ISEKAI INDUCTION - PART I

By the end of the day I will have been isekai’d.

I don’t know it yet, but my life is about to change forever. Like, all of time and space forever, not just a normal human lifetime. But, right now, well…

“Who wants cake?”

Kill me.

Stuffed inside a mascot suit, it’s about noon in late Spring, and I’m surrounded by a dozen or more sticky-handed monsters.

Kill me now.

Their screams are near deafening. Barely dampened by the foam of my costume. Incessant with their impossible demands.

Shriiieeeek!

A deluge of drool and snot swamps my co-worker. Her far less protective - actually kinda skimpy - clown costume, bright and colourful, like a flame to these vicious moths. The birthday cake in her hands at serious risk of capsize.

What do I do? If I try to escape, they’ll just chase me. If I pick my colleague up to flee, they’ll see her as a toy even more…

“Bonky…” eyes watering, threatening to run rivers through her thick white face paint, Bonny stares at me pleadingly, “do something!”

I must sacrifice myself…

The swirling vortex of children, turning the soft-play area into a harrowing pit of misery and despair, on the brink of scarring a poor part-timer for life.

…to become a hero…

I scoop up a child under each pudgy arm and fill my lungs with the soup thick air of my costume.

…I must become the villain!

“Bwahahahahahaha… You’ll never save your friends now!” and with that, I waddle as quickly as the mascot suit will allow. Which is nowhere near fast enough to outpace a horde of kids hopped up on birthday treats and a lack of parental supervision. I do not make it far.

“GET HIM!!!”

The tidal wave of tiny bodies recedes from Bonny and rushes across the room after me.

“KILL BONKY!!!”

The captives beat and claw at my fuzzy armour. Their would-be saviours nipping at my heels.

“Thank you, Ken!” mouths my grateful co-star, as she tiptoes out of the room. Flipping her skirt with a wink as the door closes behind her.

Then, with the unbridled force of an entire elementary school classroom - minus the two I use as shields - the tsunami of children hits me. Consciousness waning as the foam carapace of my character costume crushes against me.

Guess I should be careful what I wish for…

There were about twenty witnesses to my death and not a one of them snitched.

Only a clown lamented my passing.

Worth it!

* * *

Lucky for me, we have showers in the staff locker room, so I strip, wash off the cabbage stew stink from the mascot suit, and get changed before leaving for my next part-time job.

Unluckily, because of how much my cute colleague apologises for what happened during the birthday party, I end up leaving later than I’d have liked. Bonny’s out of clown persona anxieties getting the better of her.

I'll have to ask her on a date, later, for my noble sacrifice.

The resultant rush across town endangering my clean clothes with another bout of sweat under the midday sun.

Vrooooooooom~

A truck blasts past me, the vortex effect pulling me towards it momentarily.

What an asshole!

The roads are mostly peaceful around Clown Town - Soft Play & Parties. I mean, you’d hope so, in case some kid gets loose from the place, but I guess you get dangerous drivers everywhere once in a while. As my thoughts turn over in anger at the truck not taking care for pedestrians, I feel my foot slip under me.

Shi-

I catch a lamppost in time to steady myself.

God I hope that wasn’t dog-

A banana peel.

“You’re kidding me?!.” I shake my head in disbelief.

It feels like today is gearing up to be one long comedy routine. I grab a tissue out of my pocket and wrap the trip hazard up to put in a bin later.

“Heave! Heave! Heave!”

A group of workmen pulling at a hoist, call out as one to stay in time.

Is that a piano?

I cross the street, not wanting to get in their way, narrowly avoid another speeding lorry driver, and end up having to weave around some ladders instead. My thoughts circling back to how cartoonish everything seems to be getting. Like the universe is conspiring against my making it to work on time.

Beeeeeep-beepbeepbeepbeep~

My alarm goes off and I scramble for my phone. Stopping on a corner to fumble through my bag just as the PlotStation loading chime crashes into reality back across the road.

Beeeeeep-beepbeepbeepbeep~

The search momentarily halted to see the baby grand in pieces, keys in the gutter, legs akimbo, not far from where I would have been passing the labourers.

Beeeeeep-beepbeepbeepbeep~

Realisation hitting me like the piano was meant to. I’d wished too hard for something, or someone, to kill me this morning. I had tempted fate and now my prayers were being answered. My journey to work having transformed into my last walk to the gallows; if I’m not careful.

Beeeeeep-beepbe-

As I finally find my phone and cancel the alarm, adrenaline having already taken a stranglehold on my senses, I notice a third truck, just around the corner. One headlight peeking out like it’s waiting to pounce. My survival instinct in overdrive. “Yeah, I see you!” I mumble to myself and wait for the lights to change. The lorry, forced to move on, begrudgingly obeys the speed limit this time, and disappears down the street.

I’m making good time. Should still arrive early. Might be best to eat something while I walk, though. Not gonna have time there and can’t on the train, so-

I pull a home-made sandwich out of my bag while waiting for the next rotation on the traffic lights. They change before I can get more than a couple of bites in. No more articulated vehicles to be found.

“Phew!” sighing with relief, I wolf down the last third, struggling to swallow.

There’s an old lady doddering along, who doesn’t seem like she’ll make it across the road in time, so I give her a hand. Eyeballing every car threatening to rev their engines if we take a moment longer than our green light allows. The sandwich still stuck between my teeth.

“Thank you young man.” She coos, dentures gleaming in the sun.

I go to flash her a grin of my own and attempt to mime that it was no problem - even though I’ll probably be scraping my arrival at the office pretty fine by now - then the sodden ball of crust and tuna mayo rolls over my windpipe. Covering my mouth, I try to hide how bad I’m choking, and wave the old lady’s concerns away. But, panic setting in, I can feel my face go red… then purple.

This is it? This is how it happens? Not a traffic accident? Not a trip or fall? Not some madman with a knife, or plant pot from the top floor of an apartment building? Betrayed by my own damn packed lunch?

The old lady tuts and wallops me on the back.

“Happens all the time at my age.” Beaming at having been able to return the favour to me so quickly, she waves her hand over her shoulder, and walks off down the street like a hero on her way to the next person in need. High-noon glimmering through her silvery hair, turning it gold.

I cough and splutter my thanks. Heaving deeper breaths than I ever thought possible.

Granny, if only I could be as great as you someday-

Vroooooooom~

A fourth lorry skims the curb and I feel my butt tighten as its wake whips the inches between us.

“Why are there so many trucks out today?!.” My anger quickly tempered by the rising fear for my own safety,  not to mention the possibilibity of docked pay.

Quick walking to make up for lost time, while still trying to avoid bursting into a sweat, I cautiously creep my way to the train station. Other crap like toppling piles of crates, kittens in trees, careening cyclists, and even a toilet out of a god damn aeroplane crashing into the sidewalk like a meteor, keep causing delays and shaving years off my life from terror, but I still make it to my platform alive… somehow.

Unfortunately - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!! - I silently scream to myself as the lunchtime rush swells around me, I missed my train.

I wanted to be at the office half an hour early, now I’ll only get fifteen minutes to chat with the cute Team Leader in Accounts!

I grumble internally. Oblivious to the amassing throng all about. More bodies than even the worst children’s party. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck, making me flinch sideways a foot, elbowing the guy next to me.

Ruuumble~

A surge from the back of the crowd.

Ruuuuuumble~

The Salaryman that would have been right behind me, had I not stepped to the side, falls forward.

Ruuuuuuuuumble~

I and another person on the platform reach out to steady the suited and bespectacled fellow, teetering on the very lip of the platform. My eyes glued to the spot I would have been. Metal screeching on the rails and the gentle tinkle of an announcement over the P.A. system bring me back to my senses enough to see the man brush himself off, thanks us both, and step aboard the train I would have been under.

The flow of passengers carries me into the carriage.

Their heat and closeness, no comfort at all.

I would have been under this.

My thoughts swirl and cloud with poison. I can barely manage polite smiles and nods with the man I elbowed by accident, or the one who would have pushed me under the train - had I not flinched and nudged the other - whenever a jolt in the tracks causes us to make eye contact.

Stations come and go. Nothing registers.

Somehow… I make it to the office without a single incident.

“A quarter of an hour to spare.” just like I predicted. No pride, only zombified acknowledgement of a plain fact. With a deep breath, I plaster a business professional expression across my face, and stride up to the receptionist.

What a sight for sore eyes…

A petite girl with a neat brown bob and the perfect office lady combo of shirt, skirt, and stockings is sat at a wide desk. She must be new, not the usual old guy in a sweater vest. I offer a jovial greeting as I make my way to the lifts. The girl gives me a bit of a blank stare in return, picks up the phone, grunts at whoever answers, then goes back to spacing out.

…shame about the personality.

I know for some, work is just a means to make money. They don’t wanna be there, or do whatever it is they’re doing. Everyone needs to keep a roof over their head and food in their belly at the end of the day. However, some level of professionalism is an absolute necessity. My internal monologue rambles on about the grease that lubes the wheels of commerce and other geriatric platitudes while I wait for my ride to the fourth floor.

Clunk.

Creak.

Bing.

The arrival of the elevator is an experience to say the least. Even if the little bell that rings to signal the doors opening is relatively pleasing - like a Skinner Box stimulus - you could carbon date the interior of the damn thing all the way back to the 70’s. Its slow ascent, marked with the occasional poorly oiled squeak, fills my heart with dread.

“Floor four. Please mind the doors.”

Although the cheery announcement feels cute and kitsch, the moment I shift my weight, the whole cabin lurches. Brakes failing. Lights flickering. After every attempt on my life between Clown Town and Generic Office Supply Co. this finally feels like the one.

I close my eyes in acceptance.

Lamenting only that I had not made a decision about what I actually wanted to do with the life I was about to lose. No specialism for university, nor career to aim for… just a few years of temporary gigs under my belt, and nowhere near a direction in life. Not even a girl-

“Uhm… excuse me?”

Slowly opening my eyes again, a young guy with a slightly awkward but cheerful grin meets my gaze, my hands still gripping the safety rail.

“You OK?”

“Err… yeah, sorry.” My face, having drained of blood moments ago, flushes with embarrassment, “Just got a little dizzy, y’know?”

“I get you.” He chuckles awkwardly, “You getting off, or?”

Smiling and nodding for the umpteenth time in the last hour - more than I’d usually muster in a week doing customer service jobs - I exit the elevator and the man, in his garish mustard suit, exchanges places with me.

Great job Ken…

* * *

I sit at my desk and while away the afternoon doing paperwork.

No time to take a break and chat with Kia, the fiery Accounts Lead, like I'd hoped.

Plenty of time to brood over the worst lunch hour of my life.

I nip to the bathroom halfway through my shift and when I get back…

“Hi, we’re going to need you down in the Returns Department for the rest of the day.” Some faceless suit I’ve never seen before drops me with an overtime request, pre-approved by my Temp Agency. “We’ll pop you through a quick induction, then get you right to it. Follow me!”

What is with this guy’s pep?

I quickly tidy up my desk, having completed the file I was working on before going to the toilet, then collect my personal effects.

“Right this way.” My guide, taking off at a fair pace, clears the room in a few strides. I have to, yet again, quick walk to keep up.

“So, Returns, guess I’ll be processing, well… returns? Logistics stuff, right?” I didn’t actually know Generic Co. had their own Returns Department. Though, it would make sense, dealing with stationary supplies and IT equipment.

“Oh yes.” The mahogany two piece and tie ahead of me replies as briskly as his gait, “Logistics.”

Not one for conversation. Guess whatever training thing they’re sending me to will clear things up.

We wind our way through more corridors than I thought the office had this floor. More than I thought they had in the entire building. My feet actually ache a little from our unforgiving march.

Where the hell are we even going?!.

Between staring at the floor, the other guy’s back, or somewhere around his shoes while scanning between the two, I finally take notice of the walls around me. The lack of doors. Signs and lights and windows, all a distant memory. Fluorescence and functional in all its forms. Even the beige utilitarian carpet never seemed so… there.

Thump.

“Sorry.” I walk right into the brown clad man.

“It's happened before. It’ll happen again.” A pragmatic smile filling the void of his features.

At the end of the corridor, a door I'd have thought would've been a fire exit from its position, stands firm below a one word plaque: RETURNS

“Right, well, off you go. Induction’s starting.” And, with that, I am thrust through the door... into darkness.

I was about to find out that I had been isekai’d, for the first time.