Helen had sat there for over two hours now and had the same concepts that Tobias had explained to her over coffee explained again. In detail, in excruciating detail in fact. All delivered by Mrs Peabody, a lady who was seemingly passed by when the proverbial charisma was being handed out. Grey haired and very formally dressed, primarily in various shades of dark grey and an ugly dirty green that Helen could only describe as reminding her of a chalkboard, Mrs Peabody had the type of personality that could probably cancel out Tobias' in a kind of strange matter against anti-matter kind of way.
She was probably in her sixties, at least she looked to be in her sixties. Which century the lady was actually born in Helen wasn't willing to risk guessing at this stage. There wasn't anything specific about her that gave Helen any clues either. A short and stout lady with quite unusually broad shoulders. The wireframe glasses that were perched on her nose gave her an almost threatening look of a disapproving school teacher who had just learnt that the summer holidays had been cancelled.
The lady was being thorough that was for sure, she just lacked the skills with which Tobias had put Helen at ease. They say things like that are all in the delivery and Helen thought that this Mrs Peabody could have learnt a thing or two from the Irishman about actually trying to win over your audience rather than having to take it all in spite of your delivery. Unless, that is, you are the type of person that judges such delivery by the number of pretty but pointless slides that have been prepared for the occasion. In that case the woman was a genius because Mrs Peabody definitely had slides, lots of slides. Many of them even had very relatively elaborate diagrams and there was even some sparing use of clip-art here and there.
The room itself was fairly drab. It could have been any office building anywhere in the world. Although the dreary décor and choice of colours for the walls screamed government building to Helen. Her father had been a civil servant and she remembered spending many an afternoon playing with her colouring books in just such an office when being taken to visit her father at work. She couldn't recall why it was she spent enough time at her father's office that she remembered it so vividly.
The chairs were comfortable enough, which was probably a good thing given that Mrs Peabody was fast approaching her hundredth slide already.
Helen was definitely starting to pick up on the vibe that Tobias had not been the first choice for being sent to greet her. Every now and again Mrs Peabody would raise an eyebrow skeptically and comment on Tobias having been surprisingly efficient this time when Helen explained that she had already picked up on a topic and was ready to move on. Helen was also picking up on the vibe that Mrs Peabody suspected that Tobias' improved performance could be attributed to the fact that Helen was not an unattractive young lady.
Still Mrs Peabody did agree that Tobias had covered all the essentials and that Helen seemed to be be coping well with what she called the 'adjustment period'. Helen wasn't sure that she had any choice other than to cope, but she thanked the lady none the less and smiled and nodded as she felt was appropriate to indicate that she was still paying attention.
“See I told you I wasn't a total waste of space.” Tobias quipped as he came back into the room to deliver them both some more coffee, “Come on admit it Mrs P, I did the job textbook this morning didn't I?”
“Credit where credit is due young man,” Mrs Peabody nodded, “You didn't do too badly today at all. Far better than the last time you greeted that tall fellow, what was his name again?”
“Durden, Gary Durden,” sighed Tobias, “Will people ever let me live that one down?”
Mrs Peabody shook her head slowly, “I doubt it young man, I doubt it.”
“Who was Gary Durden?” asked Helen.
Tobias quickly interrupted just as Mrs Peabody looked like she was going to answer, “Absolutely no need to go into that now is there Mrs P. After all have to finish getting our new recruit here up to speed don't we?”
“I suppose we do, I am sure we can regale the young lady with your tales of ineptitude at a later date. We do have to get this done and get you set up now don't we Helen?”
“I don't know, I could spare the time to hear a tale of his ineptitude.” Helen smiled, and just for a moment she thought she saw a slight smile forming on Mrs Peabody's lips too but Tobias was quick to change the subject again.
“Come now ladies, no need to be picking on me. I am sure we need to be getting you set up in one of the apartments Helen. You must be wanting a shower about now, and I am fairly sure you will be wanting to get out of the hooker's attire for sure.”
As much as she was enjoying his obvious discomfort at having to dodge what was presumably an embarrassing story, he did have a point. She would definitely appreciate being able to get into some clean clothes after a nice long hot shower. “That would be nice actually. I am fairly sure I stink of things I don't remember doing, and didn't get to enjoy, in the first place.”
“You do a little dear yes.” Mrs Peabody confirmed quietly. Helen wasn't quite sure if she was being rude or just honest. These people seemed to have a slightly more blunt approach to things than she was used to. They didn't seem to have much time for political correctness. “But don't fret about it,” Mrs Peabody continued, “We have an apartment ready for you. The relocation team have already replaced your wardrobe as best as they could. It is waiting for you in the apartment when you get there.”
“What floor is she on?” Tobias asked
“Twenty second floor, a nice spot.” Mrs Peabody replied, “far higher than many new arrivals get. Not that there are many differences between the apartments but the view is certainly better once you are up that high.”
“Wait a second,” Helen interrupted, “what did you mean by replaced my wardrobe? And where exactly is this apartment?”
“In relation to your first question,” Mrs Peabody started to answer, “when we have people arrive we have some of the observation technicians look through the archive logs and see if they can ascertain what objects were in your possession before the timelines collided and left you disconnected. We find that it often helps the new arrivals to acclimatise if we can provide them with some familiar objects or clothes. So we try and provide as many of them as we can. After all, up until yesterday they all existed in this time-line as well. Now obviously some of the really personal objects are impossible, but we can usually get our hands on most things. Replacing the clothes is usually the easiest part.”
“What do you mean that some personal things are impossible?”
“Well, things like photographs for example. Now you never existed in this time-line so any pictures of you that did exist up until the collision were now never taken in the first place.”
For the first time since she had met Tobias on the steps of what used to be her apartment block Helen felt the urge to cry. She wasn't distraught or anything of the kind, and for some strange reason she felt like she really didn't want to let Tobias see her cry, but the idea that no-one else had any memories of her any more suddenly hit her. She could almost reconcile what was happening to her, but the thought that her parents didn't have a daughter or her best friend Amy presumably had a different best friend now, made her sad in a way she hadn't felt before. It was a very empty feeling and one she immediately decided she wanted to siphon off and keep firmly tucked away where it couldn't tug at her heartstrings.
She wasn't part of anyone else's memories any more. That was a fairly comprehensive way for the universe to write you out of life she thought. The fact that she still had those memories, but couldn't share them, was almost like being cruelly teased. Good memories were best shared, at least that is what she had always thought. She wondered if her friends and family had a better life now that she didn't exist. They would at least, she supposed, have very different lives for her absence. She could think of dozens of very stupid things that she had talked Amy out of down the years, she really hoped that whoever was Amy's best friend now had also been able to steer her away from some of those possible personal calamities.
Mrs Peabody had said that she couldn't contact her parents, or any of her friends as they wouldn't know her in any way, shape or form and would most likely conclude that she was some mad stalker. The thing was, that the time-lines were apparently close approximations of each other, and the people that existedin this reality, who now had no knowledge of her, would probably be fairly close to the people she had known during her previously ordinary life. So she would know some details of things, or be close enough, so as to genuinely really freak someone out if she approached them. Helen had to agree there are few scarier things than complete strangers who know things about you that they shouldn't. So it was all better off firmly repressed and ignored.
“Ok, but some of my other stuff is there? At this apartment?”
“Yes dear they are,” Mrs Peabody nodded, “the team try and find as many things as they can. Decorations and such, books, curtains, whatever they have gleamed from the archives. It isn't always a great deal, but something is better than nothing.”
“I'll be interested to see what they managed to get for me. This apartment though, what is the catch? Do I have to pay for it?”
“You are part of the company now dear, so you don't have to pay a penny. The company will cover everything for you while you are under our employ.”
“Wait just a second, I haven't agreed to anything yet. Who said I was going to work for you?”
“Of course you haven't decided yet dear,” Mrs Peabody assured her, “but we still extend that generosity to all new arrivals. You have the apartment at your disposal while you make up your mind about working for us or not.”
“Does anyone ever turn you down?”
“It has been known,” Mrs Peabody nodded, “but not all that common I would say.”
“There was one a few years ago,” Tobias added, “his name was George as I recall. It was all a bit much for him. He almost ran out of here screaming. He took to living as one of those mime artists in Covent Garden. You know the ones that pretend to be robots or statues and such. That way he doesn't have to talk to people, and people don't really talk to him. That is how he chose to deal with things.”
“Where does he live?”
“Hostels I think, the type of places he can pay for with the cash he earns from the tourists.”
“So if I decide I can't or won't work for you then I don't get to stay at your apartment place?”
“Correct,” Mrs Peabody confirmed sternly, “We aren't heartless, we will give you some time to make a decision, but a month at most. After that you have to start assignments for us or make your own way in the world.”
“What exactly would these assignments be?”
“We will go through that in more detail when you come back in the morning. I am sure you would rather get some rest and get out of that dress? Tomorrow we will do some short tests, aptitude type of tests, and see what kind of role in the organisation you are most suited to. For now though Mr Gordon here will get you set up with some supplies and show you to the apartments.”
“Supplies?”
“Just some essentials, think of it as a welcome gift from us to you,” Mrs Peabody smiled, “Mr Gordon will explain more. I'll look forward to seeing you again in the morning dear.” With that Mrs Peabody got up from the table and made her way to the door, “I am sure you will have a great career here ahead of you young lady. Bright types like you usually do well. Mr Gordon I trust you can see that she gets to the apartments without any difficulty?”
“That I can manage Mrs P.” Tobias grinned.
“Goodbye Mrs Peabody, I guess I will see you tomorrow?” Helen asked as Mrs Peabody opened the door and walked out into the corridor.
“That you will young lady. Have a pleasant evening. Bright and fresh tomorrow, I have a feeling you have potential. Let's hope we see some evidence of it in the testing.”
It struck Helen that, as far as she could recall, no one apart from her mother had ever suggested she had a bright future before. None of her previous bosses had used the words 'great career' or 'potential' anywhere near a sentence with her name in it. Unless it was going to be directly preceeded by the words 'she will never have'. She wasn't precisely sure what she might be being judged on here either. It wasn't as if these people had much to go on just yet. Maybe it was all relative, Helen thought to herself, and the fact that they already thought she has potential probably says more for the collection of clearly crazy people that must be working here. Maybe potential around here just equated to not running out of the building screaming and never returning, left to live through eternity as a mime in Covent Garden. Still, she mused to herself, it was nice to get a compliment. She could get used to being seen as having potential.
She was probably in her sixties, at least she looked to be in her sixties. Which century the lady was actually born in Helen wasn't willing to risk guessing at this stage. There wasn't anything specific about her that gave Helen any clues either. A short and stout lady with quite unusually broad shoulders. The wireframe glasses that were perched on her nose gave her an almost threatening look of a disapproving school teacher who had just learnt that the summer holidays had been cancelled.
The lady was being thorough that was for sure, she just lacked the skills with which Tobias had put Helen at ease. They say things like that are all in the delivery and Helen thought that this Mrs Peabody could have learnt a thing or two from the Irishman about actually trying to win over your audience rather than having to take it all in spite of your delivery. Unless, that is, you are the type of person that judges such delivery by the number of pretty but pointless slides that have been prepared for the occasion. In that case the woman was a genius because Mrs Peabody definitely had slides, lots of slides. Many of them even had very relatively elaborate diagrams and there was even some sparing use of clip-art here and there.
The room itself was fairly drab. It could have been any office building anywhere in the world. Although the dreary décor and choice of colours for the walls screamed government building to Helen. Her father had been a civil servant and she remembered spending many an afternoon playing with her colouring books in just such an office when being taken to visit her father at work. She couldn't recall why it was she spent enough time at her father's office that she remembered it so vividly.
The chairs were comfortable enough, which was probably a good thing given that Mrs Peabody was fast approaching her hundredth slide already.
Helen was definitely starting to pick up on the vibe that Tobias had not been the first choice for being sent to greet her. Every now and again Mrs Peabody would raise an eyebrow skeptically and comment on Tobias having been surprisingly efficient this time when Helen explained that she had already picked up on a topic and was ready to move on. Helen was also picking up on the vibe that Mrs Peabody suspected that Tobias' improved performance could be attributed to the fact that Helen was not an unattractive young lady.
Still Mrs Peabody did agree that Tobias had covered all the essentials and that Helen seemed to be be coping well with what she called the 'adjustment period'. Helen wasn't sure that she had any choice other than to cope, but she thanked the lady none the less and smiled and nodded as she felt was appropriate to indicate that she was still paying attention.
“See I told you I wasn't a total waste of space.” Tobias quipped as he came back into the room to deliver them both some more coffee, “Come on admit it Mrs P, I did the job textbook this morning didn't I?”
“Credit where credit is due young man,” Mrs Peabody nodded, “You didn't do too badly today at all. Far better than the last time you greeted that tall fellow, what was his name again?”
“Durden, Gary Durden,” sighed Tobias, “Will people ever let me live that one down?”
Mrs Peabody shook her head slowly, “I doubt it young man, I doubt it.”
“Who was Gary Durden?” asked Helen.
Tobias quickly interrupted just as Mrs Peabody looked like she was going to answer, “Absolutely no need to go into that now is there Mrs P. After all have to finish getting our new recruit here up to speed don't we?”
“I suppose we do, I am sure we can regale the young lady with your tales of ineptitude at a later date. We do have to get this done and get you set up now don't we Helen?”
“I don't know, I could spare the time to hear a tale of his ineptitude.” Helen smiled, and just for a moment she thought she saw a slight smile forming on Mrs Peabody's lips too but Tobias was quick to change the subject again.
“Come now ladies, no need to be picking on me. I am sure we need to be getting you set up in one of the apartments Helen. You must be wanting a shower about now, and I am fairly sure you will be wanting to get out of the hooker's attire for sure.”
As much as she was enjoying his obvious discomfort at having to dodge what was presumably an embarrassing story, he did have a point. She would definitely appreciate being able to get into some clean clothes after a nice long hot shower. “That would be nice actually. I am fairly sure I stink of things I don't remember doing, and didn't get to enjoy, in the first place.”
“You do a little dear yes.” Mrs Peabody confirmed quietly. Helen wasn't quite sure if she was being rude or just honest. These people seemed to have a slightly more blunt approach to things than she was used to. They didn't seem to have much time for political correctness. “But don't fret about it,” Mrs Peabody continued, “We have an apartment ready for you. The relocation team have already replaced your wardrobe as best as they could. It is waiting for you in the apartment when you get there.”
“What floor is she on?” Tobias asked
“Twenty second floor, a nice spot.” Mrs Peabody replied, “far higher than many new arrivals get. Not that there are many differences between the apartments but the view is certainly better once you are up that high.”
“Wait a second,” Helen interrupted, “what did you mean by replaced my wardrobe? And where exactly is this apartment?”
“In relation to your first question,” Mrs Peabody started to answer, “when we have people arrive we have some of the observation technicians look through the archive logs and see if they can ascertain what objects were in your possession before the timelines collided and left you disconnected. We find that it often helps the new arrivals to acclimatise if we can provide them with some familiar objects or clothes. So we try and provide as many of them as we can. After all, up until yesterday they all existed in this time-line as well. Now obviously some of the really personal objects are impossible, but we can usually get our hands on most things. Replacing the clothes is usually the easiest part.”
“What do you mean that some personal things are impossible?”
“Well, things like photographs for example. Now you never existed in this time-line so any pictures of you that did exist up until the collision were now never taken in the first place.”
For the first time since she had met Tobias on the steps of what used to be her apartment block Helen felt the urge to cry. She wasn't distraught or anything of the kind, and for some strange reason she felt like she really didn't want to let Tobias see her cry, but the idea that no-one else had any memories of her any more suddenly hit her. She could almost reconcile what was happening to her, but the thought that her parents didn't have a daughter or her best friend Amy presumably had a different best friend now, made her sad in a way she hadn't felt before. It was a very empty feeling and one she immediately decided she wanted to siphon off and keep firmly tucked away where it couldn't tug at her heartstrings.
She wasn't part of anyone else's memories any more. That was a fairly comprehensive way for the universe to write you out of life she thought. The fact that she still had those memories, but couldn't share them, was almost like being cruelly teased. Good memories were best shared, at least that is what she had always thought. She wondered if her friends and family had a better life now that she didn't exist. They would at least, she supposed, have very different lives for her absence. She could think of dozens of very stupid things that she had talked Amy out of down the years, she really hoped that whoever was Amy's best friend now had also been able to steer her away from some of those possible personal calamities.
Mrs Peabody had said that she couldn't contact her parents, or any of her friends as they wouldn't know her in any way, shape or form and would most likely conclude that she was some mad stalker. The thing was, that the time-lines were apparently close approximations of each other, and the people that existedin this reality, who now had no knowledge of her, would probably be fairly close to the people she had known during her previously ordinary life. So she would know some details of things, or be close enough, so as to genuinely really freak someone out if she approached them. Helen had to agree there are few scarier things than complete strangers who know things about you that they shouldn't. So it was all better off firmly repressed and ignored.
“Ok, but some of my other stuff is there? At this apartment?”
“Yes dear they are,” Mrs Peabody nodded, “the team try and find as many things as they can. Decorations and such, books, curtains, whatever they have gleamed from the archives. It isn't always a great deal, but something is better than nothing.”
“I'll be interested to see what they managed to get for me. This apartment though, what is the catch? Do I have to pay for it?”
“You are part of the company now dear, so you don't have to pay a penny. The company will cover everything for you while you are under our employ.”
“Wait just a second, I haven't agreed to anything yet. Who said I was going to work for you?”
“Of course you haven't decided yet dear,” Mrs Peabody assured her, “but we still extend that generosity to all new arrivals. You have the apartment at your disposal while you make up your mind about working for us or not.”
“Does anyone ever turn you down?”
“It has been known,” Mrs Peabody nodded, “but not all that common I would say.”
“There was one a few years ago,” Tobias added, “his name was George as I recall. It was all a bit much for him. He almost ran out of here screaming. He took to living as one of those mime artists in Covent Garden. You know the ones that pretend to be robots or statues and such. That way he doesn't have to talk to people, and people don't really talk to him. That is how he chose to deal with things.”
“Where does he live?”
“Hostels I think, the type of places he can pay for with the cash he earns from the tourists.”
“So if I decide I can't or won't work for you then I don't get to stay at your apartment place?”
“Correct,” Mrs Peabody confirmed sternly, “We aren't heartless, we will give you some time to make a decision, but a month at most. After that you have to start assignments for us or make your own way in the world.”
“What exactly would these assignments be?”
“We will go through that in more detail when you come back in the morning. I am sure you would rather get some rest and get out of that dress? Tomorrow we will do some short tests, aptitude type of tests, and see what kind of role in the organisation you are most suited to. For now though Mr Gordon here will get you set up with some supplies and show you to the apartments.”
“Supplies?”
“Just some essentials, think of it as a welcome gift from us to you,” Mrs Peabody smiled, “Mr Gordon will explain more. I'll look forward to seeing you again in the morning dear.” With that Mrs Peabody got up from the table and made her way to the door, “I am sure you will have a great career here ahead of you young lady. Bright types like you usually do well. Mr Gordon I trust you can see that she gets to the apartments without any difficulty?”
“That I can manage Mrs P.” Tobias grinned.
“Goodbye Mrs Peabody, I guess I will see you tomorrow?” Helen asked as Mrs Peabody opened the door and walked out into the corridor.
“That you will young lady. Have a pleasant evening. Bright and fresh tomorrow, I have a feeling you have potential. Let's hope we see some evidence of it in the testing.”
It struck Helen that, as far as she could recall, no one apart from her mother had ever suggested she had a bright future before. None of her previous bosses had used the words 'great career' or 'potential' anywhere near a sentence with her name in it. Unless it was going to be directly preceeded by the words 'she will never have'. She wasn't precisely sure what she might be being judged on here either. It wasn't as if these people had much to go on just yet. Maybe it was all relative, Helen thought to herself, and the fact that they already thought she has potential probably says more for the collection of clearly crazy people that must be working here. Maybe potential around here just equated to not running out of the building screaming and never returning, left to live through eternity as a mime in Covent Garden. Still, she mused to herself, it was nice to get a compliment. She could get used to being seen as having potential.
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