Among the many divisions of my enemy is the corporate elite's secret division -- Qoon. They hardly pass for secret police. I see what they do though they think they are hidden. Their ego will be their death. --64.5 Seconds Post-Integration.
Adam felt serene. He had done it. He had recruited the dungeon champion!
It was a steal. Of luck, not skill, but a steal all the same.
Now, he could report to his superiors his mission was done. He returned to his secret office and pulled over his privacy tarps. He input the code to send a video message to his superior. Moments later, the computer connected him. On his monitor was his boss, their visage blurred because of privacy filters.
"I have done as requested, sir. The Lifer Cola Clark has agreed to join Qoon."
"Very good, Adam. You are to continue recruiting efforts with Clark."
This confused him. "Recruiting efforts? Sir, he already agreed to join. What do you mean 'continue'?"
"Clark is an important asset, Adam. He must stay faithful to the company at all costs. He must see his future and the company's future as one in the same. Do you understand?" the shadowy, blurred figure asked him from across the screen.
Adam wondered where in the vast tower his boss was, in which hidden office he was taking the call, doling out orders. "You wish for me to continue plying Clark with gifts, pressure?"
"Correct. Continue to treat him as a prospective member. You are authorized to say and do whatever it takes to increase his morale. It took him weeks to give you an answer, which tells us he is unsure about the process. He might even have ulterior motives for joining. Observe him carefully."
"I understand and will carry out your orders, sir."
"Very good. Do remember, Adam. If you hear any word on where the dungeon core is, the company will reward you dearly for your loyalty."
The video call ended.
Outside his privacy flaps, Adam heard the rumble and go of his office staff. He sat in his darkened cubicle for a while more, basking in the joy of his praise. More so once he received a System notification: [Direct Deposit Confirmed: 'Services Rendered' Account has deposited 25,000 Standard Credits'].
Adam knew this would be but the first reward for having recruited Clark to Qoon. Augustford took care of those who supported it, he knew that for a fact. If he located the dungeon core on top of Clark's recruitment? Forget managing a floor. He was looking at Executive Floor Manager!
The very idea of wielding so much power delighted him. He giggled like an amused schoolboy after hearing a dirty joke.
Knowing what he had to do, Adam got to work in fulfilling his superior's needs. He took out a sheet of paper and a pencil and wrote down every brownnosing idea which came to mind. Some were more useful than others. Lateness forgiveness? Sure, but when Adam looked at Clark's schedule, he had rarely been late, so that wasn't so much help. A better idea he wrote down was reduced hours in general but with higher pay, so Clark still received the same amount of base pay per day. Less hours with more pay were always a crowd pleaser. And, speaking of a different possibility, it wasn't as if anyone ever turned their nose at a gift basket. So, why not both, reduced hours with more pay, AND a gift basket? Oh, yeah, he was on a roll now!
Over the hours, his pencil moved nonstop. When his list grew to over two hundred brownnosing possibilities, he stopped. "Writing until I have three or four hundred won't help me at this point. I need to enact!" Enacting his gift horse rearing was not something he could do by himself, alas. He needed help as much as the next man. Which was a shame because that meant his team would be the ones to bare the burden and they had already worked so hard in following Clark's every move and cataloguing it.
Finally leaving his cubicle, Adam saw his team was just getting back from their lunchbreak. Now was a good time as ever to tell them about the mandatory overtime. "Friends!" he called out. "I have an announcement! Our team has been selected for a heavy honor. Yes, this will demand overtime, but -- yes, groan! But groan with delight! -- for the overtime will enrich all of us! Now settle friends, no more anti-corporate groaning. Our team has recruited our target to Qoon! Celebrate, yes, and whoop! Our mission isn't over, not yet! We must ensure that Clark stays with Qoon and absorbs into their lifestyle, their purpose. Until further notice, Clark is our one and only priority. I want you all to stop working right away and head home early. Know that when you return, it will be for the longest shift feasible! Stifle the groans I know are coming, for everyone here has received a raise!"
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Everything considered, his team took the news of their mandatory overtime well. Giving employees a raise -- another crowd pleaser when it comes to employee retention and dedication.
With happier cheers for once, his team left the office, leaving him alone with nothing but the cubicles for friends.
He sat in a folding chair. It was a rusty thing kept in the back in case the office had one visitor too many and another seat was quickly needed. To date, it had never been used. Not during his tenure, at least.
Sitting, peace rolled over him. With that peace was a hair-tingling surreality. He was alone in his place of work. No one but him.
Though his office was small, without the odd dozen or so people who worked alongside him in the cramped conditions, the office appeared larger.
"Finally. Some blessed silence. No more masks. No more overly energetic speeches." Adam's whispers were to him like a bird's cage clattering. It was the only thing he had. "Now it's personal time for me..."
As a Lifer Careerist, Adam had two things in his existence: a working life and a life. Each 'life,' however, were one in the same.
As such, he had precious little 'personal time.' Typically, the closest he got to having personal time was using the restroom. Even then, between handling the zipper, minding his manners, and doing his business without splattering his trousers, was enough mental work he couldn't truly consider it as time he didn't need to be on alert. Right now, sitting quietly in his folding chair, by his lonesome, he had personal time.
He expelled some gas and loosened his tie. He walked to his cubicle and fished in his drawer for the secret compartment he had installed during the bit of personal time he had previously, just to be fruity. He pulled from the cubby a tiny bottle of spirits.
Could he have kept the spirits inside his mini cooler, which was underneath his primary desk? Sure, but where would have been the fun be in that?
A quick unscrew and a guzzle later and the spirit vanished. He tossed the petite bottle into the recycling bin and reached for another.
There were few things in life better to Adam than drinking on the job. Chilling out, relaxing, all while getting paid to do so! He was careful, of course, to not overdo it. His intent was not to become inebriated which would've prevented him from doing his job. This? It was just a stop at a watering hole. Soon, he would hit that dusty trail once more, and belabor himself with all his power, so he could fulfill Augustford's will. Just because it was a stop, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it while it lasted.
By and by, a full month passed.
Adam used this time to pull strings and call in favors. Putting into action his many brownnosing tasks required help far outside of his team; for one, it required the use of company fabricators. Which, as anyone knew, were always in hot demand. It required bussing in labor for those times when the brownnosing would result in Clark leaving his shift early, thus demanding replacement labor, and so forth. Each plan had intricacies with other plans. Considering his two-hundred-plus plans, the interconnectedness was immense.
Yeah, he needed help -- bigtime.
While Adam oiled his middle-managing machine to a fine grease, Clark did much the same. Except instead of calling in favors, he made favors.
Clark, Theo, and Hera worked. Day-in, day-out, as they did every day, with consideration and kindness.
Hera's church officially launched their public pressure campaign against Augustford, demanding they reveal the truth about the ancient shrines. Until then, the church had been busy in spreading the word, spreading the evidence, of what Clark and Hera discovered during their outing into the dungeon interior that day. The company responded with its typical blase reproaches. Denial, obstruction, faking counterevidence. A month later and Hera knew that her battle was only heating up.
Theo's activity during the month was limited to stealth training. He always had a knack for sticking to the shadows. Coming to Augustford, he saw many applications for his talents if he only knew how to properly tend to his innate virtues. Determined, then, Theo searched out resources on how to improve his shadow movement. His search brought him first to books and then to self-styled 'urban stalkers' who trained themselves on how to move unseen while remaining in plain sight.
Clark, meanwhile, focused on his Betterment course.
So focused was he on his course, he enrolled in another session before the first session was even completed. He focused on vocabulary more than anything, with actual reading coming in a close second. He got into the habit of underlining words he did not know and looking them up in the dictionary. Because of his due diligence, his reading abilities increased tenfold over the month. Clearly, his classes helped.
During the month, SIMP was the odd duck out.
Although SIMP continued their work in 'cracking' the security on the dwarven pod as much as the team did in their respective campaigns, SIMP had nothing to show for her effort at month's end. The dwarven pod remained inscrutable. As did its purpose to the tower.
For the time being, perhaps this was fine? SIMP told themselves that the team already had more than enough responsibility -- for, as Clark, Theo, and Hera fought their individual recreational crusades, they also worked full-time. Cracking the dwarven pod would only result in a heavier plate. Comforted by the fact their team could take it easy for the time being. Still, making such slow inroads with the pod remained a frustrating experience for SIMP.
Slow pod progress or not, the month passed as it always did: Clark and his team worked and earned their keep.
When the second month's land grant payment came and went, it coming easier than it did last month, Clark didn't even blink when the following monthly payment demanded an additional ten credits for a total of two-hundred and seventy. "I paid the first month by the skim of my teeth," he told himself. "And the second month by the skin of my fingers, far removed from my teeth by fact, so why should I fear an additional ten?"
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