On the morning of June 11th, a Monday, Elyon rose early. Today was the day of his interview. He tiptoed through his washing routine, careful not to disturb the quiet of the early hour.
He meticulously brushed his suit clean on the table and used a warm kettle to steam the wrinkles out of his shirt, making it look presentable. After securing his pocket watch with its chain, he donned his high-top hat, adjusted the finer details in front of the mirror, and set out.
There was no tramcar stop on South Cross Street, so Elyon had a walk ahead of him to reach the nearest one, two blocks away.
After a ten-minute stroll, he joined a gathering of office workers at the tramcar station. If not for the surrounding low-rise brick structures, he could almost believe he was back on Earth, queuing for the subway.
"Rattle... rattle..." The sound of the tramcar wheels clacking against the rails grew louder as the vehicle, drawn by four sturdy horses and painted green, appeared around the corner. Elyon joined the throng of people boarding the tram.
"I need to go to the Gonia Police Station, please."
"Four pennies. Get off at the Gonia District Government stop; the police station is right next door."
Today's ticket collector was a middle-aged woman, her face marked by the etchings of time and a few crows' feet around her eyes.
"Alright, call me when we reach the stop, thank you." Elyon handed over four coins and received his ticket.
The morning tram was packed with well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, and a few others nonchalantly read newspapers, unlit pipes in their mouths. Aside from the occasional crying baby, the carriage was quiet. Elyon found a corner at the back to rest and conserve his energy for the interview.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed when the ticket collector's crisp voice announced the arrival at the Gonia District Government stop.
Stepping out of the tramcar, the lazy morning sun filtered through the mist, bathing Elyon in a gentle glow. The Gonia Police Station, a three-story red brick building, awaited him. After checking in at the security booth, he was allowed into the main office building.
Walking through the doors, he encountered a reception desk manned by a young lady in a white lace dress with curled brown hair, who seemed to be napping, her face buried in her arms.
Elyon knocked on the desk, but there was no response—just an echo resonating through the hall.
Knocking again, more insistently, the woman slowly lifted her head, the remnants of drool still lingering at her mouth. Quickly perking up upon noticing a visitor, she pretended to be busy typing into thin air.
"Good morning. My name is Elyon; I have an interview scheduled with the chief today. Could you tell me where his office is?" Elyon inquired.
The young lady, realizing the nature of Elyon's visit, paused her charade and, with a sweet smile, replied, "The chief? You mean Chief Orion? He's probably not here yet; the top brass usually arrives around nine. You can wait here for a while."
"Alright, may I wait in the lobby for him?" Elyon responded.
"Of course, just take a seat on the couch over there in the hall. The tea ladies aren't working yet, so I'll get you a drink. Would you like tea or coffee?"
"Tea, thank you." Tea ladies? It seemed there were specialized staff for even the simplest tasks.
The receptionist poured Elyon a cup of tea, then resumed her previous posture. Next to the reception couch stood a newspaper rack. With nothing better to do, Elyon leafed through the papers.
The headlines caught his eye: "Conservative Party triumphs over the Whigs for a majority in both houses; Benjamin Russell to form a cabinet."
"Parliament rejects proposal to lower tariffs."
"Further development in the northern colonies; Chieftain Shayan to visit Bruge next month."
"Aegsburg University library catches fire; timely intervention prevents disaster. A lecturer jumps to his death, allegedly distraught over love."
A library fire? Elyon's senses sharpened. It seemed someone intended to destroy any traces with the blaze. Or perhaps it was those black-clothed officers fishing for rats.
As time passed, well-dressed individuals and those in deep blue police uniforms streamed past, heading to their offices.
While Elyon perused the latest news, a portly man with whitening temples and a balding pate, dressed in a deep blue police uniform, entered the lobby.
"Good morning, Chief Orion. There's a Mr. Elyon here waiting for you."
Rising swiftly from his seat, Elyon placed the newspaper down, removed his hat, and bowed slightly with his hand over his chest.
"Good morning, Chief Orion. My mentor recommended me for a job interview here."
"An interview?" Orion seemed puzzled, scratching his head before remembering.
"Your mentor is Russell? I have a job, but it's not located here. You'd be working at the port branch office. They're in need of a clerk. Come with me, let's have your interview upstairs."
Following Orion to the upper levels, Elyon noted the spiral staircase of white marble, the hallways lit by black iron gas lamps with glass shades, and the sound of typewriters clacking from behind office doors.
"Come in, and close the door behind you." Orion directed as he opened his office door. The interior was modest—an elongated desk cluttered with a typewriter, inkwells, and pens.
Two fabric sofas faced each other; Orion took one and motioned for Elyon to sit on the other.
Elyon hung up his hat and coat and handed over the letter of recommendation he had in his pocket. Orion perused it briefly before tossing it onto the desk.
"Aren't you going to read it?"
"No need, a recommendation from Professor Russell doesn't require scrutiny. Besides, he's outlined everything I need to know. You're from this year's graduating class?"
"Yes, I'll receive my diploma at the end of June."
"Then you're my junior, haha. I graduated from there thirty years ago. Let's talk about your job responsibilities and compensation for today."
"Aren't you going to ask some questions?"
"For a top graduate from Aegsburg University to be a police clerk would be an underutilization of talent. No need for questions, haha. You might have been a division chief had it been thirty years ago."
"Uh, sure."
Orion pulled out a map of Aegsburg City, pointing to the eastern harbor area:
"The port branch is losing an old clerk to retirement in August, and you'll be taking over his duties. You'll be responsible for drafting documents for the branch, and twice a week, you'll join patrol officers to survey the surrounding eight streets, maintaining day-to-day public order. On weekends, the administrative and clerical staff take turns for one-day shifts, so you work eight days and rest two each week, from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. We rotate holiday duties. Any questions?"
"No, if we encounter issues beyond the ordinary police's capacity, should we report them?"
"If nearby, you can hand off such matters to those 'little black men', the ones in black police uniforms from the special operations department, and then stay far away from that place."
It seemed Orion was not only aware of transcendent powers but also that many of them had been conscripted by the government.
"I have no further questions."
"Let's discuss the benefits. Typically, the branch clerical job offers the pay and rank of a junior chief constable. Considering you're a renowned university graduate and recommended by Professor Russell, you'll be given the rank of a mid-level chief constable, with a weekly pay of 5 pounds, an annual service bonus of 20 pounds, totaling 200 pounds a year. With time and commendable actions, you can expect promotions and pay increases."
Elyon quickly surmised that his family's farm and mother's small grocery store together made about 500 pounds a year. With his imminent graduation, he was set to surpass the average income of three working members in his family.
No wonder his father invested heavily in his education at Aegsburg University. Education truly could change one's destiny, especially when diplomas still held value.
"Any other issues? I'll write a note now, and you can have Susan downstairs help you sign the contract in the administration department. Then, you can go to the finance department to advance two months' pay. Lastly, head over to the general logistics department for a photograph and measurements."
"Advance my salary, Chief?"
"Once you graduate, it's a bit awkward to ask for pocket money from home, right? As your senior, I can bend the rules for you. It's just an advance on your salary, which you'll pay back by receiving half-pay for the next four months."
"Is that acceptable? I'm not short on money."
"Just do as I say. You'll need to move and attend the graduation ceremony, and maybe head home for a bit. You'll start at the branch next month, so we'll also need time to process the paperwork for your uniform and service weapon. Despite talk of streamlining and improving efficiency, aside from letting go of three tea ladies and two night guards, the efficiency at the Police Headquarters hasn't improved."
Orion grumbled about the bureaucracy while writing something down.
Rip... With the sound of tearing paper, Orion handed the note to Elyon.
Then, under the sleepy-eyed guidance of Susan, Elyon completed the paperwork at three different offices.
He signed the employment contracts, stipulating confidentiality and job responsibilities, and received his portion. Receiving thirty pounds at the finance department, he had never held so much money before—three ten-pound notes with the portrait of founding monarch, Harold I.
Elyon tucked the money into his wallet, placing it in the inside pocket over his heart.
The process at the general logistics department sounded like a jack-of-all-trades division. After taking photos and measurements—much quicker than expected—they sent Elyon on his way.
Elyon hoped the uniform would be slightly larger; if it was too small, it wouldn't fit.
After the busy morning, it was nearly noon. Elyon grabbed a quick lunch near the police station before heading back to the apartment. The afternoon was spent packing belongings in preparation for the trip home the next day.