My shrines. Where are they? Where are the shrines to those who came before? --46.9 Seconds Post-Integration.
He and Theo got to work finding the source of the alarm.
As luck would have it, it was once more near the auto-scrubber bay -- Clark thought the company needed more sanitation in that place -- but Hera was already on scene.
Hera was standing in the auto-scrubber maintenance bay before one of the machines. A flash of light came from her hand and engulfed the machine. Once the light faded away, an aroma of burnt metal filled the space. Then, the alarm faded, and he and Theo approached.
"Hera? Is that you? If it isn't, then apologies, you look a lot like someone I once knew," Clark asked.
The woman turned. Having a good look at her, Clark saw that she was, in fact, Hera.
"Good to see you again, Clark. How are you enjoying Climbing?" she asked.
"It's fine. Lots of things to learn -- personally, I didn't have any clue about the 'alt-pathfinding' stuff and how to balance plague and work. Way more of a learning experience than any of my guides alluded to, that's for sure. You the same?"
"Oh, no. I knew about all of this stuff before being hired. I come from a family of Lifers," she replied.
Theo whistled his surprise. "A family of Lifers? Man, you never had a chance, then!"
"No, I did not. Rhetorically, I mean. I choose to work here because of my own reasons. Since you came rushing here, I imagine you are taking the warrior's path through the tower? Once you qualify, of course."
"Sure am! Nearly there. I have a level up some, first, plus that multi-month waiting period. I'm going to get there, though."
"I have no doubt you will, young sire. I would love to stay and chat, but I still have my investigation to do. Please, I don't wish to keep you and ding your metrics."
Curious about what she meant by 'investigation,' and seeing his metrics still in a good standing, he asked what she meant by when she said, 'investigation.'
The answer he received surprised him. "I'm a bit of an amateur historian. I like to probe lesser-known parts of the tower for their hidden histories. I suspect one such history is on this floor."
"Oh, that's super neat!" Clark said, louder, and more excitedly than he intended. "What sort of history? Can Theo and I help?"
"Theo was making his 'I object!' noise when Hera objected for him. "Nope! Thank you, but no thank you! This is something for me and me only. I do hope you and I and Theo will be able to meet again, and soon."
With that, the conversation ended, and the workers of the auto-scrubber bay returned.
Soon after, their shift ended.
Theo said he had to get home and rest. He had been feeling sludgy lately and didn't want to risk getting sick by over-extending himself. Clark bid him farewell and was about to grab a bite to eat in one of the many eateries when he remembered the volunteering part-time. Energetic to labor, he gave into his desire and went to volunteer at Old World Kitchen.
Those few hours passed without anything of note happened. As happened while he and Theo volunteered together, he ended up monitoring machines as they made the food. He dumped bags of frozen potato silvers into frying baskets and took the manual order of a customer now and again. Why customers wanted to order by human when a digital kiosk was ready for their ease, was one of many retail mysteries he would just have to accept partly answers to, but if it was the will of the almighty customer, then there wasn't anything for him to object to. He just did his job.
When he got out of his volunteer shift, he wandered the open space of the forty-second floor's connecting space. Like in the dozens of floors below, the connecting zone had outlets of hundreds of non-Augustford controlled merchants, who sold everything from culinary delights to shiny rocks. Of the four store blocks which were located on the floor, none of them looked that different from each other. In fact, all of them looked the same. That wasn't surprising, of course, but it did make the tours he took of each extremely boring. 'Man, I remember that morning I did overtime just to take a tour of the store before my actual shift. So unnecessary! I can practically walk this layout with my eyes closed. How times have changed!'
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Throughout the time he spent just browsing the forty-second floor, the only noteworthy bit of the architecture which stood out to him was a bit of the floor he should have noticed much sooner. It was a temple. One of the many 'Coporate Shrines' located throughout the tower. Not knowing what one of these shrines were about, he entered the grand, church-like building etched into the wall of the dungeon.
Inside the shrine were rows of pews for the faithful to sit and pray. For this shrine, hardly anyone was in the shrine, let alone sitting and praying to... whoever.
In the centermost lane was a red carpet which led to a large altar. He followed this lane to the elevated stage but found only a gold, shimmering statue. Its plaque read, 'Merchant Lord Flaps.'
"Flaps? That's a stupid name," he said under his breath.
To his right and left, Clark noticed doors leading to deeper parts of the temple. No signage prevented him from entering and since neither door was locked, he entered the one of the left.
The door led to a small office space. Typically, office spaces were quiet affairs. Not this one.
One voice, that of an older man, shouted, "Madam! Enough! This is heresy, and I will not hear it anymore! Please, I have given you the answers you seek. Leave my abode -- now!"
When the alleged woman spoke, he recognized the voice. "I will take my leave. This is not the last you have seen of me!" Hera said, stormed off, then turned the corner and smacked right into him.
"Oh, watch where -- I am sorry, I," Hera stammered right after the impact. "Clark! Oh, I didn't think I would encounter you, here, in a corporate temple of all places!"
"Yeah. I was curious about it, so I thought I would check it out. You had business with the priest, I take it?" he asked.
"Business! Yes! I did. Alas, my business did not take me very far. Now is not the right time to talk. Please, I insist you allow me to treat you to a coffee!"
Perking up at the mention of coffee, he smiled and said, "Please. Allow me to lead you to the nearest cafe."
Mean Bean was the nearest cafe. Clark had not seen such an outlet before, so he thought it must be a smaller chain if they couldn't afford a location on every floor. He ordered a caramel macchiato with a whipped cream topping, topped with an additional caramel drizzle.
"You like sugar?" Hera said.
"Who doesn't?" Clark replied, thinking the observation odd.
"Not me. My faith prevents me from having sugar."
Clark snorted. "All sugar? Jebus, that must be hard."
"It is. There are workarounds, though. That doesn't include natural sugars, of course. Only refined sugars of the food industry. That's why I'm only having a bagel with butter. I do envy you young people. Able to have all the sweets you want. To be so unattached to rigor and dogma."
Clark wanted to ask Hera about her faith and its intertwining with their shared reality of working for Augustford, but he also knew he had to stay on topic. "Your faith, I take it, is not of the corporate faith? If I might pry, you were at the priest's office to debate him?"
"Heavens no! I was there to talk with him about the history of the Tower. About its religious significance. The bald-headed brute, though, only had words for the official byline of the store." Hera took a bite of her bagel. She looked to enjoy it immensely, despite its plainness.
"Byline? The official history, I take it. What is the official history, by the way? Until recently, I didn't even know there were shrines in this place."
"Exactly that," Hera said between bites. "The 'official,' history. Which is to say, the history which the store considers to be the one and only in their eyes. That story goes like this: long ago, there were primitive shrines in the tower to now unknown gods, gods cleared away even by the pagan deities. When Augustford took stewardship of the tower, those shrines -- which they recount as offering no blessings -- were replaced with the current pantheon of their corporate elite. These new shrines offered blessings. I don't believe that history one bit."
"Oh? Why not?" Clark was halfway through his coffee and thinking about ordering a second. If Hera was paying, though, he didn't want to appear rude and unthoughtful of her wallet. He sipped his coffee more slowly.
"Too much doesn't add up. The timeline, for one. What they call 'stewardship,' for another. The years and events mix and not in the accepted way. Their account of history, though, isn't why I am here. My hypothesis is that the original shrines to those gods -- eldritch and pagan alike -- still remain somewhere in the tower. I will uncover them," Hera told him, then paused to take a hearty drink of water.
Clark thought it unique that Hera, like Theo, had some ulterior reason for signing her working life away. It made him less like an oddity, like his own reason was no longer insufficient and more like he was in good company. Though he figured each of them had a deeper understanding of their lives than he had of his own.
"What will you do when you uncover these shrines? Take pictures, bring your fellows of the faith in to prove it?" Clark asked, sad at seeing his coffee so low.
Hera smiled. Then she leaned in close and said, "That's a secret."
Religion at Work: Yay or Nay?
