Chapter 1
This is the beginning.
Percy wonders whether anyone else has ever had such a clear premonition. A moment of their life that shouts this is the start of their real work. That everything that came before was preparation without consequence, and that everything that comes after will be stacking stones upon a foundation being laid right here, right now. He has reached the place where the sidewalk ends and is leaning, ever so slowly, over the precipice.
But this is eroding his bargaining power. Percy has to try quite hard not to betray that he would do anything for this job. That he has been doing everything he can think of to land this job for eight years. And yet, maybe that would be seen as a good quality? Where is the line between enthusiasm and desperation? Why has he never gotten this far and yet it seems very, very important to project the demeanor of someone else who has interviews like this every day and actually just stumbled into the wrong room but what do you know I would be perfect for this opportunity, thank you so much?
This is the problem, Percy thinks, all you have to do is picture this man handing you the contract. This IS the beginning. THIS is the beginning. This is THE beginning.
The man on the other side of the desk - who was introduced as “Mr. Townsend” - is composed, even relaxed. He has a fancy leather pouch for holding papers, which presumably holds the proposal Percy submitted a month earlier. Maybe it holds other background information as well. Percy has already been asked many questions by many people inhabiting shabbier offices at Mogogo, and some of the questions pop up in every single interview. It seems inefficient for this Mr. Townsend to have to ask the same questions again, but Percy hopes he does, actually, because he has practiced the answers for those. Regardless, the leather folder sits on the desk, closed. Perhaps Mr. Townsend consulted it before Percy arrived, perhaps not.
“So they tell me you work in sewers, is that right?” Either Mr. Townsend is not one for small talk, or this is a question that he considers a friendly preamble, because he smiles amiably.
“That’s correct. It’s a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it.” Percy smiles tightly and Mr. Townsend does the same. “Actually, I asked for that assignment at Delacroix, it was the only department that really gave me a chance to practice, you know, with my equipment.”
“Did they equip you, then?”
“Oh no, I had everything already, most sewer techs go down with just a headlamp - they do give you that - but they let me use whatever I wanted to bring myself. Personally. So I had my echospect, my thermospect, my pherotracer, all this gear. I found it made me a lot more comfortable because I could sense everything that was around me. The other guys down there keep having to look one way, look down at the map, look another way. The map gets wet, you’re screwed. It’s sad, really, the state of it.”
“So you saw potential for using these technologies to improve the maintenance of our sanitation systems.”
“Yes, exactly!” Percy will take credit where he can get it. “Or, well, I do see that potential, sure. I brought it up a couple of times. But to be honest, the folks over at Delacroix didn’t really want to hear it, and I didn’t want die on that hill. Meaning the sewers. Mostly, I wanted to test my tools. For example, I found the echospect doesn’t give you great performance when it’s in air and you’re trying to see what’s under the water - which comes up a lot in the sewers - but if you get a second echospect and submerge it… well. It works a lot better.”
“Were you ever… stranded in a sewer?”
“Stranded? In a sewer?”
“Forgive me.” Mr. Townsend sighs, ever so softly. Then he proceeds, as if quoting someone else: “Please describe a situation in which you faced adversity, how you overcame it, and what you learned from the experience.”
“Oh, I see, yes sir.” Percy smiles, because he has received this question many times. He takes pride in the fact he has never been stranded in a sewer, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. He retells his usual story of tracking down his lost teammates and leading them out through unmarked and forgotten passages. He is not exactly a great storyteller though, and this feat of ingenuity and heroism never seems to impress people the way he feel it ought to.
“And what did you learn from the experience?”
“Of course. I learned to always have a backup plan. Map it out before you even start the first plan.”
“And yet,” Mr. Townsend smiles as if this reminds him of a private joke, “you have proposed an excursion to the unmapped Brussa Basin of Sarrassas.” He puts his hand over the leather folder, but does not open it. “Does that cause you any concern?”
“Aha, I see what you mean,” Percy backpedals, “but really, I meant it as a metaphor. The point is my echospect is plan A, the pherotracer is plan B, the… logs from previous expeditions are plan C, etc.”
“I see.”
Percy decides it is time for some real self-promotion. If not now, when? “If nothing else works, I have my innate sense of direction. I bet I could tell you how to get from this office to any landmark in this city, and I only arrived two days ago.”
“I would bet that’s never landed you an opportunity for employment before though, has it? And there is a difference between memorizing a map of a city, I suspect, and finding your way in uncharted wilderness.”
“Ah!” this time it is Percy who is smiling at a private joke, “that is why I have been practicing not using maps. I arrived in the city two days ago and went on a sojourn myself, without looking at a map. I picked out the buildings in the distance that I wanted to go to...” he points off to a far corner of the room, as if it is the Goddard tower, or the Shae Opera House. This building is probably tall enough for us to be looking down on the Goddard tower, if the windows were facing the other direction, Percy thinks. “I found my way to each one, and now I bet I could draw you the route I took and you could compare it to any map and know where I have been.”
Instead of offering the pen and paper, Mr Townsend laughs at him. “Yes, yes, you’re just as Mrs. Andrews told me! There’s no need to perform your trick again, I trust her not to exaggerate. So you wish to be a cartographer, I think. Hobby turned into trade.”
“It’s not just a hobby,” Percy replies, defensively, “I took extra classes in geography at Hart Academy. I’ve kept up with the latest techniques. Sometimes I write letters to the journals to ask them to clarify their methodology…”
“Let me get to the point, Mr. Camphan. This,” Mr. Townsend waves his hand back and forth between them, indicating the interaction itself, “is not part of our process at Mogogo. You got wind of the fact we’re looking to hire a team to do some research for us down in Sarrassas, and you applied.”
“But,” he continues, “whereas most candidates send us a letter spelling out their enthusiasm for becoming part of the Mogogo family, you have sent us,” he fingers the folder, “a proposal for a one-time service. As a contractor, I believe it said.”
“You do business with contractors, don’t you?”
“Frequently, yes! In fact that’s why you’re here. Vetting contractors is usually my job. But maybe what you don’t understand, Mr. Camphan, is that usually we see a need, we search for and evaluate the offerings of the contractors, and then we solicit these sorts of proposals.”
“All right?” Percy is hoping in vain that this is leading to a pat on the back and praise for being so proactive.
“Perhaps more to the point, the outside firms we normally employ are established businesses. Groups with reputations and history that make the vetting process possible. Arguably it is less risky for us to hire someone outright, as it means we can fire them immediately if it turns out the interview process was lacking and they are incompetent. Or untrustworthy.”
“I do understand that, sir, though I appreciate that I’ve never been on your side of the table.” Percy can feel this conversation taking the wrong path, one he had not bothered to practice. Frankly, he isn’t sure why Mr. Townsend asked him here anymore, was it just to take him task for impudence? It can’t be. He must, at least, be leaving the door open for himself to be convinced.
“I also understand that there aren’t too many established enterprises that offer exactly what you’re looking for, however. The field of, let’s say, ‘civilian reconnaissance’, has been almost entirely populated by men like me using the resources of benefactors to risk their lives. It’s an odd business model, I agree, but it’s the only one that seems to have been established.”
“It’s an antiquated business model, quite frankly. You’re talking about men who went to Sarassas two hundred years ago! These days there are companies who have started in-house divisions for this kind of enterprise, I expect you know that.”
“I do. A few. I won’t lie to you - I did apply to them. When I was younger. I was a bit too inexperienced, in retrospect.”
Mr Townsend clucks his tongue, theatrically. “Too inexperienced. Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’ve never been an apprentice, or any sort of accomplice, on an expedition to Sarrassas.”
“No, sir.”
“You’re aware that you are proposing to lead an expedition? Or do I have that wrong, are you proposing an expedition be formed to which you may attach yourself?”
“I am proposing that I organize and lead the expedition, yes. Unless you have a more experienced, enthusiastic cartographer available?”
“We have employees who have been to Sarrassas, I assure you. But here is my point. You have never organized an expedition or seen anyone organize one. You are asking Mogogo to pay you a lump sum, in return for risking the ‘mysterious shrouded interior of the continent,’” Mr. Townsend says this last part as if he is quoting someone, but Percy is sure he didn’t put such a stupid phrase in his proposal. “And we will essentially have a gentleman’s agreement that you will return with an rendering of the Brussa and any particular points of interest. And you will be left with… the money?”
“And the memories.”
“You understand why this smells peculiar, don’t you? Anything you discover there will rightfully be the property of the company, and yet I haven’t known you for more than twenty minutes. I don’t know if you are an honest man, and I certainly don’t know if you are a loyal man, although God strike me down if I would ever insinuate the worst about someone I do not know. You have no relevant track record either way, quite frankly. Yet you want to be paid to do things your way. Well that’s not how it’s going to be.”
So Mr. Townsend is a negotiator, it is all becoming clear. His tone and attitude are becoming somewhat menacing, but the message is actually music to Percy’s ears. This man wants to negotiate on price, that’s always what negotiators want. And the price can only be lowered so far, before anyone would deem it unreasonable. But honestly, Percy would be willing to make the trip without recompense, if someone would just supply the transportation and the food. As long as he hasn’t made that too obvious, he is sure Mr. Townsend will be willing to offer a bit more.
“I’m open to negotiation,” Percy says, trying not to smile, “to be honest, I’m not a lawyer, and I never thought what I wrote up for you would constitute a legal, binding document. If your people write one up with new terms, I’ll be happy to look it over. If you want to only supply the resources necessary for the trip at first, that’s fine, you can defer any ‘reward’ for success until I return with what I’ve promised.”
Mr Townsend sits back, a bit perplexed by not being met head on. He seems to be a man who relishes confrontation. He gathers himself, as if for a another assault, and Percy feels the tension that comes when both people are trying to choose their words carefully.
“Humor me. You’ve already gone through the normal interview process for new employees. Why would you rather have the reward not guaranteed as further employment?”
THIS is the beginning. This IS the beginning. This is THE beginning.
Percy mimics the humorlessness of his sparring partner. He sits forward, putting his fingers tentatively on the expensive, polished desk. He locks eyes with Mr. Townsend, and holds his gaze while furiously trying to put his words in the right order. It feels like a long time, but the other man waits patiently, unflinchingly.
“I want to prove I can do this,” Percy says. “These opportunities don’t come up very often. As you said, I have no track record, so when they do come up I tend to be passed over. We all have to start somewhere. So if I can find you something valuable, then I expect you to at least let me advertise that I’ve led an expedition, which not many can say. I get some exposure, and hopefully the next time an opportunity does come along, you call me. Or someone else calls me. But if I come back and you don’t want to finance any more trips to Sarrassas, I don’t want you to pay me to do something else for you. I have been there. I might end up working in the sewers again. I
only
want to be paid to do
this.”
