A Strange Place  
Michael Fulton found himself in a strange place. 
It felt off, somehow. 
He looked himself up and down. He seemed fine. His limbs responded normally. His blue suit was still pristine, if a little ruffled. The tie was splotted with what looked like flecks of red paint. 
Michael took a look around. His surroundings were dark, yet he could see perfectly. He didn't understand the physics of this place, but he did understand that although there was no natural light, when he held his hands up to his face, he could see them, clear as day. 
Michael spun around in a circle. There. A rectangular cube of light, seemingly far away. 
With no better options, Michael began walking towards it. 
Hours passed. Or perhaps it was mere minutes. Maybe even a few seconds. The point was, Michael was walking towards the light he saw, but he was getting no closer. It was like the light was moving, too, moving away from him. 
He gave up after a bit and sat down. Michael wasn't prone to surrendering, but he didn't see any other options. 
Prone to surrendering...? 
Where had he gotten that idea? Michael took a look into his memory. Surely he could find an idea or instance that supported this part of his personality. 
...Huh. That was weird. Michael couldn't find anything. Maybe it was because- 
All of a sudden, Michael was in front of the massive light door. 
Michael blinked. 
What? 
"Hello?" 
Who said that? Where was that coming from? 
"Hello? Hi. I'm up here." 
Michael looked up. All of a sudden, there was a large, ornate desk in front of him. Michael stood up and brushed the nonexistent dust off of his pants and stared at the person who'd spoken earlier. 
They were dressed similarly to Michael, in a blue suit, but that's where the similarities ended. Straight black hair hung down over their face. A blue fedora, outlined in gold, sat upon their head. A pair of dark navy blue gloves covered their hands. 
Michael looked at their face, and he soon realized he had a hard time telling what ethnicity they were. They looked vaguely Asian, or maybe Hispanic, perhaps even white? Maybe mixed? No, that couldn't be right... 
Michael registered that he couldn't even tell what gender they were. 
"Hiya!" said the strange person. "Is your name Michael Fulton?" 
Michael detected an accent in the person's voice, but also no accent at the same time. 
"Uh...Yes?" 
"Excellent!" The person straightened their tie and wrote something down on a slip of paper Michael hadn't noticed up to now. "My name is Aster, and I'll be your onboarding agent for today!" 
"Onboarding agent for what?" 
"Onboarding agent for...oh," Aster looked up at Michael. He detected sympathy in their features. "Ah. You're 20. The young ones are never ready. We'll get to that in a moment, okay?" 
Michael felt a flare of annoyance, for some reason. He didn't like how patronizing Aster sounded, as if they were so much smarter than Michael or something. 
"Listen, I've got places to be-" 
"I'm sure you do," Aster said, cutting him off. "But we've gotta finish the onboarding process now, okay? I've got lots of clients." 
"...Sure. Whatever." 
"Alright! First question: How do you feel about your experience with us so far?" 
"Horrible." 
"I'll put that as ‘tolerable' on the rating scale," Aster scribbled something down on their paper. "Next question: Where were you going or doing before you got here?" 
Michael searched hard in his mind, praying that something came up. He felt immense relief when a memory surfaced. "I was heading to my office job. I was crossing the sidewalk, and...why do I remember a red SUV?" 
"We'll talk about that later," Asper said. "Can you tell me the date?" 
"Uh, yeah..." Michael racked his brain. "October 20th?" 
"Close," Aster said. "It was the 21st. But you're lucid! That's good. Most get it way off." 
"What do you-" 
"Next question! Can you picture the last thing you remember, and describe it to me?" 
Micheal thought hard. "I was walking across. There's a deli across the street. There was a lady walking her dog." 
"Stop. Focus on the dog. What do you remember?" 
Micheal felt his brain straining. "It was a...black poodle. No, it was white! It had a pink collar. It was wearing this stupid little sweater." 
"Good. Now go back to the red SUV. What do you remember about that?" 
"...A car horn. I remember the driver. A middle-aged white guy on his phone. I thought he seemed irresponsible. He wasn't even watching the road! Then he looked up and looked really, really, scared." 
Michael suddenly felt something click into place. 
"Why did he look scared?" Aster prompted. 
"He...I..." 
Michael looked down at his tie. It was suddenly looking much more wrinkled than before. More red flecks had appeared on it. 
"This isn't paint, is it?" 
Micheal looked down at his hands. 
They were completely red. 
Michael began screaming. 
Aster pursed their lips. "Dang it. I guess we need to ease him in more next time." They snapped their fingers. 
Micheal disappeared. 
 
 
Far in the distance, Micheal Fulton found himself in a strange place.