New Job, Different Dilemma

♡

You've been matched.

Could three words have greater impact? Sure there was "I love you," but to a blogger hopeful who desired stardom? Nothing meant more.

Being matched on HEA signified something. Something big, something with enough gravity it could change the way Nora's world ran. 

If only she could check the app, view her messages, steal a glance at the gal who'd caught the interest of Tink, AI Godmother extraordinaire, and been set on a collision course with WinterMint23.

But now Nora had to be in work-mode, back straight and pained, toes pinched thanks to some wickedly pointed heels while she feigned interest in the world around her and not the one inside her latest iPhone.

The holographic rendering of Mr. Archer danced through the sea of chairs filling the vast theater-but-not space, highlighting Seraphim's 'relaxed' and 'fun' atmosphere in a way that was almost comedic.

Beside Nora, three others looked equally as miserable as her, and equally as poor at hiding it. A bearded dwarf plucked stray threads off the cuff of their pin-stripe suit. It was one Nora's mother would have approved of because it had that silk sheen that screamed "money was laid down to own me."

Next to them was a curly-haired boy, no older than twenty-one physically, his eyes a deep, ancient gold. The color of centuries old parchment. He oozed elegance.

From the way he nibbled his pencil eraser, to how he bit his lip, the flutter of his eyelashes when boredom threatened to bring him under its spell, to the eye roll he supplied Mrs. Castiron when the HR rep cornered them at the doors and slapped paper nametags in their hands- to be worn at all times.

He was probably Fae, but Nora didn't know from what court. It was ignorant to think but somehow, Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter all looked them same. Being unbelievably gorgeous had a way of making everyone blend.

The last of the newcomers was an angel. Two winged, not four, so not Seraphim. Dominion, maybe. The angels who loved justice and turned to all avenues of law for short, centuries long careers.

Whoever this angel was, they were attractive (not Fae-attractive, but that was on a whole other level) - long and willowy, a mane of yellow hair accented with beads and bird feathers.

Their body exaggerated in all the right places under a black blouse and blazer. Dark, smoky lids, and heavily lined eyes added an air of sullen mystique. 

Wings the length of Nora's legs spread out from their back, the two slits in their jacket doing their job, allowing for the free launching and retracting of wings at will. The feathers black, not white.

While white wings were more common and more traditionally thought of as beautiful, these black ones were something else. The gloss alone was enough to make Nora jealous, and as she was on the verge of asking the angel if there was some special product they used for wing-care that could be applied to wig-care, holographic Mr. Archer was reminding everyone of Seraphim's greatness. As though the people in the room weren't already aware of how the company had course corrected the world, dragging everyone toward a prosperous future.

After echoing the slogan, Two worlds, One Hope, a favorite of the United Front (Coalition for Peace Between Humans and Majjos), Mr. Archer popped out of existence. Mrs. Castiron took her cue, rising from her seat and shuffling toward the dwarf-sized podium. Her fingers curled around its edge as she stared at them through lenses as thick as window panes.

She asked the prescribed "any questions," which resulted in the not-prescribed-but-oft-given silence, then grabbed four folders off the stage and passed them out.

Nora thumbed through the contents. Pages of creamy stock fluttered beneath her fingertips, ink blurring. Occassionally she caught sight of floor maps, evacuation plans, bulleted lists. Regular, corporate drivel.

She lingered on an abbreviated employee handout dressed to the nines in cursive font and gold leaf. Like a scroll that would be unfurled in front of a king. Nora almost felt bad for reading it without a trumpeter providing the appropriate background ambiance.

It outlined a few of the company's policies (the entire list of which could be found on Seraphim's corporate intranet, which they were encouraged to read in full, accessible through employee issued laptops or optional ocular implants.)

It's zero tolerance stance against discrimination. No smoking permitted on campus grounds. One hour for lunches (comped meals if eaten at one of the company's cafes). Mandatory breaks to be taken throughout the day to prevent employee fatigue. 

Halo access was guaranteed for all current employees, a luxury which came with no strings attached, and no hidden fees. Shuttles provided travel between buildings within the campus, and if need be could be used for emergency transportation.

While fraternization wasn't frowned upon, inter-office romances were forbidden. Immediate termination if caught. Nora paused and re-read the line again. At her last job, as long as a couple made their relationship company record, and kept from frisking each other in the copy room, they were free to do as they pleased.

So much for Mr. Archer presenting the company as loose and casual. Their hatred of kissing co-workers painted a more regressive corporate landscape.

"You can look over those more when you have time."

Nora breathed out. If she had more time to peruse the items in her folder, she'd have the time to check HEA, that morning's message never having fully left her brain.

You've been matched.

With whom? Was it a dwarf like Mrs. Castiron? Someone strong and stocky with angular features carved from earth's core? Maybe a Fae from Winter? One with pale blue skin and purple lips? One who caused blizzards in mid-July and whose freezing touch only ignited the heat under one's skin?

Maybe an angel like Mr. Archer, only less aggressively positive. Someone more on Nora's level, who recognized the graying nature of the world instead of seeing everything in stark black and white, and who could literally sweep her off her feet.

"Miss Campbell."

What about a mermaid? Like Marina? All sun and salt, words bubbling from their lips faster than they could speak them?

"Miss Campbell." Mrs. Castiron stood at eye level with Nora's desk, tapping the tip of her pen on its side.

She blinked, her cheeks heated. "Sorry." Nora wrangled the papers splayed in front of her, hoping she looked like a studious employee rather than a daydreaming teenager. Judging by Mrs. Castiron's scowl, her bet was on the latter.

Mrs. Castiron turned, addressing the rest of the new hires. "Employee IDs will be ready for you at lunch," she ducked between the seats, able to manage her floor-length beard with ease. She didn't so much as stutter in her gait as she crossed the room. "I'll have your department leaders give them to you."

The fae raised his hand in one sweeping motion.

"Yes, Mr. Evans-rose?"

His brow furrowed, his lips down turned into a pout. It was a captivating pout that amplified his already gorgeous features. Even Nora had trouble looking at anything else. "We took no pictures for our IDs."

Mrs. Castiron snorted. "Why of course not." She placed the tip of her pen in the dent of her lower lip. "The HD cameras at the foyer snapped your pictures upon your arrival. They're quite capable of producing the highest quality image. While Seraphim uses facial recognition for employee computers and fingerprint detection technology for all onsite cafes, some employees raised concern over the increase in image theft. The addition of the physical employee ID card was our response to that."

Mr. Evans-rose's hand wilted halfway through Mrs. Castiron's reply, but now he looked completely defeated, head hung, shoulders slouched.

"With that, and if there are no more questions," everyone shook their heads, "I'll conclude this portion of your orientation and hand you over to your department heads." She glanced down and checked her watch. It was a polished gold band with an opalescent face and dozens of encrusted gems. "I believe your supervisors are outside waiting. I will leave you in their care." She gathered up the briefcase at her feet, more ornamentation than function. "Remember, I'm Mallory Castiron. If you have any questions or concerns, my door is always open. It's been a pleasure meeting you all."

They all muttered goodbyes as the dwarf left through a side exit. Behind them, the larger entrance doors peeled open. A small parade of people trickled in, ready to claim their wards.

A youngish-looking demon sporting more piercings in his horns than Nora'd ever seen scooped up Evans-Rose. An elderly man with graying mutton chops and a prudish, squished face gathered up the dwarf whose name Nora couldn't remember.

Nora's supervisor, the head honcho of Relocations, was an older woman, around Nora's mother's age with rosy cheeks and skin that had seen its share of sun. She gave off a calm aura and smelled pleasantly of tobacco.

"I'm Melbrooke," she said, offering her hand. Nora stood and took it. "You can call me Mel, if you prefer, Miss Campbell. Most do."

She smiled. Nora smiled back. "Well," she glanced around the emptied room and motioned toward the doors. "Shall we?" Nora nodded. "Follow me, Miss Campbell."

The morning flew by in a blur of paperwork, policy, department run-down and rushed acquaintances. She met her co-workers, most of whom were lifers who'd spent decades on Seraphim's payroll, swearing it was the best company around.

They were all nice and easygoing, greeting her with smiles and warm handshakes. A dark-skinned woman in a bronze romper spoke in a raspy smoker's tone, welcoming Nora to the family before offering her a smoke. Nora declined politely.

A self-identifying male with hundreds of porcelain figures along the walls of their cubicle gave Nora a welcome bundle of office staples - paper clips, post-its, highlighters, pens. She thanked them and set the basket at her own cubicle, which luckily for her had a window view.

Afterwards, she learned more about the job she'd be doing. Relocations specialized in getting new arrivals, majjos specifically, settled in integrated cities.

Nora's job would be to help them look for homes, possible employment, get them set up at banks. It was imperative to her job that she knew every inch of the Brights.

What locations were the most majjo-positive and diverse, which banks had the highest rates of giving out business loans to majjos who sought entrepreneurial pursuits.

Which school districts best accommodated majjos with special needs. Angels, for example, needed dedicated landing pads, as flying was their preferred method of travel. Demon youth needed extra head room to account for their growing horns. Fae needed specially designed chairs for their wings. Dwarves had dietary restrictions.

By the time noon rolled around, Nora felt as though her head had exploded. She was overwhelmed and unprepared and cursed herself a dozen times for refusing that cigarette.

She leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. Sunlight fell across her desk and computer monitors in harsh slats thanks to the half-closed blinds. The air conditioner rumbled through the overheat vents.

Someone's podcast trickled out of their headphones. Nora caught clips here and there about Nostra and the Black Ivys. Keefa Sprig. The Jersey Downs.

Whoever it was sure loved their contemporary majjo pop.

"Come to lunch with us?" The man from earlier, the one who'd gifted Nora the basket of goodies, stood at her desk, accompanied by two dwarves. If she recalled correctly, they went by Ivan.

Ivan strained to look at her, their lips puckered. "I've forgotten haven't I?" They frowned. "This is Diane," they motioned at the dwarf with bright green eyes and wearing a floral sundress, "and Pearl." Pearl saluted Nora, their chestnut beard wound in tight braids, the tips of which brushed the floor.

"Nice to meet you again," Diane said. Eyelashes that went on forever fluttered in Nora's direction. "We were hoping you'd join us? Think of it as a welcome lunch. Small group, super casual. No pressure." She smiled, her cheeks flushed. "It's on us, of course." The trio of them chuckled, the joke being that Seraphim compensated all meals had on campus grounds. 

"I--" Nora started.

Ivan's face clouded over, their fingers plucking at their argyle sweater. "You don't want to."

"I can't," Nora blurted.

Diane nodded, but not before throwing an elbow into Ivan's side. "We understand. First days are always busy." Pearl grunted, weaving a braid between her fingers. "Take your time, catch your breath." She turned, her dress billowing at her ankles. Pink-painted nails peeked out from under her sandal straps. "The lunch invite's a standing one, you know? Join us whenever."

She started off. Pearl, grabbing Ivan by the arm and whirling them around, headed out after her. Diane waved before she reached the end of the row.

Nora waved back. "I'll be sure to take you up on that."

The three of them smiled, Ivan's the least convincing, before they were out the door. 

She turned back to her desk and stabbed a few of the keyboard keys. A sigh escaped her lips as she stared out the window. Thirty-stories up, gave her a pleasant view of the campus, mostly of the red-brick cafe, and a smaller glass building dedicated to research and development.

By now, most people had left the office. They'd gone to lunch, went on break, or were in conference rooms discussing private matters with clients. It was a nice office, cream walls, exposed brick. Modern steel accents. Glass cubicles that came equipped with a privacy feature. Brightly colored abstract art decorated the walls, while potted plants littered the floor. Water and coffee were a short walk away, all three bathrooms at the room's middle.

She glanced around. No one was paying her any mind, so she reached down and pulled out her phone and headphones. Popping them in her ears, she swiped to unlock her phone and open HEA.

Tess's voice boomed through her ears, almost knocking Nora off her seat. "Welcome back, Winter!"

Wincing, Nora lowered the volume on her phone. "You've been matched. To see your match, open your match tab or go to notifications."

Nora clicked on Tess's fairy icon to get the AI to enter sleep mode, then went straight for her match. It was with a user named BoatHoe777.

Odd username for a dating app, but was WinterMint23 any better? Maybe this person was a fan of yachting or like Nora had created their username in the early hours of morning and under the influence.

"Hi, Nora I have nicknames but none that can be said in polite society."

Nora bristled, dropping her phone onto her desk. She swiveled around. Marina stood at her desk in white, company issued overalls, Seraphim's two winged logo emblazoned on her breast pocket. She chuckled. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"No--" Nora glanced at her phone. Of all the times to run into a pretty girl and it had to be while she was checking a dating app. If that didn't give off desperation vibes, Nora didn't know what did. As slyly as she could, Nora turned her phone over before glancing up at Marina again. "It wasn't you. I was spacing out."

"Been a long day?" Marina settled at the edge of the desk, her arm hung over one of its walls. She wore her hair swept back in a high pony, making her cheekbones even more pronounced. She wore a pin on her uniform. A "Save the Ocean Jerkwards," pin with a big red 'x' over a heap of discarded plastics.

Nora nodded.

"How's it going so far?" Marina clutched a trash bin in one hand.

"Stressful," Nora said honestly. She leaned against her seat. "What about you?"

Marina hefted the can. "Same old. Though it might seem like I'm emptying this floor's trash cans," she leaned in conspiratorially, again smelling of suntan lotion and salt, "I'm really doing corporate espionage. Learning everything I can about the employees here through the crap they toss away."

Nora chuckled. "Learn any juicy tidbits?"

Marina's eyes brightened with a mischievous glint. "Nothing I can repeat without proper compensation." She smiled.

"Got it."

"Well--" Marina's fingers tapped the rim of the bin. She bit her lower lip. "--guess I should get back to work." She hopped off Nora's desk. "Really just popped over to say hi and welcome you into the fold."

"Yeah," Nora closed her fingers around her phone, "I'm another cog in the wheel now."

Marina leaned over acting like she was going to empty Nora's trash bin though nothing was in it, but instead used it as an excuse to get close. "You're a beautiful cog in the wheel," Marina corrected.

Nora's face erupted, embarrassment pouring over her cheeks like lava flows.

With a grin, Marina bounded away, bobbing from desk to desk to empty peoples' bins. There she went, breezy as could be. Saying compliments with ease and getting Nora all frazzled.

Nora sighed, remembering the company's strict no-dating policy before returning her attention to her phone and BoatHoe777, who, according to their bio, liked movies, beaches, aquariums, and knitting.

She was a self-proclaimed eco-warrior and fluent in fifty languages. Nora's pulse quickened. She could barely construct a cohesive sentence in English and they'd matched a multilingual god to Nora?

How had that happened? Pondering the accuracy of the app's algorithms, Nora noticed she'd skipped part of the sentence. In full it read "fluent in fifty languages if fish languages count."

Instead of quelling her anxiety, it turned what'd been a subtle heat into an inferno. Heart beating so fast it felt like it was drilling its way to freedom, Nora clicked to reveal BoatHoe's profile pic.

Sure enough, it showed a woman with cascading white curls and blue-green eyes. Marina Carpenter. HEA had matched Nora with Marina. Seraphim's app had matched its employees with each other.

The no-dating policy flashed in Nora's mind. She gulped, her phone sliding from her fingers to her desk.

#noway #nowthisistheworsttiminginhistory #isthissomecosmicjoke #youvegottobekiddingme

Total Word Count: 16,567