It was a suit.
The man sauntered over to where I was sitting. He wasn’t ethnic Japanese. He looked to be in his early forties, but his facial features were not those of an East Asian—they were more finely chiseled, and his dark brown complexion led me to believe he was from India or elsewhere in southeast Asia. Though perhaps even more striking to me than his distinctive features was his unremitting gaze. The icy look in his narrow eyes felt sharp enough to kill a man. Coupled with his strange attire, it was enough to make him look like an organized crime kingpin straight out of a period drama. He spoke not a single word as he walked over and helped himself to a seat on the sofa opposite me. I was flummoxed.
“Pleased to meet you,” he finally said—and in such fluent Japanese that at first, I couldn’t believe my ears. All I could do was tilt my head in confusion.
“Um, sorry. Did I get the wrong room by mistake, or…?” I asked.
“Oh, I assure you, there’s been no mistake, Dr. Seika Naisho,” he said. “I’m afraid Naoyuki Takasaki will not be joining us tonight.”
“And just who are you?”
The man held out a small rectangular piece of paper, which I hesitantly accepted. Printed on it was a name and address and so forth—a sort of personal identification card, not entirely dissimilar to the digital contact cards of the Titan network. But why in the world did he hand me this information on a piece of paper?
“My name is Narain Srivastava,” he said. “My title is on the card, if you care.”
“Sorry? Title?”
“Right there above the name.”
He pointed, and I looked down at the paper card again.
Director of Safety Administration,
Second Intelligence Base
Intelligence Base Administrative Bureau
Upon reading this, I discerned what he meant by “title.” It was an indication of societal status and the duties entrusted to him—his job title. In other words, this man who called himself Narain was a member of an exclusive class that only a handful of people around the world could claim to be a part of. This man was employed.
“I know it says ‘director’ on there, but that’s more a testament to how short-staffed we are, more than anything,” he explained. “Everyone’s always getting shifted around, and promoted, and relocated all over the damn place.”
The man spoke with a joking candor, but his expression was anything but amused. I couldn’t tell what reaction he expected from me; I was still struggling to wrap my mind around the whole situation. Why in the world was a member of the employment stratum here, speaking to someone like me? And how did he know my name?
“I’ll give you the full rundown here in a minute, but for now, I’ll just cut to the chase. Dr. Naisho,” he began, piercing me with his frigid gaze, “I have a job for you.”
“A job?” I said, eyes wide. “You want me to work for you?”
“That’s correct,” he said, then looked down at the menu on the holofield in front of him and ordered a drink for himself. “Now, I’m afraid there’s only so much I’m at liberty to tell you at this point in the process, and we’re running short on time as it is, so you’ll have to forgive me if it sounds as though I’m oversimplifying. Basically, we’re putting together a team for a very important project, and we’d like you to be a part of it. As a psychologist, that is—and as a specialist in developmental psychology, in particular.”
Narain began to manipulate the holofield in front of him with his fingers. Before long, the bar’s drink menu disappeared, and in its place appeared the very same thesis I’d posted last month.
“We’re currently looking for talented personnel with an acute understanding of human psychology,” Narain said. “We read your thesis, Doctor. And based on our internal calculations, which took a weighted average of a candidate’s various abilities such as general intelligence, technical ability, and areas of expertise, we’ve determined that you are the most qualified candidate for the job. We’re very impressed with your credentials, and are determined to have you come and work for us.”
“Work…” I said, letting the word linger on my lips once more. And to think that work was a concept I’d never given any serious thought before yesterday. “This project you mentioned, what exactly does it entail?”
“I’m afraid the details involve significant classified information, so I can’t give you specifics here. You’ll be fully briefed after you’re brought on board.”
“Would this be particularly strenuous work?” I asked.
“Not at all. It’s a very simple job, actually,” Narain said with a straight face. I frowned skeptically, but his expression remained unchanged. Something told me he was lying and that this would actually be an extremely difficult job—though I had no way of proving that. “In any event, Doctor, I’m afraid I’ll have to request an immediate answer. As I said at the beginning, time is of the essence.”
Just how pushy could one man be? An autojeeves came into the room, delivered our two drinks, then saw itself out again. Narain had ordered a whisky on the rocks, which he helped himself to as he awaited my answer. It seemed I had no choice but to consider this unpleasant man’s preposition.
An actual work opportunity—I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t curious. It was a part of the world I’d never even brushed up against before. A black box that the vast majority of people would never have the chance to experience. So of course, there was a certain thrill to the prospect of being offered a peek inside. That said, curiosity was not enough to override my misgivings. Even with the understanding that I would be working in my specific field of interest, there was a distinct difference between doing something as a hobby and doing it for a job. All of my preconceived notions about work flashed through my mind. Taking on responsibilities. Stress. Exhaustion. An inability to stop once you’ve started.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” I said at last, after weighing the pros and cons.
“You’re sure we can’t work something out?” he asked.
“It’s a very enticing opportunity, I’ll admit,” I said, with an apologetic bow of my head. “But it’s just more responsibility than I’m prepared to accept, especially if I have to do so sight unseen.”
Narain let out an overdramatic sigh. I looked up and saw that he was now lying back into the couch cushions, his arms folded and his face an unamused rictus. His irreverent attitude was really starting to annoy me.
“You’re very aggravating, you know that.” I said matter-of-factly.
For a split second, Narain looked taken aback. But he quickly regained his composure.