Emily grinned as she looked around the shining white apartment that was now all hers. This fresh and untouched living space was in the newly-constructed Cordon-Talent building, and here she was, and here she would be for…who knew how long.
This was incredible.
The carpet was a soft grey in the living area, and upon that carpet was a large white sofa alongside two, beautiful, white, mini-comfy chairs just waiting to be broken in. There was a huge smart TV on the west wall, and to the right of that wall was an open doorway to the bedroom, though that rectangular entrance held no door.
To the east, the carpet gave out to white tile into a small but serviceable kitchen already packed with every necessary appliance, numerous goods and utensils, and pre-ordered food ready to be cooked and eaten at leisure.
The whole north side was all tall glass windows that looked out onto the ocean, that view just breathtaking in its expanse.
This was the twenty-first floor of this new highrise, and she was twenty-one, so 21-21 was her new, favorite, lucky, set of numbers.
This was more than just incredible! This was a dream come true.
Emily was snapped from her momentary awe by Patricia’s matronly attention. Patricia Nowak rested her left hand upon Emily’s right shoulder and gently squeezed Emily once.
“This is where you will be living for…quite some time,” said Patricia in a kindly voice.
The older woman was in her fifties, Emily’s guru guide from Cordon H.R., a gentle but tall white woman with brown greying hair and a sharp professional look. The woman had on a white button-up, grey slacks, and a grey business vest, and she did indeed look sharp and professional, something Emily wanted to emulate right away.
Emily, herself, was young, white, and eager to prove. She was kind of short, five-foot-four, but she was slim and pretty, with a cute face, a button nose, rare grey eyes, and naturally, very-curly blonde hair in a bob cut. She was in her mildly-professional travel clothes right now, a simple light-pink sweater and jacket combo with white slacks and white dress shoes. She didn’t exactly look the part of an official Cordonian, but she wanted to, and that was all that mattered at the present time.
“This is…I…I don’t know what to say,” said Emily.
She felt like crying, but she held it in. She didn’t want to look weak right upon arrival, or for that matter, at any time. This was her new life, and she was going to live it out to its fullest, maximum, joyful happiness.
With those thoughts aside, she turned her complete attention upon her new mentor.
“As you know, Cordonia has been in existence for the last thirty years,” explained Patricia. “However, we’ve only just gotten things up and running at full efficiency in the last twelve.”
“Yeah,” nodded Emily. “I never thought…I just…I never thought I’d move to a whole other country, and…especially not this one. The whole…idea of it was ridiculous to me when I was younger. I put it on the level of Sealand.”
“You’re still young, sweetheart,” smiled Patricia. “It’s actually very impressive that you were recruited at such a young age. Being here at twenty-one is a serious accomplishment.”
“I…I’m just grateful to be here,” grinned Emily.
“Of course,” said Patricia. “Now, a quick warning. Don’t say or mention anything to make the company look bad. For example, don’t compare Cordonia to Sealand. Sealand is not recognized by the U.N., it’s not recognized by the U.K., and it’s not legally sovereign. Cordonia is recognized by the U.N., it is recognized by the United States, and it is legally sovereign, okay?…I don’t want you getting in trouble fresh off the plane.”
Emily felt a slight spike of fear. She didn’t want to screw this up right away. She didn’t want to screw this up at all.
“Oh, no, I won’t do that,” she said quickly and with a shake of her head. “I…I won’t do anything to make the company look bad.”
“That’s good to hear,” nodded Patricia. “Remember, the number one rule is to…what?”
“Follow corporate policy,” said Emily quickly. “Corporate policy is also the law here in Cordonia. As a sovereign nation, Cordonia has its own laws divided into sector, division, and building categories.”
“Exactly,” nodded Patricia again. “It’s great that you know that, but you don’t have to prove you know anything to me, honey. You’re already here, and that’s proof enough.”
“Yes, okay,” said Emily. “I’m just excited. I’m…I’m eager to please.”
“Good,” said Patricia. “Now, a few things to go over.”
“Okay,” replied Emily.
“Your new clothes are already cleaned, pressed, and ready to be worn,” explained Patricia. “They’re in your bedroom in the dresser and wardrobe. Because you’ll be working in coding in our women’s games division, you will be wearing white button-up business shirts, grey vest jackets like mine, grey business skirts, white dress shoes, and pantyhose. Are you familiar with pantyhose, hon?”
“Uhhh…N…no, not really,” stammered Emily.
“Well, you’ll get used to it,” said Patricia. “Aaron Cordon runs a tight ship in Cordonia, so everything’s professional. You may wear lighter colors like you have on now when in your apartment, but outside of your building floor, you must dress for success, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” nodded Emily. “May I call you ma’am? I don’t…I don’t really know how to address anyone here…”
Patricia laughed and shook her head.
“That’s fine,” said the older woman. “Just remember to be polite and courteous, and most importantly…stay on task. If you have an issue that is…uhhh…mental, we have therapists who can help, but they’re…ummm…task oriented as well. In other words, they won’t sit there and affirm your feelings. They’ll tell you what you need to know and do to get back on track, okay?”
“Oh…uhhh…okay,” nodded Emily.
“One last thing,” said Patricia. “As you already know, you don’t earn a traditional salary here at Cordonia. This is a corporate socialist country in terms of its citizens, but Cordonia is entirely capitalist in regards to the rest of the world.
“Your basic necessities and basic recreational activities are free. If you want anything else, it must be shipped in, and it must be approved for purchase by your immediate H.R. department, which includes me.
“Your ‘salary’ is in American Dollars, because that’s the currency Cordonia uses, but poor performance here will lower how much money you earn at the end of the month. Also, a disciplinary action against you will also lower your monthly pay, so remember…and this is very important…don’t get in trouble.
“Believe me, I’ve been disciplined before, and it’s not fun, so stay on the straight and narrow, and whatever you do…stay on task.”
“Yes, ma’am,” nodded Emily.
“Okay, honey,” smiled Patricia. “I’ll leave you here to settle in. Your new phone will arrive later today, but you only have so many points to use for it, and international calls burn through points rather quickly. Your new personal computer is in your bedroom, but you’ll find we have our own version of the World Wide Web in Cordonia, so everything is monitored, including your internet browsing…including your phone calls…so don’t be surprised at this.”
“Oh…” said Emily in surprise, a surprise that occurred anyway in spite of the previous immediate warning.
She wasn’t sure she liked that little caveat.
“Just don’t make the company look bad, because the company is the country, and remember…stay on task,” nodded Patricia.
“Stay on task,” nodded Emily in return. “Got it.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” smiled Patricia. “I’ll leave you be for now. Go ahead and settle in. You’ll report for duty tomorrow at eight sharp.”
“Yes, ma’am,” grinned Emily.
The older woman took her leave, the white apartment door shut, and Emily breathed out a long sigh of relief.
Her life was skyrocketing toward ultimate success.
She put her hands on her hips, grinned, and gazed past the tall glass windows that looked out and over the ocean.
“Emily Beaumont, you’re in it now!” she said happily.
Wasn’t life fantastic!
*****
Emily picked up her orange cafeteria tray full of food and looked around the cafeteria itself. There were various peoples here she had met today, but for the most part, they were mostly women, because this lunch period was specifically for her department, Women’s and Girls’ Games.
Honestly, she didn’t really know anyone here.
She walked through the circular and rectangular tables looking for a spot to sit, maybe chat with some folks, but everyone looked as if they had known each other forever, so it wasn’t like she could just plop her butt right down at a table without being invited.
Ugh…Everybody had their own little clique.
She was about to give up and take a lonely chair out by one of the tall cafeteria windows, but a voice from behind her hijacked her lonely venture.
“Hey, new girl!” came the voice.
The voice was distinctly female, and upon turning to look for the speaker, Emily recognized the woman immediately. In fact, she recognized all three young women at the circular table she had just walked past, mainly because they stood out.
The woman who had spoken was a young black woman in her late twenties, and she was pretty in the face, with long, straight, black hair and dark, dark eyes…Well, she had one dark, dark eye that was visible, because her right eye had a black eyepatch over it, and this of course, made Emily immediately think of a pirate, but that was mean, so she stuffed that thought down and buried it.
There were three women at this table, those young women consisting of the aforementioned one-eyed black woman and two white women. The first white woman had curly, shoulder-length, brown hair and brown eyes, while the second white woman was a strawberry blonde with hazel eyes, her hair up in a ponytail.
Every woman in here was dressed in the standard clothing they had all been assigned, long-sleeved white button ups, grey vest jackets, grey business skirts, and skin-matching pantyhose, though Emily still wasn’t used to wearing pantyhose.
“Hey, you can sit here,” said the one-eyed black woman.
Emily pulled out an orange, plastic, cafeteria chair and sat down, carefully placing her lunch tray in front of her on the circular table before her. The table was also made of orange, thick plastic, but the floor tiles below were light green, an odd color combination that was both retro and depressing, but Emily simply went with it. This was her new job and her new home, after all.
“Thank you,” replied Emily. “I’m Emily, Emily Beaumont.”
“Well, I’m Aaliyah, this is Abbey, and our resident redhead is Brenna,” said the one-eyed black woman, “Aaliyah.”
“Very funny,” said the strawberry blonde, the one named “Brenna.” “I’m more of a blonde. Don’t listen to her.”
“Whatever,” snorted Aaliyah. “You’re as blonde as a rhubarb.”
“What’s a rhubarb?” asked Emily.
She’d asked that question without thinking, but she immediately regretted it, because the three young women laughed at her in response to her thoughtless question.
“You don’t know what a rhubarb is?” asked the brunette, the one named “Abbey.”
Emily felt a heat rise to her cheeks. She was clearly the youngest at this table, and she was already feeling stupid and inferior, and it hadn’t even been a full day.
“W…Well…I…” she stammered.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Aaliyah. “It’s a vegetable…I guess you’ve never had rhubarb pie.”
Emily shook her head no. She was flustered now, and she didn’t know what to say.
“It’s really good,” nodded Aailyah. “You should try it some time.”
“Oh…Okay,” said Emily in awkward reply.
The three young women opposite of her laughed again, and it took them a few seconds to calm down.
“How old are you?” asked Abbey. “You can’t be older than twenty-three, twenty-four.”
“Hey, now,” warned Brenna. “There’s nothing wrong with being twenty-four.”
“Says the baby,” snorted Abbey.
“You’re only a year older than me!” protested Brenna.
“Yo!” called out Aaliyah. “You two cut off our guest!…She never got to answer your question, Abbey.”
“Oh…Oh, right,” said Abbey in sheepish reply. “How old are you, anyway?”
“I’m twenty-one,” replied Emily.
The three young women across from her simply stopped and stared at her in surprise.
“You’re twenty-one?” asked Brenna.
“You’re, like, barely out of high school,” said Abbey.
“Y…Yeah,” said Emily nervously.
“Well, I’ve been here for six months,” said Brenna. “Abbey’s been here for a year, and Aaliyah’s been here for four years. I would listen to what they have to say before we…we talk about anything else.”
“Ummm, yeah,” said Abbey.
Her voice held a note of alarm, and this made Emily nervous.
“You’ll want to follow the rules to a T,” continued Abbey.
“She’s right,” said Aaliyah. “Make sure you do your work on time and in good order. Don’t screw around.”
“Yeah,” said Brenna. “If it weren’t for these two, I’d have already gotten into trouble.”
“You don’t want to get into trouble,” said Aaliyah.
“Like what?” asked Emily. “What kind of trouble would I get into?”
They were being kind of vague. What kind of trouble could she possibly get into anyway?
“Uhhh, we’re not really allowed to talk about it,” said Aaliyah.
“The company keeps a close eye on all of us,” warned Abbey.
“Oh?” asked Emily.
“Yeah, so be careful what you say,” said Brenna.
“I can say that…that you should probably leave your phone in your apartment,” said Aaliyah.
“What?” asked Emily. “Why?”
“Just use the company phone at your desk,” said Abbey.
“Yeah,” nodded Aaliyah. “You could make a mistake and take pictures, for instance, and you’ll get into real trouble for that, even if the camera snap was an accident. There is a lot of…of confidential information about this place that the company doesn’t want accidently…or purposefully…leaked, although you’d have to be a real moron to try and leak any information about Cordonia to an outside party.”
“Yeah, and don’t get caught outside your building floor during off hours without special permission,” nodded Abbey. “All special requests go through H.R., so don’t try doing anything on your own.”
“Okaaaay,” replied Emily warily. “Aren’t we allowed to make friends and see our friends if we do make them?”
“Yeah, yeah,” nodded Abbey. “You just need to submit the proper request to H.R.”
“Yeah, don’t forget,” said Aaliyah. “If there are any questions you have about what you’re supposed to do, you can contact H.R., but I wouldn’t.”
“No, you can ask us,” nodded Abbey.
“Okay…I guess…” said Emily.
Honestly, these women were kind of freaking her out.
“Look, I can see that you’re kind of bewildered about all of this, but you reeeaaally need to listen to us,” nodded Aaliyah. “You’re awfully young, and it’s easy for young people to make mistakes.”
“Everybody makes mistakes,” said Emily. “It’s part of the learning process.”
“You don’t want to make mistakes here,” said Abbey. “Oh, you’ll learn from it, but you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“Abbey, don’t,” warned Aaliyah.
The brunette with the curly hair shook her head no and frowned.
“Never mind,” she said unhappily. “I have to go to the restroom anyway. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay,” frowned Aaliyah in return.
Emily had no idea what to make of that exchange, but she didn’t have time to ponder it, as the brunette named Abbey got up to leave. What distracted Emily at that moment was Abbey’s attire, as the young woman was not wearing a skirt and pantyhose. No, she was wearing grey business slacks, which as far as Emily knew, was not standard.
“You’re wearing slacks?” blurted out Emily without thinking. “Why do you get to wear slacks? Why can’t I wear slacks?”
The three young women looked at each other, and something unspoken was said between them, but what that thing was, Emily had no idea.
“I have special permission,” responded Abbey. “It’s because of this…”
She lifted up her right pants leg, and beneath it was a prosthetic leg, jet black in color, the carbon fiber almost shiny in the mild daylight of the cafeteria.
“Oh…” said Emily awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”
Now she felt incredibly stupid over the matter, but this feeling was becoming a routine part of her day, so she was just going to have to suck it up and move forward.
“It’s okay,” said Abbey. “Just remember to put all requests through H.R. If you do put in a request, make sure to keep track of what is and isn’t allowed…and ask permission before you go somewhere beyond your building floor. Just remember that.”
It was time for Emily to start behaving like a responsible adult, and she wanted to, so this time she answered with full confidence and without hesitation.
“Okay, I will,” she nodded.
“Good,” said Abbey, and that was that.
*****
Emily sat down on her new couch and breathed out a sigh of relief. The day had been kind of long and exhausting with all of the new stuff she’d had to learn, but now that all of that was over, she was settling in at exactly 4:30 P.M. The job was 8:00 to 4:00, and that was going to take some getting used to, but she’d manage it.
She grabbed the remote next to her, turned on her new flatscreen, and flipped through the channels one by one.
There was nothing really on, so she went to the streaming services, and much to her delight, she had access to nearly all of them for free, and that was freakin’ awesome.
“Emily Beaumont, you’re in it now!” she grinned.
She was giddy with excitement, but then she felt stupid about that excitement, because she needed to act like an adult, but then again, maybe not in her own new home…
She’d have to ponder this.
Of course, her pondering would have to wait. There was the distinct sound of the doorbell, a rosy, short, and dulcet tune, so she got up and went to answer that call of neighborliness.
She pressed the button for the brass intercom, that intercom embedded on the wall to her immediate right, and then she queried the simple unsure response of, “Hello?”
“It’s Patricia, dear,” came through a kindly female voice. “It’s Patricia Nowak.”
Emily didn’t reply. She simply and quickly unlocked the front door and let in her H.R. mentor without any verbal argument.
Patricia stepped inside as Emily closed the front door behind them.
“Umm…Uhhh…Have a seat,” said Emily in an awkward attempt at hospitality.
Patricia walked over to one of Emily’s new, white, mini-comfy chairs and carefully sat down in it.
“Why don’t you sit on over here across from me, hon,” urged Patricia.
Emily felt a sudden spike of fear. She did not know what this was about, but her unknown fears must of have shone on her face, because Patricia addressed that first.
“You’re not in any trouble, honey,” smiled the older woman. “This is an official visit from H.R. about something we need to discuss…but you’re not in any trouble, so don’t sabotage yourself on that front.”
“Yes, ma’am,” nodded Emily.
She trotted over and sat down across from the older woman, but her heart was racing like a rabbit’s in spite of Patricia’s reassurance.
“Is there something I need to know?” asked Emily.
“There’s a lot you need to know, but we’ll address that later,” answered Patricia. “First, though, let’s talk about you. How was your first day?”
“It…It was great,” said Emily. “Everything was…was good.”
“Excellent,” nodded Patricia. “Did you make any friends?…I noticed you were sitting with some of our young employees at lunch today.”
Emily’s eyes widened at this. She didn’t know what this was about, but she didn’t want to get in trouble, but she also didn’t want get her new lunch acquaintances in trouble, so…
“I…uhhh…I did meet some…some new people today,” she replied after a few seconds of intense thought.
“Mmm, hmm, mmm, hmm,” nodded Patricia. “And were they welcoming?”
“Y…Yes,” stammered Emily.
“We don’t tolerate bullying here,” said Patricia in an easy tone.
“Oh, no,” said Emily as she shook her head. “No, they were really nice.”
“Good,” said Patricia. “Did they…talk…to you about the company?”
“A…A little,” said Emily nervously.
She wasn’t sure she should have said that.
“Mmm, hmm,” replied Patricia. “And what did they say, hon?”
Emily swallowed hard. She was not sure what to say, so she simply told the truth. She did not want anyone to get in trouble.
“They…just…gave me some advice,” said Emily. “They told me to stay on task, just like you did. They said to follow the rules to a T.”
“Mmm, hmm,” nodded Patricia. “Did they say anything else? Anything specific?”
Emily put her right index finger to her chin and looked upward and to the side as she thought about this. She screwed up her lips in that thought, decided on an answer, and then looked back at Patricia. She then gave her mentor that forward and honest answer.
“No, not really,” she said uncertainly. “No, no wait. No…uhhh…Aaliyah said something about leaving my phone here and just using the company phone while I was working.”
“Why is that, hon?” asked Patricia.
“She mentioned something about not accidently taking a picture of confidential information or something like that,” said Emily. “And now that I think about it, Abbey said something about not going out of my apartment or…was it my floor? She said something about getting permission from H.R. before going anywhere…Wait…Is that true? Do I need to contact you to visit a friend?”
“Yes, hon,” nodded Patricia. “That’s the way things work around here. We have security on every floor. If you’re caught without authorization, you’ll get in trouble, and you do not want to get in trouble. Not here in Cordonia.”
“Oh,” said Emily in surprise.
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.
“What if I…I have a boyfriend?” asked Emily. “I mean, what if I meet—”
“We have a system for that,” said Patricia confidently. “First of all, interoffice dating is permitted, so you don’t have to worry about that. If you do end up with a special friend, male or female, you can set it up with Human Resources to have a security pass for the sole and express purpose of visiting your beau…However, all significant-other relationships must be approved through H.R.”
Emily chuckled at the notion of needing permission from H.R. to date someone; she couldn’t help but laugh, but one look upon Patricia’s serious face immediately killed that humor.
“That’s not a joke, hon,” said Patricia with a mild shake of her head.
“Wh…What?” asked Emily.
“All relationships of an S.O. nature must be approved through Human Resources,” repeated Patricia. “That’s part of Cordonia. Trust me when I say, you do not want to be disciplined, honey. I was disciplined in the past for that very reason, so I’m giving you some very good advice.”
“Y…Yes, ma’am,” stammered Emily.
She did not know what to think anymore. Whatever this was…
What had she stumbled into?
“Now, judging by your reaction to what I just laid down on you,” continued Patricia, “I can already tell your new friends have not told you much, which is good. Aaliyah and Abbey would know all about being ‘disciplined,’ so I expect you to follow their example and heed their advice on the specifics of the information they did give you. They’re not allowed to talk about how Cordonia disciplines its employees/citizens, and they very well know that, and I’m sure they’ve told you as much.”
“Y…Yes,” said Emily. “They…They did say they weren’t allowed to talk about it.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” explained Patricia. “We will be having an orientation for you and a couple of other new employees, and that will be tomorrow.”
“An…An orientation?” asked Emily.
“Oh, yes, we rarely have the opportunity for one, so this is actually a most-constructive circumstance for you in particular, as you just joined us,” said Patricia. “In fact, we just implemented this policy, so this will be the very first orientation we’ve ever had.”
“Oh…” said Emily in strange wonder.
Patricia rose from Emily’s white mini-comfort chair and headed back toward the front door.
“Now, I’ll take my leave, but you remember what I said about contacting H.R. first before you have a serious relationship with another employee,” warned the older woman. “You don’t want to lose your balls over a man, honey.”
Emily blinked twice and shook her head at that remark.
“Oh, wow…I’ve never heard it put like that before,” she replied. “Is that an old saying?”
“No, hon,” said Patricia with a sad smile. “That’s my saying. Now you just remember the advice I gave you, and you remember your new friends’ advice, and you’ll be as right as rain.”
“O…Okay,” stammered Emily.
“I’ll take my leave now, hon,” said Patricia.
The older woman and mentor left after that, but Emily was left standing there in slight shock. She honestly did not know what to think.
She walked over to her couch, sat down, and shook her head once…This whole thing was kind of worrisome.
“Emily Beaumont, you’re in it now,” she breathed out with that worrisome feeling eating away at her.
*****
Emily walked up to the cafeteria table where her new “friends” were seated. She had a tray full of food, and she wasn’t exactly sure if these women wanted her to sit with them, but she at least had to try.
She hovered near the circular table as the three young women stared up at her.
“Well?” asked Aaliyah. “Are you going to sit down or not?”
“Oh…Okay,” said Emily quickly.
She sat down across from Abbey again with Aaliyah on her left and Brenna on her right. She was silently relieved she had been “accepted” by these women as someone worth knowing, so that was good.
“You’re kind of shy, aren’t you?” asked Brenna.
Emily opened her iced-tea bottle as she addressed the strawberry blonde.
“I can be,” she said nervously. “It’s just…I don’t really know anyone here.”
“Well, now you know us,” said Aaliyah. “It’s cool…It’s all good. You can sit here and listen to us jabber on.”
“You jabber on,” noted Abbey. “I just comment.”
“Whatever,” smirked Aaliyah.
The one-eyed black woman turned her attention back upon Emily.
“So what do you think?” she asked. “There are some things you have to get used to, but it’s…not that bad, is it?”
“No,” said Emily, but then she frowned as she thought about something. “I don’t really like the idea of needing permission to date someone, though.”
The three young women across from her dried up in their jovial mood. It was a full twenty seconds before one of them said anything, and that hesitant speaker was Abbey.
“Where did you hear that?” asked the brunette.
“Oh, I heard it from Patricia Nowak,” replied Emily.
The three young women gave each other alarming looks, very alarming, and Emily could not help but notice it.
“Did you call H.R.?” asked Aaliyah. “You didn’t call H.R., did you?”
“N…No,” stammered Emily. “No, Patricia just showed up at my apartment last night.”
Abbey turned pale as she gave Emily a look of strange concern.
“Wh…What did she want?” asked the brunette.
“She asked me about you guys and what we talked about,” said Emily matter-of-factly.
“What did you tell her!” asked Aaliyah, and the tone of her voice, her scrutinizing gaze, and her accusatory demeanor immediately set Emily on edge.
“N…N…Nothing!” stammered Emily. “I just told her about the specific examples you gave me about what not to do…That’s it.”
“That’s it?” asked Aaliyah.
“That’s it,” said Emily. “She didn’t seem concerned with that. No, she just told me about the orientation I was supposed to have today.”
“Orientation?” asked Brenna. “What orientation?”
“The…The orientation,” said Emily. “You didn’t have one?…Oh, wait. She said this was the very first one they’d ever done, so of course you wouldn’t have had one.”
“Did she say what the orientation was about?” asked Abbey.
“N…No,” said Emily. “It’s just orientation, right? It’s just to get to know the company right?…It’s just orientation.”
“No, orientation is just coming in and working your first day here,” said Aaliyah. “This is something else; it’s got to be.”
“Yeeeeaaaah,” said Abbey. “I’d be really careful if I were you…In fact, unless they tell you not to say anything to us, you should tell us what this ‘orientation’ is after you’ve had it.”
“Okay,” shrugged Emily.
She looked up and watched as Patricia Nowak from H.R. walked toward the little orange circular cafeteria table they were all sitting at. The older woman had apparently heard Abbey, because the brunette was the first to be addressed.
“That won’t be necessary, Abbey, honey,” said Patricia from behind Abbey.
The startled brunette turned and nearly jumped in her seat. The expression upon the younger woman’s face was disturbing…If Emily hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn Abbey’s expression was one of terrible, terrible fear, but there was no reason to be afraid of Patricia, right?
“You already have a grasp on our policy for discipline, don’t you, Abbey?” asked Patricia. “You don’t need to attend our new orientation program on company discipline.”
“N…No,” stammered the younger woman. “No, I don’t…E…Excuse me. I…I…I have to use the restroom.”
The young brunette stood, pushed in her chair, and simply left her food behind.
But that wasn’t the disturbing part. The disturbing part was the large wet stain in Abbey’s grey slacks between her legs, and this caused no small amount of alarm for Emily.
“You can come with me, now, hon,” said Patricia.
She waved Emily forward and then nodded down at Emily’s tray.
“I’ve already set aside some time for you to eat, hon,” said Patricia. “You have special permission to eat lunch after your orientation, so you can just leave your tray behind…Follow me, please.”
“Oh…Okay,” said Emily.
She stood up to follow, and she pushed her chair in out of courtesy, but she had to pause for a second to study the faces of her two remaining coworkers.
Brenna looked pale and subdued, like a cowed dog, but Aaliyah…? The one-eyed black woman looked haunted over something, and her dark hands trembled as they rested upon the table near her orange cafeteria tray.
“Come on, honey,” said Patricia. “Orientation is about to start.”
“Y…yes,” said Emily meekly.
She walked away from that table and followed Patricia out of the cafeteria to…wherever they were going.
They walked across the building campus without speaking, but this only made Emily even more nervous as time passed. Eventually, Patricia led her to a small redbrick building with the ominous name of “DISCIPLINARY DIVISION” in big bold brass capital letters above the double glass doors.
Patricia pulled open one of the doors and led Emily inside. The older woman from H.R. then spoke briefly to a secretary behind a large, curved, white desk, but that was not what held Emily’s attention. What held her attention were the two security guards planted at each side of the room, north and south, one to Emily’s right and one to her left. Each guard wore dark-blue security uniforms and hats, but they were outfitted with more than just that. Each guard wore heavy, black, bulletproof gear and wielded submachine guns of some sort—she was not a gun expert—and this put Emily on even more edge.
Her teeth were vibrating, only not, as she realized a moment later that she was simply feeling fear all the way down to the roots of those ivory pegs for some reason.
“Come on, hon,” urged Patricia.
Emily was led down a short hallway to the southwest, and then through a single steel door on her right that led farther south. The door looked heavy, but Patricia simply scanned a keycard over a wall scanner, huffed as she pushed opened the now unlocked door, and then led Emily inside.
Within this large white room were eight other people, those people consisting of two more armed security guards and six employees that Emily did not recognize, though two of those employees were two very large men who wore black full-face hoods and indistinct black clothing…They reminded Emily of faceless terrorists.
Emily was ushered forth to sit in a grey, metal, folding chair within a row of three such chairs, which she did, and she sat down next to another young white woman and a young white man, both from divisions she was not familiar with.
In front of them all was a small tiled area that held a large steel table. The table was thin and shiny and full of slatted holes, much like a chrome grate. Beneath the table was a large circular drain imbedded within light-green tiles that covered the floor ahead.
“What’s going on?” asked Emily without thinking.
“Hush, hon,” warned Patricia.
Emily shut her mouth and did not say another word.
Patricia walked out in front of Emily and the other two sitting employees, the young man and the young woman. Behind the older H.R. employee were two more employees, one a middle-aged bald white man with round spectacles, the other a young white woman, a ravenette with her black hair in a pixie-cut, that young woman around twenty-five, twenty-six by Emily’s best estimate. On each side of the couple stood the big burly men in black clothing, their faces nearly invisible behind their hooded ebon masks.
The older H.R. woman turned toward Emily and the two other sitting young people.
“You’ve been called here for our new orientation on company discipline,” nodded Patricia. “What we have here is a simple case of an accusation of sexual harassment. We have two employees here from accounting, Paul and Mira. You don’t need to know their last names.”
“Okaaaay,” said the young white man sitting two seats away from Emily. “What’s with the—”
“You don’t need to talk, Andrew,” said Patricia as she cut him short. “You, Haley, and Emily will sit and watch how Cordonia handles our disciplinary action…and no, I’m not being short with you. This is company policy, so there will be no questions. The only thing the three of you need to know is not to discuss company discipline with anyone, including other employees, regardless of the situation. This is to protect the company and this new country from spies and accidental leaks.”
“Yes, ma’am,” frowned the young man named “Andrew.”
“Good,” nodded Patricia. “Do you understand, Haley?”
“Yes, ma’am,” nodded the young woman sitting next to Emily.
“Do you understand, Emily?” asked Patricia.
“Y…Yes, ma’am,” stammered Emily.
She didn’t want to sound like a cowardly little girl, but her reply came out that way anyway.
“Okay,” said Patricia. “Let’s begin.”
She turned toward the middle-aged bald man, “Paul,” and addressed him first.
“Paul, how long have you been with the company?” asked Patricia.
“A long time,” said this “Paul” in a grim tone. “As long as you, Patricia.”
Patricia nodded once and turned toward the young white woman with the pixie cut, the one named “Mira.”
“And how long have you been with the company, Mira?” asked Patricia.
“A month and a half,” stated “Mira.”
“Good,” stated Patricia. “Now, Mira, why don’t you reiterate the complaint you made to H.R. yesterday morning?”
“This man, Paul Goo—” started the young woman.
“No last names, hon,” warned Patricia. “Continue.”
“This man, Paul…” continued Mira. “He…He keeps hovering over me about the Ryker’s account. He comes up and puts his hand on mine and leans over and breathes heavily on me. Twice he’s said things like “Good job, Mira,” and gives me this weird grin. I just…I can’t stand it. I think he’s been staring down at my breasts, too…I don’t like this weird attention he’s been giving me.”
Patricia turned toward Paul and gave him a strange look.
“What do you have to say before we administer punishment, Paul?” asked the middle-aged woman.
“It’s completely my fault, Patricia,” frowned Paul. “I didn’t realize my attention would feel like smothering micro-managing,…much less sexual harrassment…I was just trying to encourage her. My hand on hers was an accident. I just put it down without thinking as I was leaning over to read the Ryker’s file. I had no intention whatsoever of stirring up this whole hornet’s nest…I was just trying to help her do well.”
“That may be, Paul, but you know the law,” said Patricia. “Your protest has been noted, but that will not stop this process. Discipline must be administered, but we have taken your protest into account, and we will act accordingly.”
“Yes, Patricia,” said the middle-aged man, though he sounded defeated. “Be merciful, please.”
“I have to administer discipline according to the law,” frowned Patricia. “You know that, Paul, but as I said, we have taken your protest and your testimony into account, so we have decided to mitigate half of the initial discipline as per your request. Remove your suit jacket, your tie, and your shirt, please.”
“Yes, Patricia,” sighed the middle-aged man.
Emily watched in dark fascination as Paul from Accounting quickly took off his grey suit jacket, undid and removed his tie, and then unbuttoned and took off his shirt. He handed his clothing to one of the big men in black as he did. His pudgy, pale, bare chest was in full view, and Emily kind of winced at viewing it.
Whatever this was…was beyond her.
“Assume the position,” ordered Patricia.
Paul turned, walked up to the steel table, leaned over, and placed his hands upon it. Emily stared at the man’s bare back as one of the big burly men in pseudo-terrorist clothing walked up behind him. The big faceless guy in a black balaclava held up a leather cat-o’-nine tails, the torture implement out in full view and ready to go. It consisted of a long leather handle and nine leather strips, each strip with a leather knot and a metal stud at the end of each coinciding tip, and Emily had not spied this torture tool before this very moment.
Her grey eyes widened at this.
“Wh…What is this?” she squeaked out without meaning to.
Patricia turned and snapped the fingers of her right hand directly in Emily’s face, and Emily jumped a little in her seat. She nearly wet herself at that tense moment.
“No talking,” warned Patricia.
The older woman turned and nodded once.
“Commence with the flogging,” she ordered. “Ten lashes.”
Emily’s mouth dropped wide open as the big burly man in black with the cat-o’-nine tails “flogged” Paul with the Medieval torture device. To his credit, the middle-aged man from accounting made very little noise…He just kind of grunted a little, but the red stripes on his back were more than enough to cause Emily to shake in her seat.
Patricia counted each strike that was laid upon Paul. During this short but brutal time, Emily stared up at the young woman named “Mira.” The ravenette with the pixie-cut held a cruel smirk upon her full lips, and at that moment, Emily did not like this young lady…not at all.
The “discipline” was over as quickly as it had begun, but it was like a million-years in Emily’s mind. She could only sit in her metal folding chair and tremble as the punishment had played out.
Paul was handed back his white button up, and he slipped back into it, but Emily could clearly see the red of blood soak through the white cloth on the back of the shirt in various spots where the middle-aged man had been lashed.
“I truly am sorry for this,” said Paul quietly.
He buttoned up his shirt as he shook his head and frowned.
“You know the rules, Paul,” sighed Patricia. “This burns the chaff and curtails any BS. No, I think this orientation is just what the company needs, so…let’s proceed with the full disciplinary action.”
She nodded toward the big man in black that had held Paul’s clothes. This man immediately stepped behind Mira and forced the young woman’s hands behind her back.
“What are you doing!” cried out Mira.
“I really do apologize that you could not have been warned before now,” frowned Patricia. “This orientation would have helped you immensely, I think.”
“What are you talking about!” protested the young black-haired woman.
“You called my office and registered a sexual harassment complaint against Paul,” explained Patricia. “I’ve known Paul for as long as I’ve worked for this company, hon, and we don’t take false allegations lightly.”
“F…False!” cried out Mira. “I…I…I’m telling the truth!”
“Not everything is sexual harassment, hon,” explained Patricia. “I told you I’ve known Paul for as long as I’ve worked here, and…Paul is gay, honey. Twenty lashes by flogging is the standard initial disciplinary action for any transgression in Cordonia. Paul begged me to take half of that punishment for your sake, and the department approved his request. Remove your vest jacket, shirt, and bra, please.”
“N…No!” cried out Mira.
Patricia nodded once, and the two big men in black went to work. They forcibly peeled off the young woman’s top clothing as she screeched in protest.
Emily could see tears welling up in the young lady’s dark eyes.
Emily clutched the sides of her grey, metal, folding chair until her knuckles were white. She was trembling all over, and she knew that, but the reaction was automatic. She could see this poor young woman’s bare chest; she could see Mira’s small bare breasts and large brown nipples, and this horrified Emily, horrified her right down to her very soul. To be exposed like this in front of so many people…? It bothered her…It bothered her a lot.
She did not want that to happen to herself.
Mira wept and pleaded as she was forcibly laid down, chest first, over the steel table and held down by one of the faceless men in black. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the table by leather straps slid through the grated slats of the table, and there was even one large leather strap placed across the back of her neck to keep her head from moving.
“Commence with the flogging,” ordered Patricia. “Ten lashes.”
Emily had not liked the smirk upon this poor young woman’s face when Paul had been lashed, but now she felt truly sorry for Mira, because each blow of the cat-o’-nine tails caused the young woman to shriek and cry and weep even louder.
Patricia counted each strike, and it was over quickly, but this shook Emily…It shook everything she had believed about this job and this new “country.”
“Call in our medical officer,” ordered Patricia. “We have to proceed with the second part of the disciplinary action.”
One of the guards at the door pulled up a walkie-talkie and grunted a brief command into it.
Mira stopped her weeping long enough to choke out a wary question, and that question was something that was also bearing down upon Emily’s own already frazzled mind.
“S…Second part?” asked the flogged young woman.
As it stood, Mira was still laying upon her chest, her wrists and ankles still bound, her bare back exposed to all, but that bare back now looked like a striped roadmap. The welts on her back were bleeding, and those wounds had to be painful, so Emily could not imagine a second part to this punishment.
“Yes, hon,” replied Patricia. “Aaron Cordon believes that the offending parts should be removed, so our medic will arrive now to remove that offending part.”
“O…Offending part?” stammered Mira. “Removed?”
“Don’t worry,” said Patricia. “It will all be over quickly.”
The door to this torture chamber opened as a tall black man in a surgeon’s green outfit walked in. He carried a large black doctor’s bag in his right hand, the kind of bag one would have seen in old TV shows.
“Ah, here he is now,” nodded Patricia. “Proceed with the removal, Medical Officer Jones.”
The tall surgeon set down his black bag upon the back end of Mira’s table next to her legs. He opened his bag, pulled forth a pair of spotless tongs along with a gleaming, wickedly-sharp scalpel.
“W…Wait!” screeched out Mira. “I won’t do it again! I swear! You don’t have to do this! You don’t have to! I won’t do it again! I won’t do it again! I swear! PLEASE! I SWEAR, I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!”
“I know you won’t, hon,” said Patricia. “You won’t be able to.”
She made a motion toward the surgeon in green garb, and he walked around the table to Mira’s head. One of the burly masked men held the shrieking young woman’s head as the other one pried open her mouth, and then the tall medical officer gripped poor Mira’s tongue with the tongs, pulling the necessary taste organ out far enough to where she nearly choked upon it.
Emily turned her head aside as the scalpel gleamed within her vision. She could not watch this horror show, but this reticence in vision was quickly snuffed out by her middle-aged mentor.
Patricia walked around behind Emily’s chair and firmly gripped Emily’s head between her hands. The older woman then turned Emily’s head so that Emily was forced to watch the second part of the “disciplinary action.”
“Oh, no, honey,” warned Patricia. “You have to watch…This is for your own good.”
Mira’s eyes widened to round dinner plates as the scalpel gleamed in front of her face. She tried to say something, or scream, or yell…or babble…but she could do nothing but slobber and drool as the wicked surgical instrument moved closer and closer to her outstretched tongue.
*****
“Now, remember what you’ve learned today, hon,” said Patricia. “Too many disciplinary actions—with mitigating circumstances taken into account—will result in employee termination.”
“Termination?” asked Emily.
“Yes, honey,” warned Patricia. “Your ashes will be sent to your next of kin on the mainland.”
“Oh,” said Emily weakly. “Oh…‘termination’…Okay.”
“Now, I can tell you’re rattled, so you should just sit down and relax for the rest of the evening. Watch some TV, hon. That should take your mind off of things…and remember…stay on task.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Emily.
“I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow,” smiled Patricia. “Right now, it’s my turn to go home and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay,” said Emily. “Goodnight.”
Patricia closed the front door to Emily’s apartment, disappearing from sight. Emily could hear the older woman walk off down the hall.
Emily stood and stared at her front door for a full minute after the H.R. woman’s departure. She shook her head, walked across her new apartment’s soft grey carpet, and sat down on her spotless white couch. She reached over, took up the remote, and switched on the TV.
The first thing to pop up was the official “Cordonia National News.”
“After twelve years of steady bargaining with Canada, Hartwood Technology is now starting colonization of their own independent nation following the success of Cordonia,” stated a reporter, a thirty-something-year-old, dark-haired, handsome white man in a grey suit. “Other companies are soon to follow, each touting their own vision of an independently U.N.-recognized nation—”
Emily hit the power button on her remote and turned off her new TV.
She stared into space for a moment before deciding to say anything, anything at all…
And finally, she did.
“Emily Beaumont, you’re in it now,” she choked out.
She held her face in her hands as the tears flowed and the sobbing began.
BONUS STORY…THE INTERVIEW
Destiny’s dark-brown hands shook as she waited for the buzzer to sound. She had a strategy, a sound one, so she was going to follow it to the letter. It was life or death now, literally, and she had trained for this, so there was no falling apart now.
The buzzer sounded, and she bolted from her starting position toward the second desk, not the first. The first was too easy, for it displayed a gladius atop it, an ancient Roman soldier’s sword, and it was too tempting a target. A fat white man in his thirties went for it, but he was beaten to it by an older Hispanic man with a thick black mustache. The fat white man was gutted a second later, but Destiny had no time to concern herself with the man’s grisly death…She had a fight to win.
She reached the second desk where a thick and sturdy knight’s mace waited for her to pick up and wield with barbaric fury, but she was cut off as a young white woman around her own age of twenty-two ran for the same weapon. The white girl reached the mace first, but Destiny was not about to suffer the same fate as the fat man who’d gone for the gladius. She would just have to do without the weapon of desk two altogether.
She bolted away from the young white woman and looked over at desks three through five, but all of their weapons had been taken, so she was just going to have to wait until somebody died in order to take their weapon.
She watched in both fear and disgust as one applicant after another was brutally killed, but it was simply too dangerous yet to go for any fallen weapon. One little mistake was all it would take to get her killed.
The young lady with the mace bashed open the brains of a young man with a pair of knives, so it came down to just the young white woman and the Latino with the gladius. The young lady erred by swinging the mace over her head, exposing her stomach, and she was stabbed through the gut a second later.
Destiny saw her moment right then, and she took it. She rushed forward and snatched up the mace just as the older Latino swung his sword. Destiny was slashed across her left eye as she stepped to his left, but his reach had overextended due to his wild swing, so she swung down hard with her mace to smash into his neck and head, killing him instantly.
She stood there in breathless silence while holding the gory wound that used to be her left eye. She was terribly injured and in severe pain, true, but she had won; she was the only remaining applicant, and that was all that actually mattered.
“Congratulations!” came an excited male voice over the intercom. “As you know, unemployment is now at an all-time high of fifty-five percent, so your efforts in attaining employment with us is the biggest accomplishment of your life! You are now a valued employee of the Glad Burger Franchise and are qualified to earn actual money! Earn the smiles of our customers with your valuable service to society at minimum wage!”
Orientation Copyright © 2026 bloodytwine.com Matthew L. Marlott
The Interview Copyright © 2020 100 More Tall Tales Matthew L. Marlott
The Interview Copyright © 2026 bloodytwine.com Matthew L. Marlott
Note: The image for this story was generated via artificial intelligence courtesy of SendFame.com and modified courtesy of Canva.com.
