The Interview

LIGHT.

Not in front of my eyes. Behind them. Everywhere. Inside me.

Not white. Colorless. A light where color doesn't exist. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I can't describe it any other way.

And then…

Nothing.

But a conscious nothing. I'm awake. I'm thinking. I exist.

Just… I'm nowhere.

"Oh!"

A voice. But not a voice. Inside my head, but somehow outside it too. Everywhere and nowhere.

"Huh! He actually made it."

I try to turn but I have no body to turn. I try to look but I have no eyes. I just… perceive. And what I perceive is…

Headlights.

Two yellow-white headlights looking at me. No. Watching me.

"Hello," the voice says.

"Are you…" Is my voice coming out? I don't know. But my thoughts are transmitting. "Are you Truck-kun?"

A laugh rumbles through the void. A metallic rumble, like through an exhaust pipe.

"Truck-kun! Great name. Humans have given me a lot of names. 'Fate,' 'Death,' 'The Door.' But 'Truck-kun' is my favorite."

"Are you real?"

"In the philosophical sense?"

"Uh… I don't know." I look at my hands. I have no hands.

"You're not dreaming."

"So I did it?"

"That's right."

"So where is this?"

"Purgatory. Doorway. Tunnel. Trailer. Take your pick."

"Am I going to another universe right now?"

"Not yet, I need to review your application form."

"What?"

"Didn't you submit an application?"

"Yes, but-"

"Nobody invited you, you came on your own. That's an application. Naturally I have to review it."

"Come on! How many people even make it this far?"

"A lot. You think you're the only one fed up with the world he lives in?"

"Yes, but how many people can get to this point? I researched so much. If there were, I'd definitely have found them."

"Actually you did find them."

"I did?"

Silence.

Then I remember the cases I left out of my results.

Suicide cases.

"Not every truck accident is an accident."

"Makes sense… All right then. I'm ready."

A desk appears in front of me. My resume sits on the other side of the desk. I'm sitting in a chair. Or at least something that feels like sitting. An extremely uncomfortable setting.

The headlights come closer. Or I'm coming closer. Perspective doesn’t seem to work properly here.

"Mr. Orhun, could you tell us a little about yourself?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

I can feel it grinning.

"It's written on my resume anyway. What should I talk about?"

"That's not professional at all. Take this a bit seriously."

Seriousness and professionalism. Right…

"My name is Orhun Çelik. I'm twenty-six years old. I'm a metallurgy and materials engineer. My surname and my profession are a coincidence. I picked the degree almost at random. My family was pressuring me to go to university. Four years undergraduate. Two years master's. Two years work experience. For the last two years I've been working in the iron and steel sector. In my previous role, I specialized in quality control. Now I want to take that experience into a new... company... Like yours. Anyway. For the adventurer position."

"Why did you apply to another universe?"

"There's no room for development left in my current universe. I'm looking for new challenges. I want to prove myself in a different environment."

Silence. The truck is looking at me. I'm looking at the truck. Or something like that.

The truck makes an uneasy engine sound. "That," it says, "was the finest example of corporate drivel. Congratulations. But it's useless here."

I answer the questions out of habit.

"How do you cope with stressful situations or pressure?"

"I identify the source of the stress and deal with it. One time a project was falling behind, I needed to speed up the team. I prepared a new tracking chart and we finished the project two days early."

Of course this is a lie. The source of stressful situations is usually incompetent managers. They saw my tracking chart as a waste of time. They wanted us to work overtime instead.

"What's your approach when a conflict comes up within the team?"

"I see conflict not as a crisis but as the collision of different perspectives. My approach has three steps: objective listening, focusing on the shared goal, constructive resolution. If we unpack these-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Sorry?"

"Modern humans are exhausting." It sighs. "How do you apply what you just said in practice?"

"I mean…"

"Let's do it this way: you've got a group of 'followers' around you who believe in you but none of them can read or write. They can't even count properly. You're trying to explain to them how steel is hardened, and they think you're a prophet come down from the sky and are about to sacrifice an animal for you. How do you resolve this 'communication conflict'?"

"Good question."

"Then give a good answer."

"Well... in corporate life, we call this a 'competency gap'”

"I don't care what you call it."

"Right… I’d skip the theory. I'd show them results. A stronger sword, for example. That way they'd respect my methodology. Training them takes time but I could set up a basic production line with a 'master-apprentice' relationship. I'd throw out the complex terminology and break the work into practical tasks. You don’t need the same language to teach someone a process."

I hear paper rustling from the God’s side of the desk. Like it's taking notes.

"Another scenario: you have fire, you have raw material, you have knowledge. You're going to produce something for the first time and everyone is watching. What you produce will say everything about you. If you make a weapon you'll be seen as a warrior, you'll earn respect but also fear. If you make a tool you'll be seen as a craftsman, useful but not a threat. If you make an ornament you'll be seen as a merchant, rich but weak. The first impression matters. What do you make?"

Smithing skill tree unlocked. The first craft is always important.

"A weapon obviously, damage output comes first."

"Can you use a sword?"

"I'm a fast learner."

"Even with magic, medieval technology dominates fantasy worlds. There won't be an electric arc furnace there. There won't be rolling mills. You'll have to melt and forge that first sword yourself. When exactly are you going to get sword training?"

He's right… I’d assumed magic would somehow take care of that part.

"I wouldn't make the sword myself, I'd teach it. Or… I'd do this: I'd be the team's producer, not its fighter. Even though fighters stand out in adventurer parties, every individual matters."

"All right, how do you take criticism from your party leader or an adventurer friend? Say you're told you're a terrible smith, someone talks trash about the armor you produced."

"I take criticism not like a stone thrown at my armor, but like a whetstone that will sharpen my sword." Damn! That sentence just came to me. "I leave my ego in my horse's saddlebag. Whether the person criticizing is a high level paladin or the party's greenest thief, I'd say 'knowledge is knowledge.' Because in my own world I ran into plenty of the other kind and I saw the results."

"Interesting."

After all those boring interviews I feel very free right now.

"How do you prioritize when you have to handle multiple tasks at once?"

"First I look at the damage the tasks will cause. The dragon that's going to burn down the village always takes priority over searching for a legendary sword. Then I distribute the tasks. If I do everything myself I'm not a 'hero,' I'm 'busy.' I leave the locks to the thief, the potions to the healer. Delegation is the key to survival."

"Were you able to do these things in your current universe?"

"No, of course not. Suggestions, plans, constructive criticism get filtered through people’s egos and of course in bureaucracy. And that turns tiny problems into giant monsters."

"Fantasy realms have their own bureaucracy too, their own 'corporate structure.' How do you know that three months after you get there you won't find yourself in front of a duke saying 'the motifs on this armor are wrong'? What's different in fantasy realms?"

"Here's the difference: in fantasy realms bureaucracy is written in blood."

I pause. The light in the God's the headlights dim slightly.

"What happens in my current world when a department manager makes the wrong decision? An apology email gets sent. Maybe a meeting is held. Worst case he's fired and three months later he's sitting in the same chair at another company. Responsibility is abstract. Consequences are invisible. Nobody actually pays a price." I fold my hands. "But if a village burns because of a duke's wrong decision? That village's ashes fly in the wind. The corpses stay in the square. That duke may find a dagger waiting for him at the next public assembly, or at least the people's rage. There's bureaucracy, yes, but the bureaucracy has a price. And when the price is visible, people have real motivation to fix the system."

"So your argument isn't that there won't be bureaucracy. It's that the bureaucracy will be accountable."

"Exactly. I'm not looking for a perfect system. I'm looking for an honest system. A place where the enemy is clear, where the consequences are concrete, where effort has a numerical equivalent. In my current world I carry a project on my back for six months, and as a result I get an email that says 'good job.' Maybe they hand you a company mug. In a fantasy realm, when I kill the dragon I level up. I gain a new skill. My armor gets stronger. My contribution is measurable. This isn't about games. It's about justice."

Paper rustling again.

"Let's go back to the first question. Give the real answer. Why do you want to go to another universe?"

"I hate this life," I take a deep breath. "Wake up, go to work, come home. Sleep. Again. Again and again. Until I die."

"I'm listening."

"I'm alone. I have nobody. When I die nobody will notice. My mark on the world is zero. There's no proof I lived."

"Continue."

"Continue what?!"

"Say it. The very bottom. The darkest. The real reason!"

"I…" I pause. "I want to be IMPORTANT. To mean something. I want to have a story. It's not about just… existing. It's about LIVING."

Relief washes through me.

"There it is," it says. "The real answer. Thank you."

The truck pulls back. The distance between us widens.

"Listen," it says. "Your intent is strong. Very strong. But intent doesn't always take you where you want. Sometimes… it takes you where you need."

"What does that mean?"

"It means this… Maybe magical medieval fantasy is the thing you want. But is it the thing you need?"

The relief disappears. My stomach turns even though I don't have one.

"I know what I want."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! I've been planning this for months. I thought through every detail. My target world is clear."

"Fantasy universes are full of heroes. Besides, haven't you had your fill of that with anime and manga in your current universe? Doesn't it feel boring by now?"

"I mean… Yes, it'd be a lie to say I'm not sick of it. Being a consumer society probably has something to do with it."

"I have another job on my hands."

"Job?"

"There’s a writer trying to create a different kind of isekai. You seem like a good fit."

"Writer?"

"Actually you're very suitable. You might even be the chosen one. Fate? Or determinism… I don't know, these are complicated things."

"I don't understand."

"Me neither. But it doesn't matter. You're the chosen one. Yes! And instead of standard fantasy universes I'm going to take you to a different kind of universe."

"Why?"

"Like I said, you're the chosen one."

"You decided I was chosen literally five seconds ago."

"I didn't decide. I noticed. Or something like that."

"No!" I stand up. "I don't want it. Cliché isekai suits me fine."

"You already had a cliché life."

"It's not the same thing."

"What's the difference between cutting slimes every day and sending emails every day?"

"I can work hard and topple the demon king."

"You can work hard and topple your manager too."

"That's not the theme I want."

"How do you know you won't get bored there?"

"Who gets bored in a fantasy world?"

"I know a demon king."

"Send him to a sci-fi universe."

"Why the stubbornness?"

"I can only be the chosen one for a fantasy universe. I’d use my metallurgy knowledge to take down the Demon King. I'd become the lord of metal and I'd advance humanity by an age."

"Stainless steel production in the middle ages would be very useful. But I'm not sure it's enough to topple a demon king in a magical universe. If you go there you could become a rich blacksmith. But could you become an adventurer?"

"How many isekai protagonists actually become adventurers? Kazuma? Subaru? The vending machine?"

"They didn't go willingly. And after they went, the struggle to live continued. You, on the other hand, are booking the trip in advance." Its voice hardens. "This isn't a holiday resort."

"I can struggle too! Besides a sci-fi universe isn't suitable for me. What am I supposed to do against lightsabers, wave a piece of iron at them?"

"I didn't say sci-fi."

"What then? Gothic? Vampire-werewolf romance?"

"Nuclear dystopia."

Sirens wail somewhere in the distance.

"No."

"Why not? Your metallurgy knowledge would really come in handy here."

"Nooo!"

"You can rise on top of rust and scrap."

"No god! Please noooo."

"You can rebuild civilization!"

"How am I supposed to build a civilization!? I'm just an engineer. I'm not a genius like Senku. Besides I have no idea about radiation."

"You’re an engineer. Presumably your brain works. Also I'll let you take your bag with you."

"You say cliché but this is cliché too. Do you have any idea how much Fallout has already squeezed this premise dry?"

"This one's different."

"How different can nuclear dystopias be?"

"Enough! Beggars can't be choosers. Neither can chosen ones. Good luck hero!"

LIGHT.

This time it's different.

The light of a nuclear explosion. Thousands of suns rising at once, burning into the back of my eyes and setting everything on fire.

Then darkness.

My wrist starts to burn.

A real, physical burning. Like molten metal against my skin. I want to scream but I have no mouth.

No, I do. I have a face, I have a body, I have a body again but nothing moves.

The burning in my wrist spreads. It climbs up through my veins, from my arm to my shoulder, from my shoulder to my neck, from my neck to my brain.

Suddenly everything goes silent.

A screen appears in front of my eyes—or rather, inside them. My eyes are closed but I see. Not retina. Something deeper. Like thought itself has turned into a screen.

Green text scrolls. Like an old, cold, military terminal.

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GENETIC RECALIBRATION & COMBAT ENHANCEMENT

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Mark 0 | Prototype | Serial No: 000

CFINTCOM + Starfish Neuroindustry

Canadian Department of National Defence

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BOOT PROTOCOL INITIATING...

[■■■■■■■■■■] Hardware check ............... OK

[■■■■■■■■■■] Neural interface ................ OK

[■■■■■■■■■■] Biometric sensors ............. OK

[■■■■■■□□□□] Network status ............. OFFLINE

[■■■■■■□□□□] Update server ….. UNREACHABLE

>Last successful update: 152 years, 7 months, 13 days ago.

>Irrelevant. System is operational.

ESTABLISHING NEURAL LINK...

════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Something clicks inside my head. Not physical but it feels that way. Like a door being unlocked. A warmth spreads across the back of my neck. The sense of a presence that isn't familiar but isn't hostile either. Somebody is moving into my house.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Neural synchronization: 100%

Compatibility rate: 100%

Note: This compatibility rate is exceptionally rare.

>Actually this rate has never been recorded before.

>One of the advantages of being a prototype: no comparison data.

>Every first is a record!

INITIATING BIOMETRIC SCAN…

════════════════════════════════════════════════════

My body is being scanned. I feel it. Every cell, every tissue, every bone. Like being X-rayed from the inside out. My body is a book and somebody is turning every page.

══════════════════════════════════

BIOMETRIC REPORT

══════════════════════════════════

Pulse ............... 156 bpm [!] HIGH

Blood pressure ...... 152/97 [!] HIGH

Body temperature .... 37.4°C [~] UPPER NORMAL LIMIT

Blood oxygen ........ 93% [~] ACCEPTABLE

Cortisol ............ 847 nmol/L [!] VERY HIGH

Blood sugar ......... 62 mg/dL [!] LOW

Hydration ........... 51% [!] INSUFFICIENT

Sleep debt .......... ~6 hours [!]

General Status: UNDER STRESS

>User is experiencing shock following interdimensional transfer.

>Or he’s just had a very bad day.

>Probably both.

══════════════════════════════════

USER PROFILE

══════════════════════════════════

Name ................ Orhun Çelik

Age ................. 26

Height .............. 178 cm

Weight .............. 70 kg

Blood type .......... A Rh+

Level ............... 0

Experience (XP) ..... 0 / 100

══════════════════════════════════

BASE ATTRIBUTES

══════════════════════════════════

STR : You can lift a heavy sword. That's all.

AGI : When a sword comes at you, you will probably scream.

END : You don't die immediately. You linger a while.

INT : An engineer. Good.

PER : Quality engineer. Someone who can look at metal and see a defect. Good.

General assessment:

>You are not a fighter.

>But you are intelligent and observant.

>There are other ways to survive.

>Throwing a punch is the worst of them for you.

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What the hell?

══════════════════════════════════

HEALTH STATUS

══════════════════════════════════

Physical assessment complete.

Muscle mass: Below average.

Cardiovascular capacity: Below average.

Reflex time: Average.

Body fat percentage: Above average.

General classification: This is… sad. But correctable.

Physical integrity: 100%. No injuries.

══════════════════════════════════

Active Conditions:

Caloric deficit: High.

Hydration: Low.

Cortisol level: High.

Shock: Interdimensional transfer.

══════════════════════════════════

Estimated survival time (based on current data):

...

Calculating...

Insufficient data. No estimate generated.

Frankly: Either one day or fifty years.

Advice: Find water. Find food. Find shelter. In that order.

═════════════════════════════════════════════════════

There is a message for you in my files. Someone listed as ‘the Writer’ left you a message: good luck. Try to make it a good story.

Main Quest Started: Civilization Will Be Born From The Ashes!

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W E L C O M E

T O

A N A T O L I A

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