“No one is too ordinary for our agency,” she said, handing him a ticket. She looked him up and down before she continued. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about. Why, if you did, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”
Avery grasped his ticket in his palm and went to the waiting room to go sit with the rest of the non-inducted. The girl with the green hair sat next to him, her leg shaking to the 6/8 time signature that blasted through her Walkman headphones. Across from him, a young man who resembled Parliaments and Red Bull picked at the tattered waistline of his sweatpants.
“109,” a monotone voice boomed over the intercom. PRB stopped picking at his pants and wiped his nose with the back of his palm. Then, he made his way over to the induction area, where they collected his ticket and let him through the turnstile. Adjacent to the turnstile stood the door that they sent you through once all was said and done.
Avery caught a glimpse of someone as they exited. Hair parted neatly to the right. Belt buckle shined, shirt tucked in, collar pleated. A watch to top it all off. So…normal. Avery gulped and thought back to what the lady at the front desk said. Why, if you did, you wouldn’t be here, would you?
It’s a sacrifice you’ll have to make eventually. At least that’s what his parents always told him. He picked at his fingernails, nervous.
“Are you scared?” Green Hair asked. She had taken off her headphones.
“No,” Avery replied, though he was.
“Liar,” she said. “I was the first time. Everyone is.”
Avery was confused. The first time? Isn’t there…only one?
“Couldn’t stand it anymore. Ripped it out.” She showed Avery a squareshaped scar behind her ear. “As always, impulsivity got the best of me,” she continued, “Word of advice: Go along with it. I’ve seen where not doing so takes you. Just…go along with it. It gets better.”
Avery wanted to believe her. It was just something about the flitting of her eyes and the crack of her voice that made him feel like she wasn’t just talking to him; these words were directed towards herself, too.
“123,” came the intercom. Green Hair nodded at Avery, then approached the turnstile. 30 minutes later, she came out in a pencil skirt, a blouse, and some reinforced flats—very sensible footwear. She was no longer Green Hair, but instead, Dull and Mousy Brown. Avery stood up and called to her, and when she turned around, he flinched. So…normal.
“Good luck, kiddo!” she said to him from across the room. “Ready for work, now! The office they’ve assigned me to closes at 5, so I better skedaddle.”
Avery plopped back down into his seat, picking so hard at his nails that he drew blood.