OsakanOne
Retired Member
His name was Danny and this was the third time he'd been forced to move his house and take what little belongings he had. At this point, so much had been left behind that he no longer had a sense of ownership over his own suitcase. The small sort that you could wheel around on a stick. All he really had left were three changes of clothes including the ones he was wearing, some documents that confirmed who he wasn't, a communicator that'd fallen out of fashion 4 YE's ago, and a newspaper's classifieds section in search of a job.
He moved into this little cul-de-sac a few weeks ago, pending the termination of his employment as a runner at Origin Industries. He didn't feel any resent over it, but he was starting to miss the apartment they'd provided him.
After one lucky day delivering something to Aerin Tatst herself, he experienced a string of botched and failed deliveries and was promptly sacked.
Now, he sat at a kitchen table with a red marker under a flourescent lightbulb, having circled and crossed the classifieds like an escalated tic-tac-toe game. There was one space left on the board. One last classified that made sense and that'd eluded his notice until now.
Danny pondered the advertisement and tapped his pen against the page, making a little red dab each time. He quietly pondered if this was just one of those front companies who'd do organ harvesting to the desperate. He'd escaped one such operation a few days ago by the skin of his teeth. He looked at the window outside - if they said they'd come to him, he'd have an escape route. He drummed his fingers against the desk and reached over to grab his communicator and punched the number in, keeping it on loudspeaker.
Ring Ring... Ring Ring...
Hi, if you're calling about the offer to showcase your special talents as seen in Funk Times, Press #1! synthetic voice spoke.
Why did the phone say "Synthetic voice spoke?" he wondered.
Danny could be heard moving his hand over his newspaper and pressing the button on the Communicator's keypad. Boop.
You have selected #1. We will soon be relaying you to a live representative. Until then, please hold. Since this call is recorded, feel free to describe yourself in as few words as you can - or wait in silence. Either is fine but the former will help your chances. If you find the silence too awkward, press #1 for smooth jazz.
Was there a wrong answer for admiring the jazz, Danny wondered. If this call went nowhere, there was always tomorrow's newspaper. He sighed and pressed the button to dispense with the jazz.
You have selected Smooth Jazz the voice spoke. Though what it dispensed was not smooth Jazz. It was... Oddly somber.
Please continue to hold the line.
He sat and leaned into the desk with his head resting upon his arms whilst listening to the music quietly. He looked out the window and noted that the jazz was starting to pervade the room more, drive out the 'ambience' of the hive of Funky City. The more he ruminated upon it, the more it was beginning to describe his life.
"Hello?" a click sounded, followed by a voice. A woman. And then the robot spoke again. "To continue this call, please tune your FM radio to 109.2, if you don't want to lose your smooth jazz. And we know you don't!
This wasn't conditional. Danny had no radio to speak of, but there was one built into his communicator. He grabbed the object, and he could be heard fumbling with it to minimise the call and open the radio application, tuning it to the station, enabling sound-cancelling so the call wouldn't hear the music. Or not much of it. Danny was partially confused by what was going on, but it was the most interesting job application he'd gotten so far.
Thankyou for selecting Smooth Jazz the voice said again.
"Hello?"
"Hi, uh," Danny started, soft spoken in voice. Though identifiable as male, it was softer and less leathery than most voices encountered in Funky City. Perhaps he was Yamataian?
"So you're smart enough to operate a radio. That puts you ahead of most of the competition." the voice replied. "I'll be your representative for the duration of this assessment. If you have any prior commitments, you should hang up immediately and call back later. This could take up to an hour."
Danny wondered if there were any prior commitments that he ever had to attend to. Nobody knew of him, and he never stuck his neck out for anyone because nobody would do the same for him. "I don't have anything else to do..." He replied, looking out the window again and noticing that a drizzle was begining to form.
"Nice weather, huh?" she said. "Don't worry, we aren't watching you".
He could hear her smiling. Someone who was... Very relaxed. Calm. Almost soothing.
"Well, technically we are. We triangulate the triphonic audio to produce a sonar-image of you using sounds beyond your range of hearing - hence the Jazz. But we didn't know that it was raining. That's just a weather-report. Anyone could know that. Could you set the communicator down in front of you? You need your hands free for the exercise."
He pushed the communicator into the centre of the table and watched the table rattle a little. So, they were able to see that he was sitting at a table that was propped up by bricks, in a decrepit kitchen that hadn't seen a sponge since before he'd moved in, and the general furnishings of the place were spartan at best and downright fruminous at worst. The apartment didn't seem to have a bed, but rather a matress on the floor.
They could also see him, sitting down, head resting upon arms gently, looking tired and defeated. His face almost looked as soft as his voice, save for the chinstrap beard that ran all the way down it. The clothes hew as wearing went out of fashion a long time ago. The sonar probably couldn't pick up how dirty they were.
"Could you fetch a pen and paper?" the voice asked. "Oh, and unplug the television, if you have one."
"Don't have one." He replied.
"What, a pen and paper, or a television?" the voice replied.
"TV." He replied quietly, looking over to the red marker on his desk and flipping over the newspaper with a sound of flicking paper. It'd stand out against the tabloid news. He tapped his pen against yet another article about another bloody murder. They'd become so common in Nepleslian newspapers that they had a template for them. Beneath that there was a mention of a side-burned Mercenary destroying a Mishhu trafficking ring, and that was something too unlikely for a template to cover.
"Good morning. Thanks for waiting. My name is Alice and I'll be examining you. Could I have your fullname?"
"Danny." He replied. "Danny Hanley-Lewis." What was the worst they could do with a name that meant nothing?
"Good. Your date of birth?"
"Don't know."
"Good. Favourite aethersperm song?"
"Wa-? Uh..." He paused for a moment, tripped up by the interview process again. "Suzy was a Headbanger?"
"Very good. May I see your bank card?"
"Not that it has anything on it, but..." He put the card down on the desk and groaned.
"Could you hold that infront of the communicator? " He did so, looking out the window again.
"I just need to swipe that... Yeah, thanks. Could you give me the pin-number to that?"
Danny sighed. "Eight, Seven, Two, Four."
"I'm making a deposit of one hundred and sixty DA."
"Why?" He tilted his head at the communicator. "Aren't you supposed to steal from me?"
"We need you to be clean, well fed and dressed when we meet in person. Now, let's move on. How many fingers am I holding up?"
He looked at the commuincator incredulously. This interview process was so strange to him that he couldn't help but continue playing along? They'd paid him, afterall.
"Three?" He guessed.
"Not bad. And now?"
"Two?"
"Correct. And now?"
"One?" He guessed again. He then ruminated if it was a countdown.
"Very good. Are you allergic to strawberries?"
He shook his head at the communicator, muttering a "Neh."
"Good. Now watch my finger. Watch my finger. Watch it."
There was an awkward silence between Danny and the communicator, for about half a minute before it spoke again.
"Very good. Could you read the top line of the advertisement for me?"
He flipped the newspaper back over and said: "We're looking for talented people." He was hardly seeing what this exercise had to do with his physical talents.
"Good. Can you cover your left ear for me and tell me what you hear?"
A slice of classical music played. The faint noise in his right ear sounded completely different, but he could barely make it out. He cupped his right ear and covered his left, curious. Nothing.
"Could you tell me what you heard?"
"Aoi Tanaka's 5th Movement of the Wandering Samurai suite."
"Very good. Now cover your right ear and tell me what you hear through your left."
It was a horn. A car horn. And yet he could still just barely make out Aoi Tanaka in his left. How?
"Someone tooting a horn."
"Very good. Now cover both ears and --"
The world became near silence as he did so. Danny spent the next minute or so wondering when he should take them off or what else the voice would have said -- before doing it himself, out of curiosity.
"You were supposed to wait, but nevermind. Very good. Have you spent any time in the Sargasso?"
"Where?" Danny asked.
"Very good. Ever slaughter a goose or any other poultry?"
"...there was this one time in Kennewes..." He replied sheepishly.
"Good. Hold up your communicator. I'm going video for a moment."
An image appeared, a bright light.
"Hold this up to your face over your right eye. And as you're starring at the light, tell me the key ingredients of ratatoulie."
Danny was like a deer in the headlights for a moment before carrying out what she asked.
"Uh... rice,"
"Yes."
"Tomato..."
"Uhhuh."
"err... onion? Some other vegetables?" His eyeball was rolling around as he searched for the answer.
"Good enough." Alice said. "Now pull the communicator back. The image. Could you tell me what that is?"
He held the communicator out and looked at the grainy image that was on it. "I think its a picture of a pair of Phoenix Man dolls being pushed against each other like they're kissing."
"That was a triangle. What about this image?"
"Wha-" He mumbled to himself before looking at the next image. "Is that a strait jacket?"
"A square, actually. And this?"
"A circle."
"Could you be more specific?"
"Looks like the Yamataian flag, with a smiley face where the Hinomaru should go."
"The Yamataian flag doesn't have a Hinomaru. Otherwise very good. Could you wriggle your tongue for me?" Danny blushed a little and covered his mouth before reluctantly doing so.
"Good, good. Now wriggle your toes for me." Inside his shoes, he gave them a wiggle and quietly wondered how the person on the other side of the line would figure it out.
"Very good. So far you seem pretty normal. Alright, what's going to happen now is I'm going to say a series of random words and you're going to say the first thing that comes into your mind without thinking when you're ready to begin."
There was a long awkward pause.
"Alright. Ready?" He nodded at the camera on the communicator. If they could figure.
"Chicken." "Me."
"Door knob." "Open."
"Lorath" "Weird..."
"Guacamole." "Tasty."
"Vibrator." "Neko."
"Door knob." "...Door?"
"Eschatology." "Huh?"
"Lipgloss." "Makeup."
"Cheese." "Dip."
"Meteor." "Come-" A ringing sound cut off Danny.
"Excuse me, I'll just be a moment. Hello? Yes. Wait. Er... What? Arrested? No, stop. When? Ugh. I can't talk now, I'll call you back." a beep sounded as she hung up. There was then dialing, ringing and a brief conversation in Lorath before she hung up again, clearing her throat.
"Er...?"
"Very good. Could you turn to page 33 of the newspaper and identify the product in the two page spread for me?"
He flicked the newspaper open and went looking for the page. "I think its... its... I dunno. My pen bled into it." The newspaper's jobs listing was on the opposite side of the spread of paper, and his thick red marker had sullied the paper.
"I can't either. I've been asking everybody what it is all morning and nobody can give me a straight answer.
Danny shrugged at the camera. "Well mine's because the marker I used from my job hunting bled into the paper..." He explained, looking at the paper. "I think its an ad for beer."
"You really think so? What else do you think it could be?"
He then took a closer look at the newspaper, removing it from the other pages and laying it in front of him. He flattened it and started to notice something. "I think its an ink blot test thingy."
"A what now?"
"A raw... row... raw shark... Rorschach."
"Huh... How many fingers am I holding up?" Again, there was no image.
"One."
"Damn, you're good at this."
"At guessing?" He asked wryly.
"Well, I think you're normal. You meet most of our diagnostic criteria for a level one review, but I have another appointment. Oh and... Seems my subliminal app does work. You can put your clothes back on, by the way."
"Thanks, I ... wha?" He then looked down at himself, and leapt out of his seat in fright. "WAH!" After comprehending that he was indeed as naked as the day as he was born, he curled into a ball and covered himself with his hands and legs. Looking around the room, he could see his clothes in a neat pile off to one side. He never remembered getting undressed though.
Danny whimpered and whined as he walked over to his clothing and retrieved the briefs, slipping them on first. Once again, the universe seemed to have it in for him.
He moved into this little cul-de-sac a few weeks ago, pending the termination of his employment as a runner at Origin Industries. He didn't feel any resent over it, but he was starting to miss the apartment they'd provided him.
After one lucky day delivering something to Aerin Tatst herself, he experienced a string of botched and failed deliveries and was promptly sacked.
Now, he sat at a kitchen table with a red marker under a flourescent lightbulb, having circled and crossed the classifieds like an escalated tic-tac-toe game. There was one space left on the board. One last classified that made sense and that'd eluded his notice until now.
Advertisement said:
Danny pondered the advertisement and tapped his pen against the page, making a little red dab each time. He quietly pondered if this was just one of those front companies who'd do organ harvesting to the desperate. He'd escaped one such operation a few days ago by the skin of his teeth. He looked at the window outside - if they said they'd come to him, he'd have an escape route. He drummed his fingers against the desk and reached over to grab his communicator and punched the number in, keeping it on loudspeaker.
Ring Ring... Ring Ring...
Hi, if you're calling about the offer to showcase your special talents as seen in Funk Times, Press #1! synthetic voice spoke.
Why did the phone say "Synthetic voice spoke?" he wondered.
Danny could be heard moving his hand over his newspaper and pressing the button on the Communicator's keypad. Boop.
You have selected #1. We will soon be relaying you to a live representative. Until then, please hold. Since this call is recorded, feel free to describe yourself in as few words as you can - or wait in silence. Either is fine but the former will help your chances. If you find the silence too awkward, press #1 for smooth jazz.
Was there a wrong answer for admiring the jazz, Danny wondered. If this call went nowhere, there was always tomorrow's newspaper. He sighed and pressed the button to dispense with the jazz.
You have selected Smooth Jazz the voice spoke. Though what it dispensed was not smooth Jazz. It was... Oddly somber.
Please continue to hold the line.
He sat and leaned into the desk with his head resting upon his arms whilst listening to the music quietly. He looked out the window and noted that the jazz was starting to pervade the room more, drive out the 'ambience' of the hive of Funky City. The more he ruminated upon it, the more it was beginning to describe his life.
"Hello?" a click sounded, followed by a voice. A woman. And then the robot spoke again. "To continue this call, please tune your FM radio to 109.2, if you don't want to lose your smooth jazz. And we know you don't!
This wasn't conditional. Danny had no radio to speak of, but there was one built into his communicator. He grabbed the object, and he could be heard fumbling with it to minimise the call and open the radio application, tuning it to the station, enabling sound-cancelling so the call wouldn't hear the music. Or not much of it. Danny was partially confused by what was going on, but it was the most interesting job application he'd gotten so far.
Thankyou for selecting Smooth Jazz the voice said again.
"Hello?"
"Hi, uh," Danny started, soft spoken in voice. Though identifiable as male, it was softer and less leathery than most voices encountered in Funky City. Perhaps he was Yamataian?
"So you're smart enough to operate a radio. That puts you ahead of most of the competition." the voice replied. "I'll be your representative for the duration of this assessment. If you have any prior commitments, you should hang up immediately and call back later. This could take up to an hour."
Danny wondered if there were any prior commitments that he ever had to attend to. Nobody knew of him, and he never stuck his neck out for anyone because nobody would do the same for him. "I don't have anything else to do..." He replied, looking out the window again and noticing that a drizzle was begining to form.
"Nice weather, huh?" she said. "Don't worry, we aren't watching you".
He could hear her smiling. Someone who was... Very relaxed. Calm. Almost soothing.
"Well, technically we are. We triangulate the triphonic audio to produce a sonar-image of you using sounds beyond your range of hearing - hence the Jazz. But we didn't know that it was raining. That's just a weather-report. Anyone could know that. Could you set the communicator down in front of you? You need your hands free for the exercise."
He pushed the communicator into the centre of the table and watched the table rattle a little. So, they were able to see that he was sitting at a table that was propped up by bricks, in a decrepit kitchen that hadn't seen a sponge since before he'd moved in, and the general furnishings of the place were spartan at best and downright fruminous at worst. The apartment didn't seem to have a bed, but rather a matress on the floor.
They could also see him, sitting down, head resting upon arms gently, looking tired and defeated. His face almost looked as soft as his voice, save for the chinstrap beard that ran all the way down it. The clothes hew as wearing went out of fashion a long time ago. The sonar probably couldn't pick up how dirty they were.
"Could you fetch a pen and paper?" the voice asked. "Oh, and unplug the television, if you have one."
"Don't have one." He replied.
"What, a pen and paper, or a television?" the voice replied.
"TV." He replied quietly, looking over to the red marker on his desk and flipping over the newspaper with a sound of flicking paper. It'd stand out against the tabloid news. He tapped his pen against yet another article about another bloody murder. They'd become so common in Nepleslian newspapers that they had a template for them. Beneath that there was a mention of a side-burned Mercenary destroying a Mishhu trafficking ring, and that was something too unlikely for a template to cover.
"Good morning. Thanks for waiting. My name is Alice and I'll be examining you. Could I have your fullname?"
"Danny." He replied. "Danny Hanley-Lewis." What was the worst they could do with a name that meant nothing?
"Good. Your date of birth?"
"Don't know."
"Good. Favourite aethersperm song?"
"Wa-? Uh..." He paused for a moment, tripped up by the interview process again. "Suzy was a Headbanger?"
"Very good. May I see your bank card?"
"Not that it has anything on it, but..." He put the card down on the desk and groaned.
"Could you hold that infront of the communicator? " He did so, looking out the window again.
"I just need to swipe that... Yeah, thanks. Could you give me the pin-number to that?"
Danny sighed. "Eight, Seven, Two, Four."
"I'm making a deposit of one hundred and sixty DA."
"Why?" He tilted his head at the communicator. "Aren't you supposed to steal from me?"
"We need you to be clean, well fed and dressed when we meet in person. Now, let's move on. How many fingers am I holding up?"
He looked at the commuincator incredulously. This interview process was so strange to him that he couldn't help but continue playing along? They'd paid him, afterall.
"Three?" He guessed.
"Not bad. And now?"
"Two?"
"Correct. And now?"
"One?" He guessed again. He then ruminated if it was a countdown.
"Very good. Are you allergic to strawberries?"
He shook his head at the communicator, muttering a "Neh."
"Good. Now watch my finger. Watch my finger. Watch it."
There was an awkward silence between Danny and the communicator, for about half a minute before it spoke again.
"Very good. Could you read the top line of the advertisement for me?"
He flipped the newspaper back over and said: "We're looking for talented people." He was hardly seeing what this exercise had to do with his physical talents.
"Good. Can you cover your left ear for me and tell me what you hear?"
A slice of classical music played. The faint noise in his right ear sounded completely different, but he could barely make it out. He cupped his right ear and covered his left, curious. Nothing.
"Could you tell me what you heard?"
"Aoi Tanaka's 5th Movement of the Wandering Samurai suite."
"Very good. Now cover your right ear and tell me what you hear through your left."
It was a horn. A car horn. And yet he could still just barely make out Aoi Tanaka in his left. How?
"Someone tooting a horn."
"Very good. Now cover both ears and --"
The world became near silence as he did so. Danny spent the next minute or so wondering when he should take them off or what else the voice would have said -- before doing it himself, out of curiosity.
"You were supposed to wait, but nevermind. Very good. Have you spent any time in the Sargasso?"
"Where?" Danny asked.
"Very good. Ever slaughter a goose or any other poultry?"
"...there was this one time in Kennewes..." He replied sheepishly.
"Good. Hold up your communicator. I'm going video for a moment."
An image appeared, a bright light.
"Hold this up to your face over your right eye. And as you're starring at the light, tell me the key ingredients of ratatoulie."
Danny was like a deer in the headlights for a moment before carrying out what she asked.
"Uh... rice,"
"Yes."
"Tomato..."
"Uhhuh."
"err... onion? Some other vegetables?" His eyeball was rolling around as he searched for the answer.
"Good enough." Alice said. "Now pull the communicator back. The image. Could you tell me what that is?"
He held the communicator out and looked at the grainy image that was on it. "I think its a picture of a pair of Phoenix Man dolls being pushed against each other like they're kissing."
"That was a triangle. What about this image?"
"Wha-" He mumbled to himself before looking at the next image. "Is that a strait jacket?"
"A square, actually. And this?"
"A circle."
"Could you be more specific?"
"Looks like the Yamataian flag, with a smiley face where the Hinomaru should go."
"The Yamataian flag doesn't have a Hinomaru. Otherwise very good. Could you wriggle your tongue for me?" Danny blushed a little and covered his mouth before reluctantly doing so.
"Good, good. Now wriggle your toes for me." Inside his shoes, he gave them a wiggle and quietly wondered how the person on the other side of the line would figure it out.
"Very good. So far you seem pretty normal. Alright, what's going to happen now is I'm going to say a series of random words and you're going to say the first thing that comes into your mind without thinking when you're ready to begin."
There was a long awkward pause.
"Alright. Ready?" He nodded at the camera on the communicator. If they could figure.
"Chicken." "Me."
"Door knob." "Open."
"Lorath" "Weird..."
"Guacamole." "Tasty."
"Vibrator." "Neko."
"Door knob." "...Door?"
"Eschatology." "Huh?"
"Lipgloss." "Makeup."
"Cheese." "Dip."
"Meteor." "Come-" A ringing sound cut off Danny.
"Excuse me, I'll just be a moment. Hello? Yes. Wait. Er... What? Arrested? No, stop. When? Ugh. I can't talk now, I'll call you back." a beep sounded as she hung up. There was then dialing, ringing and a brief conversation in Lorath before she hung up again, clearing her throat.
"Er...?"
"Very good. Could you turn to page 33 of the newspaper and identify the product in the two page spread for me?"
He flicked the newspaper open and went looking for the page. "I think its... its... I dunno. My pen bled into it." The newspaper's jobs listing was on the opposite side of the spread of paper, and his thick red marker had sullied the paper.
"I can't either. I've been asking everybody what it is all morning and nobody can give me a straight answer.
Danny shrugged at the camera. "Well mine's because the marker I used from my job hunting bled into the paper..." He explained, looking at the paper. "I think its an ad for beer."
"You really think so? What else do you think it could be?"
He then took a closer look at the newspaper, removing it from the other pages and laying it in front of him. He flattened it and started to notice something. "I think its an ink blot test thingy."
"A what now?"
"A raw... row... raw shark... Rorschach."
"Huh... How many fingers am I holding up?" Again, there was no image.
"One."
"Damn, you're good at this."
"At guessing?" He asked wryly.
"Well, I think you're normal. You meet most of our diagnostic criteria for a level one review, but I have another appointment. Oh and... Seems my subliminal app does work. You can put your clothes back on, by the way."
"Thanks, I ... wha?" He then looked down at himself, and leapt out of his seat in fright. "WAH!" After comprehending that he was indeed as naked as the day as he was born, he curled into a ball and covered himself with his hands and legs. Looking around the room, he could see his clothes in a neat pile off to one side. He never remembered getting undressed though.
Danny whimpered and whined as he walked over to his clothing and retrieved the briefs, slipping them on first. Once again, the universe seemed to have it in for him.
