Chapter 2: A Special Opportunity
Return to Chapter 1: What Kind Of Fish...
The dining hall is an ocean of tables. Clean. Shiny. Perfectly identical. Arranged in no discernible pattern. When Corinne focuses on any given block of tables, they appear chaotic. But when she surveys the entirety of the dining hall, their seemingly-random configuration blends together into a quizzical whole.
She spots Dontae sitting at one of the center-most tables. It's not hard to find him. He's the only person in the entire dining hall. She'd wave to him, but the effort would be obviously pointless. His gaze is fixed downward, upon his own tray of food, displaying a palpable frustration.
She weaves her way past one misplaced table after another until she reaches him. He doesn't notice her presence until she plunks down her tray, directly across from him.
[Corinne]: Hey, kid! Long time, no see.
He doesn't bother looking up as he responds. He's stirring a featureless pile of plain white rice with an odd, shiny, bulbous instrument.
[Dontae]: I know. It's been at least... a half hour.
[Dontae]: I didn't think so. But Hector Hologram had different ideas.
He looks up from his meager rations and spies the food on her tray. He looks as though he's just witnessed a miracle.
[Dontae]: What the hell is that?
She unleashes one of her signature carefree chuckles.
[Corinne]: Second breakfast? Early dinner? Mid-day sustenance?
[Dontae]: Yeah, yeah. It's lunch. I get that. But what did they serve you?
She shrugs as she surveys her meal.
[Corinne]: Double cheeseburger on a ciabatta bun. Mushrooms, Swiss, bacon, jalapeños, and a fried egg. Curly fries. Apple cobbler. And a... [taking a tentative sample from the straw in her drink] strawberry smoothie.
The burger is plump and sumptuous. Fat, streaked with savory goodness, oozes down the edges of the bun. The fries boast a perfect golden crispness. Gentle wisps of steam waft over the cobbler.
[Dontae]: Goddamnit.
[Corinne]: What's wrong?
[Dontae]: How did you get them to serve that to you?
[Corinne]: I dunno. The kiosk asked me what I wanted. I said I was in the mood for a burger.
[Dontae]: You gotta be kiddin me. He didn't ask you a buncha crazy questions?
[Corinne]: Oh, there was a bit of an interrogation.
[Dontae]: Like, what kinda fish you'd be?
[Corinne]: What? No. Like, what kinda toppings I'd like. And how I wanted the egg prepared.
[Dontae]: Figures.
[Corinne]: What do you mean about fish?
[Dontae]: Nevermind. It's not important. Why are we here?
She shoves a few curly fries in her mouth. She exudes satisfaction - a reaction that only serves to heighten Dontae's frustration.
[Corinne]: Did you not wanna meet for lunch today? It's kinda "our thing", after all.
[Dontae]: Well, sure. But we've been interning here for months. And this is the first time we haven't gone out for lunch.
[Corinne]: I dunno. We've never eaten in the cafeteria. Figured it couldn't hurt to give it a try.
[Dontae]: I get that. But this [gesturing toward his food] is that try.
[Corinne]: Since when do you eat chicken wings?
[Dontae]: Does this really look like chicken to you?
[Corinne]: No... It's kinda scrawny. Like a...
[Dontae]: Bat?
[Corinne]: I was gonna say, "pigeon".
[Dontae]: We're missing Tuna Tuesday at the Sushi Hut.
[Corinne]: You do realize that's not tuna, right?
[Dontae]: Huh? Whuduya mean?
[Corinne]: Yellowfin tuna's extinct.
[Dontae]: No way.
[Corinne]: Way.
[Dontae]: Since when?
She lifts the righteous burger to her mouth. The motion sends a fresh wave of savory aroma to Dontae's nose.
[Corinne]: I dunno. Couple decades, at least.
A warm stream of juices trickle down her chin as she tears into the sandwich.
[Dontae]: Then what the hell have I been eating every Tuesday at the Sushi Hut?
[Corinne]: Hell if I know. Some kinda generic "fish" that's been doctored to approximate ahi tuna?
[Dontae]: Why didn't you say anything before?
She shrugs again as she processes her current bite.
[Corinne]: I thought you knew? Besides, you always seem so happy with that... "tuna". Does it really make any difference?
[Dontae]: Guess not. I'd sure like some of that faux-tuna right about now.
She smiles and surveys his meager meal anew. A genuine sense of pity wells up inside her.
[Corinne]: Here. Let's just split mine.
[Dontae]: No, no. That's fine. I'm really not that hungry anyway.
[Corinne]: You sure? I'll never be able to eat all this anyway.
[Dontae]: Yeah, I'm sure.
He's lying. The strange thing is that he doesn't even know why he's lying. They've shared many meals before. She'd gladly split her burger-and-fries with him. But some twisted sense of "decorum" keeps him from accepting her offer.
[Corinne]: Suit yourself.
Her focus on the juicy burger, and his focus on watching her eat the juicy burger, has kept both of them from realizing that someone was approaching. In a single jarring motion, some random employee plops his tray down on the table, directly beside her, and sidles up next to her. The stranger says nothing to either of them. Nor does he acknowledge them in any way.
In unison, Dontae and Corinne both gaze at the stranger for a couple awkward moments. Then they survey the cavernous dining hall, each confirming to themselves that there is no one else in the room. Then they look at each other and share an awkward smirk. Corinne fights the urge to laugh out loud. Dontae just looks at her and grins.
The stranger makes no effort to eat. He just sits, uncomfortably close to Corinne, and stares straight ahead. They both remain transfixed by his odd presence for several more moments before she finally tries to resume their conversation.
[Corinne]: So, I've been thinking...
[Dontae]: About?
[Dontae]: Well... yeah. In a couple months.
[Corinne]: And we gotta start thinking about what's next.
[Dontae]: I'm hoping that the "next" entails an offer as a permanent employee.
[Corinne]: Right. But it can't hurt to start looking now.
[Dontae]: Looking? For what? You're not thinking about going somewhere else, are you?
[Corinne]: No. Not yet, at least. But I've been looking through the job boards on Rabbit Hole.
[Dontae]: But we already have jobs here.
[Dontae]: Sure. But everyone's gotta start somewhere.
[Corinne]: I guess. But there's no reason we can't start exploring opportunities now.
Although Corinne's tone is warm and friendly, as usual, the subject matter clearly makes Dontae uncomfortable.
Dontae has noticed that the odd stranger sitting directly beside Corinne is... crying. He isn't audaciously sobbing. But there's definitely a trickle of subtle tears escaping down his cheeks. He's also made no attempt whatsoever to eat his lunch.
The stranger's forward stare wavers. He looks first to Dontae. Then to Corinne. But this is followed only by him directing his blank stare back into the ether. He says... nothing. Dontae and Corinne exchange concerned - albeit, slightly bemused - glances before they shrug and resume their conversation.
[Corinne]: You were saying?
[Dontae]: What was I saying...? Oh, yeah. That's right. I just don't wanna come across as being too... eager.
[Corinne]: Every plebe in our office - including you - wants to parlay this gig into a permanent position, yeah?
[Dontae]: Well... sure.
[Corinne]: So what exactly is so "eager" about applying for permanent roles now?
[Dontae]: There's a way about these things.
Corinne noshes another epic bite of her burger and affects a haughty tone.
[Corinne]: Oh, really? Please enlighten me.
She shoves a couple curly fries in her mouth without bothering to have finished the previous bite.
[Corinne]: Mmhmm. Go on.
[Dontae]: We haven't yet completed that process. We keep our heads down. We do our work. We get our reviews. Then we wait to be recognized with a salaried position.
[Corinne]: And how's that process been working for you so far?
[Dontae]: Whuduya mean?
[Corinne]: Has Dodger given you any "reviews" so far? Has anything happened yet that feels like "recognition" to you?
Corinne has an innate ability to speak truth. And whenever she does, that truth rarely makes Dontae feel comfortable.
[Dontae]: Well... not exactly.
[Corinne]: Define "exactly".
[Dontae]: I don't think Dodger's spoken two words to me since our first day in the program. I'm not even sure he knows I exist.
[Corinne]: But you're relying on his feedback to catapult you into the employee ranks?
[Dontae]: He's gotta give us some kinda rating at the end of the program. I mean... what else is there to do?
[Corinne]: Glad you asked.
She reaches into her pocket and retrieves a folded sheet of paper. As she does, another stranger, every bit as random as the first, plunks down directly next to Dontae. This spurs them both to survey the entire dining hall again. There are only four people in the entire space, including the two of them. Dontae looks flustered, but his annoyance subsides when he sees the amusement barely concealed on Corinne's face.
The latest stranger says nothing, but instead dives directly into his meal. His entire tray is smothered in an epic pile of white rice - and nothing else. He proceeds to shovel piles of it into his mouth. With nothing but his bare hands. The person sitting directly beside Corinne still sobs quietly. Dontae and Corinne observe the spectacle for a while, completely unnoticed by either stranger, before she continues unfolding her sheet of paper. She slides it across the table toward Dontae.
[Dontae]: Where the heck did you get this?
[Corinne]: I told you. Off'ah Rabbit Hole.
[Dontae]: No. I'm talkin bout the fact that it's paper. Did you print this out?
[Corinne]: Is that a problem?
[Dontae]: Not really. But I haven't seen a single printer in this building since the day we started.
[Dontae]: I was standing right next to his podium before I left for lunch. I didn't see any printer.
[Corinne]: Of course not. It's Tuesday.
[Dontae]: Come again?
[Corinne]: It's only there on Mondays. And every-other Thursday.
[Dontae]: Where is it on the other days?
[Corinne]: Beats me.
[Dontae]: So someone drags it in there and sets it up every Monday?
[Corinne]: And every-other Thursday.
[Dontae]: And then they drag it back out at the end of those days?
[Corinne]: Look. Printer maintenance ain't really "my thing". Are you gonna read the paper or not?
Dontae would prefer to dwell on the inanity of The Great Printer Mystery of 2070, but he senses that she may not enjoy the investigation. He holds the sheet of paper over his untouched food and begins reading.
[Dontae]: Hegemony International has an opening for a Manager of Special Projects, working out of our Jacksonville, Florida campus. The Special Projects team is responsible for all "special" projects directly tied to to the profit objectives of the company, reporting up to the Office of Global Initiatives. They drive ROI by identifying and exploiting new opportunities to extend the company's global reach and public standing. Special Projects works closely with other Hegemony teams to maximize the results of corporate initiatives, with a keen focus on efficiency and expansion.
He looks up from the paper in bewilderment.
[Corinne]: C'mon. Just keep reading.
[Dontae]: The qualified candidate will have at least six months of prior management experience; a demonstrated ability to work well with others; familiarity with Rabbit Hole, Holla, and other corporate systems; two years of experience as a juggler (or other acts of physical entertainment) ; fluency in Yiddish; at least ten toes; an encyclopedic knowledge of the Frankish-Moravian War, and no criminal record in Nigeria. To be considered, please complete the online application. You must submit a full set of dental records, three haikus, and an essay explaining the ways in which Reginald Howell has made your life more meaningful.
He stares at Corinne for a moment. His confusion is not reflected in her giddy smile.
[Dontae]: What the hell's this?
[Corinne]: It's a job opening. For a permanent position. Right here in Jacksonville. We should apply.
[Dontae]: But what does this Special Projects projects team even do? I can't make heads nor tails of it.
She grabs the paper back from him and silently re-reads the Special Projects description.
[Corinne]: Nope. Not a clue.
[Dontae]: That seems a bit... troubling, to me at least.
It should be an elementary inquiry. But it's one that evades a simple answer.
[Dontae]: Well... they send us the spreadsheets every day. And we have to check them, against...
[Corinne]: A bunch of other spreadsheets.
[Dontae]: Right.
[Corinne]: And the data. In those spreadsheets. It represents what, exactly?
[Dontae]: You know... that's been eating at me since we started here. I never have quite been able to figure that out.
[Corinne]: So you basically got no fucking clue exactly what it is that we do here?
[Dontae]: I've been meaning to talk to you about that, but I didn't really wanna admit that I don't-
[Dontae]: Doesn't surprise me.
[Rice Man]: You gonna eat that?
The interjection startles both of them. The stranger next to Dontae motions at the untouched food on his tray.
[Dontae]: Uhhh... No.
[Rice Man]: Can I have it???
[Dontae]: Sure... whatever, man. Have at it.
Rice Man was reaching onto Dontae's tray before he could even finish granting him permission. He grabs several handfuls before Dontae simply slides the tray in front of him.
[Corinne]: We're not even sure what we're doing now. So why you gonna let that stop you when considering another position?
[Dontae]: OK, but... these requirements.
[Corinne]: What about'em?
[Dontae]: I don't have any management experience.
[Corinne]: Sure you do. You managed that car lot for Lissa's dad. Every summer between classes.
[Dontae]: He was gracious enough to call me the assistant manager. And I really just helped them with accounting.
[Corinne]: You're nitpicking. It's still "management". Besides, you've got a friggin MBA.
[Dontae]: Maybe. But... Yiddish? Juggling? The Frankish-Moravian War???
[Corinne]: No one has those qualifications. It's just filler stuffed into a job description by some clueless HR manager.
[Dontae]: I don't know...
[Corinne]: You work well with others?
[Dontae]: As far as I know, yeah.
[Corinne]: You have ten toes?
[Dontae]: At least that many.
[Corinne]: Are you a Nigerian criminal?
[Dontae]: I've never even been to Africa.
[Corinne]: Well there you go! You're probably already one of the most qualified candidates they'll see.
[Corinne]: Last chance for some fries?
[Dontae]: No thanks. I'm gonna grab some takeout from Sushi Hut.
[Corinne]: Can't get that tuna out yer mind, huh?
[Dontae]: Naw. I think I'll try the uni.
[Corinne]: Then I suppose I won't inform you about the status of sea urchins.
[Dontae]: I'd prefer that you don't.
As they make their way out of the dining hall, Rice Man is still snatching bits of rice from Dontae's tray. The other guy is still weeping. He hasn't touched his food.
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