Challenge #01758-D297: Old Tricks, New PlacessteemCreated with Sketch.

in #fiction7 years ago

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Employment Agency for Supernatural Beings and Creatures. -- Anon Guest

The Fae Folk don't get to steal as many babies as they used to. Their usual shenanigans are now written off as the souls of dead humans. And that's just insulting. The worst they can do is already being done, and to humans, by humans. They have lived for centuries. Millenia. And they have yet to see depravity like human depravity. Humans can't be scared of them, any more. What they are afraid of most is other humans.

Make no mistake, the Fae still have their strongholds. Doorways and places where they can slide into this world, or places that allow them to observe the modern era. And they still hold true to never bothering the artists. Much. They might borrow a bard or two, but the bards are few and far between, nowadays.

Which is why Snowdrop had come here. An employment agency. The Fae court has always had a very thin grasp of economics, but she knows that things aren't as... worthy... as they had once been. So she came, and she expected to be given things, just because she happened to be a Faerie. You can imagine her shock when the Lupercain at the desk said, "That's not how it works, any more."

Snowdrop was just frustrated enough to ask, "Then how does it work?" instead of the usual - setting him on fire.

"You give us your set of skills, years of experience, places you've worked," the Lupercain brought out a thin booklet. "We have forms for all of that. And then? We find somewhere that will pay you to do those things. They give you money for your skills, and then you use the money to purchase whatever you like."

It seemed a complicated way of doing things, but Snowdrop looked on it like a game. Enough of mortal money, and one had the power over mortals all over again. "What's the going rate on a baby?"

"Essentially, millions and more paperwork than a mortal could fill out in one of their lifetimes. And you have to prove that you can give them a good environment and education. You have to care for the baby."

Snowdrop made a noise of disgust. "Boring."

The forms wanted to know everything. Her name. Her years. What teaching she got. How many skills she had and in what fields of discipline. How often she had used those skills. On and on and on. Including a list of others who could verify that she had done these deeds.

She spent a day filling it all in, but a day was an eyeblink to the Fae. And in another small space of mortal time, she gained an interview with one of the many staff.

"You've excelled in curdling milk or cream," said the staff member. A Will-o-the-wisp. "We have excellent placement for that in many dairies."

"I used to curse dairies," complained Snowdrop.

"Well, now they want sour cream, yoghurt, and cheese. Live cultures are all the rage. And you can be loved for doing it."

Love. Fear. Strong emotions were what the Fae really wanted. "And then they give me gold?"

"Er. No. Gold is no longer a valid unit of exchange. They use special papers and..." the Will-o-the-wisp checked their paperwork. "Ones and zeroes."

Snowdrop was stunned. "What fools these mortals be."

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / QiangBa]

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