Where are you, Rodrick? Did I save you? Are you alive? I must... --1.9 Seconds Post-Integration.

  "N-naked?" he mouthed. He hated to admit it, since it seemed like such a petty thing, but he had some shame about his body. Not like I have a choice.

  He quickly stripped. Holding the dirty, smelly pile of garments in his hands, where he could feel the caked-in dirt and mud smears. He chastised himself for thinking his odious garb suitable for the workplace.

  "Thank you," the flat voice intoned as it then directed him to discard his clothes in a nearby garbage receptible.

  Actually, feels good to not any longer have those dirty things on my back... he dumped the items into the garbage chute and thought no more about them.

  Clark stood before the suitcase. A blast of air, liquid, or some fusion of both, splashed over his body from a hidden vent in the ceiling. "Decontamination Complete." Clark noticed the change right away -- way less stink!

  He took a moment to re-puff his afro after the cleaning agent had flattened his hair. Clark proceeded to the suitcase.

  "Begin System Link System Installation Process..." the voice ordered.

  Clark unlatched the suitcase. Steamy fog released from inside of the suitcase, startling him.

  The suitcase opened to reveal several numbered compartments.

  Compartment One was the biggest. It contained a helmet-looking device wrapped in a plastic bag.

  He picked the helmet up -- almost weightless in his hands -- and removed the protective plastic. The 'helmet,' was less a helmet and more cranial circuit forged (very roughly) into the shape of a... hat. the kind of hat type came to him after a moment: 'baseball.' Though he had heard Augustford System Hardware was indestructible, he still carefully handled the circuit as he wound it on and over his forehead.

  "Good work! Proceed to compartment two."

  Clark removed a layer of foamy, black material which had been used to cushion the System Link inside the suitcase. Beneath the material was another plastic-wrapped item. This bag contained set of pressed clothes -- a work uniform.

  With his signature haste, he unfolded and put on each item of clothing.

  He turned and looked into a tiny mirror on the reverse of the suitcase's lid. Smooth looking, cool stuff: he was wearing tan khaki pants, a maghanoy-colored braided leather belt, and a tucked-in Augustford long-sleeved shirt. He took another look in the suitcase; there was a compressed pair of boots tucked away in their own dark-hued plastic bag -- thank the gods!

  "Good work! Proceed to compartment three."

  And so, he did: he removed more black foam from the suitcase, chucking it into the garbage to his left, and found the next layer.

  Another plastic bag -- this one, green! -- and he unwrapped a set of knee and elbow pads. Feeling the material in his hands as he sat himself down, legs akimbo, and put the pads on his respective limbs, they were heavy, like precious ores, though they also felt squishy like some kind of muck. Each pad conformed to his body, reacting to his movements in real time to adjust. Feels good -- wait, they vanished. Camouflage? Whoa!

  "Good work," the ceiling PA voice again spoke. "Proceed to compartment four."

  Like the three previous times he emptied the suitcase of the spongy- black material. He whistled himself impressed at the amount of pure mass Augustford managed to stuff inside what was, comparatively speaking, much too small a space. Yet perhaps there was a strange property at play in the suitcase or the sponge he did not understand. Whenever he removed the black mesh sponge from the suitcase, the material rapidly grew in size. Still light as a feather, compressed or not. Odd things, but where is -- oh, the package. Finally!

  As he had done with previous packages, he eased this latest item from the foam then used his fingernail to cut the weak adhesive binding several ends of the plastic together. The plastic coat fell way to reveal an oblong shaped device; light like the headset, it lacked the heft of a paperweight. The voice spoke: "This is your System Receiver Core. Please hold it over your chest for activation procedure."

  How would holding it over my chest activate it? Clark couldn't think of a reason why -- then again, with his ignorance, he would be lucky if he ever knew what his station demanded, let alone anything to do beyond: and for the time being, his station was less a 'service station' and more a rickety sign rusting in the rain. For better or worse, he would be a cog in the system... unless I work extremely hard, that is, to earn a better station!

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  The device hummed to life as he brought it over his chest. Light from the machine's insides illuminated complex patterns on its surface.

  Like a snake roiling through a sandy dune, Clark's circuit-headdress vibrated not unpleasantly with tension.

  He looked to the mirror: a cord extended from his circuit and connected to his Receiver Core. The cord moved on its own accord, knowing by instinct how to interact with the new addition. With the cord attached to the Receiver, it hung handsfree from his noggin' like a stick lined with a carrot hung before a reluctant beast of burden. Not liking the resemblance, Clark made a mental note to fiddle with the cord and receiver later.

  "Congratulations! You have successfully installed the Augustford System Link. Please standby for Activation Radiation. ALERT: The Activation Process will take several minutes. DOUBLE-ALERT, the activation process will hurt. Thank you for your understanding."

  Hurt? Did the Voice just say the activation might--

  But Clark never got the chance to finish his statement before pain wrecked his body.

  The pain came from his arms and legs where he had attached the knee and elbow pads.

  The pain came in waves. Gradually, it rose before suddenly crashing down in a moment of relief. Whether he blacked out or lost consciousness, he was ignorant. When he came to, drool escaped his lips as his body lay motionless on the floor.

  "Congratulations! You have survived System Integration!"

  Happy though he was he survived a procedure he hadn't realized was dangerous, he was happier still at the lack of bodily pain.

  Clark brought himself to a standing position. Wobbly legs aside, he replied to the Ceiling Voice saying he was fine.

  "Please approach the table. Good. Sit down."

  He did as the voice directed and sat in the chair. He was happy to catch his breath.

  Before much breath could be caught and he could think of how his orientation would go now that he had the System, the System showcased itself.

  A light, blue-colored screen appeared before his eyes.

  "Whoa! Is this for real!" Clark shouted.

  No one heard him, of course, other than for the Ceiling Voice. Clark did not even know if that Voice belonged to an actual human.

  The blue box displayed only the Augustford logo -- a cornucopia filled with popular foodstuff as the Augustford flag portended the background, a simple red and white affair.

  Underneath the logo, it read in tiny but bold print, 'System Initializing: 25%'

  "Now begins your orientation proper. We hoped you have enjoyed your pre-tutorial relaxation introduction as well as the gradual integration procedure. With your System intelligence now initializing, you will no longer need my help. It was a pleasure to meet you, Clark. Please have a wonderful first day. Before I hand you off to your inhuman intelligence training operative, I wanted to verbally shake your hand one more time as I welcome you to the team! SHAKE! SHAKE! That concludes this professional greeting."

  "Oh. You are more than welcome! It was nice meeting you, uh, human? I thought you might be one of those 'machine people' at first. I am so new here... obviously. I'm happy to learn you're human and that you enjoyed my company! May I ask your name?" he replied, then waited for an answer.

  No answer from the ceiling was forthcoming. 'Too much talking on my part. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?'

  Underneath the logo, the percentage readout now displayed 'System Initializing: 50%'

  Or you could ignore me... that is fine as well... "Thank you! Have a good day!"

  Still no answer. Fine! He had his job to do!

  Silence dominated for a moment. Audio sounded in his ear once he looked again at the logo. A tune heavy on bells and trumpets ignited before easing into a background noise prior to vanishing entirely.

  He expected the voice which talked to him now to mimic the clean, robotic-like voice of the Ceiling PA Voice. Which was to say, he expected this new voice to be lifeless while also, somehow, slightly on the effeminate side. As the Ceiling PA Voice had been.

  "Welcome to the System interface. I will be your guide -- so you better work yourself to the bone!"

  The voice was neither lifeless nor effeminate.

  It was the opposite.

  Masculine.

  Full of life.

  And old? In fact, the voice seemed familiar...

  Slowly, the voice returned to him -- it was none other than that of Sire Augustford himself!

  "Awesome?" Clark responded, unsure of if who he was talking to was actually alive or not. He did not think the voice belonged to an actual human. In this place, though, how was it he could be sure? "Who am I talking with? You're not Sire Augustford, are you?"

  A glance below the logo: 'System Initializing: 75%'

  "I do not have a name. I am an artificial intelligence designed to help you access the System. If you wish to refer to me, please use my shorthand: System Intergration Master Plan or the easy to remember acronym, S.I.M.P," the voice said. It spoke to him as though he were someone worthy of hearing the voice as Sire Augustford. Was the Voice of the Founder common in all fake intelligences, here, or was it just he? Perhaps the inclusion of the Augustford voice was special treatment because he was a Lifer?

  "Okay, S.I.M.P, sir," he told the entity within the blue screen. He was about to ask what 'the system' was when the Augustford-Entity interrupted him before he even had a chance to talk.

  "I am no 'sir,'" the entity told him. I am an artificial intelligence designed to better help you access the system. Do I need to say this a third time and conclude you're stupid or can you comprehend and keep your mind running sharp?"

  "I can comprehend, SIMP. Thank you for the help you're giving me now and for the help you will be giving me in the future. I appreciate it!"

  "Very well," SIMP replied as a space directly ahead as well as to the side of his desk illuminated under the glow of powerful overhead lights, bringing open the whole space for him to bear.

  "What is this?" he asked in awe. Around him, he saw mock store department fronts illuminate. Overhanging signs displayed the purpose of each department -- Produce, Meat and Seafood, Apothecary Services, Electronics, Curbside, Instant Delivery, even banking. Then more booths besides each. Did they want him to train in every one of these departments?

  "This will be your training zone," the A.I confirmed. "Once System Initialization is completed you will train day and night at this simulated storefront until your skills meet the Minimum Labor Standards Requirements. Just like me! Well, back when I was a human."

  "I like it," Clark said in his standard 'Yes, Sir, Of course, Sir,' voice. "I am ready to prove myself!"

  He glanced at the readout: System Initialization: 90%

  "You ready to work? Interesting. We will see how long that lasts, then, eh kid?"

  From the blue screen, the readout pinged, 'System Initialization Completed.'

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