The Tower — Ch 14

(Access all available chapters in the publication The Tower Book)

Sheryl fidgeted as she waited for the work placement manager to call her into the office. She’d decided to take a job on the island, and was scheduled for an interview. She’d learned from others that, for the most part, only menial jobs were assigned, but once in a while they could use a specific skill set such as with Vivienne.

A man a few years older than Sheryl stepped out of the office with a polite smile on his face. He held out his hand but Sheryl couldn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to the wheelchair and back to her face.

“Hello Sheryl, My name is Evan Williams, and I’m in charge of contestant job placement. I’ve looked over your previous work history and I didn’t find any matches in our current system. We don’t see a lot of turnover there.”

Sheryl nodded. “I was expecting that. I’m not too particular, I know with limited mobility my options are fewer.”

Evan smiled. “I think we’ll find something. Often people want to only do what they were doing before they came here, and while we try to keep opportunities open we need consistent staffing for most positions.”

Sheryl nodded. “The cart driver mentioned runner positions when I arrived.”

Evan beamed. “If you’re willing, one just opened up. This weekend’s contestant just made the move to the final prep stage. When that happens everybody underneath them moves up one spot. So we do have a first level runner open.”

“He said you have carts?”

Evan nodded. “We’d work with your therapy schedule, and assign you to the production tower. There are carts for use, and those with mobility impairments have priority of their use. Though it’s rare that you’d have to wait. Most contestants use their shifts for endurance building once they are recovered enough for walking.”

Sheryl blinked then nodded. “I guess that does make sense.”

Evan stilled, then turned to grab something from his desk. He handed Sheryl a stack of papers. “If you’re willing to be a runner then I can get you started this week. I don’t have anybody waiting for runner positions.”

“Really?”

Evan shrugged. “It’s not a glamorous job, most of the contestant employees would rather work as assistants under skill trainers. Many don’t work at all and rely on sponsorships instead.”

Sheryl glanced at the papers.

“Standard contract stuff,” Evan explained. “Pay, expectations, and the like. Take a look, and if you take the position I’ll need the hard copies on file.”

Sheryl nodded, then paused. “I noticed that with the legal department it was all physical copies as well. Aren’t electronic forms standard?”

Evan shook his head. “Not for the legal stuff here. Considering the… uh… nature of the show… The lawyers insist on something that cannot be digitally forged or altered.”

Sheryl thought about it for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

Evan smiled. “I hear that question a lot. It’s a holdover from the early days of the show when families tried to sue after their loved ones perished. Now it’s a matter of making sure there are no loose ends, even when everybody is aware of the stakes.”

Sheryl nodded. “I understand.”

“Great. Look everything over, and let me know if you have any questions. You can turn that paperwork in to me or to legal, and once it’s processed we’ll have the supervisor get you on the schedule. If you decide it’s not for you after all let me know and we’ll get you on a waiting list for another position.”

Sheryl smiled. “Thank you.”

Sheryl pulled, straining to lift herself back into her wheelchair. She thought she almost had it when her leg slipped out from under her again and sent her tumbling back to the floor.

Sheryl banged her fist on the seat, panting from exertion.

“Sheryl!”

Monica rushed over and knelt at Sheryl’s side. “Sheryl, are you ok? What happened?”

Sheryl sighed. “I was reaching for my makeup bag, but I forgot to set the locks on the wheels. The chair rolled and I tumbled.

Monica turned to the chest of drawers that Sheryl’s makeup bag was on top of and scowled. She turned and placed her fingers on the side of Sheryl’s chin, turning her face.

“You hit your head on the way down, didn’t you?”

Sheryl sighed and nodded.

Monica stared for another few seconds, then slid her arms under Sheryl’s and started lifting.

“Monica! What are you doing?”

“Helping you into your chair.”

“Put me down! You know you’re not supposed to lift anything over ten pounds yet.”

Monica grumbled and put Sheryl back down. “Fine. I’ll get a nurse. And I’ll have them bring ice.” She paused. “You’re going to have a nasty bruise.”

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you.”

Monica walked out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a nurse. They helped Sheryl back into her wheelchair, then Monica handed over an ice pack.

Sheryl pressed the ice to the sore spot on her face.

“Why were you trying to get to your makeup anyway?” Monica asked. “There’s no event scheduled that I know of.”

“I was supposed to go to the production tower for my job orientation today.”

Monica smiled, then laughed. “You know half the people working there don’t bother, and the few contestants I’ve seen always look like they’ve just come from training. I don’t think it matters here.”

Sheryl blushed. “It’s habit.”

“Well there’s no way you’re covering that bruise with makeup.”

Sheryl sighed.

“Do I need to call the production tower to reschedule your orientation?”

Sheryl shook her head. “I’ll go. I’ve still got enough time to get there.”

“Want me to come with you?”

Sheryl shook her head. “No. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Want me to rig up a seatbelt?”

Sheryl gaped, then burst into laughter. “I might take you up on that if this happens again.”

Monica smiled. “I’ll call for a cart while you finish getting ready.”

“Good afternoon Sheryl, I’m Diana Jacobson.” A middle aged woman held out her hand.

Sheryl returned the gesture, trying to angle the large bruise away from her new boss.

“Don’t worry about a bruise or two,” the woman said offhandedly. “It won’t be the last time you come to work sporting one, I can assure you. Probably not even the last time there’s one on your face. You’re going to be in rigorous training. Everybody here is used to the bumps and bruises that come with that. The only time you need to worry about a bruise here is if somebody is violent, and if that’s the case you let a staff member know immediately. We have a zero tolerance policy.”

Sheryl smiled. “I probably have the lamest bruise story ever. I fell out of my wheelchair reaching for my makeup.”

Diana grinned and waved it off. “I’ll admit that’s high on the unexpected factor, but everybody has stumbles, wheelchair or not.”

Sheryl laughed as Diana put her at ease. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

Diana chuckled. “So you read the information packet?”

Sheryl nodded.

“Great! We start all contestant runners with a single floor, then adjust as necessary based on training and other schedules. Promotion structure is simple. When the contestant above you makes their run or is promoted, you move up the chain and a new contestant fills in your spot. Since you’ll be here a while you’ll probably end up in a supervisory role. Is that ok?”

Sheryl nodded.

“Fantastic.” Dianna passed over a wireless data chip.

“What’s this?”

“Keycard software for the production tower. Install the app on your implants, and we’ll code you to your access level.”

Sheryl held the chip over the receiver in her left wrist until the data transfer was complete then handed it back.

Dianna paused while she opened up a browser in her own implants. “Did it install correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It should have assigned you a unique ID in a popup.”

“It did. Eleven dash nine dash ten dash eight dash one dash zero.”

“Eleven nine ten eight one zero?”

“Yes.”

Diana nodded. “I’ve got you in the keycard system. The app integrates with the other software for contestants, so you shouldn’t have to do anything except let it run in the background. It’ll restart with the rest of the program if needed.”

Sheryl nodded as the window disappeared from her field of vision.

“Game night!” Vivienne declared, menu of options appearing in front of everybody as they sat around the table in the virtual cafe.

“Do we want the Vivienne and Janice against everybody else team, or smaller groups?” Becky asked.

Janice smiled. “We’re not that bad.”

Vivienne laughed. “Yes we are.”

Becky immediately started voting against pure strategy games, until they were left with a series of card games.

“You know there is still strategy to each of these, don’t you?” Janice asked.

Becky pouted. “At least there’s an element of chance with these.”

Vivienne and Janice shared a glance before Vivienne shrugged.

“Ok Becky,” Sheryl said. “You’re on my team.”

Chad leaned over Liam’s back and kissed his hair. “I guess that leaves us.”

“Isn’t there one more coming?” Janice asked. “Vivi mentioned your roommate on the island,” she said to Sheryl.

“Oh, Monica,” Sheryl smiled. “She’s in physical therapy and will be here later.”

They picked an old board game that relied on cards to proceed, and soon the game started.

They were well into the game, with Vivienne and Janice leading despite a number of bad draws, when Janice set down her cards with an annoyed huff.

“Janice?” Sheryl asked.

“Sher, give me access to your implants.”

“Huh?”

“This lag from you and Vivienne is driving me insane.”

“It’s probably all the contestant software they shoved in us,” Vivienne pointed out. “First person visual capture and the like. We’re constantly sending data back to the production servers.”

“Yes yes,” Janice grumbled. “But I bet they didn’t even bother to compress it.” She turned back to Sheryl. “Give me access?”

Sheryl sighed, knowing that Janice wouldn’t give up until she’d solved her chosen puzzle. “Ok. But no rewriting code. I don’t want legal breathing down my neck.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll write a patch to compress the data stream and unpack it on the other end.”

Sheryl nodded and opened her access port to Janice. “And no peeking at my cards.”

Janice laughed softly. “Do I need to? We all know Vivi and I are winning anyway.”

Sheryl sighed, and Becky pouted.

“We either need to split them up, or handicap them,” Becky complained.

Vivienne laughed. “Come on guys. It’s not that bad is it?”

Liam, Chad, Becky and Sheryl all shared a glance before nodding.

“Done,” Janice said during the awkward silence.

“Done?” Sheryl asked.

Janice returned to her seat. “I made a copy of all the laggy shit to examine later. I’ll give both you and Vivi patches next game night.”

Sheryl nodded, then the door of the net cafe opened and a new avatar strolled in. After a moment Sheryl realized that the newcomer was Monica.

Monica’s avatar started with the body scan, but had been modified to be more feminine. Her figure was slightly more hourglass, and her hair was longer. She practically floated into the room wearing a floral-print chiffon blouse over a pastel camisole, and an equally lightweight skirt.

“Hi…” Monica said as she reached the table, holding her elbow and biting her lower lip. Sheryl noticed that her voice was higher as well.

Vivienne stood, hugged Monica then brought up the menu to add a chair to the table. Sheryl proceeded to introduce Monica to everybody while the table reconfigured itself.

“Monica! Your avatar is gorgeous.” Vivienne said as they sat.

Monica blushed. “Thank you. What work I was able to get was all virtual. Since nobody asks questions online… It… helped to match my online persona to my ideal, especially on bad days. I do have the standard body scan avatar for when I need it, interviews and the like, but this is the one I mainly use.”

Sheryl smiled. “It fits you.”

Monica blushed deeper red and nodded. “I hope so. I’ve shown this avatar to the doctors, and, while we think it’ll take treatment past my run, this is the goal.”

Vivienne nodded. “I think it’s completely reasonable, accentuate what you already have and no major changes.”

Becky leaned across the table. “You have to tell me where you got those clothes. I love breezy styles like that.”

“I… umm…”

“Secret shop?” Becky teased.

“No… nothing like that,” Monica said softly. “I… I designed them. Ever since I was little I loved designing dresses and pretty clothes. I could never get the fabrics I wanted in real life, but I learned how to make them for my virtual body.”

“Do you have a shop, or a sponsorship?”

Monica shook her head. “I didn’t think anybody else would be interested.”

Becky scowled. “As soon as you escape your tower you’re going to come visit me. I know some people who would beg to differ. You’ll get to play with all those pretty fabrics if I have my way.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I won’t push if you’re not interested,” Becky said. “But if you want to design, you have the skill. I see it. Besides, you know you’ll be famous after your run. You could easily turn that alone into a fashion career. I just know a few people to talk to is all.”

“You think I could really be a designer?”

Becky nodded. “Absolutely.”

Monica looked down at the table. “I… wow… I… are you sure it’s no trouble?”

Becky laughed.

“Becky is a personal shopper,” Janice explained. “She’s known to have an eye for this kind of stuff. If she says you’ve got the talent, then she’s probably already thinking of three clients who would fall over each other to be the first to wear something original like that.”

“Four,” Becky corrected, “plus me.”

“Wow…” Monica breathed, eyes wide.

“Don’t feel pressured,” Sheryl said, patting Monica’s arm. “Becky is enthusiastic. But she does have connections that will make it easier if it’s something you want to do.”

Monica smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

Becky grinned. “Ok! Now settle in, you’re on the same team with Sheryl and I. We’re going to take down Janice and Vivienne this time for sure.”

“You’re on,” Janice challenged with a grin.

Sheryl eyed the parallel bars. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You’re ready,” the therapist said. “You’re showing enough leg strength in other exercises. It’s time to start walking again.”

Sheryl reached absentmindedly to the large bruise still healing on the side of her face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right here to keep you from falling. Our goal today is to get you standing between the bars, and one or two steps with assistance.”

Sheryl looked at the bars, and rolled her chair over. She took another deep breath and set her jaw. “I’m ready.”