured, looking at the visitor's chair. Thankfully she probably wouldn't stay long, though he'd still have preferred to have gone to her office, but she would definitely not tolerate being sat in a chair that made her knees touch her nose. He started looking for something to put under the chair to support it better.
Cass knocked on Fabian's door and entered without waiting for an answer. He, used to this, looked up from a report from the Maestro on the possibility of residual magic on an eight-thousand year old pottery fragment, and gestured towards the visitor's chair. Cass sat down without formality and if she noticed that the chair seemed unusually firm she said nothing about it. Her eyes did observe the gaps in the bookshelves where various large volumes were missing, but she started with the Assessors.
"Why do think we have applications to be an Assessor, Fabian?" Her voice was school-teacherly; Fabian felt like this was a question he was intended to get wrong in order to provide an educational moment.
"I was talking to Admiral Dread yesterday," said Fabian, thinking hard. "He's having an Assessment at the moment too so we were discussing how ours had been. He mentioned that it's been five years since anyone in the Navy applied to join the Assessors and I was wondering what our statistic was."
"Worse," said Cass flatly. "We've had exactly one application to become an Assessor while I've been working here. That was... probably eight years ago."
"How strange," said Fabian, forgetting to be careful. "I would have thought that Oswald would have loved to be an Assessor, you know. Or that friend of his, Amanda, Agatha, something like that?"
Cass wrinkled her nose, which was slightly too long for her face and made her look slightly horsey in bad lighting. "You're the Director," she said, sounding as though she was doing him a great favour, "but this really isn't something we normally discuss. Oswald was actually the applicant eight years ago. He was summarily rejected, and I'm not going into any more detail than that. Amanda has asked about it...."
When it seemed Cass wouldn't continue Fabian said, "And?"
"And I was... guided that no application would be accepted," said Cass. "I wasn't given any more information, but I have been... guided to understand that the Assessors are not accepting applications at the moment."
"Then where do new Assessors come from?"
Cass stood up. "I imagine there are mummy Assessor and daddy Assessors," she said. "But I'm not asking. If you're that interested in them you can ask them yourself."
Greg - you very rarely disappoint with your writing. Or never, I suspect, but I don't have a good enough memory to declare that so 'very rarely' will have to do for now :)
Cass is an interesting addition to the story. And a useful source of information it seems. I'm impressed you dodged the 'former employee now Assessor is the thief' route, as my brain had already launched most of the way to the end of the tale by the time Cass told him Oswald was the only one and that he was rejected.
Post a Comment