The interviewers sat three abreast in front of me. The only thing worse than being interviewed, I mused, was being interviewed by three people at once. You just knew the person on the edge of your vision was giving you a funny look and writing a worrying amount on the notepad in front of them. If you turn to look at them, they smile unconvincingly in an attempt to make you feel as though you're not screwing up your only chance for the job, and by then one of the others is on the edge of your vision and is writing even more notes about you.
This interview had barely begun, and if I hadn't wanted the job so damn much I might have felt angry that these people were sitting in judgement of me. My mind was a blank, however, with every hint of emotion locked in my dark subconscious, and no activity other than a flash of a synapse between ears and mouth. I answered a question, but I don't know what it was. The man in the centre of the interview panel smiled encouragingly, and a brief, uninvited thought told me I was one question closer to the end. I smiled back - I'm friendly, I willed my smile to say, I'm enthusiastic, and a team player. Employ me!
The man's smile continued longer than I thought natural. My own smile was starting to feel fixed and fake - not what I wanted - but I daren't stop while he was still grinning like he was frozen in place. I risked a quick glance sideways at the man scribbling notes in the corner of my eye. His pen was still, mid-word, and he didn't look up as I turned to him. The man in the centre was still smiling, unblinking. The third of the panel, the woman on the right, had one eyebrow raised either in puzzlement or dissent, and was as still as her colleagues. My smile dropped. They weren't even breathing.
"Err..." I hazarded.
"I don't think it's going well." A male voice spoke behind me, making me jump. I looked around.
"Um... no." I replied, casting about for something solid in the sudden sea of confusion. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."
"I didn't."
"Right." That hadn't helped. The man walked around the table to stand behind the interview panel, and rested his hands lightly on the shoulders of the two men. Reading over their shoulders, he glanced over the notes the panel had been making, and shook his head.
"Oh well."
"Um... why aren't they moving?"
"Maybe they are."
"They're not."
"Do you hear that noise?"
I listened.
"The ticking?" The man nodded. "That's just the clock." I nodded up at the clock face on the wall behind me.
"That clock doesn't tick."
I looked round at it. The battery must have been dying - the second hand was twitching, but getting nowhere. The tick that I could hear didn't match up with the twitch of the clock.
"I'm sure that clock was working when I came in."
"It's working fine. It just doesn't tick."
"So what's ticking?"
"The clockwork timer on the machinery I brought with me. I'll show it to you in a bit."
"Who are you?"
"My name's Jason." He said, reaching into his jacket and producing a business card. I took it and read the well-presented lettering.
Jason Molthom
Continuity Officer
Office of Realism
4
"What's the Office of Realism?"
"It's the company that writes my cheques." Jason told me. "Or it would be if I got paid in money."
"Right." I said again. "And what does a Continuity Officer do?"
"I ensure continuity in the world. Make sure effect follows cause, that sort of thing."
"Ah. I thought the world took care of that quite well on its own."
"I manages fine on its own. The problem comes when you put people in the mix."
"Can I ask what you're doing here? I am in the middle of an interview."
"Yes you are." Jason walked over to the window and perched himself on the arm of a chair there. "You're not going to get this job."
"You don't know that."
"I can see what they're writing." He shrugged. "Anyway, you don't want this job."
"I do, actually."
"Not when there's a better one on offer."
"And what job is that?"
"The one I'm interviewing you for."
I blinked. I reread the business card, thinking it might be more enlightening the second time round. I blinked again. Finally, I felt my brain beginning to overcome its fear of interviewers and spark into life once more.
"What's going on?"
"I'm offering you a job."
"You're interviewing me for a job I haven't applied for."
"It's not a job you apply for. We don't advertise."
"How do you know I'm suitable if I haven't applied?" I asked. "You haven't even asked me any questions."
"I asked you one." Jason reminded me. "And you heard the ticking. That's all I really needed to find out. We already know everything else."
"How?"
"Research. Look, this is a one-time offer. I want you to think about it carefully."
"You haven't told me what it is yet."
"I don't want to tell you." He said. "I'm going to show you, if you agree to come with me."
"Where will we be going?"
"To my office, to start with. Then I'll take you out to one of our current undertakings. I'll answer more of your questions then - it'll be much easier than explaining it cold turkey like this."
"How long will it take?"
"Depends. But if you have somewhere to be, I'll make sure you get there in plenty of time."
I looked back down at the business card as I thought. There was probably a good reason why I should say no. I was certain there was a good reason. But through the intrigue, I couldn't think of what it was.
"I'll probably regret this, but okay."
"Good. Get your things together, and we'll head off."
"Don't I need to finish this first?" I asked, gesturing at the interviewers.
"Nope." Jason smiled. "Once we go, they won't even remember you were here. And if you don't want the job, I'll see if we can get your interview rearranged, give you another chance."
"I don't think they'll go for that." I said doubtfully, collecting my coat and standing up.
"I do." Jason walked to the door and pulled it open. On the other side was a badly lit, high-ceilinged room that I hadn't arrived through. It didn't even look like it belonged to the same building I was in.
"Where is that?" I asked suspiciously.
"That's my office. Nothing to hurt you there. Well, maybe my secretary, but I have him in training and he's getting better all the time."
"I heard that." A male voice drifted out of the strange room.
"Okay, rephrasing my question, why is that not the hall I came in through?"
"Because that would not get us to my office."
"Hmm."
"Well?"
"I can go home whenever want?"
"Just say the word."
"I'll probably regret this too, but alright."
I took a step forward, into the dingy, wood-panelled room. The air was cooler, sharper, and fresher. The sounds of traffic from the busy road outside disappeared as Jason closed the door behind us, and the only noises remaining were a fussy 'tap-tap-tap' of shoes on a tile floor, and the occasional gust of wind outside.
"Welcome to the Continuity Department."
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