circle7 | Introductory Communication Studies 101

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Introductory Communication Studies 101

It wasn't like any of the decor on his home planet, which was, served to say, non-existent and in the few cases where it wasn't, almost painfully efficient. 'Decor' was a foreign concept that his home society hadn't found any need for and therefore had quickly and thoughtlessly abandoned. That wasn't to say, however, that the environment was gaudy. There was an understated sense of class and style in the few furnishings that decorated the waiting lobby, noticeable in the fine color and quality of the polished wooden doors, in the understated color of the paneled walls, the low-pile textile covering the floor - not that Calibri could tell.

"My essay was about the volunteer Peace Corp mission I participated in during my senior year of Intermediary Education," said one of the other students awaiting an interview, leaning forward on his plush-cushioned seat. His tone of voice was boastful, proud. He was waving his hands animatedly while the other student listened with an air of forced interest. "It was a third-world planet, you see! They hadn't even settled on a way to collect solar energy, can you imagine?"

How curious, thought Calibri, sliding the toe of his shoe across the wine-colored carpet. What's the purpose of putting something soft under your shoes?

"Nathaniel H. Calibri," intoned the mechanical announcer, tacked to a wall adjacent to the double doors leading to the would-be-benefactor of whoever won the scholarship competition. The doors swung open automatically, wide and synchronized with each other, before the previous interviewee walked dejectedly out, dragging his feet on the carpet.

Calibri stood up as his name was called, neither intimidated nor nervous. (He only briefly wondered if that was the purpose of the plush flooring after all - friction? Maybe the generated heat was recycled and re-purposed elsewhere on the ship.) He bypassed the other students without even a glance of acknowledgement and strode through the entrance into an even more ornate office - brightly lit by glass windows covered with sheer curtains and an entirely inefficient use of space, considering how far apart all the furniture was.

He strode right up to the large desk occupying the center of the room, careful to drag his feet as much as possible as to provide the maximum friction and contribution (he might as well, while he was here). "Present, sir."

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The man at the desk didn't raise his head, seemingly distracted with tapping down the face of his tablet device with a stylus pen, but he did wave his hand when Calibri spoke. "Sit," he ushered, his palm open towards the empty velvet-clad chair at the face of the desk. It was a big chair, with high arm rests and a rotating base. It was outdone only by the chair on the opposing side of the desk, the one occupied by the man. It was wide enough to fit the man's broad shape easily, with enough excess space to frame his shoulders, and it's height was so much that it cast a shadow over the desk.

"Let's see... Nathaniel Calibri, is it?" The man said, finally raising his head. He had a strong face, a hard jawline and a fierce pair of eyes. Well, eye. One of them, judging by the laze and the dull reflection of light, was certainly glass. Surrounding the glass eye, and flaring up around the entire right side of his face, was a large, leathery scar, bearing a likeness to a particularly craggy island continent.

"Ah, yes! An excellent essay, as I remember it. The only one I finished, actually. But let's not go telling other students that."

Doing as he was told, Calibri was immediately struck with exactly how large everything about the office was, including the chair, which swallowed his frame between its high back and its spaced apart armrests. Even the interviewer himself was bigger than normal, broad-shouldered and towering even while seated. Not to mention that odd scar, which Calibri outright stared at, impolite as it might have been.

"That isn't a chemical burn," was what he came up with at last, eyes still fixed speculatively on the ruined socket. He paused, mouth thinning into a thin line in thought and then asked, "Processed cooking oil?"

"Smart boy," The man commented with a boisterous laugh. He didn't seem at all offended by the stare. "Unfortunate accident, that one. I'm usually more careful about these things, but its not everyday you're assaulted with a greased frying pan. Ha ha ha!-- I usually lie and say a Grawllots tried to tear my face off."

The man scrawled something down on his tablet.

"Oh, I should introduce myself," He continued. "My name is Victor Hales Garamond. I'll be your interviewer today. I'll also be your benefactor should you make it past this stage in the selection process. And really, there's nothing to worry about there. You've practically already been chosen."

That was to-the-point and thankfully not like most of the other conversations he had had with off-planet humans since leaving home - minimal small talk and no one had taken serious offense yet, judging from the amused look on the interviewer's face (unless this was another instance of conversational sarcasm, which Calibri was only slowly learning to recognize). Perhaps it was better to be sure.

"But there are still other candidates waiting outside," he commented, frowning slightly. For a split second, he thought he saw a flicker of movement to the left of the desk, but it must have been a trick of light. There was nothing there but a gold-plated rubbish receptacle when he looked.

"Yes, well you know, we must keep up appearances," Garamond said. "Had they written a study detailing the composition and effects of the poisons available on their home planet they might be looking at a scholorship for 200,000 as well. And who knows, I might give them a little somethong if they seem qualified enough in their interview. We did have several 10,000 prizes, after all."

Garamond slid the tablet in Calibri's direction.

"In fact," he said. "I'd like to offer you a little deal. You are old enough to give consent on your planet, no? If you would be willing to work at Celga Labs at the south belt space station for a year following your graduation, we'll give you a free tide to a school of your choice, with a monthly spending stipend. You'll find all the details in that document right in front of you. Of course, if you decline, you'll still have 200,000 towards your education. It's up to you."

It was a generous offer - even a fool could see that, but Calibri was nothing if not thorough and careful. "What are the conditions of the year's work at the South Belt Space Station?" he asked, folding his hands in his lap and slowly raising his head. "Would it be a normal thirteen-hour shift?" he clarified, completely unaware that eight was the standard for every society other than his own. "Or would-"

He trailed off, eyes fixating on an odd sight to Garamond's left. There seemed to be an odd...darkly hairy...growth...slowly emerging from the edge of the table. Slowly. And oddly slick, like someone had run an oily hand through the hairy surface of the curious growth.

"..." said Calibri.

Next, two small grey eyes emerged underneath the slicked back brown hair, barely peeking over the top of the desk. He stared at Calibri a moment, though he seemed to wobble slightly as if he was standing on his toes. He ducked down again and there was a soft rolling sound like a drawer being pulled out before he emerged again much taller than before. It was obvious now that he was a little boy in a rather nice suit.

"Hey," he said, staring blankly and not minding that he was interrupting a rather serious conversation, "do you like cheeseburgers?"

"Now, Danny," Garamond patted the boy's head
"It's not polite to speak without introducing yourself."

Garamond turned his glance up toward Calibri.

"This is my son, Danny," he said. "Very curious, likes to ask questions... But I suppose they're all like that at this age. And, by the way, it's an 8 hour work day you'd be looking at. Five days a week. Perfectly good opportunity of someone of your interests. I'm sure you'll find the conditions of the contract fair. Read it over."

But Calibri was a little too preoccupied to even notice the discrepancy in proposed and actual work hours. His frown deepened. "Cheese...burgers?" he asked, the word stumbling awkwardly off his tongue, as if he had never even (gasp) had one before. He glanced back at Garamond, looking almost nervous (as nervous as a blank face could look, anyway). "Is liking cheese...burgers a prerequisite for this scholarship?"

Danny frowned almost guiltily as Garamond reminded him to introduce himself. "Yeah, I'm Danny."

He didn't seem to comprehend that someone had never eaten (not to mention never heard of) a cheeseburger before. Ignoring Calibri's confusion, Danny dissapeared behind the desk again and reappeared a moment later with a thin white paper bag. He reached a small hand inside and pulled out a paper-wrapped burger and extended it in Calibri's direction with the same blank face. "I finished mine but I can't eat anymore. Do you want it?"

"Cheeseburgers aren't a prerequisite, no," Garamond laughed heartily. "But you're welcome to one."

Blank face for blank face, Calibri certainly was holding his own against his pint-sized competition. In fact, Garamond was quickly becoming the only source of visible emotion to be found anywhere in the room. Stone-faced, Calibri stared down at the so-called Cheeseburger. Was this a test? Was Garamond using a small child to off-put the chances of this being a trick? Was the cheeseburger laced? Was Calibri supposed to pick out the foreign substance despite having never tasted the control sample?

Well, he could do that.

Carefully, he reached out and took the offered parcel. The wrapping was crinkly and slippery - most likely a combination of recycled pressed paper and all-purpose bio-wax, commonly used to both insulate and cover moist solids. The stains at the side looked like solar-degradable canola and smelled like Terracian bovine fats. There was no immediate allergic reaction upon skin contact, so maybe it would only be evident upon ingestion.

He looked up at Garamond. "If I may."

Danny actually looked pleased as Calibri took the burger a small smile working its way over his face. "Galaxy Burger is my favorite. Even though its not even five star or anything it still tastes really good."

He stated this as-a-matter-of-factly and added puffing up his chest in pride, "Boss always takes me there and I get two (!!) cheeseburgers cause I'm too grown up to get a dumb kids' meal."

Garamond looked on with amusement as Calibri studied the burger. He allowed time for Calibri to inspect and scrutinize the object. The cool smirk on his face likely did no favors toward quelling Calibri's suspicions. As soon as Danny finished his explanation, Garamond gave him a firm nod. "By all means," he offered. "Take a bite."

Calibri unwrapped the burger and took a delicate bite with manners befitting royalty, biting only with his front teeth and chewing both thoughtfully and slowly with his mouth closed. The mysterious Cheeseburger tasted like processed dairy and ground meat, cooked a minute past its prime and erring on the chewy rather than tender side. There were preservatives by the handful but none (too) toxic for the human body. There was also enough salt to nearly wash all of those faint flavors out, as it was probably intended to. Past that was the ever-present slick of oil, carrying the faint traces of all the other processed meats the cooking range had touched in its lifetime, as well as a hint of charcoal and iron alloy. It tasted...positively unpoisoned.

That couldn't be right. Was he failing this test?

Calibri swallowed the bite, waiting a few seconds before speaking in case it was a slower-acting poison at stake here, but when nothing funny happened with his insides, he finally fixed Danny with a look of mild perplexion. "I may be immune," he informed Danny seriously.

"How can you even taste it if you don't take a big bite?!" Danny puffed out his cheeks in disapproval, but continued to watch Calibri eat.

"Im... moon?" He asked when Calibri finally responded, scrunching up his nose and frowning. He turned to his dad, head tilting slightly to the side and asked, in a manner highly inappropriate for a normal child his age, "What the fuck does im-moon mean, Boss?"

A long pause was all that followed. Garamond was silent, his hands folded over the desk in front of him and his eye caught on Calibri. His stare was, for a long moment, cold and calculative, as if he were settling on judgement based on Calibri's prior statement. He held his pose like a statue for a good minute, and the presence of his silence was so strong that the room around him seemed quieter because of it.

Then he smiled.

"Ha ha ha! I like this kid!" He exclaimed. "I really do!"

Reaching under his desk, Garamond brought out a ribbed, metallic box and dropped it like a stone beside the tablet device. He then drew his arms back in, letting them again cross against the lip of the desk. "It's just a slice of meat between bread, kid, it's not poisoned," He explained, afterward gesturing to the box. "I didn't exactly prepare a test for you, sorry to say, but I did bring some toys along. Have a look and see if you can identify them. I'm sure you've only seen these in textbooks, if anywhere."

"It means it has no effect on me," Calibri explained to Danny, his quiet voice in direct counterpoint to the boisterous shouting of Garamond's son. Now that it was revealed that the Cheeseburger specimen was not, in fact, a test of any kind, Calibri seemed to quickly lose interest in it, painstakingly wrapping it back up in its laminated paper and setting it on the table beside the metal box, which he reached for next. "Though its hyper-stimulating effects on you are rather interesting."

"Oh.." Danny said thoughtfully, turning back to Calibri as he received an answer. He let that sink in before suddenly looking horrified, all eyes wide and mouth gaping. "You mean you don't think it's yummy? What is wrong with you?!"

"He's like that all the time, actually," Garamond laughed. "Cheeseburger or not."

"Oh," said Calibri, gaze floating between father and son. Ultimately, it settled on the latch of the metal box, deferring and polite, which was a good thing, considering what he said was, "That is indeed unfortunate."

The bow opened to reveal an interior lined with black velvet, dark as night. There were grooves and comartments carved into the solid insides, where vials of suspicious-looking liquids and clear cases of equally suspicious powders lay at rest, some thick and opaque, moving about their containers like mercury, and some so transparent and light, it looked like their containers held nothing but air at all. Calibri sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

Danny leaned curiously over the surface of the desk as Calibri opened the case. His eyes widened at all the different colored liquids. Not knowing what they were (or what they would do to the human body if consumed or touched) his first thought was, of course, that they looked delicious.

"I'm thirsty..." Danny said, reaching out to poke one of the vials. "Is that juice? Can I drink it, Boss?"

With a sweep of the hand, Garamond casually pushed Danny away from the case a good five steps. He held onto a pleasant smile. "That wouldn't be a good idea, Danny," he said. "Most of those will kill you if you drink them. And not an entirely painless way, either. Why don't you get some juice from the cabinet, hm?"

Calibri ran his fingers over the smooth bumps of the glass containers, picking out one after another - a small test tube of clear, colorless liquid, only slightly more viscous than water, a watery dark substance that resembled black ink, clinging to the walls of its container in spiderweb patterns whenever it was jostled, a transparent yellow-green mixture with specks of something fine and glittery mixed evenly throughout. He held each of these up to the light and examined them closely. "These won't kill you, if you're interested," he said to Danny, ever so helpfully.

He turned his eyes up to Garamond, curious. "Are you giving me them?"

Danny stumbled back as he was pushed, disappearing behind the desk again as he stepped off the drawer back onto the carpet. His eyes widened at the mention that the liquids in the case could hurt him and shrank back a few more steps with a whine.

Following his father's advice (and rather wanting to put some distance between himself and that case), he walked back to a large liquor cabinet against the far wall. With a bit of difficulty he pulled open one of the large double doors. Inside the cabinet was an array of bottles filled with liquids as strange and varied as the ones in Calibri's case. Of course, Danny wasn't interested in any of these. He reached onto the third shelf from the bottom and procured from amidst the alcohol a Super Juicy™ 100% Tangy Amora Fruit with Vitamin C for Healthy Kids! juice box. Score.

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Random thought: does Calibri speak bug language