He did seem familiar, now. I squinted, but still couldn’t place him. I heard myself say, “Nice to meet you,” but my mind became preoccupied with his remark. Good performance? Good? He was being kind. Compared to everyone else at Juilliard, I’d been mediocre at best. I never would have made it all the way to graduation on musical talent alone, especially after what I’d done.
My skin burned hot. The faces in the train suddenly came into focus—faces I’d paid no attention to when I boarded, and otherwise wouldn’t have inspected in such detail. A man with lined cheeks. A high school student staring at his phone. I looked everywhere but at him, because he’d turned the tables and invaded the part of my life that I tried so hard each day to escape.
When the train stopped and passengers alighted, I pointed to the pole, but his hand was slow to release me. This caused me to study his eyes again, only to find he was studying mine. And he didn’t move on like I expected him to. Instead, he stood there waiting for my affirmation.
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“Where do you perform now?”
“I don’t.” I winced after I spoke, because I hadn’t expected my voice to sound so clipped. I immediately felt the need to apologize; he was being polite, and he seemed genuinely kind, far from the assertive man I’d suspected him to be. “Sorry. It’s just that I don’t play or perform anywhere these days.”
“Did I say something wrong, Aubrey?” His brows knitted speculatively.
He said my name far too casually, as if he’d always known me. I searched for a comfortable reply but couldn’t think of one.
Craning my neck to look through the subway car’s windows, I noticed that Grove Street was the next stop and prepared to move toward the doors, but not before trying to redeem myself.
“Thanks for your help. By the way, I love Douglas Adams. Forty-two is the meaning of life. Bye.” The words rushed past my lips as I tried to make my escape seem as friendly as possible.
Dashing past him off the train, I slipped into the crowd. I ran through the underground tunnel, aware that the time for my lunch break had ended a while ago. In an instant, I had become just another NYC commuter, minding my business and not anyone else’s. I couldn’t stop running, though. If I did, I’d come apart.
Aubrey
As I ran to the employee entrance, my thoughts were still on Paul Crane. Why did his name sound so familiar?
For well over a year, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about my time at Juilliard. I should have expected that even in a big city like NYC I’d run into someone that would bring up my past.
My exchange with Paul had freaked me out, but it was over now. It hadn’t gone badly on my end. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for Paul, because he’d ended up with his suit jacket creased up from his efforts, and maybe a book spoiler to boot. I chuckled to myself, lifting my mood.
A glance at my watch marked me twenty minutes late—not as bad as I’d thought, but not good if my bosses noticed. I already planned to work late tonight. I was about to walk into the building when my friend, Quinn, from programming emerged behind one of the massive potted plants.
His polished boot stepped in my way, blocking my path, as he clutched an e-cigarette between two fingers. He didn’t smoke but took fake smoke breaks as a protest to the unquestioned breaks that management permitted all smoking employees. His Emono Games T-shirt sometimes gave off a faint scent of the newly legal pungent variety of smokes.
“You still have interview hair, rookie.” His blond head gave a critical shake after giving me a good once-over. Quinn never dressed the part, but often expressed comments on clothing that showed he knew a lot about fashion.
My green eyes grew wide as I yanked away the decorative comb that held my long, dark-brown hair in a French twist. The last thing I needed was for someone at Emono to suspect I’d used my lunch to interview for another job. I gave my head a wild shake before taking the rainbow hair tie Quinn had fished off the end of his own long blond hair.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll give it back to you when I get upstairs.”
Quinn shrugged. “No worries, I have more. How did the interview go?”
I gave it a thumbs down, earning a nod that marked the end of our conversation for now. We headed into the Emono Games building, which occupied five floors at 99 Hudson. It was one of the newer luxurious concrete and glass skyscrapers stretching to defying heights along the waterfront.
Once we were on the elevator, I reached to press the button for the seventh floor, but Quinn pushed the sixth.
“Did you hear? We have another all-staff lottery meeting right now,” he said.
I tensed and fumbled through my bag, looking for my phone. Once in my hand I stared down at the screen. The message had come when I was on the train, but even if I’d known then, I wouldn’t have been ready. The lottery was Emono Games’ version of The Hunger Games, played in an all-staff meeting. They sent all employees to two conference rooms. Being assigned the “good” room meant you stayed on through the current project. In the other, you were told to pack up your things and leave immediately. Naturally, contracting jobs like mine were the most vulnerable.
“Don’t look so broken up,” Quinn said as we walked out of the elevator. “I checked the email group list. You’re in mine.” He was not just a programmer, but a good one. Programmers in our department were sacred. If they were in your all-staff meetings, it usually meant your job was safe and you could breathe a sigh of relief.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. Even though I was looking elsewhere for long-term work, I hoped to stay the duration of the Absolution project so I could earn the big bonuses promised to every employee, regardless of their employment status. I had been counting on them to bail me out of the financial hole I found myself in.
I let out a sigh of relief as Quinn and I blended into the crowd in the conference room that held over half of all Emono’s employees. We listened to a series of announcements, recognizing the delay for what it was: time. It gave those who had to clear their desks a chance to leave without lowering staff morale. We were the lucky ones… at least until the next round of cuts came around.
When the meeting ended, we took the stairs instead of waiting in line with the groups by the elevators. I turned down Quinn’s offer for a coffee and continued to my office, noting the now-empty cubicles and offices I passed along the way. I wasn’t social, but I knew there was a cut in almost every department except for mine—audio—but that could just mean they hadn’t decided who they wanted to let go of yet.
After dumping my backpack by the door, I immediately sat at my desk to put on my headphones and pour myself into my assigned work. Everything in the game needed sound, and I was one of the five people tasked with mixing and mastering the feature effects, the vocals and the music. Today I had to come up with the sound of a generator revving up, a dog barking in the distance, combat boots running through puddles, and rain beating down on a tin roof. Rain was complicated; it would take some time to blend it into all the other sounds already present.
With this in mind, I started researching the source material in our sound library. Later, I went to the staff kitchenette to refill my coffee mug and noticed a group gathered in the office of our audio lead manager, Logan.