[ORIGINAL FICTION] Bad Trip part three: Master of Ceremonies

This is the continuation of the Bad Trip series. 

The link to part one can be found here (link).

The link to part two can be found here (link).

Part Three: Master of Ceremonies

Taylor opened his eyes, uncertain of his location. As he came to he realised he was lying in a bed. His bed. He looked around and started to recognised the room. The small white desk with the battered but useful laptop over in the far corner. The pile of clothes lying on the floor, inches from their true destination. Yes, he knew the room, it was his own room. He wondered at the dream he had just awoken from. And the beads of sweat on his forehead. That was no ordinary dream, but it was over now. Intense, but completed, he needed to ready himself for the day ahead.

He opened the curtains and took a look at the world outside. From his third floor apartment he felt elevated and separate from all the activity outside. “Things are different down there,” he thought, “but I need to get to work.” The world awaited his arrival, whether he wished for it or not. 

Taylor grabbed his coat, and made his way downstairs. He was ready to interact with the busyness that was starting to present itself outside. The subway station was only five minutes away, and all going well he would be at the office in less than twenty minutes. Grab a coffee, greet his workmates, sit at his desk, why would anything need to be different? Except something felt different. Taylor pinched himself. He was unconvinced at his present state of being. 

The traffic noise sounded real. The smells, the crowds, the lack of excitement at facing the routine of another day; all very real. Still he couldn't shake that feeling that something didn't quite add up here. 

He exited the lift and started walking down the corridor to his office space. Just one slight but usual detour needed. He walked into the small kitchen space, and poured himself a coffee. Black, as he always drank it.

Taylor noticed the office clock. It was ten to nine. Early is always good, but he wondered at the fact that the office was full. Everyone was in, at the desks, or in a conversation. There was far more activity than usual. Normally he was one of the first to arrive. The closer he came to his desk, the more he felt like all eyes were on him. He looked, to meet their gazes. But those gazes were not upon him. He kept walking to his desk, certain that he could still feel all eyes focused on him. As he reached his desk, he stopped and looked one more time. He scanned the office, where there was over twenty people around. Not one was looking at him. Taylor pinched himself again. Still awake, it seems. 

He waited for the computer to boot, while drinking his coffee, and feeling confused by his feeling of paranoia. “This has nothing to do with my dream,” he thought. “How could it, except maybe I'm over tired. Drink the coffee, and just chill,” Taylor castigated himself, just wanting to get back to feeling like his old self.

“Taylor, can I speak with you in my office?” 

Taylor looked up, still a little bleary eyed, and saw Richard, the Office Manager standing beside him. 

“Ah, sure. Now?”

“Yes, bring your coffee with you, if you want.”

He followed Richard to his office. The largest one, it overlooked all the cubicles. 

“Just close the door behind you.”

Taylor sat and looked out the window. He never had the chance to get much light during his day. Unless he could make it up the chain far enough to get one of these offices. He started to dream of that occurring.

“Taylor, I just need to have a chat with you,” Richard snapped him out of his daydream.

“What about?”

“You've been with us now three months, how do you feel you're settling in here?”  

Taylor thought about the question. Was this a set up? Was it rhetorical? “How do I feel I am settling in? How does he feel that I am settling in? He's the manager here. What do I tell him, “very well thank you” will he just accept that and leave me be?” His mind was racing at the question, but he needed to say something.

“Very well, thank you!” Taylor wished he had started with something a little more nuanced than that response.

“Are you enjoying the work you do here?” 

“Sure, it's challenging, but I like that.”

“That's good to hear.” Richard paused. He seemed to be thinking through his next question. Taylor observed him closely. There was something weird about his demeanour, and his overall presence. The questions seemed standard, almost as if they were a cover for something else that was going on.

As Taylor observed closely he noticed Richard seemed to flicker. Like his body had an on-off switch and somebody was flicking it. Taylor stared in disbelief. He saw it again. It was so quick as to almost go unnoticed. But it was noticed. 

“What do you see yourself doing here in the long term?” Richard finally asked his next question.

Taylor hesitated to answer the question, still mesmerised by Richard's antics. “If I could make it to some type of Systems Administration role. I like coding, but having a leading role would be where I see myself heading.”    

“And what if only one role became available. But there were two of you qualified for it. To what lengths would you go to get the job?” 

“Well I wouldn't kill anyone for it,” Taylor was thrown by the question. He noticed Richard's body flicker again. He looked around to see if anything else was doing it. 

“Would you fight for it?” 

“No!”

“Not even to defend yourself?”

“From who, the other guy who wants the job?” Taylor felt like he lost track of the conversation. Were they even talking about the same thing any more?

“People who aren't willing to stand up for themselves don't tend to get far. We need to know your willingness to go to whatever lengths needed to get the job done.”

Taylor wondered why he had said “we”? Who else was involved in this meeting?

“What do you mean by “we”? And why would I need to stand up for myself. I'm not following this line of questioning.”

Richard flickered out of Taylor's awareness one more time. It wasn't milliseconds, like before. He seemed to be gone for a long time. Someone else returned in his place.

“Who are you?” Richard was gone. In his place was a colourfully dressed man, with a large grin on his face. And he stared right at Taylor. 

“Are you with us now Taylor?”

Taylor nodded, almost hypnotically, although he found himself unsure of most things right at that moment.

“I am the Master of Ceremonies. And this here is the game presentation.” As he said that he waved his arm out in the direction behind where Taylor was seated. He turned around to look. What had previously been the cubicles where he and his workmates used to sit was now an audience of hundreds. And they were all looking at Taylor. He was no longer in Richards office, but up on a stage. Everything was morphing around him. Perhaps he was still dreaming. Maybe none of it was a dream and this is his current reality. He realised that he had no idea what was happening.

“Master of Ceremonies. What ceremonies?” he asked tentatively. 

“You've met The Gamemaster, correct? He informed you that you find yourself in a game. Well, this game is an event. It is a celebration, a ceremony, of sorts. I am the master of that ceremony.”

“I thought I was in a job interview.”

“No, you were dreaming that. We got you back to reality eventually. Didn't we, audience?” He gestured to the large crowd watching. The room filled with the noise of applause.    

“So why did you ask me how far I would go to get the job I wanted?”

“That's what you heard. You filtered it. We were discussing the game. To what lengths would you go to win?”

“What was my answer?” Taylor was unsure whether he wanted to know.

“The same as the other contestants. What ever it takes.”

“Other contestants?” Taylor really wanted this to be a dream. 

“Sure, there are another eight. They wont all last. The Minotaur usually picks off the stragglers.” 

“Minotaur?” he asked as he stared at the Master of Ceremonies with wide eyed concern for what was about to occur.

“Yes, the audience loves him. Don't you all?” More audience approval. Taylor was reeling from all the noise.

“What is the nature of this game?” Taylor enquired.

“What do you mean?” 

“What is the purpose of the game? What is the outcome one is aiming to achieve?” Taylor reworded his question, hoping for some clarity.

“Oh that's easy: Survival!”

(To Be Continued)

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