1st encounter.

-—- the first time. moon 0.-—-

The atmosphere about the entrance lobby invited a sort of cozy dullness, like a favorite ballpoint pen which only sputtered the barest hints of ink. All sound seemed to bounce no more than one simplistic, optimized time. The color palette was the same I was well familiar with: greens and blues in a sickly calming and professional tint. The colors did not have all that much contrast, but still did not battle for the eye’s attention. They were simply fine being filler, colors just to be colors. They were accents to the design-friendly off-white of the majority of the room. It was a blank canvas for a handful of virtual notices. They gentle wavered, displaying details of social events, the handful of office-hosted tournaments, notable happenings that week, and how to enter into the building. It was all as inoffensive as possible to the eye.

The lights perfectly emulated the beams of a clear morning sun, peering down from the ceiling. It did not feel real, of course. I suspect that if they did try to make it anymore naturalistic, it would trick the brain. However, the government plants upon the front desk seemed more than happy to have the simulated solar stimulation. They were kept in a planter which rode against the clear b-plastic barrier, rising up to a wall of greenery. Even the petals, though, matched the corporate palette. They all waved gently underneath a mechanized and automated wind system. Droplets of water only occasionally fell from their pristine leafy perches, either going into the soil in the case of the desk plants, or into the grate below the wall for water recycling. But any of the sounds of any of the machines at work, the water processing unit, the watering device, the machine so autonomously pumping out wind, and the pseudonatural light, all of it was cloaked through clever design and insulating walls.

The drums of the crawlingly-slow lounge music were the first to greet me, followed by the bassy chords of a rhythmic piano. The third was the front desk worker, Shahtsro J.A., who looked towards me half-lucidly. She seemed excited to get to talk to someone who was just outside, and further excited that it was a fellow worker. Few of us necessarily trust people who live outside the company. She knew she could speak to me without fear of me being some sort of spy or bad-faith journalist or policy enforcement or what have you.

“Is it nice out there today? Cloudy, at all?” She spoke in a chipper tone, genuinely glad to see someone - withstanding visitors. I remembered her saying that not many other people used this entrance. I was afraid I could not grant as much conversation as she likely would have wanted. Still, I tried to do my best to humor her. She always looked so bored after her shifts, the handful of times I saw her.

“A bit rainy, actually!” I tried to match her mood, but hardly did. It came out grating, since I was still waking up my vocal folds, but I cleared my throat and continued on. I pulled out my company ID, and added, “I think I saw some darker clouds over by the ocean’s direction. How are you today?”

She smiled, eyes glittering in a relaxed haze. Her face matched her bubble approach to conversation, the sort of person that matches their own voice. “I’m doing well, thank you! Maybe I’ll get to hear some thunder or something, come the afternoon.” She scanned my ID through the barrier, looked towards a floating virtual panel and nodded. With a press of a button, a series of analogue clicks filled the air, increasing in tempo. As she gave me a concentrated stare, the clicks erupted into a room-wide, hissing, noisy light. It was always so disorienting for a second, but I was mostly used to it. There had been a few strange situations at nearby companies the past years, and apparently these diffuser lights were supposed to help. I was not all too familiar with the particulars, though.

She looked at the results on a secondary panel, and popped back to my eyes. She had a playful beaming grin, pointing to something I couldn’t see on her nearby displays. “Looks like you aren’t a doppelganger or nothing! You are good to go, enjoy your shift for me!”

I leaked a soft laugh at her , and continued on to the electronic door. “Thanks, I will. Don’t get too bor-”

I cut my speech. I heard the rustling of someone’s clothes. It might not have drawn my attention, but it was so close to me. My head slightly turned, my eyes seeking out who was beside me. I had no idea who it was, but the stranger stood just a few steps to the right of me. I could hear the curious hums of Shahtsro, before she too cut her noise. I had no idea how she had missed them, or how I had not noticed them until that point. This stranger wore a vest, far too short to be professional. The fur-lined seams - spotted and beige - swayed loosely by a muscle-lined ribcage. Indeed, their strong upper body was mostly bare. The vest was wide open, kept vaguely together by a very loose, shoelace style string in the front. Luckily, they happened to wear pants, but they were just as gaudy and lavish. They were, by all accounts, rather low rise in the traditional sense. But at the top of them, they had a thick, dark band, like a cross between a miniature corset and a belt. It was some shinier material, but I had not a good look at it. From it dangled a few large rings. The band reached to just below their navel. It opened up on either edge of their toned abdominal core, and were fastened together in a corset-style lacing.

Below all that, the pants were fairly straight-legged in form, simplistically tailored. At the end, it looked a bit tattered, the ends of the grey-lavender fabric dyed very geometrically. It was reminiscent of the person’s hair, similarly feathered and similarly hued. It flowed about their head like a mess of papers on a disorganized desk, chopped and layered. It certainly gave the impression that while most people could not replicate the exact flow of the style, this person might know exactly how to do it each morning. The sort of feeling of “knowing where everything is” within a war zone of papers on one’s desk.

They were looking around moments ago, but opted to face forward and gaze blankly. A most mundane “huh” escaped their dark-colored lips. Despite our own stares and conversation, they paid us no attention. It was like we were not there, and I would not doubt it either. They were determined, but it would have been wonderful to know what sort of determination it was.

I doubted they were from a company, here to do business. Most companies disclose their own arrival when sending visitors. Shahtsro should not have been looking skeletal at her desk in utter shock if that was the case. A company not disclosing so was a nightmare of security logistics, something most professionals avoided like a plague. People from the city itself knew better than to just wander in, and are usually civilly reminded by the property protection agents outside. And federal agents, policy enforcement, and bad actors, most all their tricks were known. Every time, it seems like they are trying something ‘new,’ but it was almost always a small variation that people like Shahtsro have well documented. But this person just walked forward. The mundane playing of the minimal, soft lounge jazz adding to them an even more potent bizarreness. Just as they seemed to appear, they walked into the main office building, opening the door and leaving the entrance lobby. Within a stunned moment, they were out of sight.

I exchanged befuddled looks with the front desk worker. She asked, regaining composure, “Did you see them outside?”

I shook my head. “No… I didn’t see them until just a few moments ago. Do you think they were a federal agent? I guess we are due for a living arrangement inspection soon.”

Her eyes sharply looked up, thinking for a moment. Like me, she did not think my explanation actually fit the bill, but she was polite about it. “Could be. I’ve heard that some other companies have been seeing some new strange tactic from the Gushnnikst; no details on it though.” She shrugged, turning to her computer. “Who knows!” Her fingers tapped at the two handboards at her desk, rapidly writing and performing software actions. She continued nonchalantly, “I’m filing a report on it now, though. I’ll see if I get any communication about it. Don’t worry too much about it, have a nice shift!”

After stifling a half-laugh and stiffly thanking her, I left into the main office as well. It was a strange encounter, but it wasn’t the first time I was witness to something strange here. Just like the rat-and-the-drunken-guard situation, though, she blew it off like it was nothing. I had to wonder what sort of stuff she saw on a weekly basis, and how she remained so under-entertained despite it. It pains me to say, but I could almost feel a boredom creep back to her as I walked towards the entrance of the office door.

I was a bit unnerved, but I did not feel like there was any point to dwell on the encounter. I had decent faith in the process around here. After all, the security cameras and occasionally-patrolling checkspeople were not just there for no reason. As I passed beneath the flush gaze of a discreet camera, the thoughts about the stranger in the lobby mostly left me. I had other important things to focus on, really. It was curious, sure, but the sales report for this quarter was a primary thing on my mind. The deadline was not until a few more weeks, true. But I always wanted to have important things done earlier. The more one pushes away the necessary task, the more new necessary tasks threaten its time. It is better just to do easy things while they are still easy. That, and I suppose I was still a little tired.

The halls held their jazzy company classics, commissioned from others raised in the offices. It was quiet enough that the texture of each instrument was hardly able to be made out, but the general feel of the song still lent a simple, calm atmosphere. The center of the walkway had blossoming plants featured prominently. The fairly high ceiling above casted simulated rays of sunshine down. The otherwise echo-y space was softened in reverberation by a variety of banners and pillars that featured artwork from company artists. The two floors of the room revealed many an office, people streaming about the upper walkways and central plaza area. None of them seemed particularly confused by, say, a strangely dressed person. I had to wonder where they went. I told myself I wasn’t going to think much about it, though.

Many other companies I had visited on trip had similar layouts for their office entrance region. I had not visited many outside of this division of the city, but it seems there was some popular design theory that had been spread about locally. Still, I preferred my own place a bit more. The interior night simulations were particularly breathtaking. And, after a day’s work of writing reports and exploring potential budgeting alternatives to present to my superiors, I was able to see it again.

Hovering multicolored digital fireflies quietly zipped about. They danced between the different flowers at the grass, of course keeping the brand colors, and swirled around the three trees. The lounge jazz slowed to a near abstract pace. The snare’s rhythm came less as a typical foundation, and more of a reminder that a song was even playing. I often sat outside in the plaza when night came, just to stare off into nothing in particular as the night dwindled down. It was one of my two go-to places to be after work.

The lobby felt particularly empty. I was not sure how the plaza’s sound system worked, honestly. I never knew if it was something that was active in my own Whisper device, playing out directly in my ear with calculated effects to impart the feeling of distance. Maybe it was actually a speaker, playing high in the ceiling. Either way, it felt louder at that moment. The Henskqal Memory Quartet, featuring the drummer, bassist, and two pianists, seemed like they were often playing at this hour. The ever-slow strumming of the bass came in like a tide of tar into the track. The keys of the piano had the subtlest amount of percussive texture. The second piano was even softer, adding a quiet echo in the background almost in the same vein as an atmospheric synth. I felt like I could hear the tapping of the keys of the instrument better than the sounds the instrument made.

The pseudo-fireflies variety of color did not make a dent in the primary light of the silvery, pale teal the digital night. False lunar beams danced about the highest tree, glittering off the top of the recently-watered leaves and flora below. Even the air felt pure and slow. I could feel the draw of each and every breath, blanketing itself right by my chest. So too could I feel the lightly sharp breath when the surprising saxophone began to play.

I had never heard the group play with a saxophone before. I had to wonder if the second piano was playing on loop and the pianist switched to the instrument, or if there was a guest player. It was so deeply textured, I thought it to be a low voice at first. Slow, almost creaky draws filled the air, creating a soothing variation on the lead-piano’s suggested melody. I instinctively looked up, almost enamored by the sweet yet still just as relaxing surprise.

“Beauty, ever elusive, sat solemnly above green,” spoke a damp, poetic, yet sturdy voice. My head twisted promptly to see who spoke, as they continued. “It held back nature from the wonders of the lunar sky -- but still the moon’s gentle caress veiled the nation’s sleepless night. Her teeth gritted. The meal wandered -- so lone, below.”

It was that stranger again, this time inside the office I left not more than twenty minutes ago. They spoke from behind the closed office’s wood gate, which looked somewhat like blinds. I heard the rummaging through different files. They were hardly visible in the room, pools of deep shadow dancing about them as they curiously looked.

Of course, I stood up, and swiftly moved over to the area. I was not sure what to say. This had to have been an inspector, I thought. How else would they have been here, presumably for the whole day? I was slightly annoyed, but I tried to present myself professionally as a just-in-case. “Good evening, can I help you?”

As I pressed the button to open up the mesh gate, they glanced at me with a hardly-interested side-eye. “Not particularly.”

The gate slowly opened with a slow, mechanical cranking. I let their words hang in the air for a moment, expecting some sort of introduction. One was not given, however. The change in verbosity was jarring at minimum. It seemed as if I needed to lead the charge on this conversation, if I wanted to know who this was. With a stifled sigh, I said, “Well, I’m Woyrel. I work in this office, so I’m quite familiar with everything if you happen to change your mind. May I have your name?”

Their face was a blend of mystery, stoicism, and curiosity, though not one more than the other. With no particular emotion, they responded, “A Character of Romance.” Again, I fell for the trap of expecting anything more from them, and we both fell silent for a moment.

Irked, I asked, “Very well, do you mind ‘Romance’?”

They shook their head, “Not at all, it’s wonderful. It’s why I took the name from it, after all. Romance is the intangible blood of all things, a beauty seeping through every creation. It allows the wonders of synergy that we see all around us.”

I took a moment to process what they said. It felt like speaking to the embodiment of a fever dream -- or rather, a fever dream adapted to a style-over-substance movie. I had to remain polite, though. I did not want to take chances. “Sorry, I meant calling you ‘Romance’ for short. Is that fine?”

They opened another cabinet of papers, placing aside the ones they were leafing through. “I don’t mind it, then.”

The situation felt so strange and unnerving that I almost forgot why I was talking to them in the first place. I wish that I could see what papers they were going through, but I did not like the idea of getting closer. “Are you with the Gushnnikst, Romance? Are you some sort of inspector?”

They took a moment to respond, preoccupied in focus. “Gushnnikst? I couldn’t say. But I am most definitely inspecting.”

Had they not heard of the Gushnnikst, before? I was not certain. Truly, uncertainty was the only guarantee here. I followed up quickly, “Well, let me call over one of my superiors, you might want to talk with them.”

As I pressed the button to call over a member of the security team, they responded slowly. “I am not particularly interested. What word could they give me that no other person could?” They seemed to pause for a moment, adding, “On second thought, please do.”

I tried to distance myself from the scene while I awaited the guard, but still wanted to keep an eye on A Character of Romance. Maybe the two can work out this situation more clearly than I could, I thought. I considered I might just be misinterpreting the whole thing, maybe work and what little sleep I had was hitting me harder than I assumed. The stranger, Romance, was still idly flipping through files, scanning over things carefully. I was still so bewildered as to what Romance’s motives were. Surely if they needed the files for any nefarious purposes - blackmailing, leaking, so on and so forth, they would either have scanned the documents or have pocketed any of them. Or, more likely, they would have not even been here. As much as I hate to admit it, nothing is truly, fully safe with the amount of tools available on the CON now. Any of these documents could be found in some form digitally, so why even come here unless they were an inspector? Still, there was no way that an inspector, at least an official and warranted one, would be so eccentric-seeming. Unless that too was part of the inspection? Some bizarre test of our corporate culture? That didn’t add up either, though. Neither did them being so casual about being caught.

The guard, Nedeyz, came up promptly. They were pretty aware that a security call at this hour was a not typical. She looked at me, her overly-emotive face melting into a cartoonish grin upon meeting my eye. “You fighting with people again, Woyrel?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the memory. “Shut up, Nedeyz.” I pointed to Romance, “We have a visitor here, as you can see.”

She looked excited. She flicked on a yellow-blue flashlight, the cloudy beam allowing us a better look at Romance again. As she viewed them, her face twisted into confusion. Romance continued to pay us no mind.

“Good evening, pal!” Nedeyz shouted, mused in her tone. She seemed to never take anything too seriously. “Got any verification on you? Are you with the Gushnnikst or something?”

They shrugged, “I don’t know what that is.”

I was startled by the sudden, sharp nature of Nedeyz’s laugh as she approached. “Still gonna need some verification, either way. Got a name, pal?”

Romance’s eye shifted to the side, watching quarter-cautiously as Nedeyz came closer. As foolish an idea it was, I came in closer too, entering the dark office. I wanted to see what was going on a bit more clearly, and Nedeyz gave me some much-needed feeling of safety. The stranger spoke up, “The name is A Character of Romance.”

Nedeyz’s head cocked to the side. “Bit of a curious name there, no? Is it a codename or something-or-other?”

They crossed the papers they were holding across their chest, derailing into an over-flowery tangent. “Something-or-other, yes.” Their eyes were closed, as if in contemplation. “That descriptor suits the name quite well. Allow me to explain.” Romance turned their back, their choppy hair and vest flowing with the snappy but graceful motions. Nedeyz turned to me and smiled, like a child at a circus.

A Character of Romance explained, gesturing as walked slowly away from us. “The first chapter of my name explains me as a person, swiftly and promptly. I am merely a character in the grand silhouette theater of livingness - without notability, without greater purpose. Very something-or-other, as you put it. I am merely a witness to the more beautiful things around me, and I have little interest in truly shaping the plot, you see.” Their head snapped back, gracing one of the office tables with their leaning hand as they continued, monoexpressional. “Even if there is nothing grander, nothing worth viewing, I wish to see this nothing for myself, if even as mere stage decor to enhance immersion.”

Nedeyz looked delighted, as if this is just what she needed to make her night. I certainly related with Romance’s little speech at that moment. I felt myself an unimportant character quite swiftly in this scene.

Still, Romance carried on, not seeming swayed in one way or another to our reaction. They climbed upon the table they supported themselves on, sitting at the edge of it. “Maychance that my impossibly stubborn approach is where the idea of Romance comes in - who can say. I am enamored by the beauties around me: the fascinations of this world, and the fascinations those fascinations hold, and the worlds this world holds.” They spoke, rolling their hands with the ongoing list they gave, before placing their hand beneath their chin. “Some may call it naive to be impassioned and bemused by such. But I feel more touched by the word ‘romance,’ for all the weight it carries.”

They leaned down, shifting their hand to prod their own cheek with their index and middle fingers. The pose had a very contemplative feel to it, but they gave no pause to establish this thoughtful atmosphere. It felt dramatic, as if Romance had scripted and choreographed this whole speech. “Might it be that I am named ill. But until that realization comes,” They straightened, “I am named as I am named.”

Nedeyz could hardly contain her awe at the bizarre sight. I wasn’t sure how to process any of this. Yes, Romance had explained parts of their name earlier, but not to this degree. It felt like a senseless stream. I was not sure where the main points began and where colorful oral rendering ended. I was simply glad to have someone else witness it as well. Nedeyz stood in surprise and utter enjoyment for a good seven seconds, before breathy, disbelief-filled laughs came from her.

“You are wonderful, I adored this.” She shook off the scene with a stretch, crossing her arm across her chest. “That said, I’m still gonna have to take you to the offices, alright? We gotta make sure the company’s people stay safe, first and foremost.”

Romance sighed, stating, “That would be the fourth time this month, and it’s never a useful bit of anyone’s time.” Nedeyz’s brow raised at the idea of this person being detained multiple other times, presumably at other companies. This seemed to make her walk forward with more urgency. Lethargically, Romance stood up, shaking their head in slight disappointment.

As they rose, they seemed to glide towards the back wall somehow. They noiselessly and smoothly slid across the table, piquing Nedeyz’s curiosity immediately. She froze, and her head whipped to the side. Nedeyz charged forth a bit faster, her work boots thumping against the wood floor. Romance jumped, physically in no particular direction. However, most unnaturally, they continued to move away from Nedeyz. It was almost as if they were being somehow pushed away from Nedeyz, like opposing magnets. It felt like the scene was becoming a bit brighter, too, somehow.

Bewildered, Nedeyz stopped in her tracks. I couldn’t hardly see all the details of the scene. The ambient light from the plaza, alongside the beams of Nedeyz’s flashlight, and the mysterious light behind Romance, were the only things which defined the scene. Either way, it seemed as if the force of whatever was repelling Romance from Nedeyz allowed them to reach the wall. There was the actual source of the light. It was not something bizarre and otherworldly like I had assumed, but merely a window just behind Romance.

However, it was a locked window, made of b-plastic material that could be transparent when electronically prompted. It was not open earlier, as it was completely dark in the room. They turned, and walked closer to it. As Romance’s hand gripped the bottom seal, it dawned on me that it seemed less open in typical ways, and more stretched and distorted. Even the walls around it seemed to warp in strange ways. The two of us were stunned, and did not particularly know how to react. By the time that we had come back to our bodies, Romance was half-outside, gracefully sliding on out.

Nedeyz booked it towards Romance, a shaky tone in her voice. “Wait, hold on, you can’t-”

Before she was able to finish, Romance was gone. The window was entirely back to normal, and it was as if nothing ever happened, without an inkling of a closing sound. We both remained silent for around ten seconds. Suddenly, Nedeyz whipped around, huffing. “Alright, Woyrel, what kind of weird joke was that? Why did you have to set me up? I’m a busy gal, y’know?”

Flustered, I responded, “Set you up? This wasn’t some sort of prank, Nedeyz!”

She marched towards the exit of the office, “Dead chance!” Even though she retorted, she seemed fairly aware that I did not set up some elaborate joke. “Whatever. If this Romance friend left the property, there’s shit little I can legally do.” I began to follow her out. As she stepped into the plaza, she twisted, “Make sure you look through your files. See if everything is there when you clock in tomorrow, got it?” She took a deep breath in. “I’m gonna look through the camera logs. I’ll tell you if I find anything, tomorrow.”

Nedeyz left shortly afterwards, and I remained predominately wordless. I did not know what to do with the rest of the night. I stood there for a good minute, finally opting to close back the gate to the office. The gate slowly clunked down, the wood joints making percussive sounds as it dropped. My heart was still racing. I opted to walk to my room and sit in my bed. Maybe I would hear something soon about all of this.