Knock knock.
“Enter.”
Creak.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Ah, Kevin. Please, do come in.”
Step. Step. Step.
Creak.
“Have a seat.”
Step. Step.
Screech.
Thud.
The fly sitting on the desk did not think much of these sounds, or to be perfectly precise, these vibrations, considering flies do not hear as we do. If this part of the story would have not only been written from the fly’s point of view, but also the fly’s perception, then it would not have made a very interesting read. Regardless, none of these sounds (and/or vibrations) signalled anything of importance to the fly, and thus it disregarded all of them. Little did it know that these sounds were the beginning of the most important event in Kevin’s life. Little did it also know that these sounds were also the beginning of the fly’s most important event in its life, as well as its last.
“Now then,” the boss said, as he discarded his newspaper-with-fly-sticking-on-page-twelve, “do you know why I have asked you to come and see me, Kevin?”
Kevin did not.
“I do not, sir.”
“Ah.”
The boss stood up from the desk and started to pace around in front of his window. Any seasoned office worker would immediately recognise the combination of the word ‘ah’ and pacing around in front of a window as an ill omen, but Kevin was not a seasoned office worker, and therefore Kevin did not.
“Well, Kevin. First of all, I’d like to go over your function here in our community. How long have you been with us?”
Kevin correctly assumed that the boss already knew the answer to this question, and therefore wondered why it was asked in the first place. Nevertheless, he played along.
“Well, since the beginning, sir. Since you arrived. When this town was still grass, dirt and stone.” he said, reminiscing this peaceful sight while gazing out of the window, trying not to directly look at the Mechanic’s workshop which was pumping smoking oil into the once crystal clear river and thick black smoke in the once deep blue skies.
“Yes, indeed. And how would you describe your function here?”
Kevin correctly assumed once again that the boss knew this, considering the many times he had been consulted by the boss himself. Nevertheless, he answered this question as well, hoping to get a streak.
“Well, as the Guide, sir, it is my job to inform you about what actions you should take to progress in this world.”
“Hm.” the boss said, as he began inspecting his Flairon, Tsunami, Razorblade Typhoon, Tempest Staff and Bubble Gun which were mounted to the wall of the office. Kevin, who thought he was really in form today, went out on a limb and assumed this was a subtle hint of some sort. And although he was once again completely right, he would never know exactly how right he was.
“And my other task is to explain to you what you can create from certain materials.”
“I see.” the boss said as he turned back to face Kevin. “Anything else? “
“Well…” Kevin said. “Not really…”
“Yes.” The boss said. “Not really.”
He turned around yet again to look out of the window. Kevin was rather confused about where this conversation was going, but he had a gut feeling it wasn’t going a way he’d enjoy.
He noticed the boss was observing the Workshop, which hummed with the sound of a thousand hammers pounding on a thousand anvils, or more applicable in this case, the sound of one very large hammer pounding a very large anvil. Actually it wasn’t as much of a hum as it was a loud, rather unpleasant rumbling.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” the boss said. Kevin disagreed, but did not think it was a good idea to openly voice that opinion, and once again he was correct.
“Indeed, sir. A piece of art.”
He heard a content grumble.
“Indeed. Built it myself, do you remember? After I rescued Lauren from the dungeon. Yes, Lauren, she’s become quite the asset to our community. I don’t know how she keeps up with the wire demand. Yes, she does a brilliant job. Couldn’t do without her.”
Kevin fancied he heard a slight emphasis on the word ‘her’, although that might have been his imagination. Whether or not it was is one of the few things that are left to the reader’s imagination. The boss turned around, a little quicker than Kevin anticipated, and so he shied back a little. The boss had a very serious look on his face, often associated with an incoming invasion. Yet Kevin still heard the cheery, inexplicable music he always heard at this time of day, so he was getting rather concerned at this point in the conversation.
“Look Kevin, I’m not going to beat about the bush any longer. I am very grateful of all the advice you have given me over the years, and we all appreciate the work you did for this community. But at this point in time, your knowledge is of no use to me anymore. So basically,” the boss said, clearly out of breath, “you’re fired.”
Kevin sat in stunned silence, while the boss sat in heavy breathing.
“F-fired?”
“Yes, fired. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us, but our association is at an end. You have twenty four hours to get your stuff out.”
Another short silence.
“Fired?”
“Yes, fired! Sacked! Dismissed! Laid off! Contract not renewed! No longer employed! Ef, ay, ar, ee, dee, fired!”
Kevin could not believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t accept the notion that he would have to leave the community he had helped build up from the ground. He expected the boss to suddenly start laughing and shout ‘April Fools’, even though he knew fully well that it wasn’t April the first, judging from the block calendar hanging next to the door. He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening, but for the purpose of conversation, he pretended to.
“But why?”
“Why? Because you don’t have a function anymore! Look at me, I have beaten this world. I can’t progress any more. I am literally at the top of the world. Well, not literally, but you understand what I mean. And all you’re telling me to do these days is to keep making Suspicious Looking Eyes! I could headbutt that thing into submission now, and that Demonite Ore is worthless to me. So yes, that’s why you’re fired.”
“But,” Kevin tried desperately, “I can still tell you crafting recipes, sir! Surely you can’t remember all those recipes!”
“Well, yes,” the boss said, dismissively, “or I can just go to the Terraria Wiki. It’s a lot more useful, and not just limited to crafting materials.”
Kevin had no idea what Terraria was, or what a Wiki was for that matter, but he was not prepared to give up so easily.
“But surely I can stay in the town, sir? I mean, I helped build it!”
“Helped?” the boss sneered. “How did you help? By opening the doors in the middle of the night and allowing both me and several other inhabitants to get slaughtered on numerous occasions? That was something I put up with back then because you were still useful to me, but at this point in time, I think it’s better if you take your suicidal practices elsewhere.”
Kevin couldn’t think of anything to counter that, so he just went for another ‘but’ and trusted his luck.
“But…”
“Do you think this is easy for me, Kevin?”
Kevin actually did think this was easy for the boss, considering the latter had no problem with throwing a voodoo doll of Kevin into magma several times. For the first time today however, he was wrong. Nor did he think it would help his case if he spoke his thoughts.
“No, but…”
“Do you understand why I’m letting you go?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Do you think you can say anything that you haven’t said yet that will make me reconsider?”
“Well, I might, but…”
“Yes or no, Kevin?”
Kevin realised it was futile. He had lost the moment he stepped into the office.
“No, sir.”
“Then please, Kevin, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
The boss once again sat down behind his desk and started, as Kevin for the final time (correctly) assumed, pretending to be working.
“Well,” Kevin said weakly. “I’ll go and pack then.”
No response.
“And I’ll go and say goodbye to the others, then.”
No response.
“And before I go, I’d just like to say it has been an honour working with you, sir.”
Sound of a pencil breaking. Sound of an irritated grunt. Sound of rummaging through office supplies. Sound of writing resumes. Altogether, no direct response.
“Goodbye sir.”
“Goodbye Kevin.”
After ten seconds, Kevin realised this was it. He stood up (screech), walked towards the door (step step) and opened it (creak). There he stood in the doorframe, unable to step over the threshold for the final time. Behind him, he heard the boss sigh.
“Kevin?”
Kevin turned around, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please, close the door on your way out this time.”
“Enter.”
Creak.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Ah, Kevin. Please, do come in.”
Step. Step. Step.
Creak.
“Have a seat.”
Step. Step.
Screech.
Thud.
The fly sitting on the desk did not think much of these sounds, or to be perfectly precise, these vibrations, considering flies do not hear as we do. If this part of the story would have not only been written from the fly’s point of view, but also the fly’s perception, then it would not have made a very interesting read. Regardless, none of these sounds (and/or vibrations) signalled anything of importance to the fly, and thus it disregarded all of them. Little did it know that these sounds were the beginning of the most important event in Kevin’s life. Little did it also know that these sounds were also the beginning of the fly’s most important event in its life, as well as its last.
“Now then,” the boss said, as he discarded his newspaper-with-fly-sticking-on-page-twelve, “do you know why I have asked you to come and see me, Kevin?”
Kevin did not.
“I do not, sir.”
“Ah.”
The boss stood up from the desk and started to pace around in front of his window. Any seasoned office worker would immediately recognise the combination of the word ‘ah’ and pacing around in front of a window as an ill omen, but Kevin was not a seasoned office worker, and therefore Kevin did not.
“Well, Kevin. First of all, I’d like to go over your function here in our community. How long have you been with us?”
Kevin correctly assumed that the boss already knew the answer to this question, and therefore wondered why it was asked in the first place. Nevertheless, he played along.
“Well, since the beginning, sir. Since you arrived. When this town was still grass, dirt and stone.” he said, reminiscing this peaceful sight while gazing out of the window, trying not to directly look at the Mechanic’s workshop which was pumping smoking oil into the once crystal clear river and thick black smoke in the once deep blue skies.
“Yes, indeed. And how would you describe your function here?”
Kevin correctly assumed once again that the boss knew this, considering the many times he had been consulted by the boss himself. Nevertheless, he answered this question as well, hoping to get a streak.
“Well, as the Guide, sir, it is my job to inform you about what actions you should take to progress in this world.”
“Hm.” the boss said, as he began inspecting his Flairon, Tsunami, Razorblade Typhoon, Tempest Staff and Bubble Gun which were mounted to the wall of the office. Kevin, who thought he was really in form today, went out on a limb and assumed this was a subtle hint of some sort. And although he was once again completely right, he would never know exactly how right he was.
“And my other task is to explain to you what you can create from certain materials.”
“I see.” the boss said as he turned back to face Kevin. “Anything else? “
“Well…” Kevin said. “Not really…”
“Yes.” The boss said. “Not really.”
He turned around yet again to look out of the window. Kevin was rather confused about where this conversation was going, but he had a gut feeling it wasn’t going a way he’d enjoy.
He noticed the boss was observing the Workshop, which hummed with the sound of a thousand hammers pounding on a thousand anvils, or more applicable in this case, the sound of one very large hammer pounding a very large anvil. Actually it wasn’t as much of a hum as it was a loud, rather unpleasant rumbling.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” the boss said. Kevin disagreed, but did not think it was a good idea to openly voice that opinion, and once again he was correct.
“Indeed, sir. A piece of art.”
He heard a content grumble.
“Indeed. Built it myself, do you remember? After I rescued Lauren from the dungeon. Yes, Lauren, she’s become quite the asset to our community. I don’t know how she keeps up with the wire demand. Yes, she does a brilliant job. Couldn’t do without her.”
Kevin fancied he heard a slight emphasis on the word ‘her’, although that might have been his imagination. Whether or not it was is one of the few things that are left to the reader’s imagination. The boss turned around, a little quicker than Kevin anticipated, and so he shied back a little. The boss had a very serious look on his face, often associated with an incoming invasion. Yet Kevin still heard the cheery, inexplicable music he always heard at this time of day, so he was getting rather concerned at this point in the conversation.
“Look Kevin, I’m not going to beat about the bush any longer. I am very grateful of all the advice you have given me over the years, and we all appreciate the work you did for this community. But at this point in time, your knowledge is of no use to me anymore. So basically,” the boss said, clearly out of breath, “you’re fired.”
Kevin sat in stunned silence, while the boss sat in heavy breathing.
“F-fired?”
“Yes, fired. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us, but our association is at an end. You have twenty four hours to get your stuff out.”
Another short silence.
“Fired?”
“Yes, fired! Sacked! Dismissed! Laid off! Contract not renewed! No longer employed! Ef, ay, ar, ee, dee, fired!”
Kevin could not believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t accept the notion that he would have to leave the community he had helped build up from the ground. He expected the boss to suddenly start laughing and shout ‘April Fools’, even though he knew fully well that it wasn’t April the first, judging from the block calendar hanging next to the door. He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening, but for the purpose of conversation, he pretended to.
“But why?”
“Why? Because you don’t have a function anymore! Look at me, I have beaten this world. I can’t progress any more. I am literally at the top of the world. Well, not literally, but you understand what I mean. And all you’re telling me to do these days is to keep making Suspicious Looking Eyes! I could headbutt that thing into submission now, and that Demonite Ore is worthless to me. So yes, that’s why you’re fired.”
“But,” Kevin tried desperately, “I can still tell you crafting recipes, sir! Surely you can’t remember all those recipes!”
“Well, yes,” the boss said, dismissively, “or I can just go to the Terraria Wiki. It’s a lot more useful, and not just limited to crafting materials.”
Kevin had no idea what Terraria was, or what a Wiki was for that matter, but he was not prepared to give up so easily.
“But surely I can stay in the town, sir? I mean, I helped build it!”
“Helped?” the boss sneered. “How did you help? By opening the doors in the middle of the night and allowing both me and several other inhabitants to get slaughtered on numerous occasions? That was something I put up with back then because you were still useful to me, but at this point in time, I think it’s better if you take your suicidal practices elsewhere.”
Kevin couldn’t think of anything to counter that, so he just went for another ‘but’ and trusted his luck.
“But…”
“Do you think this is easy for me, Kevin?”
Kevin actually did think this was easy for the boss, considering the latter had no problem with throwing a voodoo doll of Kevin into magma several times. For the first time today however, he was wrong. Nor did he think it would help his case if he spoke his thoughts.
“No, but…”
“Do you understand why I’m letting you go?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Do you think you can say anything that you haven’t said yet that will make me reconsider?”
“Well, I might, but…”
“Yes or no, Kevin?”
Kevin realised it was futile. He had lost the moment he stepped into the office.
“No, sir.”
“Then please, Kevin, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
The boss once again sat down behind his desk and started, as Kevin for the final time (correctly) assumed, pretending to be working.
“Well,” Kevin said weakly. “I’ll go and pack then.”
No response.
“And I’ll go and say goodbye to the others, then.”
No response.
“And before I go, I’d just like to say it has been an honour working with you, sir.”
Sound of a pencil breaking. Sound of an irritated grunt. Sound of rummaging through office supplies. Sound of writing resumes. Altogether, no direct response.
“Goodbye sir.”
“Goodbye Kevin.”
After ten seconds, Kevin realised this was it. He stood up (screech), walked towards the door (step step) and opened it (creak). There he stood in the doorframe, unable to step over the threshold for the final time. Behind him, he heard the boss sigh.
“Kevin?”
Kevin turned around, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please, close the door on your way out this time.”
