18th Cylus 718
Day one of the orientation package was a showcase of her new charges.
Fiona had handled Jacadons and Volareons, Albions and Verns, giant insects and alchemical beasts, even the undead and a metal golem in one of the more gothic ‘gimmick’ menageries upstate, but she wa told that the exhibits here were a bit… unorthodox. That to treat them as animals with needs and wants was only a small part of keeping the exhibits strong in this new menagerie. Indeed, it was only a short while into the opening briefing where she found out that the ‘exhibits’ were more… open range than she had expected, that her new charges were housed in entire recreated habitats that could range from town-sized enclosures, and she suspected the recruiter wasn’t being hyperbolic, entire sub-worlds.
Huh.
“We need you to sign your name here.” the recruiter said, gesturing to the piece of parchment that materialized over on her side of the overly long table.
Fiona looked down at the paper and frowned. There was no quill.
“Missing the important part of writing here.” she said. The recruiter didn’t look up at her, continuing to scribble away at some the papers in front of her. She was about to ask again… before it dawned on her.
It was to be signed in blood.
This was her first hint that she should have stood up and ran really, really far away from the room and never looked back… but she was desperate and the bills didn’t pay themselves. Whatever other thoughts compelled her to sign the contract, she couldn’t articulate then or now, but she pricked her finger and smeared her signature sloppily on the dotted line.
“Done.” she said and, just like that, the contract disappeared and reappeared in the recruiter’s hand. “Am I finished here? I would like to see what I’m working with soon-”
“Drink this.” The recruiter said. Just like the paper before, a suspiciously dark-colored glass of liquid popped up on the table in front of her.
“Uh…”
“It’s safe.”
“What’s inside?”
“A blood cocktail synthesized to induce you into a deathly coma that will allow you to access our menagerie.”
“I’m sorry, but nothing about that sentence suggests ‘safe’.”
“The recreated habitats require space, Miss O’Connor. They require the kind of ground we can no longer afford to acquire in Idalos. Our charges require a very specific environment that to house their very specific needs.”
“Which requires me to drink a blood cocktail synthesized to induce me into a deathly coma that will allow me to oh my dark gods.”
Her eyes widened. “This is an emean menegarie.”
“It is.”
“With emean creatures.”
“That was the implication.”
“Do you have Nightmares?”
“Do you need me to play the music?”
“What.”
“You know, a swelling transcendent burst that captures your - No, no, I’ll save it for later when you see the exhibits. You signed it but I haven’t filed it. If you have any objections, this is your last chance. I would like to reiterate that we are paying you a lot of nel and the benefits are incredible but-”
“Nope.” Fiona downed the cocktail in one gulp. It tasted as good as she expected it to be and she did not hold back gagging on it at all. Not one bit. “No objections now. This is going to be-”
“-Sweet.” She blinked. One moment she was in the office, and the next she was in this… place.
This garden where every plant and tree looked like they were suffering from depression.
Overcast sky with a full moon looking a little too big for it to be natural. Too many tombstones for her comfort peppered around the garden in a strangely aesthetic way. A field of white flowers lying before a gate that gave her the sense of foreboding death.
And a small house that looked like it catered to vampires.
Think of the benefits, Fiona. Think of the benefits. It’s just a marketing gimmick. In Emea. Where no one visits. Ever. Shit. Think of the 6 season dental plan and once-an-arc paid trip to Rharne, Fiona. Think of them hard.
“Hello?” she said. Her voice echoed across the garden of gloom. Hello, hello, hello, hello, it went, until the voice sounded like it came from a 10 arc old. “Hello, anyone there?” she said again, and her only response was hello, hello, hello, hello, almost as if it were coming next to her-
She turned to her right and looked down and her tiny girl draped in an oversized bonnet and a dress so uncomfortable it could have been for royalty had her hands around her mouth, echoing her sound. She was sitting on what looked like an equally unreasonable chair. She looked up just as Fiona looked down, completely unapologetic.
“Very funny.”
“Funny, funny, funny, funny.”
“Stop that.”
“That, that, that-”
Fiona made a grab at the huge bonnet and, to her surprise, the girl didn’t resist…. Because she couldn’t. It occurred to her then that the oversized chair was actually a wheelchair and… oh dear, she was missing one foot.
Despite her best efforts, a swell of sympathy rose in her.
“Sorry about that,” Fiona said.
“That, that-”
“Please stop.”
The little girl shrugged and wheeled her way in front of Fiona, facing her fully. She was young, too young, and strangely doll-like in the way she tilted her head so the bonnet wouldn’t stop blocking her goddamn view.
“I was told to meet the Senior keeper here. Do you know where he is?”
“She.”
“She. Where is - of course. You’re the keeper. Of fuckin’ course.”
The girl nodded agreeably.
“How do I address you, boss?” Every word in that sentence killed her. Think of the benefits, Fiona. Think long and hard and of nothing else in this absurd world. Think of the benefits.
“Molly.” That name stirred something in her but, for the life of it, she couldn't say what. “Molly Judas ‘Herald of Treachery’ Benedict.”
“Fiona.” She didn’t offer her hand. Molly didn’t seem to mind. That was something off about the name Molly… something she couldn’t put her finger on. No matter. Probably just one more oddity.
“You ready to see the exhibits?”
“Nothing much to see here.”
Molly didn’t respond. She rolled forward on her wheelchair and Fiona, very begrudgingly, followed. They moved at the speed of a girl who didn’t really seem to know how to use a wheelchair with Fiona grumbling all the way. They finally stopped in front of the nearest headstone. She pointed at it.
“Um…”
“That’s the exhibit.”
“Uh huh.”
“You seem confused.”
“Yes. Very.”
She tilted her head again in that quizzal little way. “The menagerie is divided into four main habitats: The Yana area, an urban expanse for emean creatures that have taken towards urban domains. The Frontier, the recreation of a rural countryside on the precipice of what some call a university town. The Unseen, an isolated plot of land locked away from us-”
“How long has the Unseen been… unseen.”
Molly shrugged. “Nine arcs.”
“What.”
“Mishaps happen.” She shrugged again, her entire bonnet rising up and down with the motion. “It’s a self-sustainable environment; the creatures are fine and our star attractions… The three star attractions there don’t need food. They’re very, very durable. The reserve supports itself.”
Fiona sighed. This was insane. 9 whole arcs? “What’s the last one?”
“The Nightmare.”
“Okay.”
“It’s a Nightmare.”
“Yes, I got that. Does it have any actual Nightmares?”
“Not as many as you think. Our conservation program is built almost solely around the Nightmare segment of our menagerie and I would like to think we’ve been very successful so far.”
“Is that so? How many born?”
“One.”
“One.” Fiona spat out the word. “One.”
“Yes, one. They’re very, very hard to breed. Frankly, we don’t even know who the Father is. It just popped out of nowhere.”
Fiona rolled her eyes and looked around. If this was the Yana stone then… the Unseen stone she could see near the gate. The Frontier was just outside the house and the Nightmare stone right next to it. Then…
“Why is there a fifth stone, Molly?”
“With the grand success of our conservation program,” Fiona rolled her eyes again.
“Management has asked that we create something bigger, something better with the allocated resources-”
“Who’s management, Molly?”
In response, Molly pointed up at the moon. Fiona looked at her incredulously and Molly replied with a look that said that she couldn’t simplify it any further.
“And as I was saying, we’re beginning renovation on an even bigger exhibit. A hybridized habitat that takes the best of all the exhibits. The Yana as the foundation, the Nightmare and Frontier aesthetic, the Unseen reclusiveness. It’s really quite grand the whole thing. As most of our keepers have either gone rogue, insane, or become enthralled by these creatures-”
“I’m sorry, what.”
“We’ve seen fit to hire new help.”
“Come again?”
Underneath the bonnet, Fiona could feel Molly’s smile.
Day one of the orientation package was a showcase of her new charges.
Fiona had handled Jacadons and Volareons, Albions and Verns, giant insects and alchemical beasts, even the undead and a metal golem in one of the more gothic ‘gimmick’ menageries upstate, but she wa told that the exhibits here were a bit… unorthodox. That to treat them as animals with needs and wants was only a small part of keeping the exhibits strong in this new menagerie. Indeed, it was only a short while into the opening briefing where she found out that the ‘exhibits’ were more… open range than she had expected, that her new charges were housed in entire recreated habitats that could range from town-sized enclosures, and she suspected the recruiter wasn’t being hyperbolic, entire sub-worlds.
Huh.
“We need you to sign your name here.” the recruiter said, gesturing to the piece of parchment that materialized over on her side of the overly long table.
Fiona looked down at the paper and frowned. There was no quill.
“Missing the important part of writing here.” she said. The recruiter didn’t look up at her, continuing to scribble away at some the papers in front of her. She was about to ask again… before it dawned on her.
It was to be signed in blood.
This was her first hint that she should have stood up and ran really, really far away from the room and never looked back… but she was desperate and the bills didn’t pay themselves. Whatever other thoughts compelled her to sign the contract, she couldn’t articulate then or now, but she pricked her finger and smeared her signature sloppily on the dotted line.
“Done.” she said and, just like that, the contract disappeared and reappeared in the recruiter’s hand. “Am I finished here? I would like to see what I’m working with soon-”
“Drink this.” The recruiter said. Just like the paper before, a suspiciously dark-colored glass of liquid popped up on the table in front of her.
“Uh…”
“It’s safe.”
“What’s inside?”
“A blood cocktail synthesized to induce you into a deathly coma that will allow you to access our menagerie.”
“I’m sorry, but nothing about that sentence suggests ‘safe’.”
“The recreated habitats require space, Miss O’Connor. They require the kind of ground we can no longer afford to acquire in Idalos. Our charges require a very specific environment that to house their very specific needs.”
“Which requires me to drink a blood cocktail synthesized to induce me into a deathly coma that will allow me to oh my dark gods.”
Her eyes widened. “This is an emean menegarie.”
“It is.”
“With emean creatures.”
“That was the implication.”
“Do you have Nightmares?”
“Do you need me to play the music?”
“What.”
“You know, a swelling transcendent burst that captures your - No, no, I’ll save it for later when you see the exhibits. You signed it but I haven’t filed it. If you have any objections, this is your last chance. I would like to reiterate that we are paying you a lot of nel and the benefits are incredible but-”
“Nope.” Fiona downed the cocktail in one gulp. It tasted as good as she expected it to be and she did not hold back gagging on it at all. Not one bit. “No objections now. This is going to be-”
“-Sweet.” She blinked. One moment she was in the office, and the next she was in this… place.
This garden where every plant and tree looked like they were suffering from depression.
Overcast sky with a full moon looking a little too big for it to be natural. Too many tombstones for her comfort peppered around the garden in a strangely aesthetic way. A field of white flowers lying before a gate that gave her the sense of foreboding death.
And a small house that looked like it catered to vampires.
Think of the benefits, Fiona. Think of the benefits. It’s just a marketing gimmick. In Emea. Where no one visits. Ever. Shit. Think of the 6 season dental plan and once-an-arc paid trip to Rharne, Fiona. Think of them hard.
“Hello?” she said. Her voice echoed across the garden of gloom. Hello, hello, hello, hello, it went, until the voice sounded like it came from a 10 arc old. “Hello, anyone there?” she said again, and her only response was hello, hello, hello, hello, almost as if it were coming next to her-
She turned to her right and looked down and her tiny girl draped in an oversized bonnet and a dress so uncomfortable it could have been for royalty had her hands around her mouth, echoing her sound. She was sitting on what looked like an equally unreasonable chair. She looked up just as Fiona looked down, completely unapologetic.
“Very funny.”
“Funny, funny, funny, funny.”
“Stop that.”
“That, that, that-”
Fiona made a grab at the huge bonnet and, to her surprise, the girl didn’t resist…. Because she couldn’t. It occurred to her then that the oversized chair was actually a wheelchair and… oh dear, she was missing one foot.
Despite her best efforts, a swell of sympathy rose in her.
“Sorry about that,” Fiona said.
“That, that-”
“Please stop.”
The little girl shrugged and wheeled her way in front of Fiona, facing her fully. She was young, too young, and strangely doll-like in the way she tilted her head so the bonnet wouldn’t stop blocking her goddamn view.
“I was told to meet the Senior keeper here. Do you know where he is?”
“She.”
“She. Where is - of course. You’re the keeper. Of fuckin’ course.”
The girl nodded agreeably.
“How do I address you, boss?” Every word in that sentence killed her. Think of the benefits, Fiona. Think long and hard and of nothing else in this absurd world. Think of the benefits.
“Molly.” That name stirred something in her but, for the life of it, she couldn't say what. “Molly Judas ‘Herald of Treachery’ Benedict.”
“Fiona.” She didn’t offer her hand. Molly didn’t seem to mind. That was something off about the name Molly… something she couldn’t put her finger on. No matter. Probably just one more oddity.
“You ready to see the exhibits?”
“Nothing much to see here.”
Molly didn’t respond. She rolled forward on her wheelchair and Fiona, very begrudgingly, followed. They moved at the speed of a girl who didn’t really seem to know how to use a wheelchair with Fiona grumbling all the way. They finally stopped in front of the nearest headstone. She pointed at it.
“Um…”
“That’s the exhibit.”
“Uh huh.”
“You seem confused.”
“Yes. Very.”
She tilted her head again in that quizzal little way. “The menagerie is divided into four main habitats: The Yana area, an urban expanse for emean creatures that have taken towards urban domains. The Frontier, the recreation of a rural countryside on the precipice of what some call a university town. The Unseen, an isolated plot of land locked away from us-”
“How long has the Unseen been… unseen.”
Molly shrugged. “Nine arcs.”
“What.”
“Mishaps happen.” She shrugged again, her entire bonnet rising up and down with the motion. “It’s a self-sustainable environment; the creatures are fine and our star attractions… The three star attractions there don’t need food. They’re very, very durable. The reserve supports itself.”
Fiona sighed. This was insane. 9 whole arcs? “What’s the last one?”
“The Nightmare.”
“Okay.”
“It’s a Nightmare.”
“Yes, I got that. Does it have any actual Nightmares?”
“Not as many as you think. Our conservation program is built almost solely around the Nightmare segment of our menagerie and I would like to think we’ve been very successful so far.”
“Is that so? How many born?”
“One.”
“One.” Fiona spat out the word. “One.”
“Yes, one. They’re very, very hard to breed. Frankly, we don’t even know who the Father is. It just popped out of nowhere.”
Fiona rolled her eyes and looked around. If this was the Yana stone then… the Unseen stone she could see near the gate. The Frontier was just outside the house and the Nightmare stone right next to it. Then…
“Why is there a fifth stone, Molly?”
“With the grand success of our conservation program,” Fiona rolled her eyes again.
“Management has asked that we create something bigger, something better with the allocated resources-”
“Who’s management, Molly?”
In response, Molly pointed up at the moon. Fiona looked at her incredulously and Molly replied with a look that said that she couldn’t simplify it any further.
“And as I was saying, we’re beginning renovation on an even bigger exhibit. A hybridized habitat that takes the best of all the exhibits. The Yana as the foundation, the Nightmare and Frontier aesthetic, the Unseen reclusiveness. It’s really quite grand the whole thing. As most of our keepers have either gone rogue, insane, or become enthralled by these creatures-”
“I’m sorry, what.”
“We’ve seen fit to hire new help.”
“Come again?”
Underneath the bonnet, Fiona could feel Molly’s smile.
