Chapter Text
"... with this technology, we can venture out, beyond interstellar space, into the planes beyond. With this new Bond engine, maybe, just maybe, we can even surpass the planes, moving onward to the edge of our reality. We can redefine the word ‘explorer’. All we need now... is a crew.”
With a small bow and a murmur of thanks, the angular elf woman lowered her microphone and moved away from the podium at center stage, as the audience leapt to their feet with a roar of approval and thrill. Her words had stirred an excitement in them, the idea of something more, and they were hungry for it. With her prim, pressed suit and impassioned, lyrical words, she had inspired them all. Behind her, the IPRE executives all sat, observing the presentation with pride.
Johann found himself rising from his seat with the rest of the crowd, clapping along, an unexpectedly large grin on his face. He felt the bardic influence of the speaker but also recognized that the mission of the IPRE was inspirational even without the twinge of musical influence she had added. With the conclusion of this press release, the Institute was opening its doors to applications from folks of all backgrounds, in the hopes that it might form the perfect team. Once assembled, their necessarily close interpersonal dynamics would be the power that drove future spacecrafts beyond the boundaries of the world they all called home.
Johann didn’t mind admitting to himself how damn cool that idea was, and as he filed out of the auditorium hall with the rest of the guests, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of being chosen to be a part of that prestigious group. All the science, perhaps, was a bit boring, and he couldn’t actually imagine his own bardic talents would be particularly useful in such a tight-knit group, but it was nice to dream.
On his way out, Johann noticed that on one side of the double doors was a folding table with stacks of papers on it and cups of pens. Behind the table were two people wearing the scarlet IPRE uniforms, and over the edge of the table was draped a banner that read ‘FILL OUT A PRELIMINARY APPLICATION TODAY’. There was a line of people waiting to get forms, capping the pens once completed and handing the applications over. The two employees were filing them away in folders which were quickly becoming stuffed full to the brim. He meandered over near the table, and watched for a moment as a human man finished filling out a page. The man was pale, with a receding hairline and glasses, and as he straightened and moved away from the table he noticed Johann and grinned.
“Thinking of applying?” He gestured behind him with a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s worth a shot.”
Johann raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me I’m extremely unqualified.”
The man shrugged. “Yeah, I doubt the IPRE want someone with a habit of studying death on their team either, but I figured hey, why not?”
“Studying death?”
The man glanced away, seeming to be a little embarrassed. “I, uh, got my doctorate in Necromantic Studies.” This was, to say the least, unexpected. The man was wearing denim and a white t-shirt—not exactly phD material, and definitely not necromancer material.
Johann scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “But you do have a degree. I’ve got a high school diploma and an internship, and besides that, I’m a bard. They wouldn’t have any use for me.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short!” The man returned his gaze to Johann’s. “I know one of the guys on the short list for the Captain position, and he says they’re seriously considering literally everyone. It’s not just introvert scientists, it’s about a cohesive group dynamic. Half of that application I just filled out was asking questions about my personality. I bet they’d like a bard to keep up the group morale.”
That gave Johann pause. “So they don’t all need to be high-powered adventurer types?”
The man laughed. “I think a crew full of those would probably strangle each other within two weeks of working together. The group has to be more diverse, so they can have balance. The more low-energy type personalities will even out the high-strung leader types.”
“Oh,” Johann looked again towards the table. The line was getting shorter as the entry hall was clearing out. There were still a few forms left on the table. “Well...”
The guy stepped aside slightly. “Go for it, you seem cool. And hey, maybe if we both get in, we’ll be working together,” he paused, and then held out a hand. “In which case, my name’s Sildar.”
Johann shook the proffered hand. “Johann. Yeah, I think I might.” Sildar waved a short goodbye before stuffing his hands in his pockets and meandering towards the doors, leaving Johann with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, staring at the application table.
One of the people behind the table, a stout dwarven woman, caught him staring and called out. “If you’re interested, come apply!”
He moved forward slowly, approaching the table and watching as the last person in the line finished filling out her application. She was a broad, tanned half-orc, with a litany of scars up and down her arms. Leaning against the table next to her was a spear, it’s blade long and glinting in the light filtering in from outside. She straightened and handed over her application just as Sildar had, briefly smiling at the employees behind the table before grabbing her spear and turning away, directly into Johann’s path. She made a noise of surprise, muttering a quick ‘Sorry,’ before brushing past him and out the door, leaving him standing alone in front of the table. There was just one application left.
“Here,” the dwarf woman handed it to him. “You can fill this out now and leave it with us, or later and mail it to the address on the bottom. Due to the amount of applications, you likely won’t hear back unless you’re invited to the first round of group interviews.”
He nodded, taking the form and reading it over. Some of questions were expected, such as a request for a home address, race and class, while others were definitely unusual for a job application.
‘As a child, what was your favorite hobby?’
‘On a scale of one to five, how prepared do you feel you are for the future?’
‘Do you consider yourself a leader or a follower? Why?’
Johann glanced up at the two employees. “I think I’m gonna take this with me.”
The dwarf woman nodded, running her fingers through her short beard. “Well, make sure not to overthink your responses. There are no right answers to the opinion questions, we want to get a real feel for your personality.”
Johann nodded, sliding the forms into his bag. “Thanks, will do.” After an awkward beat, he nodded again, turning on his heel and making his way outside. Once he had exited, Johann pulled his lapis of farspeech from his pocket and hooked the triangular device over his ear, tuning the frequency to that of his roommate’s.
“Hey hey, good man, how was the release?” Kio picked up after two rings. “I heard through the berryvine it was going to be impressive.”
Johann chuckled, relaxing at the sound of his friend’s voice. “It was fucking great. The speaker was a bard, she really had the crowd hyped. For a second I was almost convinced to ditch our internship and apply.” He made his way across the perfectly manicured lawn in front of the auditorium hall, following the sidewalk, heading back towards the apartment he shared with three others in the same internship program as him.
“Right, because the IPRE will pick an eighteen-year-old half-elf whose job experience consists of six months of employee resources filing.”
“Hey listen, I could noodle away at my harp and inspire some aliens to make friends with me.” Johann was only slightly joking. The application form, despite being only three sheets of paper in his bag, seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulder. It was a really great opportunity.
“Of all the bards applying to the program? You?” Kio’s response, however sarcastic, was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head, and he grimaced as he turned a corner, feeling foolish now for getting caught up in the excitement of it all.
“Yeah, right, it’s fun to dream. Anyway, I’m on my way back now.”
“Oh, I’m not home by the way. Should’ve told you, I scored a date with J’sen! We’re going to the park.” The excitement in his roommate’s voice was clear.
Johann grinned softly, thankful for the change in subject. “Oh yeah? You finally found your chance?”
The conversation quickly meandered away from the subject of the IPRE and their job opportunities. Johann reached the apartment building within twenty minutes, and once he had tossed his bag aside upon stepping in the door, the application had almost completely slipped his mind.
That night in his dreams, Johann saw a flock of cardinals.
The application didn’t resurface as something to actually do something about until the next afternoon when Johann opened his bag to grab the packed lunch he had tossed in there that morning on the way to work with his roommates. He was on his lunch break, sitting cross-legged on a couch in the small kitchen-lounge-combo provided by the company for the interns, and peering out of his bag at him was the application for the IPRE.
On the top of the front form in big, bold lettering were the words ‘JOIN THE CREW AND DISCOVER THE SECRETS OF REALITY’. He remembered the scarlet uniforms he’d seen on the employees yesterday, the crisp blazers and pressed pants, and wondered at the style of uniform the chosen explorers would be wearing when they took off to discover those secrets. How would he look in that vibrant red?
Johann glanced up at the wall clock. He had the half an hour of his lunch break to do this if he was going to. He could put it in the mail on his way home from work and then it would be done with and he wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. Either he’d get invited for the interview or he wouldn’t (and he knew he most likely wouldn’t), so his brain would stop bringing the question back up.
There was a small table in the corner of the room with an assortment of writing utensils scattered on it. The window above the desk was propped open slightly, and he could hear noise from the traffic of people below.
Before Johann could talk himself out of it, he left his lunch and bag on the couch and moved to sit at the table, grabbing a pen and beginning to fill out the form.
The first chunk of paperwork was just basic things, nothing unexpected. Medical history, previous employment, educational background. He filled out those details quickly, as there wasn’t much to input. He had an allergy to almonds, but that didn’t really impact his life. His work experience was very brief, just the current paid internship he was doing to keep the lights on until he decided what he wanted to do with his life.
These days there weren’t a lot of good job opportunities for bards that didn’t involve public speaking and he wasn’t a huge fan of that. He liked to play for people but trying to be a performer as a career move was basically setting himself up for an unstable income.
The next section was the stuff Sildar had mentioned: the personality questions. There were large blank spots on the pages for lots of writing. For some, it was clear why they were asking, but others seemed completely irrelevant to the application and job process. Johann filled those out too, taking more time on those than he had on the others. He knew the employee who had given him the form had told him to not try to overthink things, but he imagined there definitely could be bad answers to these questions. They would want go-getters, people with some ambition even if they weren’t bigshot extroverts. He would try to remain faithful to himself, keeping his handwriting neat and small so that it wouldn’t take up too much space.
‘As a child, what was your favorite hobby?’
This one was easy. ‘I enjoyed music, listening to it and playing it. My mom gave me a set of drums when I was four, but I switched to learning guitar once I was big enough to hold one. I like string instruments best. I also liked painting, specifically fingerpainting. It was fun to get my hands all multicolored and smear the colors all over the pages.’
‘On a scale of one to five, how prepared do you feel you are for the future?’
‘I’d say a two. I don’t know where I’m going at all.’ That didn’t seem very good. It made him sound like he had no ambition. ‘ I actually like that though, because it does leave me open to take any opportunity that comes my way.’
‘Do you consider yourself a leader or a follower? Why?’
‘I haven’t had much opportunity to lead in life yet. I’m good at following. Sometimes it’s okay to not have the answers. I guess I could be a good leader, maybe?’
‘What’s your family like? Are you close? Does your family have a more traditional structure, or more unconventional?’
This gave him pause. Why did they care about his family? He wasn’t sure at first how different familial dynamics could possibly relate to being an interstellar scientist, before remembering they wanted well-adjusted team members as well. Someone with shittons of baggage from shitty family members might be more trouble for the bonding part of the Bond engine’s process than they’re worth. He considered his family, and supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be honest. He gave the matter a moment’s more thought, deciding where to start.
‘My mom’s human, my dad’s an elf. He’s her second husband. Mom works in banking, Dad runs a farm. My mom left my dad and I when I was fourteen, and now she’s off somewhere. She visits sometimes, but it’s always a bit chaotic when she does. She’s very high-strung, a little bit too perfectionist. My dad lives out in the country in my childhood home. I think I’m more like him, more relaxed than Mom is.
I don’t have any full siblings but my mom does have a daughter from her first marriage, she’s fully human and two years older than me. I haven’t really ever gotten to know her that well, we lived apart all our lives and I don’t think we have much in common. Her dad runs a really lucrative publishing company. I think she’s an author working for him, last I heard she was ghostwriting for some big-name people. Beyond that, I just have various aunts and uncles and cousins, but I don’t know any of them well at all.’
'What’s your ideal way to spend a free afternoon?’
This was something more his speed. ' I like to take walks, or work on compositions. I’m not really a social guy, but sometimes my roommates and I will go on picnics to the park, or take weekend trips to the lake. I usually do my best writing outside, where I can get natural sounds from the world around me.’
The questions went on for the next two pages, asking about his passions ( music ), and if he had any weird phobias ( nothing recurring ), and how he felt about current events ( I try to avoid the stress ).
‘What is something about yourself that you would like us to know? What about you stands out?’
He had to really think about this question. This was probably his only real opportunity to stand out from the crowd, to make himself seem memorable. They were likely going to get a lot of applications like this one: kids looking for opportunities at any turn and manifesting silly dreams in their heads about becoming someone worth remembering. He looked down at himself, in his simple office getup, unassuming black pants and professional white blouse. His fingers were dry from filing paperwork all morning. His left hand’s fingers specifically were also callused from long hours fiddling with guitars and cellos and harps and other string instruments. He reached up with his right hand to tug at a strand of his hair, the curls exploding out of the black scrunchie he had used to tame it that morning to keep the wild, casual shake-and-go afro style from blocking his vision. He picked at the gently pointed tip of his right ear.
Outside, a bird chirped. He stared at the clouds drifting by and listened to the city people as they lived their lives as he was attempting to live his. He was hoping something might occur to him because of something out there, but nothing came to mind. In that moment, he realized it was possible to feel even more thoroughly unimpressive than he already did.
He looked back at the page. The blank space was glaring at him, expecting something he didn’t have. Maybe, though, that was okay. Maybe they would appreciate his honesty. Others might try too hard to suck up, and maybe someone just honestly being a shitty candidate would be refreshing. It was, frankly, his only hope. After a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged. Fuck it.
‘Honestly, I’ve got nothing. Maybe one day I’ll have something better, but in my defense, I’m eighteen. Right now, I’m a blank fuckin' sheet.’
Once the form was in the mail, Johann didn’t give it more thought, and the rest of the week passed without a response from the IPRE. He didn’t worry about it, though. He was sure it would take more than a few days to pick the first set of candidates considering they’d opened up applications to literally half of the fucking world.
He hardly expected to get anything back anyway, considering the sorry state of the application he had sent in.
That’s why, nearly three weeks later, when the thing had pretty much been written off completely as a lost cause and a silly story to mention to his roommates, he was (to put it mildly) shocked as hell when he came home from work one day to find a bright red envelope in his mailbox, addressed to him and everything.
The first round of interviews was going to be that weekend, and the IPRE wanted him there.