For The Truth

Chapter 3- Paperwork

Like any unproductive employee, I wasted half of my first day by procrastinating. I did some useful things, but the majority of it was just staring into space dreading the vast pile of paper I would soon have to confront. I was able to finish, but trust me, when the boss found out he wasn't exactly happy.

Still, something much smaller than that somehow became my biggest problem that day.

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Only forty more papers left to sign. At this rate, I'll only leave an hour late. I consider celebrating, but I'm too worn out.

I rub an eye and write my name for what is probably the millionth time today. All I have to do is review the reports of the time jumps, but because I put it off for so long I'm cramming it all in now.

Finally, half an hour later, the papers are finished. I stand up and loudly crack my back, to the disapproval of my nearby coworkers. Then I organize the stack so it can be turned in. The most recent reports go on the top, with the oldest on the bottom.

My chunk of work covered the past week. I find it odd that there were so many reports in such a short amount of time. Sighing, I dismiss it. It's too early to make judgements about the normal flow of business.

To my great joy, Bil walks into the office area just as I'm walking out.

"Did you finish?" he asks, a bright tone to his voice.

"Yes, actually. And I'm not even too late," I grin. Strangely, Bil frowns.

"You finished? But... No one finishes. I didn't even finish."

"Then how is any work supposed to get done around here?" I question, quite puzzled by now.

"Let's go find the Boss," he answers, skirting around my inquiry.

"Alright." He leads me out of the office and down more hallways. Soon we end up outside the door to a large, important-looking room.

"I want you to be tacit. Don't say anything unless you are directly spoken to. The Boss can be a bit... dangerous at times. It's best if you just follow my lead," Bil explains.

"Great. Of course I get the terrifying boss," I mumble.

"That is precisely the kind of thing you are never allowed to say out loud again. Am I clear?" There seems to be genuine fear in Bil's eyes. I nod, slowly and with as much conviction as I can muster. Relief runs over his features, washing the anxiety away like water.

"Thanks." He turns and knocks on the door. A tiny screen pops out of the wall.

"Identify yourselves," a discordant voice demands.

"Bil Rukson and Maxx Vasser. We need to speak with the Boss as soon as possible," my friend explains to the screen. To me, he whispers, "You're supposed to be out of here as soon as your shift ends. Yours was over half an hour ago. That's not good."

"Acceptance granted. You may enter," the screen tells us. We cautiously walk in.

"Welcome, Bil, Maxx. Have a seat," the Boss says once we come in view. He sits at a tall desk of finely wrought metal. Symbols of the TKA are inscribed on it.

His cold, grey eyes peer over thick black reading glasses. Everyone has had corrective eye surgery, so they're probably just for show.

The Boss' short black hair is slicked back. His suit and dark forest green tie complete his intimidating presence.

Bil and I sit and wait for him to further address us. Thankfully, we don't have to stay idle for long.

"I understand that you had a matter you wished to speak with me about. I assume this is correct?"

"Yes. Sir," Bil says, averting his eyes. "It's Maxx's first day here."

"I am aware of that."

"He finished all of his paperwork."

"Are you quite sure? Mr. Vasser, is he telling the truth?"

"Yes. I procrastinated for half the day, but then I crammed and got it all done," I blurt out. Something about the Boss makes me want to tell the truth.

"Do you still by chance have the armband that was issued to you for initiation?" I think of the tiny armband, nestled inside of my briefcase.

"Y-no," I lie, struggling to resist the urge to tell the truth. There are still some things I need to figure out about it.

The Boss eyes me skeptically. "Good. You are aware, I presume, that they must be returned, on penalty of immediate job loss."

I swallow. To lose your job in this society is to live without luxury. It is the life of a simple past human. Most consider it a terrible, terrible thing.

"Yes. Of course," I respond.

"Excellent. Then we are done here. Keep up the good work; I may see grounds for promotion," the Boss declares. With that we are dismissed.

I practically run from the room, barely pausing to say goodbye to Bil before jumping into a taxi headed towards home.

When I arrive at my apartment, I ignore Soz and get right to work on the armband.

At first glance, it seems ordinary. Looking closer, however, I see a minuscule button. It's so small that it's nearly impossible to see.

I strap the band to my forearm and turn it on. Then I press the button.

At first nothing happens. Then shapes begin taking form. Colors, numbers, and patterns whirl past as quickly as if I were time traveling. Yet, I never move an inch.

A shadowy figure develops in front of where I am standing. I realize with a start that it is an exact replica of me.

"Congratulations on finding reality," it sneers. "You should have taken that tracker off first."