Our Final Contestant

Morgan

As Morgan entered the building, closing her dripping umbrella, she began to realize just how big leagues she must’ve been playing in, now. Black marble inlet with gold lined the floors of the frankly massive lobby. The lack of windows somehow made the place feel even more titanic in scale, as if the building alone took up the entire city block.

A deep inhale of cool, clean air filled Morgan with a satisfaction she did not think she would feel when she was first offered the job. Her position was below her worth, certainly, but this place was already a cut above any company she’d ever seen. A year or two from now, when she made it to manager, she could tell she’d be really set up.

Morgan clicked her heels over to the receptionist, a young blonde woman with purple eyes. This did not strike Morgan as odd. For some reason, what did strike Morgan as odd was how normal she found the purple eyes. She knew logically that they should be strange and unnatural, so why then did she have no reaction to them?

Realizing her confusion had spread to her face, Morgan stuck a finger into the collar of her turtle neck and gently tugged it to help cool herself. “Uh, sorry. My name’s Morgan Beck? I have orientation, today.”

The receptionist smiled and pointed to the marble wall behind her which jutted out from the right wall of the building at a ninety degree angle. “The elevator’s just behind me. You’ll be on floor 69.” She answered, straightening her blazer so Morgan could read the nametag on her breast pocket. Destiny.

Destiny reached under her desk and produced a steel rectangle similar in size to a credit card attached to a plain black lanyard. “Your keycard, Mrs. Beck. Welcome to the team.”

“Thank you, Destiny.” Morgan nodded, grabbing her bag from the floor and began to walk around the wall. Sure must be a tall building to have 69 stories, Morgan mused. Though she wondered why her guide for the architecture tour the week prior had made no mention of such a building.

Rounding the wall, she was confronted with a much shallower room than she had anticipated, seeming almost crammed. It was as if the sheer depth the building appeared to have had from the front door was merely an illusion. And was there really only the one elevator? For a building this size it seemed strange. Maybe there were more hidden someplace else.

Instead of a button, there was an RFID scanner in the wall next to the elevator door. Pressing her newly acquired keycard into it caused the box to beep and the doors to slide open. Stepping in, Morgan pressed the button labeled 69 robotically, as if this were her millionth time doing it. It took a few seconds of decompression breathing for Morgan to notice yet another oddity.

There were 100 floor buttons. No, that could not be correct. 100 floors? Morgan was obsessed with architecture and thus knew for a fact that the only buildings in America with 100 or more floors were in New York and Chicago. The tallest in Seattle, the Columbia Center, was only 76 stories tall. Maybe it was just a mass produced elevator of some kind? Or maybe… surely there was some explanation that she would love to ask her new boss about.

Asking questions like that would be a good way to break the ice, she figured. Make an impression of her attention to detail and show a personal side of herself— her love of architecture— to build rapport with her boss. There were many things she wished to ask her new boss to help establish herself. Where’s the best food, what opportunities are there for extra work, what do we do, what’s the name of this company?

That was the thing that Morgan struggled with most. How little she seemed to be affected by her lack of information. She couldn’t find any information about this company in her research. And despite g paperwork and emailing back and forth with recruiters and HR, she still didn’t actually know anything about the job aside from that it was in Seattle, paid $85,000 plus bonuses, and that she would be reporting to a manager. She knew she should be extremely concerned, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to feel any more strongly than mild suspicion about any of it.

After the long elevator ride up, Morgan felt it lurch before the doors slid open. Standing just behind them was a redheaded woman in a fine grey suit. Her smile was tight and professional, her eyes a lemon yellow which Morgan knew she should find peculiar. A slender hand extended towards her as Morgan stepped off the elevator.

“Welcome, Mrs. Beck. I’m Talia Makarovka, CEO. Please choose a cubicle not already occupied and deposit your things. Then proceed to the meeting room along the right wall where I will begin your orientation in 30 minutes.”