A Disorienting Orientation

I had spent a few minutes checking my ransacked bags to ensure nothing was missing before continuing with Nika and the others to the university. The rest of the girls were amiably talking about something or other, but I was too mentally exhausted by everything that had happened to pay attention. It was barely the middle of the day, and I was already about to collapse.

I checked my watch. We made it to Saint Isidore’s University with a cool five minutes to spare. Considering where I was only a couple hours previously, It was a miracle that I even made it on time.

I turned to Nika. “Seriously, thanks for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I said.

“W-well, it’s like I said before. It’s common sense to help those in trouble,” she stammered out while turning away. Was she embarrassed? I didn’t see any real reason why she should, but my instinct suggested it was probably due to the growing smirks the other three girls had on for some reason.

“Well, I’ll definitely need more of your help in the future, so if you don’t mind, could I get your number?” I unlocked my smartphone and created a new contact before handing it over to Nika. The girls crowded around her.

“So this is one of those touchscreen devices,” Io said. I think this is the first time I’ve heard her speak more than one word. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”

“Really? They’re really common across the world. I’m pretty sure most phones are like that.”

No one responded. They were too engrossed watching Nika handle my phone, struggling to enter in her phone number. I was worried she’d spend all the remaining time I had fumbling with the screen, but after a couple minutes, she managed to successfully enter it. I made sure to add the extension number at the beginning as she gave it back.

“You should cherish this moment, Nika,” Melissa piped in, “It’s the first and last time a guy will ever ask for your number.”

Once again, Nika was immediately riled up at that. How she still had energy to spare after that chase from almost half an hour ago was a mystery to me. As much as I would have liked to stay and see hilarity ensue, I was almost about to be late. I waved goodbye to the group and rushed up the grand stairs to the main building.

The building itself was incredibly grand, having been built toward the end of the medieval era. Giant Corinthian columns with ornate etchings at the top and base of the pillars lined the entryway, holding up a relief sculpture that depicted some sort of deep, symbolic scene. The only windows from this angle were closer towards the exotic dome that capped off the entire building. Considering the tools of the era, this was quite the impressive feat of engineering.

I entered the building, and the inside, to my astonishment, was even more impressive. Elaborate and glamorous mosaics covered the walls, shining even more brilliantly by reflecting the natural light coming in from the clerestories. But I didn’t have time to dawdle and admire the art. I had an orientation to attend!

Running with all might I managed to find the designated room with seconds to spare. To my surprise there was no one there. I ran out to check if this was the right room. It was, so I decided to wait. And I waited. For about half an hour, I bided my time until suddenly the door opened. A woman wearing a dark uniform walked into the room. Her dark hair was tied into a bun, and she wore a dark navy uniform. She spoke up.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was held up by a previous meeting. I hope you weren’t too troubled waiting so long?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I replied. It actually was, but complaining about it to her face wouldn’t help my reputation at all, so pretending everything was fine was the only real course of action.

“That’s good to hear. Let me introduce myself: I’m the international studies coordinator. My job is to help ensure exchange students like yourself can easily transition to studying in Miklagardia. Let me give you a tour of the facilities.”

I followed her for quite some time, half-heartedly listening to her lectures on the history of the building. I was more focused on surreptitiously planting the small collection of bugs I had stashed away in my pockets while I had the chance. They were magnificent little devices. Small enough to be easily concealed and adhesive enough to stick onto almost any surface with ease. Inside each device was a high-quality microphone that could easily record the lowest whisperer from across the room.

This continued on for a few more hours. I sure was glad I ate beforehand. At the pace we were going I genuinely thought I’d run out of recorders. We came back to our starting point. The coordinator stopped in front of me before turning around.

“And that concludes the grand tour,” she declared. “Any question?”

“Well, actually, yes. There wasn’t anyone here for the entire time. I thought classes were in session,” I said.

“Oh, no, we’re on break for another month. You should have received that information in the package we sent.”

“I did—my…parents they—they received the package and said I had to get to be at orientation today, so I assumed the term had already started.” Not like there was any website I could check. Philistines.

The woman silently laughed to herself, “We have these orientations every month. They must have wanted you to get acclimated to Miklagardia before starting. Aren’t you too old to have your parents take care of that for you?” I tried to keep my face neutral, but I’m sure by her response I was failing miserably. “Was that everything?”

“Yeah, that was.. all I had to ask.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll now show you to your accommodations.”

I sighed. It was time to carry around all my junk again. Thankfully, it’d be the last time I needed to do this for a while.

And so she guided me out of the building, down the long steps back to street level, through the busy crowds until we got to our destination. It was a quaint little building, not ideal to live in, but it’d make do. Stepping inside and throwing all my bags to the floor, I could see that it was actually fairly spacious, with a large common area, a kitchenette, bathrooms, and rooms across multiple floors. Hey, if I was staying here by myself, this would be awesome!

“You’ll have the building to yourself for a few weeks until the rest of the exchange students arrive,” said the coordinator. And I was brought crashing back down to earth once more. On the bright side, I had the place all to myself for a while.

The woman handed me a stack of papers before turning to leave.

“That’s a list of everything you’ll need and some recommended activities to get you acquainted with everyday life here. My number is listed there if you need anything. Sorry, but I’m late to another meeting! Got to run!” exclaimed the coordinator hurriedly as she practically flew out the door. I didn’t get it. What meeting? As far as I could tell, I was the only international student here. On second thought, I didn’t actually know that, and there’s most likely administrative work to get the rest sorted. Not that it directly concerned me. At this moment, I had better things to do.

I quickly stormed into one of the rooms, dragging my luggage on the floor behind me, and proceeded to unpack my things. I wanted to flop onto the bed and collapse right then and there, but an unpleasant memory suddenly resurfaced. That’s right. I had to make a call back home. I cringed as I remembered the interaction with the woman whom I am forced to publicly acknowledge as my mother at the payphone earlier this morning. I was in for a real thrashing, but if I didn’t call this evening, I was destined for even worse. With a heavy groan, I looked for the building’s Wi-Fi password. With my plan not working, it’s the only way I could even connect with anyone.

Hoping beyond hope I could have an excuse to go to bed early, I skimmed through the documents in my hand and sadly found the Wi-Fi password. At least I didn’t have to live in the Stone Age. I reluctantly pulled out all my devices and made sure to connect them to the Internet, testing them and calculating the download and upload speeds, which were surprisingly good. I made sure to store all my clothes properly in their drawers. I organized all my belongings in functional and then alphabetical order.

Finally, I ran out of tasks to stall for time. From a glance outside, I could tell that the sun was already setting. I couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Opening my phone, I stared at the contact for “Home” for a good while. Minutes must have passed before I mustered my courage to hit the call button.

A dial tone rang. A male voice responded at the other end.

“John! It’s good to finally hear from you! Your mother and I were worried sick this entire time! How was everything? Did you run into trouble?”

“Hey Ols—”

“John! Is that any way to talk to your father?”

“Ah, right, Dad. Sorry about that,” I apologized.

Internally, I stifled something between a laugh and a scream. This situation was screwed beyond all belief, for the man on the other end of the phone was a commanding intelligence officer in the Ustasian military. That’s right. The people I’m forced to call my parents are actually my case officers.