Duality

Chapter 1-2

Minnie did not smile back. “Mmmhmm, right. I wanted to revisit that call with you today.”

Kat swallowed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This call had taken place about a week and a half ago. Minnie played the audio on her computer, and they listened to the five-minute recording in silence. The father had called in to demand a refund for the furniture set, but had been unable to provide the order receipt number. Kat patiently waited for him to locate the receipt, but after several minutes, the man finally admitted who he actually was and that he didn’t have the receipt. Kat then advised she could not provide a refund without the purchaser on the line as well as the receipt number. When the father became more insistent, Kat grew terser with him, before finally, the man cursed her out and hung up the phone. While her callers weren’t normally this awful, this man had been a particularly nasty gem.

When the recording ended, Minnie looked at Kat intently. “What do you think went right there?”

“Well, I maintained my composure even when he was getting aggressive with me. My pace was good. I also adhered to our authorization guidelines, so I think even though he was upset, that was a pretty good call.”

“Okay, that sounds fair. Now, what could have gone better?”

“Uh…” Kat scratched the back of her head, glancing upwards in thought. “I could’ve offered him the survey, but I didn’t want to do that because he’d obviously rate me poorly.”

“Sure, that’s one thing. What’s another thing you could’ve done?”

Kat smiled thinly. This was the kind of bullshit Minnie liked to pull: ask a bunch of questions with answers that were obvious only to her.

“I don’t know, Minnie,” Kat replied. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Sure. So I think you could’ve done a bit more to assist him. You said you thought your pacing was good, but well, the phone call sounded a bit, um, abrupt.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean by ‘assist him’?” Kat could feel the anger creep into her voice, settling at the back of her throat. “The client was not around to provide authorization, and the father refused to cooperate with me even when I offered to conference call him in.”

“Right, but I think you should have explained our return policy better.”

“I did. You heard me. I explained it extensively.”

“W-well yes, but I think your conversation could have been a bit more empathetic.”

“Minnie. I presented solutions and explained things to him. I am not going to be empathetic to someone who is aggressively trying to get a refund when I couldn’t even get the client’s authorization, and they won’t even bother to locate the receipt.”

Kat thought this was a good answer. Minnie didn’t.

“You could have been friendlier.”

A nerve snapped. “Well, it’s interesting you say that, Minnie, because men at this workplace have been less friendly towards customers than me, and I don’t see them being called out for it.”

Minnie raised her hands defensively, as if she was the one being attacked. Kat swallowed and stopped, waiting for her supervisor to say something else.

“Kat, I think you have to learn to be a little bit more open minded when others are giving you feedback.”

“I am,” Kat protested. “But only when the feedback is fair and valid. I tried to be nice with that man, but he was insistent on arguing with me. Save for hanging up on him, there wasn’t much else I could do.”

“See, Kat, it’s that kind of thinking that proves why you only have an eighty-eight percent call evaluation score,” Minnie said, shaking her head. She pointed to the display. “For one thing, you don’t consistently offer the survey. For another, I’ve noticed in situations where there is room for you to be more empathetic, you don’t go that extra mile.”

“Wait,” Kat said, “how do I have an eighty-eight percent for the month of October? Walk me through that. I thought you said the grading wasn’t finished.”

“Well, based on these two scores from October 5th and the 28th⁠—”

“I thought monthly scores were supposed to be based on three to four evaluations. Why do I only have two? How can you give me a monthly score already?”

This sort of double standard when it came to grading calls had been going on for a few months. She suspected her supervisor had caught wind of the fact that she had been applying to other jobs, and now was trying to force her out before she had to fire her. The problem was Minnie was trying to prove Kat was inadequate at her job by creating skewed data. Kat could put up with a lot of things, but she wasn’t about to put up with this.

“That’s all the time I had to score for that month.”

“So, are you telling me other representatives have only two scores as well? Or did I just get shorted out?”

“Kat, I think you’re being a bit hostile right now.”

“Because what you’re doing isn’t making any sense, Minnie, and you keep trying to justify it,” Kat snapped. “And as a result, you keep threatening to fire me.”

“Threatening is a harsh word⁠—”

“⁠I have told you for months I have a problem with this grading system. It completely lacks transparency.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“No, I don’t feel that way. That’s the reality.”

Minnie huffed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. She fiddled with her bun a bit, glancing at the screen. Kat almost felt like laughing. In what world was this woman a supervisor? She was more of a petty middle schooler than she was a leader. Every time she had one of these meetings with Minnie, she questioned who in the hell was making the hiring and promotion decisions around here.

“If you feel that way,” Minnie said slowly, “then perhaps you should reconsider what you’re doing here. It doesn’t seem like you’re happy here.”

“It’s hard to come into work and be happy when I feel like I’m being attacked every day. This has been going on for months, Minnie.”

“We do these call evaluations to motivate you to be better,” Minnie countered. “To improve your skills.”

“I understand we have a standard we have to uphold,” Kat said, “but this grading system is weighing down on me, not encouraging me to do better.”

“Okay, Kat. Look.” Minnie released an aggravated sigh. “I think you should go home and reconsider your position here at the company.”

Kat exhaled sharply. “Fine.” she stood up, then sat back down. “Actually, you know what? No.” she fished around in her pockets for her security badge and ID card, then set them on the table. “I’m good. I’ve considered.”

“Kat, I really encourage you to not make a decision this rashly.”

“You know what, Minnie? I don’t care,” Kat said, laughing. “Good luck handling everything from here on out, and I hope you find a replacement that’s meek enough to put up with this bullshit.”

She left the office, her knees quaking. While it was satisfying, instant regret surfaced in the pit of her stomach. She marched to her desk and averted her eyes from her stunned coworkers, who were murmuring among each other. Their eyes burned holes into her body. Kat grabbed her coat and backpack but left her company computer. As she exited the building, nearly hyperventilating from the shock of the situation, she could only hope she hadn’t screwed herself over.

* * * *

Melody carefully typed out the necessary forms to send to her supervisor. As soon as she finished one, her IntellFile system brought up another. She bounced her legs as she sat, struggling to focus. Her workplace, methodical and metallic, was always freezing. Today she wrapped her leather jacket around her shoulders in an attempt to keep warm, but despite this, the cold still sunk into her bones. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop shivering.

Melody was an agent employed at Clockwork & Associates, a company which sat at a crossroads of the multiverse. It was only accessible by warping and occasionally, by falling into a black hole. Melody had been employed at her company for almost eight years, and quite liked the work she was doing. While the cold had always been consistent, the recent changes in management had agitated those in the workplace and made her nervous.

“Melody! I have a job for you.”

Melody raised her head and smiled at her supervisor, James. His scruffy brown beard slightly obscured his smile, but his blue eyes were full of warmth. He was about ten years older than she was, which only placed him in his mid-thirties. Despite his youth, she and her coworkers frequently called him “Work Dad.” He held a clipboard in one hand, tapping it against the side of his leg rhythmically. He had been a drummer all his life, and subconsciously was seeking ways to continue his music-making.

“You’ve wanted to get out and do some field work as of late, right? I have a job for you. Think you’re going to like this one,” he sat on the edge of her desk and passed the clipboard to her. “This is Katherine ‘Kat’ Wallace. She’s twenty-four years old.”

“Same age as me.”

“Yeah! Interesting, right? This is the first client we’ve had who isn’t a fifty to sixty year old man in a while.”

Melody examined the photograph of the woman attached to the clipboard. It was somewhat blurry thanks to the snow, but she could see her long brown hair and green winter coat. She flipped to another picture, this time a close up shot taken from a window. Kat smiled, her eyes cast downwards. She had one hand pressed up to the headset she was wearing.

“She’s so pretty,” Melody said, running a hand through her hair. “So what’s up with her?”

“Bad boyfriend, bad friends, and a bad job, which she just quit as of 10:15 this morning,” James checked his watch. “And for the past two hours she’s been holed up in a coffee shop desperately applying to jobs on her phone. Poor kid.”

“So what? We’re trying to get her to appreciate her life more?” she returned the clipboard to him.

James nodded.

“Well, I…I mean I guess I’m not sure why,” Melody said. “I don’t understand why she’s a candidate for reprogramming.”

“Right? She’s the last person I would pick for this. But the Higher Ups have been changing their standards for who gets swapped. Apparently even people with shitty lives need to learn to appreciate the fact that they’re, well, alive I guess. I don’t quite understand, but then again, it’s not my job to understand it. Just assign the cases.”

“Well, the only reason I bring it up is because she seems like she’d be a difficult case. Are you sure you want to give her to me?”

James nodded, and then his expression softened. Suddenly he almost looked too ashamed to look at her. Melody tilted her head to the side, curious.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well…they’re also making budget cuts,” James said slowly. He tapped the clipboard against his leg a little more urgently. “We’re no longer going to have administrative roles. Field agents are going to be expected to take on those tasks.”

“Wait a minute, on top of the missions, we’re going to need to do all that paperwork ourselves? Jeez.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, that’s the case.”

“So what you’re saying is I need to be a full time field agent again,” Melody said flatly. “Otherwise, they’ll make you fire me.”

James gave her the saddest puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. “I don’t want to, Melody. It’s just, if I don’t enforce the rules, you know what happens.”

“Yes, James. I understand. There isn’t much else I can do except prove myself.” She sighed. “It’s been a few months since I did some field work.”

It wasn’t that Melody didn’t enjoy field work. For nearly six years she had done it daily and had found the work entertaining. But it was high stress, and even though filing paperwork was mundane, it was a relaxing way to spend her day. Besides, she enjoyed these menial tasks, where she could just sit and focus on one task for hours at a time. There was something satisfying about being able to zone out like that.

“All right. Well, let me get you a digital version of these docs, and you can go grab your equipment.”

Melody swiped a finger across the monitor of her IntellFile system to turn it off. She brushed past the desks of her coworkers, towards the back room with black glass walls. She stepped inside and blinked against the harsh violet UV lights. Glowing green footsteps appeared, directing her to her locker. On the glass walls green text appeared.

Welcome Melody Adebayo.

Melody opened her locker and retrieved her kit, which consisted of a backpack and a small, heavy black box, called the LyfeModulator. She opened it by tapping a series of buttons on the surface. It unfolded like a map, and suspended itself in midair, projecting a purple light. James had already sent her a digital form of the files. She pressed on the file folder, opening it to review the information once more. She couldn’t help but linger on the pictures of her patient for a little longer than she usually would.

“Melody. I am here to provide assistance in your preparation for mission 83601-B,” a robotic feminine voice echoed out over the intercom. “Please enter a command prompt to initiate system action.”

“M1ll1c3nt, status on the equipment, vin number 4892?”

“Operating at one hundred percent capacity. Last checked during Xulex-01-01-2210.”

“Hmm, that’s been a while. Any reason as to why it hasn’t been checked within the past six months?”

“Certainly. Electromagnetic pulses administered via the devices’ charging docks examines the operational status. Eliminates need for human involvement and improves efficiency and output by fifty percent.”

“That may be so,” Melody said, “but I still prefer a human touch when it comes to these things.”

“I will put in a request for the equipment to be reevaluated upon your return.”

“Not necessary right now, but thanks M1ll1c3nt. If I change my mind when I get back, I’ll let you know.”

Melody folded the LyfeModulator again and grabbed her last piece of equipment, a black wand. It was a useful tool, serving as a compatible stylus for the Modulator, and also when she pressed a button, it expanded into a hefty baton. This was particularly useful in situations where she ended up in more hostile timelines. The device had countless other uses, but those were its primary functions…and the ones Melody could remember.

James ducked his head inside the locker room. “Portal is all booted up for you.”

“Awesome!” She followed him out the door and into the elongated hallway where the portal was generated. Pristine white subway tiles covered every surface. Ahead the purplish-gray vortex loomed. To any other person it would be intimidating, but to a seasoned agent like Melody, it was a welcome sight.

She adjusted her backpack straps and gave a thumbs up to the workers on the bridge. They waved back at her and returned the signal. She smiled, and after taking a deep breath, she plunged into the portal.