Robin Owens - Enchanted Ever After

Whatever happened, her life would never be the same....

Chapter 7

HALF AN HOUR later, she was the only one in the elevator rising to Eight Corp’s floor, although the huge lobby of the building had bustled with other people. She adjusted her hoodie and her workbag—this one a pristine bright red Fairies and Dragons carryall—over her shoulder, and did a few deep breaths as she watched the floor numbers light.

The door opened and she was met by Jenni and Lathyr. Jenni wore casual, too, but Lathyr had on a pale gray silk suit.

No one sat at the receptionist’s desk—odd, because Kiri had only worked places where the receptionist had the earliest hours. With her first step, Kiri’s feet literally sank into a deep green rug. She got the impression of elegant luxury before Jenni held out both her hands with a big smile. “Glad to see you again.”

Once more, the woman’s hands were warmer than her own. Damn nerves. “Yes. I’m excited.”

“We are, too.” Jenni beamed.

Lathyr offered his own hand, and Kiri shook it, ignoring how nice it felt. Firm grip, meet his eyes—gorgeous deep blue. Breathe, because the initial greeting went okay.

“A pleasure,” Lathyr said.

“For me, too,” Kiri said.

Jenni turned and moved around a huge freestanding wall of granite. “Let’s head to the room where the game server is set up.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Kiri said.

“Do you want something to drink?” asked Lathyr.

Coffee would tweak her nerves even more. “Water would be great.”

He peeled off and Kiri followed Jenni down the hall to an interior room. It was painted an uninspired beige and was longer than it was wide. To Kiri’s surprise, an actual wooden counter polished to a gloss ran along the wall as a desk setup. Atop the counter, four huge monitors sat. The most comfortable of ergonomic chairs—smelling of new plastic and metal—were placed before the monitors. Several different types of game controllers waited on a floating platform a little lower than the desk under each monitor. All top-of-the-line electronics.

“Wow, nice setup,” she said.

“Thanks.” Jenni went to the last chair on the left, sat and swiveled toward Kiri.

But Kiri’s stare had fixed on several sets of gloves that appeared to have filaments embedded in them, and four wraparound visors.

“As you can see,” Jenni said easily, “we’re experimenting a bit with virtual reality, also. Put on the visor and you’ll feel as if you’re really in the game. Wear the gloves and your gestures will be translated as powers. For instance, if you want to throw a fireball—”

“I’ll really act as if I’m throwing a ball.”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.” Kiri stayed where she was.

“We’d like you to wear the gloves and visor.”

“This isn’t monitoring my vitals, is it?”

The line between Jenni’s eyes cleared. “No. Absolutely not. The gloves and the visor are simply to immerse you in a deeper gaming experience.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have your water,” Lathyr said from behind her.

So Kiri sidled into the room, stood near the third chair. The man offered her a large bottle of fizzy water—the same brand of raspberry that she’d chosen at the block party, and somehow she didn’t think that was by chance. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.” He did a torso incline thing, then closed the door and the room felt pretty small. Reaching out, he took a pair of large teal gloves and slipped them on, raising a brow at Kiri as he did so. He held a visor by the slim end and twirled it in his fingers.

“I, um, am pretty simple in my gaming,” Kiri said. “Monitor, keyboard, mouse.”

“Please,” Jenni said, gesturing to the gloves and visors. She donned some red ones with gold “embroidery” of fiber optic filaments or something. Kiri narrowed her eyes, then blinked. It looked like the pattern might be almost a mathematical algorithm—or, in a different game, a spell—and the design lit up.

“I thought we were going to have another interview?” Kiri said weakly, looking at Lathyr.

“That’s so stuffy,” Jenni said.

It was stuffy.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jenni.

Kiri grimaced. “The gloves and visor might interfere with my play.” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to screw this up.” It meant too much to her.

Lathyr set the visor down and stripped off the gloves. He held out both hands. “I am a good judge of energy. I am sure I can reassure you that you belong here. Please?”

Kiri stared, cut her eyes to Jenni, questioning this new age stuff. The woman looked bland, so Kiri shrugged and put her hands in his. Yes, tingles, for sure. And the texture of his palms and his fingers was so smooth, but there was strength in those hands. Nice.

“Pregame visualization exercise,” Jenni said. “Close your eyes and visualize—ah—the Fairy Dome in Fairies and Dragons.”

Kiri shot her a glance. “You take the game very seriously.”

“Well, of course. It’s my livelihood. An attitude I expect from you.”

Kiri closed her eyes, recalled the Fairy Dome, tried to bring it into focus. She’d always sucked at visualization except right before and right after she slept.

She became all too aware of Lathyr, his hands, the closeness of his body to hers, as if energy cycled between them. Scents came to her nose, a hot and spicy smell, a fresh odor reminding her of the ocean—Lathyr’s aftershave? Eyes shut, she felt the atmosphere in the room...fancifully enough, she thought that Jenni’s and Lathyr’s energy clashed, did not mix well. Kiri realized her breathing matched Lathyr’s, slow and deep. Her ears strained...trying to hear the hum of the computers...no, she was too used to her barely up-to-date equipment at work. Not the tiniest buzz of fans, but she was right, the room was warm and getting warmer. In fact, the tingles within her seemed to also press against her skin, as if she were immersed in fizzy water. Fun, energizing. She stifled a giggle.

Lathyr released her hands and stepped back. Her eyelids flew open and she smiled at him, only to see he’d moved and was leaning over Jenni, speaking quietly. He glanced up at her, nodded, then said, “You will do well.”

When he returned to talking to Jenni, all Kiri’s doubts swarmed back, despite his assurance. Jenni had indicated that it was Lathyr who had decided—or would decide—whether Kiri was a good fit, hadn’t she? She wished they’d done this earlier and in a conference room or something, not where she was supposed to work.

Stiffly, Kiri walked over to the long desk, noted that the edge wasn’t squared off, but rounded, lovely. Scanning the gloves—twelve pairs in various sizes and colors—she went with impulse and chose a pair of pretty pale green ones that looked to be her size. She pulled them on—they felt like the finest chamois, and again her hands tingled. The metallic silver embroidery glittered, nearly seemed to spark. Wow. She chose a visor she thought would fit, but didn’t put it on. And she sat in the chair, turned on the monitor.

A rainbow-colored word appeared in flowing pastel script. Transformation! Frowning, tugging on the wrists of her gloves, she looked over at Lathyr and Jenni, who watched her.

“Yes?” asked Jenni. Kiri thought the woman hid a smile. Maybe that should relieve her, but it didn’t much.

“I’ve heard there are some biofeedback games out there,” Kiri said. She flexed her fingers; the gloves clung, almost massaged her hands. Felt good, but she’d definitely miss a keyboard. Obviously, she wasn’t as flexible as she’d thought. Not a good thing to consider when she was on the job interview of her life. Not when she wanted to be on the cutting edge of the gaming world.