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The Exploits of Eleanor: The Interview

Eleanor had just got done watching the 1947 movie Nightmare Alley on the day they brought in the new recruit. Natasha's office—for it was Natasha who did the interviews—was right next to the break room and so she overheard how their interview went. She ate her sushi silently the whole time.
She could see the kid inside. Young, blond, close-cropped—not a bad-looking fellow. Still a little innocent spark in that eye of his. He was smiling. But something about his face made it hard to remember; she knew it would flicker and fade out of her mind soon enough, until she had time to grind into the soft pulp of her brain. (The sushi was pulpy in her teeth, having turned bad from the store's atmosphere—the guy who made it made it well, and with heart, but once it was out of his hands the air leeched in and that was the end.) The words came to her with a strange clarity.

“So what sort of experience do you have, kid?”

She was sure they actually called him “kid.” Boomers these days—no respect.

“I used to work loading at Planter's before they went under. Then I cashiered at Target for three month. I was hoping to continue cashiering here.”

“Yes, well—” Odd, swallowing pause. “We'll get you what we can.”

“Oh, I'm not interested in bagging, or any of the departments. Just cashiering. Just so you know.”

“Well, we'll stick you where you fit, how 'bout that? Now, what makes you think you got what it takes to work here at Sun Valley?”

“I have a strong sense of customer service. I have always been good at figuring out customer's problems, and—”

“Hm. Interesting. Name a situation where you had to help a customer, and what you did.”

“Well, I, uh...”

“Yesss...? I'm waiting.”

“One time a customer couldn't find a type of mulch, but I knew where we kept it—I found it and I brought it out to them.”

“Aaand...?”

“I made sure to restock that kind of mulch as soon as I could, so other customers could find it.”

“Aaaaand...?”

Silence. Poor guy. Eleanor already knew he didn't deserve this. Few did, on this Earth.

“Uhh-huhh,” Natasha said. “Well, look, we'll fit you in where we can get you.” That phrase again. Eleanor shuddered.

“We're looking for something specific,” Natasha said then.

“Listen, ma'am—I'll take what I can get, as long as it isn't courtesy.”

A long pause. “Okay. But remember, it's only temporary...”

“Okay!”
“...until we get a real geek.”

No, she hadn't heard that. It was the movie from this morning repeating in her head. The movies she watched, the books she read, they came back to haunt her. She remembered the trauma of her pre-shift viewings and readings. And that was all there was to it.

But then—they could have one here, couldn't they?

A shirtless man, chained and bound in a pile of his own filth, forced to perform under burning, sweaty spotlights for a shrieking audience. Green-liver drunk, maybe even crazy with a little dope, brought with lurching sick-motion to the climax—the biting of the chicken's head.

No, she must have heard it wrong, she mused on the way home. She'd see him on the belts soon, and that'd prove she'd heard it wrong.

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