ISEKAI INDUCTION - PART II

Tick… Tick… Tick…

I fumble forward in the dark.

Tik. Tik. Tik.

Banging my shin on a chair.

Tktktktktktktktktk~

An old projector splutters to life.

5

There’s just enough light to make out the room is empty otherwise.

4

I sit on the only seat in the place that I still hurt myself on.

3

The film reel whirling like my thoughts.

2

This is so extra for a bit of in-house training on how to process returns.

1

Silence.

0

…

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!

A horn rings out. An orchestra swells behind. A logo emblazons the stained pull down screen like it’s a movie production company.

Wait… is that a logo for just the Returns Dept-

“Hello, and welcome to The Returns Agency!”

Agency?

“As one of the greatest heroes your world has to offer, you have been recruited by us to undertake even greater deeds.”

Instant tension headache. My brow knotted in a frown the rest of my face refuses to give in to.

“But how is this possible, I hear you ask!”

No, I was going to ask, ‘What has this got to do with returning office supplies?’

“Well, we don’t know…”

I can hear every sound effect for a failed punchline play in my mind at once.

“…isekai incidents are just a fact of life.”

Isekai?!.

“The universe is vast and full of physics defying phenomena. Now multiply that by all the infinite timelines of every parallel dimension, and you’re bound to end up with a few errors.”

I’m struggling to make heads or tails of the training video and get restless in my crappy plastic classroom seat.

“That’s where you come in!”

Oh! Finally… now they get to the point.

Leaning forward in my chair as if doing so will help me understand what the hell is going on.

“When The Returns Agency identifies someone or something that has ended up in the wrong time or place, we send a hero out to locate and return them to where and when they should be.”

And… they’ve lost me again. Is ‘Hero’ some weird corporate title like ‘Officer’ or ‘Champion’ they give to basically pointless roles?

“Thankfully, most isekai’s are harmless…”

There’s that word again… some fantasy thing, right? My parents love that crap.

“...and although they can occasionally lead to positive changes for the worlds they end up in, it’s our duty to deal with those that could send shock-waves through the multiverse, affecting several timelines if left unchecked.”

This is sounding more like a sci-fi now… should I be taking notes?

After dithering with the zipper on my bag for a second, I decide not to bother. There’s not quite enough light, and I’d likely miss something by rummaging.

“Your life in your world may be over…”

Hang on! What?

“…but a hero’s work is never done...”

I peer out into the shadows around me, trying desperately to find someone to ask about this absolute mess of an induction film. Not even a smidge of grey stands out in the inky black.

“...Welcome to the Returners!”

Soft Muzak plays over the credits.

The projector limps tiredly to the end of its reel.

Somehow that was anticlimactic... What? Those aren’t credits!

I jump to my feet, realizing the wall of text was all small print. Unvoiced at that. Filled, from what little I can make out, with addenda, exemptions, and subclauses upon subclauses.

“May I extend my sincerest greetings and salutations.”

Brown suit!

Nearly jumping out of my skin at the materialization of the man who brought me here.

“Please allow me to introduce myself, officially…”

Click.

“Hiss!” My eyes burn at the lights returning without warning.

“…I am Janus, Head of Recruitment, and… Yes?” He politely, but exasperatedly, breaks from his spiel.

My hand is raised high in question before I’ve even formulated in my head what exactly I’m about to ask, “So, err… what does any of this have to do with processing returns for office supplies?”

His impeccable composure, rocked for no more than a nanosecond at most, remains intact, “Absolutely nothing.” No smirk. No hint of sarcasm or condescension. Just the same pleasant, even tone. 

“Right. Then everything in the video is real?” My line of questioning, piquing what might pass for Janus’ interest.

 “Yes.” A quiver where an eyebrow should be.

“I am to be transported to different worlds, solve whatever interdimensional problem they have going on, and come back to a hero’s welcome, over and over?” As much as that sounds amazing, some random guy isn’t going to last long out in the big wide universe. 

“Yes.” Some shadow of uncertainty entering his voice. 

“OK. Thanks for clearing all that up.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and straighten myself up.

“Well then, allow me to-“ I cut Janus off before he can usher us through the big double doors at the back of the room. 

I could have sworn we came through a single on the side? That’s the only entry now, though. Well, whatever…

“I would like to formally decline your offer and request that I be returned to my part-time job at the office in which you found me.” Leaning forward in an apologetic bow throughout, I lift my head to look up at the tall man in front of me, “I assume there is a welcome party all set up through there,” I point at what more specifically looks like a one way fire door; big metal push bar lock across the middle. No way to peek in here. No way to escape either, “right?”

“Yes...” emotion finally infiltrates his professional demeanour. “…and what do you mean by decline?” 

I lower my head again. “Well, seeing as how you’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t know how good it’s going to look for you turning up to some champions of the multiverse shindig with me on your arm. I’m just a temp…”

“A temp?” somehow the Head of Recruitment seems unfamiliar with the word.

I slip the Temp Agency ID out of my pocket and offer it up to the almost frustrated recruiter, “I don’t know who or what you think I am, but I am certainly no hero. My name is Ken. I am a temporary worker.”

Janus dangles the lanyard before his eyes. Brows furrowing, if ever there were any. It spins a little, too much for him to read right away. 

“I get called in to cover illness, injury, any form of short-term absence. Sometimes I do longer contracts like maternity leave, if needs be.” 

He snatches the card out of its holder. Scrutinising every millimetre with increasing concern. 

“I’m still deciding on what to do at university, so I thought I’d get some real world experience first, y’know? Save up a bit, try my hand at dating, then go to the best cram school money can buy to make my college application really shine.” His silence, and my desire to get out of whatever madness I have fallen into, making my mouth run a little more than I would like; than may even be professional. But, it can’t hurt to over egg the pudding… really pull at his heart strings. “You get me, right? If we go through there, I’d just make a fool of myself. That wouldn’t look good on the Head of Recruitment, nay… The entire Returns Agency! Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Having half way straightened myself up, still remaining just below Janus’ eye line, my face contorted in a somewhat pleading expression – my mask of professionalism on the cusp of cracking – I prepare to lead the negotiation to its conclusion.

“I can only think of one solution, and it would fix everything…” His eyes flicker from my ID to my face, “…if you send me back now, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened, and you’ll still have time to go find the hero you were meant to recruit before the end of the work day...” then back to my ID again, “deal?” 

And that’s how you do it. If you’re going to bring a problem to management, you damn well better have a solution ready to present to them as well-

“Can’t.” 

“Why?”

“Too late.” 

“How?” 

“Just is.” 

“What?” 

“The Returns Agency does not make mistakes.” 

Suddenly he strides forward, thrusts my agency card alongside my head, and stares at the two of us. His defined features forming for the first time. 

“You are the right person.” His tone as matter of fact as near always. 

“Whaddya mean? Did you not hear what I said?” I had been forced to lean back by his abrupt closeness, but I raise myself up towards him again. 

“Irrelevant.” He waves a hand dismissively. The double-doors fading out of existence, as though the wall itself had reabsorbed a blemish, as another – this time narrower and somewhat disguised to blend in with the faux wood panelling of the room – frames itself and falls slightly ajar. “That door has closed. Besides…” 

What? Figuratively? Literally? The door we just came through closed, but you just dissolved one and opened another, so… help me out here!

“You are The Daemahken.” 

Oh, shit! How does he know that name? I’ve never used it on any documents. Not a single ID, qualification, or piece of paper has been cured with that name, other than my birth certificate. What were my parents thinking?!.

“Look, it’s not what you think! I can explain! Please, just listen to me…” I flop and sulk openly, but am frog marched through the poorly secured exit. 

Janus, tall and assured, barely lets my feet touch the ground. “HR will know what to do.”