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Written by
darubyprincxx.
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Aaaand here's the sequel. No, this is not the end. In between posting Welcome to Site-43 and posting this, the scope of what was originally meant to be a little one or two tale miniseries has expanded into a whole Thing. We asked the Nine Muses for writing motivation and they played a cruel joke on us by siccing an entire project idea on us right before midterms season started.
…Hey, at least we have something to keep ourself busy with in between studying!
First days are often overwhelming. First weeks can be even worse.
Don't Overdo It
Sunday, August 2nd, 2022
3:43 P.M
"It went great," said One, practically bouncing out of the office. They were so excited that he could barely keep up with their thoughts.
Dr. Wettle was sitting in a nearby chair, picking at a hole in his labcoat. "That's great, kid."
"There are over 33,000 files stored in the Archives, and 2/3rds of them are anomalous, and to compensate for the existence of clearance levels all of them are arranged into sections and within those sections it's in Dewey Decimal order, which is really fucking cool, and all of the anomalous stuff is contained in a different room and it's all color-coded and it must have taken Dr. Blank months to get everything sorted," said One, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He took a deep breath. "Also, there's a cat in there. Did you know that there's a cat? The cat is really good. You should see the cat."
It took a few seconds of Wettle staring flatly at him for One to finally realize that his enthusiasm was not being shared. He felt his mood deflate and cleared his throat. "Sorry. I am a gigantic fucking nerd who enjoys nerd shit. You good?"
Wettle squinted at him. "What? Yeah, I'm fine." He stood up, using the rolling chair he was sitting in for support, but it slid suddenly to one side and he had to grab a nearby table for support. "Did it go well?"
One frowned at him. "…Yeah. Were you even listening?"
"No." Wettle dusted himself off, which achieved nothing. "Also, I don't really care, so don't bother repeating what you said."
That was rude, but then again, Wettle hadn't initially shown any signs of interest in the outcome of the interview anyways, so that was on One for not noticing. He was about to go back to H&R to get this all over with, but then the door to Dr. Blank's office opened and the man himself emerged with several sheets of printed paper in hand. "Completely forgot to give you these," he told One. "Pamphlet, pamphlet, and a printed map of the 3rd sublevel, which I really wish I'd had during my first week here."
"Thank you," said One, accepting them all gratefully.
"No problem," said Harry. His eyes went wide. "Wait, your escort was Willie?!"
8:29 P.M
Several hours and a lot of paperwork later, Two walked slowly down the halls of Habitation & Sustenance, searching for the room number that had been written on a small envelope and given to them earlier. Finding the door that led to their given room, he shook their temporary room key out of the envelope, inserted it into the lock, and walked inside, flicking on the lights with a heavy sigh.
The room was laid out similarly to the dorms they'd stayed in during college, with a main area, bathroom, and two more doors that led to two bedrooms. (They didn't have a roommate yet, which he was extremely happy about.) There was a couch, a bare coffee table, an empty bookshelf, and a TV. The bathroom contained all of the things that you would normally hope to see in a bathroom. Each of the bedrooms had a twin sized bed, a desk, a closet, and an overhead fan, which was nice.
Two checked the upper corners of every room for security cameras and was unsurprised to find them everywhere except for the closets & bathrooms. Of course the global superpower institution had surveillance practices on par with major world governments.
Two tested all of the lights. They were stark and white. They would have to buy a few standing lamps later. He flopped down onto the couch and sighed, the exhaustion they had been keeping at bay finally crashing over them like a wave.
Is it over? One asked.
Yeah. It's over. We're in our room now.
Ugh, he replied, and Two shut his eyes and let their thoughts drift for a little before forcing themself to sit back up and open up the little foldout pamphlets Dr. Blank had given them.
The first one was about an uncontained anomaly wandering around the Site, connected to a janitor named Philip Deering. The anomaly, nicknamed "Doug," manifested in reflective surfaces around Phil and let out a continuous, earsplitting shriek if there were none within sight of him. Apart from that, the pamphlet said, it was harmless.
There was a picture of Doug included in the pamphlet. Two stared at it for a moment. It looked like a fucked-up sock puppet. He put the paper aside.
Hold up, said One. With a sigh, Two reached for the paper again and opened it back up. It's just loose? That's crazy. Site-19 would never.
Clearly, if they're giving out informative pamphlets about it, it's not a big deal, said Four.
Yeah, but like. One was silent for a moment. Two could sense him struggling to verbalize his point, but his thoughts were clear enough: the Foundation did not let things loose, ever, not even partially. That was what had been drilled into them over and over during training, along with a lot of propaganda about protecting the world from the inane horrors they kept locked up every hour of every day.
And yeah, sure, some of the anomalies they'd gone over, they absolutely saw the need to contain those. But the Foundation kept a tall fence up between the anomalies it contained and the rest of the world, including the knowledge that they existed at all, and dedicated a lot their resources to keeping that fence firmly shut.
The message was clear: anomalies were not normal, and you did not coexist with them. Ever.
Except when you were here, apparently.
Two put the pamphlet down again and picked up the second one. This one was titled "Briar Class Nexus-143 Guide," which was a sentence that contained exactly one word he could understand right now.
He opened it up and skimmed it. Cooperation with the First Nations people whose land the Site was on, that was a nice surprise, Indigenous lake panthers, good to know, Site-wide anomalous effect increasing rates of romantic and sexual attraction between personnel…
He stared at the paper for a moment before setting it on the coffee table, placing their glasses on top of it, and turning over so that his face was pressed into the arm of the couch.
"Fuck," he groaned.
He didn't even know the specifics of how it worked, but he didn't need to. Everyone except for them was either going to be happily paired up with someone or looking for a partner at a higher rate than usual, and they would be even more alone.
The Site was handing out goddamn aphrodisiacs.
They weren't going to need them.
"Pour one out for the stone-cold freak," Two muttered, and then he turned back over to read the on-Site housing decor policy to see if standing lamps were allowed or not.
Monday, August 3rd, 2022
8:27 A.M
The cafeteria was a fucking nightmare.
It was crowded. It was loud. They kept their headphones on, avoided making eye contact, and picked out the three breakfast items they could eat without gagging before noping the fuck out of there and finding the quiestest hallway they could sit in, alone, waiting until every echo of chatter from the room was manageable and didn't want to make them rip their fucking skin off.
Their appetite was nonexistent, but they forced themself to eat a container of applesauce and got through half a patty of sausage before throwing the rest in a nearby trashcan and instantly feeling terrible about it although there was no way they were going to finish it. It was only 8:30 A.M. They still had to get through the rest of the day.
Maybe being in the Archives will help, said Three, although she didn't sound very optimistic.
9:07 A.M
The Archives did not help.
All of their enthusiasm from yesterday was gone. They didn't have a card to unlock the door to the offices yet, and nobody else was there because it was horrifically fuckoff early in the morning, so they had to stand there by themself like a fucking hack, and when Dr. Blank finally got there he said "You're here early" and they said something stupid like "Yeah" and then he let them in and gave them a very small amount of work to do which was probably just setting up their computer or something but they could already tell that they were not going to do anything today so they just waited until he had left and put their head down on the desk and tried really hard to not start crying right then and there.
It didn't work. They walked out of the room really fast, went to the bathroom (as far as they could tell, all the bathrooms in this place were the unisex type with wholeass walls and regular doors separating each stall, which was GREAT for them right now), locked themself into a stall, sat down on the floor, and hyperventilated as quietly as they could.
It was so fucking much.
It wasn't even lunchtime yet.
They hadn't even been asked to do any real work yet and it wasn't lunchtime and it was the first day and it was only 9:15 in the morning and they had to get through all of it and Dr. Blank was a kind man and they would rather die on the spot than have to explain all of this bullshit to him. It was all too much. They had gone into a fucking room with other fucking people and couldn't fucking handle it and it had already ruined the rest of their day and then they had to go back in there again or else starve but it was still only morning and when all this was done they still had to fucking go back in there and do it again.
And again.
And again.
Every.
Damn.
Day.
When they had finally calmed down enough to breathe easily again, the tile floor was wet with tears, and Four was in front. They dried their eyes, washed their hands, and sipped some water from the faucet. When they got back to the office, they politely asked Dr. Blank where Psychology and Parapsychology was, and if there was anywhere they could get food at mealtimes that wasn't the cafeteria.
It must have been obvious that they had been crying, because he immediately printed another floor plan, drew a path on it, and handed it to them without a word.
9:24 A.M
"So, you had a meltdown," said Dr. Ngo.
They were sitting crosslegged in an armchair. They'd never liked being in therapy. Not that they'd ever had any bad experiences with it, they just didn't like talking about their issues out loud to another person ever. But they had literally requested to be here, so they had to say something.
They hadn't even bothered to try and make eye contact. If Dr. Ngo minded this, she didn't say anything about it. She sat on her chair with her laptop on her lap, waiting patiently for them to respond. They examined the dirt on the sides of their Converse. "Yeah."
"I see." Tapping. "Do you know what caused it?"
"Alphabetical or chronological order?"
"How about most significant first?" replied the doctor.
They couldn't do that. "Nope. Chronological."
"Go ahead."
They sighed. "Cafeteria, big, bright, loud. Sausage, bad texture. Didn't finish breakfast. Got to office early already overwhelmed, had to wait there like a fucking idiot, couldn't even start my work, had to go to the bathroom to have a mental breakdown, now we're here." They laughed without humor, exhausted and frustrated at themselves. "It's not even ten in the morning yet and I'm already done with everything, even though I haven't done shit. And before you ask, yes, I have a diagnosis." They sighed again. "I feel like a big dumb hopeless rock."
"Okay." She typed more things down on her laptop, then paused and put it aside. She didn't seem pitying or judgmental, just calm and grounded. It kinda helped. "The headphones help?"
They knew what she was getting at. "Yeah, but it wasn't just the noise, it was also, like…" They gestured in frustration. "Doing anything makes me feel like I'm a Force ghost dragging my own dead body behind me by one ankle. Constantly. The only time it's not like that is when I'm actually excited about doing something, and I never am."
She tilted her head. "Are you on any antidepressants?"
"Have been for years."
"Do you feel like they work?"
"Well enough." They wanted to get out of here. They didn't want to be having this conversation right now. They didn't want to do anything.
Dr. Ngo gave them a look that told them she knew they were avoiding the question. They stared right back at her. Eventually, she said, "Have you tried any other ones?"
"Years ago, but I don't want to try out new ones for months just to find something that might work better than what I'm on right now. It works." They shrugged.
"Mmm." She noted something down.
They scowled. "Listen, if it didn't work, I'd be dead right now. But I'm not. So that's a win in my book."
Dr. Ngo arched an eyebrow. "I'm not forcing you to be here, Mx. Turner. You requested this session."
Four had requested this session, but they sure as hell weren't them right now, and they sure as hell weren't about to tell her that. They stood up. "Well, I guess I changed my mind, then."
10:10 A.M
When they got back to the office an hour later, Dr. Blank watched them closely as they walked back to their desk, then wordlessly and very conspicuously slid over a note on their desk before walking off again. It said, J&M usually doesn't like it when people eat at their desks, but I've figured out that they'll let it slide if you clean up after yourself.
They were in too bad of a mood to appreciate the gesture right now, but they did pocket the note anyways.
6:51 P.M
The rest of the day was barely tolerable. They were able to successfully set up their SciPnet account without too much trouble. They also took Harry's advice and ate lunch at their desk, then stayed an hour after their shift ended and seriously considered skipping dinner before logic finally won out and they forced themself to go to the cafeteria.
They were exhausted and in a shit mood, so Two took the point. He stared at the menu while standing in line for a Chinese restaurant, then ordered a bowl of orange chicken over white rice with a spring roll and hovered in place, trying to figure out if he would be able to leave and just eat in their room without anyone noticing.
Apparently, the answer to that question was no, because someone had caught his eye and was waving them over. Two sighed deeply and walked over. He kept their headphones on, both because they were very overwhelmed and because wearing headphones was a universal signal for I do not want to be talked to right now.
The person who waved them over had dark skin, a veritable cloud of hair, and round glasses. She glanced at their headphones for a moment, clearly considering whether she should talk to them or not. "Hi," she said eventually with a friendly smile. "You look like you're lost."
"Less lost and more overwhelmed." Two was determined to keep this conversation as short as possible, but he was still going to be polite. "I'm not really in the mood to talk right now. It's really loud in here."
"That's okay. What's your name? I don't think we've met."
"Oliver Turner. Just started in Archives & Revision today." Two forced himself to eat a bite of the orange chicken over rice they had ordered, then another. He was going to have to leave before they were done eating and finish their food somewhere quiet. He glanced back over at her, then added, "I like your hair," just to be polite.
She beamed. "Thank you! Yours is cute too. Dr. Udo Okorie, Applied Occultism."
"Occultism? As in…" he struggled to come up with something over the noise of the cafeteria, it was really hard, they were definitely going to have to bail soon… "like, wizard shit?" That came out wrong. God damn it.
Thankfully, Dr. Okorie just laughed. "That's definitely one way to put it. It's more like witch shit."
"Well, I was close," he said. He took a deep breath and got up, picking up their food. "I'm sorry, it's too loud in here right now. I need to go. Nice to meet all of you, though." There were two other people at the table, both of them femme presenting. One, with long dark hair tied back into a braid, had been busy shoveling her meal into her mouth. Her chest barely came up to the table. The other had medium length hair and was squinting at them intently, like they looked familiar but she couldn't figure out how. He didn't like it.
He thought he heard Dr. Okorie saying something as he left, but he was too busy getting the fuck out of the room to notice. Which way was their room again? He was pretty sure it was somewhere in this hallway. Yeah, 'cause the Archives one connected the lobby. God, he hated having to talk to people while they were overwhelmed. He hated talking to people in general. Why the fuck had he not just left immediately?
Breathe, said Three firmly.
Two forced himself to take a few breaths as he went back down the hallway again.
There were lots of mirrors everywhere. He tried to not look at them as he walked. There was a guy mopping floors. He gave him a habitual nod of acknowledgement before continuing as fast as he could down the hallway. There was a crowd in the dorm hall for some reason. He squinted above their heads to read the room numbers, trying to just find their fucking dorm, but then he realized that they were standing outside their door and felt a sudden jolt of panic.
Several people on the outside of the crowd noticed him and parted to let him through to the door. He fished through their pockets frantically. Where was the room key? WHERE THE FUCK WAS THE ROOM KEY?!
Wait, they'd left the key in their room this morning.
Fuck.
"Hi!" someone said. "Are you the…"
They trailed off as Two made the speedwalk of shame Back Down The Hallway To The Janitor and flagged him. "Hi. Can you get into peoples' rooms? I forgot my key." He remembered everyone else here got into their rooms with cards. "My card doesn't open the door yet."
The janitor blinked. "Uh, yeah, sure." He turned to squint down the hall. "What room are you in?"
"The one with a billion people in front of it."
"Oh."
Neither of them spoke as they walked down the hallway. The crowd parted for them again, everyone looking confused. "What's wrong?" someone asked.
"Room key's in there," Two huffed.
"Are you the new guy?"
"Yes."
The janitor fiddled with a keyring with a fuck ton of keys on it for a second as Two stood to the side. He tried to insert it into the lock, failed, cursed under his breath, and grabbed another one. Two flexed his fingers to stop himself from running into the door and breaking it down himself.
"Well, nice to meet you!" the person started, even though they were looking more uncertain by the second. Good. "We're your hallmates. We wanted to get together and meet you-"
The lock clicked and the door opened. Two ran inside, slammed it shut behind them, put the food on the coffee table, and curled up on the floor without even turning on the lights. Somebody was knocking at the door, and every thump sounded as loud as a gunshot. They pressed their hands over their ears until it stopped, and did not stop shaking until several minutes had passed.
9:12 P.M
After they had eaten dinner and calmed down enough, Four made a checklist on the back of the map Dr. Blank had given them so that they had something to work towards.
Things To Do In Order To Not Fucking Die This Week
1. Figure out when cafeteria is busiest, get food In Between Those Times
2. Look online to see what they carry in Canadian supermarkets, schedule trip to surface world to buy groceries
3. Figure out where the fuck the washing machines are so that we can do laundry and shit
4. Come up with list of things to grab on the visit home on Wednesday
5. Find where the fuck to get our meds
6. Don't overdo it
Anything else? asked Four.
Looks good to me, said Two. What's number 6 mean?
Don't overdo it, said Three, who had helped with the list. Like, pay attention to our limits, don't try to do everything at once, take time to rest when we need it. That means you, One. Two as well.
One didn't respond to that, but he did say, Can you add "figure out where to get sweet tea" to the list?
7. Locate and procure iced tea
Tuesday, August 4th, 2022
6:02 A.M
1. Figure out when cafeteria is busiest, get food In Between Those Times
They got up at 6am the next day to scout out the Site-43 cafeteria and the food offered there. It didn't have a Waffle House or a Chick-fil-A, which Oliver expected, but it did have a coffee shop that also sold a variety of breakfast foods, including a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich, which tasted fine. They also got a cup of slightly sweetened iced black coffee. The very nice cashier told them that the cafeteria tended to get busy around 8am, quieted down a bit after 9:30, lunchtime was from 12pm to 1, and then it would be generally busy from 6pm to around 8 in the evenings while people were eating dinner. Oliver thanked them generously.
2. Look online to see what they carry in Canadian supermarkets, schedule trip to surface world to buy groceries
They were allowed to be on their personal devices until they clocked in for work at 9am, so they pulled up a map of the nearby area while they ate breakfast. There were some grocery stores nearby, as well as a Subway and a Pizza Hut, which was good to know.
3. Figure out where the fuck the washing machines are so that we can do laundry and shit
After a moment of hesitation, they decided to ask the cashier about that too. Her name was Leanna and she ending up taking time out of her shift to sit down with them and mark down important places in the facility on their map. She was incredibly kind and understanding, and she spoke with a slight drawl that reminded them of home.
5. Find where the fuck to get our meds
A position at the Foundation came with healthcare, including anomalous healthcare, which was a big part of the reason why Two tolerated working for them. It covered prescription medication, but as Leanna explained, you had to submit your current prescription information and paperwork to H&R first. Once it had gone through, Health and Pathology would handle the ordering process and notify you when the prescriptions had arrived.
"Okay," said Oliver. "My current provider is in the U.S. Do you have any idea if that changes anything, or…?"
Leanna shook her head. "No idea, sorry. I'm only familiar with Canadian healthcare."
"That's okay. Thank you anyways."
7. Locate and procure iced tea
"So, you're a black coffee type of person, huh?"
"Only as a last resort," said Oliver, setting their drink down. "I only drink it when I don't have any sweet tea."
They were fully prepared to have to explain the concept of iced tea to Leanna, but she just made a soft ohh sound of understanding. "Are you from the South?"
"Yeah. Tennessee."
She nodded. "My family immigrated to Toronto from Georgia when I was 3, and according to my dad, they wasted no time finding places that sold actually decent iced tea because they couldn't live without it."
They smiled. "Yeah. Emphasis on decent. I've visited a few of the big cities in the Northeast, and don't get me wrong, they're really cool places, but their idea of sweet tea is regular iced tea with a sugar packet on the side."
Leanna winced. "Yikes."
"Yeah. I'm guessing they don't sell Milo's here?"
She tilted her head. "Milo's?"
"Sweet tea brand."
"Ohhh. Yeah, no, they don't."
Oliver sighed. "Okay. Do they at least sell like, bags of green tea that you can make yourself?"
"Yes."
"I can work with that, then. I'll just have to make it myself."
9:27 A.M
Not even 30 minutes into the day, Dr. Blank asked them to deliver a report to one Dr. Lillihammer in M&C. Oliver agreed to it without really thinking, out of it as they were, which is how they found themselves wandering through the clusterfuck of an area labeled "5" on the map which was home to 5 different Sections. Thankfully, there were signs on the walls and friendly people in the hallways, so they knocked on the door of the poetically named Memetics and Countermemetics Laboratory 7 before cautiously entering.
The room contained a tall woman with long white hair who was wearing a labcoat that immediately snapped them out of their dissociative stupor. She was standing in front of a table with a bunch of standard lab equipment on it. If she'd noticed One's entry, she showed no signs of it. He resisted the urge to clear his throat. "The reports you requested, ma'am."
Dr. Lillihammer whirled around to face him, and he immediately felt their anxiety levels spike. Her eyes were piercingly, almost blinding blue. She was chewing gum. When she spoke, her voice was loud and definitive. "Who're you?"
He fought the urge to back up. "Oliver Turner. I work in Archives and Revision."
"Fascinating." Dr. Lillihammer crossed her arms and looked at him thoughtfully, the same way a cat might eye a bird it's planning to pounce on. She slowly blew a bubble of gum then popped it, all while maintaining eye contact. Everything about her was fucking terrifying. "Harry busy?"
He willed himself to breathe and his mouth to form words. "Yes, ma'am."
"You're new." It was a statement. He did not like the way she said it. None of them did. One felt Two mentally hovering over his shoulder, silent & wary.
"Yeah."
She didn't move a muscle, just watched him. One fought the urge to run, even though they needed to get out of here now. What were they even here for, again? Right. The report. Yeah.
He forced his gaze away from her and at the surrounding room. "Uh, where do you want these? I can set them down on the table or- okAY."
Their voice rose to a squeak as she reached them in two long strides and snatched the papers straight out of their hand without comment, then crouched so that her face was only inches from theirs. They blurred into each other and stood there, stunned, barely daring to breathe. Maybe if we stand still enough, she'll go away. Please let me go. Please let me go. Please just let me go.
"Ma'am," they said, "what are you-"
"My name," she said slowly, "is Lillian Shelby Lillihammer."
Her eyes burned with blue fire. They nodded. "Okay."
She didn't move. They were really hoping that she was going to move after they said that. Maybe they hadn't made themself clear enough? They added, "Sorry, Dr. Lillihammer."
She scowled, and they leaned back. "I just told you, it's Lillian Shelby Lillihammer. Jesus."
They didn't know what she wanted. "…Do you want me to call you that every time I talk to you?" they asked carefully, really just trying to get out of here as quickly as possible now. Dr. Lillihammer was dangerous, and they did not doubt that she would not hesitate to kill them if given the chance and appropriate motivation. They wanted to reduce their chances of dying as much as possible, which necessitated getting the fuck out of here ASAP.
"Yes," she hissed, "and I'd better not catch you slipping up, or-" She snapped in their face. They flinched and nearly lost their balance. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," they whispered.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Lillian Shelby Lillihammer."
Finally, she nodded and stood up. "Good." They exhaled, breath shaky. "Now shoo."
They didn't need to be told twice. They turned tail and fled out of the room, slamming the door behind them and running a little bit back down the hallway before pausing to catch their breath, their heart pounding. They heard faint laughter behind them and looked over their shoulder at the lab, then continued walking back towards A&R, shaking their head. "Nope. Nuh-uh. No fucking way."
11:02 A.M
One was sitting at their desk and poking around their SCiPnet account settings when he got a notification about an email from Dr. Wettle. He squinted at it. The only emails they'd gotten so far had either been ones from H&R, Admin, or other people in A&R, and even their coworkers had needed to ask Oliver what theirs was. The fuck?
He looked around the room as if for some sort of hint that this was a prank, then clicked over to his email. He had no idea what the subject line was, and the preview read "Hey Harry, I h…"
He went to click it, but Three stopped his hand. Don't. It might be classified.
Everything in this damn place is classified, said Two derisively. That's the way it works.
One ignored him. Good point. He looked back up at where Dr. Blank was sitting at one of his desks. "Hey, Dr. Blank?"
"Yeah?"
"So I just got an email from Dr. Wettle, and I think it's addressed to you?"
Dr. Blank slowly rolled his chair back, then turned to face them, hands tented. "What makes you say that?"
"The preview says 'hey, Harry,'" One said. "That's all I know. I haven't touched it." He raised his hands as proof. "Do you want me to forward it to you, or just delete it, or…?"
Dr. Blank sighed deeply and walked over. "No, don't do anything just yet. Let me see it."
One got up from the chair and stood awkwardly to one side as Dr. Blank took the seat and skimmed through whatever was on the monitor, one hand on the mouse while the other propped his chin up. After a few seconds, he sighed again and rubbed his eyes.
"Is it classified?" One asked tentatively.
"No, and thank God for that, because if it was I'd have to file a report with A&O and you'd have to be amnesticized." He let out yet another sigh. "He just wanted me to print something out for him. I'll forward it to myself." Dr. Blank leaned forward and started typing something, then paused. A small, mischievous grin grew on his face. "Actually, you know what? I have a better idea."
"What?"
"How would you feel," Dr. Blank pushed the chair back, got back up, stretched, and exhaled, "about printing and delivering it to him yourself?"
Not great, said Three.
One chose his words carefully before responding. "I'm not against doing it, but he meant to send it to you, sir. Why not do it yourself?"
"Because I'm a Section Head, not a glorified paper printer."
One raised an eyebrow. "And I am?"
"No, but you are the new guy, which means that you get to do all the fun things like run paperwork between the Sections and manually sort every document that enters our systems into the Salt Mines." He grinned at them. "I had to do all that too during my first few months here. Don't worry, it gets better. Soon you'll upgrade to doing even more paperwork and having to troubleshoot the cognitohazard screener whenever it randomly stops working!" He clapped his hands together and strode towards the door. "Not before grabbing lunch, though. Seeya in a few."
One watched him leave, then sighed and went back to their desk.
"If it makes you feel any better, you don't actually have to sort things into the Salt Mines manually," said Derek Newmann, another researcher who was sitting nearby. "The system is fully automated."
One shrugged as he sat back down. "Honestly, I actually wouldn't mind doing that."
Derek raised an eyebrow at them. "Really?"
"Yeah, I like sorting stuff."
"Maybe you think you do, but you definitely don't like sorting hundreds of documents a day by hand."
One shrugged again and turned back to the monitor.
11:49 A.M
Three opened the door to the Replication Studies office, papers under one arm. Dr. Wettle was standing in the middle of the room next to a tall, broadly built man with dark skin and a buzzcut. The other man glanced over at them. Dr. Wettle, however, whirled to face them, arms crossed. "What do you want?"
The other man gave him a Look. "Dude, chill."
Three blinked, feigning surprise. (They'd had a good lunch, and she was in a good mood.) "You asked me to print something for you."
Wettle scoffed. "No, I didn't. Get out of here."
Three put on her best customer service smile. "Would you like me to open my inbox and show you the email you sent me 47 minutes ago?"
Dr. Wettle blinked, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The guy standing next to him looked at Oliver, then at Wettle, then back to Oliver again, then casually stepped aside.
"I'm assuming that you meant to send it to Dr. Blank but messed up somewhere, because you refer to me as Harry in it," Three continued, adjusting the papers in her arms. "Anyways, I can leave if you really want me to, sir, but just know that if I do, I'm taking the papers with me, and I'm not going to print them out again later."
Wettle stiffened and glared at them, then looked over at the other guy for support, who shook his head in a clear gesture of this one's all yours, dude. Wettle huffed before turning back towards them, shoving his hands in his labcoat pockets. He scowled. "I already told you, kid, I'm not a sir. And how the hell did you even get your hands on an email that I sent to Harry?"
Three raised an eyebrow. "Because you sent it to me by accident instead."
Wettle stepped forwards, hands balled into fists. "No, I didn't."
The other man hastily stepped forward and put an arm out in front of Wettle, shooting him a glare before glancing over apologetically at Three. "Will, chill out. Kid, sorry about him. I'll take the paper." He extended a hand. "Thank you for printing it out."
Three gave him a more genuine smile, extending the papers for him to take. "No need to apologize for him, we've met before." They kept their hand extended for a handshake. "What's your name, by the way?"
The other man reached out and shook it. "Bastien LeBlanc. Nice to meet you." He had a firm grip and a deep, warm voice.
"Oliver Turner. Nice to meet you too."
LeBlanc leaned back. "You new here?"
"Yeah. Where are you from, by the way?"
"Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin." They'd never heard of that place before in their life. Wettle apparently had, though, because he grimaced. "You?"
"Chattanooga, Tennessee."
LeBlanc nodded. "That's one hell of a jump."
"Yeah, it was." Three shrugged. "I'm still getting my sea legs under me, so to speak." There was an awkward silence in which all three of them just kind of stood there. Three tilted her head back towards the door. "Uh, I'd love to stay and chat, but unfortunately I've got work to get back to, so…"
"Oh, yeah, for sure," said LeBlanc, nodding. "Nice to meet you, Oliver."
She grinned. "You too!"
Dr. Wettle rolled his eyes and muttered something disparaging under his breath. Three flashed her high-beam smile at him again and said, "Right back at ya, sir! Have a fantastic day!" before turning around and leaving the room.
Seriously though, what the fuck is Wettle's deal? Two asked. Nobody's in a mood like that all the time unless they have something going on.
He seems to have consistently have some pretty bad luck, said Four. That would be enough to put anyone in a bad mood, especially if it was happening constantly.
Yeah, said Three. She nodded at Dr. Blank, who was passing them in the hall. He nodded back. I don't plan on being passive aggressive to him all the time. I just felt like it was warranted a teensy little bit this one time. Just this once.
12:01 P.M
Three had scarcely booted up their computer again when Dr. Blank entered the room and walked up to their desk. She knew what this was about. "It's okay."
"It really isn't," said Dr. Blank.
At that, Three glanced up to look levelly at him. "Sir, I was a cashier at Walmart for 7 years before I got my job at the library. You don't stay in a public-facing position for that long without learning how to handle the worst kind of people, and Dr. Wettle is far from that. Is he a rude idiot? Sure. Have I dealt with way worse than rude idiots? Absolutely."
She genuinely meant it. Over the course of their lifespan, they had been called some words that Dr. Blank probably didn't even know by the exact sort of people who took their anger out on minimum wage workers for a little bit of catharsis. They might be new to this place, but they'd learned to identify those types of people by sight, and plainly put, Dr. Wettle simply was not one of them. He might have been unhappy, but he didn't seem cruel.
(And anyways, they were much the same way when they got to be in a bad mood. How could they sit there and blame him for acting the same way they would in his situation?)
Dr. Blank sighed. "I don't doubt that you can handle him. I just know that you're under a lot of stress right now and I don't want him to make it worse."
Three knew he was trying to help, but the offer felt flat to her. She shrugged. "You can't stop the world from turning, Dr. Blank. It is what it is. I'll handle it like I handle everything else."
Badly, said Two.
Yeah, but would-ifs and would-haves ain't gonna solve anything, One responded. We deal with it how we deal with it, even if that means barely dealing with it at all.
Saturday, August 8th, 2022
8:27 A.M
They set the last box down outside their dorm and took a deep breath. Someone walking by paused, and Oliver thought she looked familiar. "Hey," they said.
"Hi," she said carefully, and they realized that she had been part of the welcoming committee they literally closed the door on. Whoops.
"I'm sorry about Tuesday," Oliver said, looking her in the eye. Their statement would have been no less genuine without it, but it helped. "It had been a really long day and I was overwhelmed. Sorry for being rude."
She relaxed a little, then shrugged. "It's okay. We, uh, probably should have thought about that first before showing up at your front door unannounced. I'm Levi, by the way." She extended a hand.
Oliver shook it. "Oliver. And uh, don't worry about it. You're fine. You didn't know."
"Yeah." Levi exhaled and rubbed her arm, then gestured toward the box. "Want help carrying that in?"
"Absolutely," said Oliver, opening the door behind them.
1:03 P.M
Three walked into the office, carrying a small box of the assorted objects they kept on their desk at home in one hand and a red plastic cup full of sweet tea in the other. She set the box down on the desk first and took a sip of the sweet tea before placing it as well, humming to herself. It was nice to get properly set up again. It was important.
Dr. Blank nodded at them. "Welcome back. How'd it go?"
"Managed to get a gallon of Milo's sweet tea through customs," she said, gesturing towards the cup. "It'll only last me a week, of course, I'll have to make my own after that, but it'll make the transition easier. Also, the packing went without a hitch."
"That's good to hear," said Dr. Blank. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," said Three, carefully arranging a small ceramic bird, a cupful of pens and pencils, and a small framed photograph of a sleeping grey cat on the desk.
"What's the difference between sweet tea and iced tea?"
"Sweet tea is sweet," she said. "Iced tea covers both sweet and unsweet tea, because both of those are refrigerated."
"Why put ice in it in the first place, though?"
"Because being outside in the South feels like stepping out into the Devil's armpit four months out of the year and doesn't dip below freezing for the other eight," she said.
There was a noise somewhere between a cat coughing up a hairball and a sailor hawking up spit behind them, and Three turned to see Dr. Blank doubled over the desk, coughing. "Sorry," she said quickly.
"No, no, you're good," he said in between coughs, and she realized he was laughing. "Just wasn't expecting that. That's good. And visceral."
[[=]]
Sunday, August 9th, 2022
3:29 P.M
One sat on the couch in the living room of their dorm, which was now about as close to fully decorated as a dorm could be. Several of their favorite paintings hung on the walls (hung from thumbtacks), an arrangement of coasters and papers were spread over the coffee table, and they had brought a bathroom mat and an area rug to brighten up the space a little. They'd brought over all of their measuring cups, silverware, and other kitchen things from their apartment, as well as all of their blankets and bedding, the clothes they wore the most often, towels, and toiletries, since they needed to be Exactly Right and they didn't know if the grocery stores in Canada stocked them yet.
He marked off the items on their list, using their laptop as a solid surface to write on. "Groceries done, meds done, just finished moving in, cool, that's everything." He sighed. "Yay us."
Not everything, said Three. Did we successfully not overdo it?
By what metrics? asked Four.
Vibes, said Two.
One shrugged. "I feel like that one's more of an ongoing thing than a checklist goal, if that makes sense. We gotta continuously not overdo it. I think we did okay this week, though? Got off to a rocky start for sure, but I think we kinda figured it out by the end."
I agree, said Four. I think we adapted quite well.
No we fuckin' didn't, Two snorted. We were a flaming fucking trainwreck.
Oh, shut up, said Three. We talked to people. We made friends. We were scared but we did things anyways. Stop projecting onto the rest of us.
One got the very strong feeling that Two was flipping her off for that.
"Checklist's still complete, then," he said. "The only thing that's really left now is our meeting with the Director tomorrow." He exhaled and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "That'll be fun."