Chapter Text
As always, the first thing Saps sees when he opens his eyes is the steel of the elevator doors, immediately opening with a chirpy ding to reveal the long, white hallway stretching before him. The faint echo of his steps on the marble floor is the only sound to fill the corridors as he heads towards the R&D office with a firm stride. Today is going to be a huge day.
He mindlessly walks the familiar path he's traced hundreds of times before: turn the left corner at the painting of Emperor Schpood, straight on until the azalea plant, and finally turn left again. As he strolls, he rehearses the speech he's prepared in his mind for the umpteenth time:
Hello there! Welcome to the Westhelm severed floor! You've been selected for one of the top positions in the Westhelm severed program, congratulations! Please, report immediately if you exhibit any of the following symptoms: nausea, headache, vertigo—
He lets out a sigh. He's gone through this so many times, he'll be the one to feel nauseous when he has to actually deliver the orientation speech. Honestly, it's probably not even that important that he strictly sticks to what he's prepared— the only instructions he's been given from the Board are a handful of notes containing some pretty generic guidelines. He might be overthinking this.
Don't get him wrong, he is confident in his skills. After all, he was promoted to department head merely two months into this job, for his "outstanding performance, admirable work ethic, and initiative in conflict resolution." Still, it's not every day that your department adds a new member to the team, let alone two. It will be his first time leading an orientation and welcoming new people as department head; he really wants it to go smoothly.
When he finally gets to the office, he finds it in a brand new disposition: their usual workstation has been replaced by two separate three-person desks, positioned on each of the Pillar. As per usual, he's the third to arrive to work; he finds Micro and Gray already sitting at the new desk they've designated as their own.
"Good morning!" Saps greets them cheerfully.
"Hello!" Micro greets back, looking up from his monitor and waving.
Gray turns around in her swivel chair. "Hey Saps! Slept well tonight?" She asks, mindlessly chewing on the end of a pen.
"Can't complain," Saps answers, jokingly. Of course, he can't actually know if he's slept well or not. He looks around the office, to assess if there's anything else that's new, but aside from the desk disposition everything is exactly the same: the same vending machines and break area on the left side — with two extra chairs around the table — the same storage closets on the right side. "I see you've already picked the best desk for yourselves, closest to the vending machines."
Micro raises his hands apologetically. "Hey, we're the seniors here. We've earned our right to a slightly cooler desk."
"Can't argue with that," Saps replies, as he makes his way to the desk on the other side of the room. While he waits for his monitor to turn on, an uncomfortable realization dawns on him: this is the first time he's sitting at a desk completely alone. Granted, Micro and Gray are just a few feet away, but it's going to feel weird regardless— to work without them directly by his side. After all, that's how it has been his whole life.
"So, are you not joining the cool kids table?" Gray calls from her workstation, without looking away from whatever file she's working on.
"And leave Pili alone with the two newcomers? That doesn't sound fair," Saps replies.
"Wow," Micro teases, "what a humble and generous boss we have."
Saps starts setting up his desk, unpacking all his belongings from the box where he had put them the day prior: his dozens of post-it notes for the files he's been working on, his collection of pens he received as a prize when he completed his 50th file, the doodle Gray made of the four of them on the corner of a performance report, the binder he put together with all the orientation notes for their new coworkers.
Saps has just finished sticking a new post-it note that reads "organize post-its better", when Pili walks in. "Hey there!" he greets them all, "I like what you've done with the place."
"Hi Pili!" Saps greets back. "Speaking of that, we should probably start hanging the banner, the first guy will arrive any minute now. Can somebody help me?"
While Pili is busy settling in his new desk, Saps heads towards the storage closet to pick up the old banner. It's probably been sitting in there untouched since the last time someone new joined the team. He dusts it off, and hands one side over to Micro, to hang it right above the table in the break corner. They climb on the precarious plastic chairs, following Gray's instructions to fix it as straight as possible. As the banner unfolds, it reveals the word Welcome!, decorated with little party hats and smiley faces.
Pili joins them in the break area. "That looks nice!"
"You don't have to lie to them," Gray says, trying to suppress a fit of giggles, "they're actually terrible at this. This is the most lopsided banner I've ever seen, and I know for a fact I've been to the most parties out of all of you here."
Technically Gray isn't lying. The right side is hung a little too high up, it doesn't even really center the table below, and the creases make it look worse than it actually is. But there's probably more pressing matters to their hands right now.
"Well, the new guys have seen even fewer parties than us, with a grand total of zero. So I don't think they will mind," Saps retorts.
The mention of the new coworkers hangs heavy in the air. They've all been dancing around the topic for the past week or so, ever since they received the news that their department would become bigger.
Gray is the first to break the silence: "So... What do you think the new guys are going to be like?"
"I just hope they're nice. It's going to be weird having so many people around all of a sudden," Pili replies, eyes fixed on the new set of desks everyone is still getting accustomed to.
"Well, maybe so," Micro interjects, "but I for one am just relieved that I could finally get some new eyes to work on Terracotta."
"Are you still stuck on that?" Saps asks, in disbelief. Terracotta has for sure been one of the most challenging files they've had to deal with yet. Micro has been the primary worker on it, and it feels like he's been complaining about it for weeks. The others — Saps included — have tried giving their input as well, but to little avail.
Micro nods, "hasn't moved past 78% in ages. I swear I've tried everything, it's driving me crazy."
"Yeah, I guess some fresh eyes wouldn't hurt," Gray agrees.
"Besides, if I survived those initial days where it was just Gray and I without going insane, I'm pretty sure I can deal with whatever the new guys may bring," Micro teases Gray, who in return smacks him in the arm.
The hands of the clock on the wall have almost reached 8:50; the first of the new guys is probably going to wake up soon. They agreed to split the orientation, to make things easier for them and for the new members as well: Micro and Gray will be guiding the first guy, Saps and Pili the second. So, Micro and Gray make their way to the Welcome Room, while Saps goes back to his desk and starts working.
He opens the Beehive file; the words "ATTEMPT #7. BEST SCORE: 47%" flash on his screen as all the different colored circles start to pop up. He looks at his mess of post-it notes to refresh his memory, but all he finds is a huge "BEEHIVE: NOT LIGHT BLUE" with the word NOT underlined several times. At least it's a starting point. He goes through his attempts history to see what he has already tried: lots of Reds, it seems, with a hint of Blue and Yellow here and there, but no Greens yet. It may be worth a try. He ends up picking Sage, Mint and Crimson, scribbling them down on the first piece of paper at hand. After he drags them to the bin, he submits it for revision, and goes on to open another file.
He's in the process of picking which shade of Orange he should commit to for the Mycelium file, when he hears footsteps coming from the corridor. Soon, Gray and Micro enter the office, along with the new hire: he's tall, noticeably taller than the rest of the team, with brown hair, hazelnut eyes and a tan skin. He's standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, cautiously looking around. Saps and Pili immediately stand from their desk to meet him.
"Uh— hi! I'm Thomas. Or so I'm told," the man introduces himself, chuckling nervously.
"Hello Thomas! Welcome to Research and Development! My name is Saps, I'm the head of this department!" He shakes his hand firmly, "I know this must be all very disorienting right now, but trust me, you'll feel right at home in no time! Micro and Gray are going to show you around your workstation and teach you what to do. You don't have to start working right away of course, take all the time you need to adjust. I'll be here if you need anything," Saps offers him a warm smile, hoping to soothe his nerves a little.
"Thanks, really," Thomas replies, still looking unsure, but offering a small smile in return.
"Alright," Saps glances at the clock on the wall, "the other guy should wake up any moment now— have they told you about him?" he asks, trying to tidy as best as he can the mess of notes already scattered on his desk. Probably not the greatest first impression for a department head.
"Yeah, I know."
It's already 9:14; they really should get going. Saps picks up the binder he's prepared for the orientation. "Perfect! After the team will be complete, we'll celebrate properly your arrival. Pili, let's go," he calls as he's already rushing towards the door.
The surveillance room is significantly darker than any other rooms Saps has ever been in, only illuminated by a small lamp in a corner and the screen displaying the Welcome Room. On the screen, a dark-haired guy is laying face-down on the big table in the middle of the room, still unconscious. In the low-resolution footage shown, one of his arms, sticking out over his head, looks fully grey. It's either a really peculiar glove, or a prosthetic. Saps wonders if he's lost his arm during the war.
Suddenly, the guy on the screen stirs— he's about to wake up. Saps watches as he slowly sits up, holding his head in his hands, and takes in the room around him. His gray arm glints where the artificial light reflects on it— definitely a prosthetic. He can't see the look on his face, but Saps doesn't have to to know what he must be thinking right now. He's been through this himself, after all.
Saps rifles through his binder, trying to find the notes for his opening speech— where the hell did he put those? The guy on the screen slowly walks out of frame. Saps goes through his papers faster — instructions for the job, lunch deals, performance perks, some notes on the Bricks file that somehow ended up in there — when the handle of the door that leads to the Welcome Room starts rattling. Saps flinches, and stares at the door wide-eyed.
"Dude, what are you doing? You need to start talking," Pili whispers.
"Right, right," Saps whispers back, right as he finds the paper he's looking for. He clears his throat, preparing his best assertive-but-friendly voice. The guy is now walking around the room, likely scanning the place for another way out.
Saps presses down the mic button, and starts talking: "Hello there!"
The guy instantly bolts around, facing the speaker on the table. Saps continues "Welc—"
"What the hell?" the guy interrupts him. His voice, deep and vaguely metallic through the speaker, startles Saps, who jerks his head towards the screen, suddenly unsettled. The man isn't facing the camera; he's standing in front of the speaker, posture guarded but upright. For how frightened he must be, he seems eerily collected. He wonders what his expression looks like right now— if it's as impassible as his body, or if there's anything that betrays it.
He is getting sidetracked— he needs to focus on the survey right now; he tries again: "Welcome to the Westhelm severed floor! I hope you're feeling well." He grimaces as soon as the words leave his mouth. That was not in the script. He goes on: "Please, report immediately if you exhibit any of the following symptoms: nausea, headache, vertigo, or extreme fatigue. I'm going to ask you a few questions now—"
"What is going on?"
Saps ignores it, ignores the way he feels his mouth dry at the urgency in his voice. "Please, try to answer as clearly as you can. Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
Saps lets out a sigh, careful not to let the mic pick it up. Of course his first orientation couldn't go perfectly smoothly. "I'm sorry, I cannot provide any more information before we confirm your status. So, again: who are you?"
"What kind of—" the guy takes a step forward, before halting suddenly. His shoulders tense, his voice is slightly quieter and a little shaky when he next speaks. "What have you done to me?"
Saps remembers the shiver running through his body when he first woke up on that same table, and noticed there was no way to escape. He remembers the sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized he did not know his own name. He hadn't anticipated what it would be like— to see someone else go through the same thing.
"You'll be okay." Saps is not technically supposed to offer encouragement in this stage yet. In fact, the few directions he actually had to follow dictated to keep a cool and detached tone during the first stage of the orientation, in order to ensure that the survey answers remain as objective as possible. Well, in his defense, at least this will help get some actual answers out of this guy. Probably. "Just a few more questions, and everything will make sense. So, you don't remember your name, correct?"
"...correct."
Saps marks the answer down on his sheet. "That's good. Where were you born?"
"I— I don't..."
Saps waits for a few seconds, before he interferes: "You don't know?"
"I don't."
"Alright," Saps logs the second answer. "Just one more thing. Can you name any nation of Yggdrasil?"
"What? Why?"
Saps doesn't add anything else; he just waits for him to answer.
"I don't know, Elysium?"
A perfect score. For how rocky this process was, at least it didn't somehow mess with the severance procedure. That's good to know. Saps nods to Pili, and he grabs the key to the door to the Welcome Room.
When they open the door, the guy jumps on his feet and turns towards them. He stares at them, wary. As they move towards him, he takes a step back, keeping a distance between them. They're face to face with him for the first time, and that's when Saps notices his eyes: they're a vibrant shade of purple. Even in the dim light of the room, they stand out. He holds his gaze, sharp and unfaltering. There's an almost chilling intensity in his look— something deep and focused that seems to cut right through whatever he's looking at. For a moment, nobody speaks.
"Where am I? What have you done to me?" The guy is the first to break the silence.
Saps looks away, glancing at the notes in his hands. "Um— yeah, welcome to Westhelm's severed floor! You're going to be working with us." From the corner of his eye, he notices the guy is still scanning his surroundings, probably still looking for a way out. "You have been selected for the Research and Development department. It's actually one of the higher ranking positions we have! You should be proud of your accomplishments! Now, if you will follow us—"
"Look, stop wasting your time," the new guy snaps. "I didn't choose this, I didn't ask for any of this. Just tell me where's the exit and we can get this over with."
Saps gulps. He doesn't want to scare him, but he knows there's no easy way to deliver the news. He closes his binder, opting to cast aside everything he's prepared. That's what he would have wanted in his orientation too; he recalls all the formal corporate talk just freaked him out more at the time. He speaks calmly: "I'm afraid even if I told you, you wouldn't be able to leave."
The guy scoffs, "You can't keep me here against my will."
"We can't, but you can." Saps can see the frown forming on the other's face at his words.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Are you familiar with the severance procedure?" Saps asks him. He shakes his head slowly in response. Saps continues, "the severance procedure is a cutting-edge neurosurgical procedure that aims to create a better work-life balance, allowing for a complete separation between your job and your personal life. Your consciousness has been effectively split in two. Your memories are now spatially divided: when you come into work, you're the one in charge, but when you'll walk out, your outie will take over."
The frown on the guy's face deepens: "My what?"
"Outie. The other you that lives outside of here," Saps explains. "He's the reason why you're here. And if you try to leave, he'll most likely make sure you come back."
Saps expected the man in front of him to freak out at the information, to panic and lash out in some way. Instead, he looks inexplicably calmer when he speaks next: "So, you're saying there's no way out?"
"Look, I know it's a lot to take in," Saps tries to reassure him. "Believe me, we've all been there before. But I can assure you, it's not as bad as it seems. We have an awesome team, and so many perks and rewards for our performances, it really doesn't even feel like a job."
The guy in front of them falls quiet; he doesn't look convinced, but at least he's not trying to run away. That has to count for something. It's only then that Saps realizes he hasn't introduced himself yet.
"I'm Saps, by the way. This is Pili," Pili, who had been standing silently beside him, offers a friendly "hi!"
"And you—" Saps reaches for the guy's ID badge, hidden somewhere among his papers— he almost forgot about it. He reads the name printed on it before handing it to him. "You are Flux."
The guy— Flux, looks at he card he's been given, his own face and name staring back at him. He observes it intensely, as if trying to find anything that feels familiar enough to call his own.
Saps allows him a moment; only when he sees Flux stashing his badge in the pocket of his jacket, he speaks again. "Come on, let's go meet the others."
The welcome party is perfectly average, exactly like any other party they've ever had in their office. The notes coming from the jukebox fill the air with a smooth jazz tune, and the table has been set with all kinds of delicacies: cookies, pumpkin pies, apples, sweet berries. And naturally, a huge cake.
Micro is relishing all the nice food. "Enjoy the cake, guys. Unfortunately we don't get to eat this as often as we'd like," he says, biting into his slice.
"Right," Gray joins, taking a slice for herself. "Honestly, it's kind of a shame you had to join on the same day. We could've had two different parties and two cakes."
"It's a long term investment though," Pili chimes in. "Think about how many more milestone celebration parties we'll get to have with two extra people helping us reach the goal."
"Well, I'll be happy to play my part if this is the reward," Thomas says, earning a chuckle from everyone around the table. He's still standing stiff, still looking a little uncertain, but it seems like Micro and Gray are doing an amazing job at helping him familiarize with the office.
Flux, on the other hand, has been mostly quiet the entire time. He seems constantly on edge, constantly scrutinizing every detail of this place. Right now, he's looking intensely at the Pillar, looming tall in the centre of the room. Saps hasn't had the chance yet to explain to him how any of this works; as soon as they got to the office his friends insisted on starting the celebrations right away. He can tell Flux is curious, eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, taking in the monitors, the desks, the empty boxes still scattered in a corner. He doesn't think he's spoken a word since he had to introduce himself to the others, his own name clearly still foreign on his tongue. He is curious, yet he won't ask anything to anyone. What a strange guy.
Saps's gaze falls on his eyes again— his piercing violet eyes. On his left cheek, right below the dark halo of his eye bags, there's the faint shadow of an old scar; it looks like whatever caused it had missed his eye by just a few inches.
"You're staring at me." Flux doesn't tear his eyes away from the Pillar, but it's clear his words are directed to Saps.
"I— I'm sorry, it's just— I, I've never seen anyone with eyes like yours before." Saps regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth— Why did he just say that out loud?
Flux turns his head towards him, finally looking at him. "I'm assuming everyone you've ever met is in this room, so this isn't saying much."
Fair enough, Saps won't pretend that it wasn't a pretty odd and amiss comment to make. But Flux has to know what he meant. Saps knows that he knows that purple eyes are actually pretty rare. It's the kind of information that remains stored in your brain despite whatever personality-splitting chip you plant in it. Besides, he was just trying to be nice; to initiate conversation, in a way. Apparently, he might as well be talking to one of the walls.
Saps is still trying to figure out how to respond, when Flux precedes him. "Don't worry too much about me. I can assure you I won't be staying here much longer."