My father gave me a lift to the train station. It was the morning of the thirty first of July, the day of the interview. Extech had since sent me several pieces of correspondence over the previous two weeks. One had been the itinerary for the upcoming day.

09:00am - Arrive

09:30am - Introductory Speech

10:30am - Written Assessment

11:30am - Technical Assessment

12:30pm - Interviews

13:30pm - Lunch

14:00pm - Preparation

15:00pm - Battle Royale

I’d printed it out and it currently sat folded up in my pocket, or it would have if I wasn’t removing it every few seconds to check I had memorised it absolutely correctly.

“How are you feeling?” My father asked. He’d asked me that almost as many times as I had checked the itinerary.

“Fine.” I lied. I had done this an equal number of times.

“Got your passport?” In response I returned the itinerary to its home in my pocket and retrieved my passport from the same pocket, waving the little book with one of my gloved hands to emphasise its existence and the fact that it was in my possession. The passport’s cover was adorned with red and blue stripes. Once, I had asked my father why the British government had chosen such a lurid design and when he explained it to me I’d thought he was joking.

“Have you packed-” my father began.

“I’ve got it all.” I cut him off. I’d checked multiple times. I had everything I could carry. I hoped it was enough.

We arrived at the drop-off bays outside New Grand Central Street Station. I undid my seatbelt.

“Norman.” I stopped mid-seatbelt adjustment as my father spoke. “Good luck, and remember what I taught you.” I looked at my father, looked him in the eyes for the first time in a long time. His eyes had the same look they always did.

“Thanks… Dad.” I stepped out of the car and closed the door. My father had taught me a lot, and I repeated his lessons to myself every day.

I’ll be gone soon, one way or another.

I entered the departures lounge of the train station and went to check myself in.

“Going to London?” the woman at the desk, her name badge informed me that her name was Melanie, asked as she printed my tickets. “What are you doing there?”

“Job interview.” I answered. Melanie looked up from her screen and gave my suit a once over. I could almost guess what she was thinking. The suit was noticeably misshapen, the jacket especially was too big for my body, giving the impression that I was wearing a fat suit or carrying concealed weapons.

About that…

Satisfied that the glum teenager on the passport was the same person as the glum young adult that stood before her, Melanie passed my passport back to me, along with my ticket.

“Hope you have a pleasant and successful trip Mr Pearson. Security is along and round to the left.” I thanked her and set off in the direction of security. Supposedly, back when London was still part of the United Kingdom, such measures hadn’t been necessary to travel to and from the city. When I asked my father if travelling to London had been easier then he’d laughed.

At security I unloaded my various possessions into a tray. The security officer raised an eyebrow at some of the items.

“Going for a job interview?” they asked. I confirmed his suspicion. “Anything else to declare?” I, in fact, did have something else to declare. He nodded as I explained it to him. “Yes we’re getting more and more of those lately. Go on through the metal detector as normal.” I stepped through the detector, setting it off.

I stood with my legs spread and arms up as the security officers came over and very politely scanned my body for anything suspicious. They found nothing that I hadn’t already declared. I let my heavy arms drop to my side and found my tray, returning its contents to my various pockets.

New Grand Central Street Station was one of the largest in the country, located right over the North-South divide. Despite this there were only two platforms, separate from the others, that ran to and from London. In a perplexing move the route from security to the platforms included the skybridge. This glass bottomed bridge stretched across the deep ravine that separated the North from the South of England. I stared dead ahead the entire way across.

I found my seat on the train with ease, showing the conductor my reservation to prove that it was, indeed, my seat and there was no need for violence. This conductor especially seemed like trouble, his automatic rifle proudly on display. Arming train conductors had been a controversial response by the government to an epidemic of murders of trains resulting from disputes over seat reservations. A few minutes later a young woman sat next to me. I paid her no mind until she started talking to me.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been to London. I’m nervous.” She said, the small smile she gave did indeed betray some nerves, “How about you?” I had been to London before, but was nervous for a different reason. There was no need to tell this woman about that though.

“I’ve been before.” I simply stated.

“I’ve heard that London is really busy!” the young woman stated. She was right. London used to be the capital of England before it seceded from its own country for tax reasons. A city called Beehamn was the capital for a brief period before it was destroyed in the second civil war. When the dust settled England went from two countries to three, with Manchester as the capital of North England and, due to a typo in the declaration of southern independence, a small house in Devon called Uxford Cottage became the capital of South England. “What are you going to London for?” The woman asked, forcibly pulling me from my reverie on England’s recent history.

“I’ve got a job interview.”

“Oh really? Me too!” The young woman’s smile became wider and all traces of nerves disappeared. “Who is the interview with?!” I leaned back slightly under the invisible pressure this woman seemed to be exerting.

“Ah uh,” I made noises, “Extech. They, uh, develop software for logistics companies.”

“I know who Extech are! I’m going to that interview too!”

My brain shifted gear with what must have been an audible clunk. I wasn’t just sitting next to a stranger. I was sitting next to an opponent.

“Oh wow.” I heard myself say. “That’s so weird.” I turned to properly look at the woman, now completely focussed on her. She was short, shorter than me anyway, with dark skin and sleek black hair pulled back into a bun. That aside, I saw no sign of what I was looking for.

Danger.

“We’re competing then.” The woman declared what I had already realised. “My name is Millicent Lute, but you can call me Millie.” I would do no such thing.

“Ah, I’m Norman. Norman Pearson.”

“Well nice to meet you Norm, can I call you Norm?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

She ignored my polite request.

The hour long journey to London felt much longer sitting next to Millicent Lute. Over the course of that hour I learned about what must have been every human being within three degrees of separation from her. I learned about every pet she had ever owned, and how each of them died. I learned about friends and friends of friends and the drama that regularly ensued.

I learned a lot about Millicent Lute. It sounded like a fun life…

I also learned nothing of use. Not a single clue as to her ability or skill, or even what degrees she had. When the train arrived in London Millicent Lute’s short form autobiography paused as her attention turned to finding the Extech office. Her efforts to find her own way ceased almost immediately and she instead decided to follow me. London Underground was technically London’s only train station, though it must have been the only train station in the world that was so large that travellers had to take other, smaller, underground trains to get from platform to platform. The station was closer to a network of underground tunnels spanning London in its entirety.

“We need to get to uh… Victoria right?” Millicent Lute asked. She was right, Extech’s headquarters were round the corner from Buckingham Palace, a short walk from Victoria Station. London Underground was somewhat confusing to navigate but, after a previous visit to London to see Buckingham Palace, I knew where I was going. Millicent Lute dutifully followed along as I descended several flights of stairs and made a similar number of sharp turns down unmarked tunnels.

“Do you think all of these people are here for interviews?” Millicent Lute asked. We were standing at one of London Underground’s many dark platforms and my new companion was gazing around at the other people on the platform. I also inspected the people around us. She may have been right, there were plenty of people who appeared to be in their early to mid-twenties, dressed in suits and dresses of shades ranging from black to dark black.

“You might be right.” I admitted. Based on the glances around I could see the others making, we were not the only ones who had realised this.

“Hey.” I heard a deep voice from behind us. “You’re on your way to Extech, aren’t you?” I turned to face the owner of the voice and was met with a mountain of a man. He must have been over seven feet tall, and his muscles very obviously almost bursting from his suit. “Why don’t you just head on home now?”

It took me a moment to realise that I was being intimidated, or more accurately that this huge man was trying to intimidate me.

“Sorry.” I replied calmly, “I want this job.”

“Is that so.” The huge man grinned and I realised that I had made a mistake. This man wasn’t trying to intimidate me, he wanted me to stand up to him. He wanted to make an example of me. This suspicion was confirmed when the man grabbed be and pulled me up by my neck. It must have taken a lot of drugs or mechanical implants to get muscles like his. “I guess I’ll make an example of you, so everyone else knows what they’re up against.”

I’d been so distracted by the unwanted attention I’d been receiving that I hadn’t noticed the building noise of rushing wind.

The train.

The man pulled his arm, the one attached to the hand around my neck, back, making his plan to throw me in the path of the oncoming locomotive very clear. I wasn’t liking the look of my luck, if I was going to be hit by a train before I even made it to the interview. The arm was moving now, preparing to let go and fling me out off the platform and onto the tracks. Panicking, I grabbed onto my attacker’s arm as he let go.

I didn’t even see his other fist coming, though when it collided with my stomach I became very aware of it. I also became very aware of the floor when I crashed into that too.

“Yeah you, and all you other weaklings, better leave now. It will be better than facing me, Hugh Jaman!”

The train came to a stop and a crowd of people disembarked, some looking at me before concluding that I was a job hunter. Millicent Lute came over to help me up.

“What a vile man.” She observed. “Why would he do that, we’re not even at the office yet.” I didn’t reply, mostly because I was struggling to breathe. I’d been made an example, and a fool, of in front of a lot of people.

Thank you Hugh Jaman.

Now at least some of my opponents were going to underestimate me, and since we hadn’t reached the office there were no assessors present to see my shameful display.

Looking weak had its perks.

I got to my feet and walked, maybe a little slower than usual, with Millicent Lute onto the train. Hugh Jaman was taking up a lot of space in the carriage. The train doors closed and the locomotive began to accelerate in the direction of Victoria Station, and Extech headquarters.