Chapter Text
Parrot’s day started off wrong—and it only got worse from there.
...
Time was a cruel, indifferent beast, and Parrot was sprinting against it—tie half-tied, satchel bouncing wildly against his hip, and hair still damp from a rushed, half-dried shower. He hadn’t even had time to synthesize coffee, let alone recalibrate his socks.
If it weren’t for that one sock vanishing into the laundry void this morning—a phenomenon he was increasingly convinced was due to a minor spatial rift in his closet—he might’ve made it to work like a normal person.
But no. Today, the universe had other plans.
He skidded around a corner, boots slapping the pavement, and—crack!—slammed into something firm but feathery. A surprised “Ow!” burst from his lips as he stumbled back, wind knocked from his lungs.
A towering, anthropomorphic crow stood blinking at him, baby strapped against her chest in a slick, high-tech carrier humming with stabilizing energy. The baby blinked once, unimpressed.
“S-sorry, ma’am!” Parrot gasped, bowing quickly with a sharp jerk of his shoulders, legs already halfway into motion again.
He didn’t catch her expression—he was already gone, rounding the final block.
There it was. Starbound Realities Co. The building gleamed under the early-morning sunlight, its glass-and-carbon frame cutting a silhouette against the hazy arc of the atmosphere dome. A few other employees passed through the shimmering security field, ID chips pinging green as they vanished inside.
Parrot launched himself through the revolving door and took the stairs three at a time, lungs burning. Elevators were risky this close to clock-in—he'd been stuck in one once when the quantum stabilizer froze.
No thank you.
He slammed his ID against the scanner with milliseconds to spare and stumbled into the Orion Management Division’s gathering chamber, breath ragged, vision blurry.
“Mr. Parrot.”
His name echoed off the matte obsidian walls. His heart sank.
“Uhh—! Here! Present!” he gasped, snapping his arm up in a salute that was more reflex than grace. His other hand trembled slightly as he yanked out his handkerchief and dabbed sweat from his brow, the fabric already damp from a dozen similar mornings.
The commander stood at the front of the room—tall, cloaked in regulation grey, with a single piercing, artificial eye embedded in a gaunt, pale face. A faint hum emitted from the ocular implant as it zoomed in slightly.
“You were nearly late. That’s unlike you.” Their voice was toneless, but the implication hung heavy in the air. “Did something happen at home?”
Parrot’s spine stiffened. His hand unconsciously tugged at the hem of his coat.
“Uh… Yes, chief.” He hesitated, glancing down. The socks were the same color, technically, but one was visibly shorter. Again. He didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed.
“A minor… wardrobe issue.” He muttered silently.
The commander’s eye narrowed almost imperceptibly.
“Just don’t make a habit of it,” they said, turning back to the room. “You know the protocol.”
Parrot nodded stiffly. “Noted, chief.”
He sank into his seat, exhaling through his teeth. His pulse still hadn’t slowed. The synthetic air in the room tasted faintly metallic—probably the filtration system cycling up for the week.
The commander began roll call. Names echoed in sterile succession, and the last few stragglers slinked in with similar excuses. After the final name was acknowledged, the room shifted. Lights dimmed subtly. The tension ratcheted up.
"Orion Management Division," the commander began, voice cutting through the quiet like a scalpel. “As per Interdivisional Realignment Protocol 88-B, several research units will be reassigned to different handlers.”
A few heads turned. Eyebrows twitched. Parrot’s heart dropped again.
“Please check your updated portfolios and prepare for introductory briefings. Adaptability is key to progress.”
The moment of silence that followed felt thick, heavy. Then the usual chorus: “Yes, chief!”
With a sharp nod, the commander dismissed them. “Back to work.”
The room broke into quiet, orderly chaos. Portals shimmered to life—transparent lenses to alternate realities flaring with light and noise. Some pulsed with bioelectric readings, others with memetic encryption. Employees leaned over interfaces, adjusting glyph-encoded boundaries or reviewing psychic containment logs.
Parrot stayed seated, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor. It was polished to a mirror sheen, and he could see the tension carved into his jaw. A dozen blinking notifications hovered in his visual overlay, pinging softly.
[UNIT REASSIGNMENT: ACTIVE]
[8 NEW PROFILES ADDED TO YOUR CARE]
He opened the list. The dragon lad was still there, at least. That was something. The others? Some... Well, unknown.. One was redacted almost entirely.
Great.
Parrot sighed, rubbed his temples, and pulled up the dimensional interface. The portal sparked to life with a low chime, runes circling the edge like a digital ouroboros.
“Guess I’ll start with the one who doesn’t hate me yet,” he muttered, and stepped forward into the unknown.