Another day, another routine. Get up, wash, put on a nice suit, go sit in a dusty office room for the rest of the day. Listen to some calls, make some others, maybe drink some wine to pass the time. The silence: dreadful.
He didn't mind, really. No one else aboard that ship would do his job half as well, and the privacy was something he enjoyed. He was more than happy to let the rest of them drink it up in the bar. He was content to sitting quietly in the backdrop, playing chess with the odds.
Still, the loneliness got to him. His wife was half a sector away, and he was lucky if he got to see her once a month. His brother was busy finding his way through the Gallic Core Systems. His Uncle was much too occupied playing King with anyone who'd listen. What was left for him? The paperwork, that's what.
The desk was completely buried by avalanches of paper. He'd never go through them. Chances are they would find their way to the nearest bathroom or the shredder. Face to face was his style, and he was proud of it. As he sifted through a random pile, he noticed a small letter adressed to him, or rather, his alias. Normally, he would've discarded it, but this one was different. It wasn't covered in grime, or smelled of vomit. It was actually written in an understandable, clean way.
He cut the letter open and read the title.
"To Big Joe"
<span style="color:#000000">The awful plight of he who cannot draw to save his own life.</span>
I am writing you this correspondence, so I might inform you of my presence, my credentials, and my desire to join our magnificent cities' security forces.
I'm a young man, currently residing in a typical apartment block here on Slum City. A few months ago, my mother was killed in a vicious sewing room accident gone awry. My father left us when I was a young boy. Last I heard, he was exploring the Northern Taus. Not that it matters to me much.
Regardless, my point is that I am essentially alone here, having no wife or kids, and no other family to speak of, now that my dear mother has passed.
Therefore, I'm hoping that someone as respected and well regarded in our fair city as you, might consider taking me under his wing, and showing me the ropes. I'm certain that in time, I can prove my worth to you and our beloved leader, King Pete. At the very least, I'm certain I could serve in some sort of minor capacity, such as routine patrols here on the station....although my real dream is to one day fly amongst the stars.
Attached to this letter, you'll find my previous work experience, as well as a short summary of my education.
I sincerely hope to hear from you, sooner rather than later, kind sir.
After reading the letter and perusing the attached resume, Joe sat back in his chair, and stared out over Kansas. He often would sit in this spot and think, looking down upon Wichita in the distance, with it's mighty oceans and violent storms, and ToP's own little slice of heaven, the ice moon Colby.
Well, the kid had promise. That much was certain. Still, Joe wasn't sure if he would be able to handle all of the delicate intricacies involved in keeping this floating city safe....and he didn't even want to think about the level of diplomatic skills an agent had to have to survive and prosper in this environment.
There Joe sat, thinking about the future of his place in this city, his possible protege, and Kansas as a whole.
Finally, after sitting for a time and watching an enormous cyclone engulf half of Wichita as it so often did during this time of year, he felt confident he had reached the right decision.
"Yes, yes. We shall see if your ready for the big time James. We shall see."
As he said these words out loud, Joe called his seceratary over the intercom, and asked her to summon this young man before him with utmost speed. There was much to do, and less time to do it in....
"Mabel, get James Bootsiuv to my office please... Yes, right now"
As Jonathan sat back in his chair, he held the letter up to eye-level and read through it again. He was amazed anyone aboard that Barge possessed this level of eloquence. Purely on that point, inviting him over was a worthy idea.
Torn from his family, alone in the world. He couldn't help but draw parallels. There were some key differences, but their current situations were pretty much alike. Maybe he could work on that, maybe not. Time would tell.
Fly among the stars? Another good pilot in the making. Just what they needed. As he read and reread the letter, he began thinking just how promising this was. No longer alone in the room. No longer solitary in dealing with Uncle's mess. At long last, he could actually do his job properly without overextending.
He checked a small monitor on his desk, switching through the names in the display until he found the one he was looking for.
James.
Clicking on it, he found out his charge was reaching his office room. He put his feet atop the table and waited. This was going to be fun.
<span style="color:#000000">The awful plight of he who cannot draw to save his own life.</span>
As James entered the room, he was bombarded with the sights and sounds around him.
Holographic monitors displayed various sections of Slum City, as well as various areas of the Kansas system. James found himself wondering how these images were procured, but was quickly pulled from his thoughts and back to the business at hand...
"Hel-Hello, sir, my name is James Bootsiuv, and I'm very pleased to meet you." James said, trying to hide his nervousness.
"I understand you wanted to see me?"
As James waited for Joe to respond, time seemed to stand still....he had no idea what to expect next.
Jonathan smiled to himself as he saw the dumbstruck James enter the room and be stunned by the mess of unorganized stuff littered around his office. He loved being able to inspire that kind of feeling. It gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction, as much as he knew it shouldn't.
"Take a seat, James"- it sounded like a request, but was, without a doubt, an order, which James followed.
James sat down. And the two sat in silence, the low beeping of the monitors mixing in with distant background noise from all around them. Jonathan studied James. His expression, his mannerisms, his nervous twitches. A regular exercise during negotiations. Now, it told him one thing.
This kid had potential.
"So, James, what brings you here?"
<span style="color:#000000">The awful plight of he who cannot draw to save his own life.</span>
James cleared his throat before he spoke, to avoid any embarrassing crackling, and to try and hide the fact that he was clearly more intimidated by this situation than he thought he should have been.
"Well, sir. I'm here because I want to make something of myself, and....", James paused, trying to find the right words, as it began to dawn on him that Joe was undoubtedly seeing how he handled himself under pressure.
After repositioning himself in his seat, he continued to speak..."and I am quite interested in what it is you do here."
As he completed his sentence, James studied Joe's response, looking for any signs or signals what this man, who seemed larger than life, thought of him. Joe gave none. He sat with a stern, silent expression.
An akward silence ensued.
Beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable, James continued....
"I am interested in joining the Security Division, and learning what it is to protect that which I love. Now that my mother has passed, my home is the only thing that I have to care about, so I thought it appropriate to apply to protect that which has protected me since I was a small boy."
As he completed his sentence, James waited for Joe to reply, again feeling an increasing uncomfort with being under this man's microscope.
He reminded himself that this was what he had asked for, this is what he had wanted, although the entire situation seemed much less intimidating when he was day-dreaming in his apartment.
Although James was clearly nervous, he also felt a strange connection to this man, who was clearly as well-educated as he, perhaps even more so. His mother had always harped on him to complete his studies, and demanded that he study even more than his teachers required, when his friends were out playing in the streets of Slum City. There had been so many times when he felt so angry with her for keeping him from having fun....now, he felt grateful that she had taken the time to prepare him for this day....
"Well, sir? How may I assist you further?" James said, clearing another nervous lump from his throat.
And there Joe sat, silent, clearly studying the subject before him....
After what seemed like an eternity, it looked as if Joe had something to say....
Jonathan stood silent as James talked, analyzing every minute detail to ascertain as much about the man as possible. Nowhere else to go. A desire to make things right. He was nervous, but kept control of himself. Clearly unexperienced in this kind of situation, yet able to adapt quickly.
"Hmm..."- he thought - "Perceptive enough to know when being scrutinised... Bold enough to stare back... Smart enough to know when it isn't working"
Truly, a wonderful catch. He might just keep this one.
"James, when I came to Slum City, all those years ago, I was surrounded by incompetence. From the staff, from the rulers, from the godamn ship, even from the bloody clients. I'm lucky if I get ONE client a month who knows what he or she is doing, instead of taking the first bargain they see. I've a wife waiting for me on Manhattan and I'm lucky enough to see her once every three months. Every day I wake up knowing I'll have to deal with Peter's mess. Every day I wake up knowing I'll have at least ten homicidal maniacs out to get us. Every. Godamn. Day, I wake up, knowing it will repeat itself until I'm too old to work"- he said all this while maintaining a perfectly calm composure, not a single hint of anything in his voice besides apathy -"If you want to be a part of this, I won't stop you, but I will require one thing"
Jonathan purposefully drank a sip of coffee before talking again.
"Tell me: why do I still do this?"
<span style="color:#000000">The awful plight of he who cannot draw to save his own life.</span>
James paused, thinking on the matter before responding...
"You do this because you must, to do anything less would be a cop-out."
"A real man doesn't walk away from his responsibility." James said, pausing for effect, "No, a real man takes his destiny into his own hands and gives life the finger."
James sat in his chair, hoping he had answered the question to Jonathan's liking, or this might be the end of this interview...
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