Joy's interview is strange

Picking up where I left off days ago, I find the library’s phone number and ring it up on the house’s telephony device. The voice on the other end sounds excited when he realizes he’s talking to a woman and doubly so when I indicate I’d like to come in and discuss a job. He puts me on hold for a few moments before a Mr. Alfred Savidge picks up and introduces himself as the library manager. He asks me a few short questions then says I’d be welcome to come in at any time and be interviewed for any open position they have.

After I hang up I let out the breath I’d been unknowingly holding in for the whole conversation, realizing a part of me was worried that I’d understood incorrectly. I’d been afraid that women wouldn’t actually be allowed to just waltz in and start working and that I’d actually have to have a resume, job history, and relevant work experience to get a job in the library. Mr. Savidge’s questions about my age, weight, height, and breast size demeaningly and clearly demonstrated that I met any requirements they had for women working there.

Through Eileen I find out that while there is public transportation closer to the loop, neither the trains nor the buses come this far out into suburbia. I could walk to the old red line which serves as a walking path, but a two plus hour walk in these heels wouldn’t serve me very well. With only a little hesitation I pick up the phone and call Kylan. He’s more than happy to drive me downtown to the library.

The sex appeal of my outfit is confirmed by Kylan’s drooling stare before he rushes around the vehicle and opens the door for me. The damned skirt is so tight that I have to back my tush onto the seat that then pull my legs in afterward. I’m not sure I can differentiate all the different vehicle styles, but with only two seats and its quick bursts of speed, I imagine Kylan is driving me to town in their equivalent of a sports car, as opposed to the sedan that brought Atticus, Catty, and I to our new homes.

When we get to the library, I thank Kylan for the drive with a pat on his chest and a kiss to his cheek. He blushes a deep red and says that he can stay and wait for me, but having no idea how long I’ll be and having already found out that I can take a hired car… a taxi?... back home, I thank him and send him back on his way.

It’s not surprising that there are men everywhere. I spot one woman as she turns a corner away from me, but other than that it’s a wave of masculinity. Much like in our time, their dress and demeanors vary greatly. From scrubby working class men to well dressed professional men, they all take note of me. I have a moment of trepidation, knowing that I’ve opened myself up to possibilities far more demeaning and sexually crushing than either Sterling or Bradley could offer, but push forward knowing that this is the only way we can get the information we need.

When I walk in, I’m greeted at the main desk by a man that doesn’t look like he even belongs in a library. Tall, muscular, dark brown hair, full beard and mustache, he looks like he might be in his late 30s. He’s clean and put together, but he’s wearing a pair of slacks with a nice t-shirt and a cashmere jacket. His eyes can’t hide his surprise and appreciation when he spots me and he looks me up and down several times as I approach him. When I’m standing in front of him and set my purse on the desk he leans in and says in a confident deep voice “Hello miss, let me know how I can help you and your wish is my command!”

I’d prepped myself for such reactions and look demurely away as I say, “Hello there. I’m Joy Williams. I spoke with a Mr. Savidge on the phone earlier today about getting a job here.”

Reaching out, the man takes my hand in his and brings it up to his lips for a mock chivalrous kiss before saying, “He told me to expect you. I’m Montana Colton, the librarian. Please let me bring you back where we’ll have an interview for you.”

Montana walks around the front desk and pulls my arm around his before escorting me back to an office. It’s exactly as I’d picture any office at a library. A large desk piled high with various books, a conference table also piled high with various books, and large piles of books on the floor and covering the walls in shelves. After having me sit down at the table, Montana excuses himself and says he’ll be right back.

I peek at the books, most of which are old and leather bound, before I hear the door open behind me. Turning around I see three men enter. Montana leads the other two men in and takes a seat directly across from me. The man that sits to his left takes my fingers into his hand and gives them a kiss just as Montana did, introducing himself as Alfred Savidge the Library Manager that I’d spoken with earlier. He’s clearly older than Montana, maybe in his mid-40s. While he’s certainly not out of shape, he’s tall and thin. A swimmer’s build when compared to Montana’s football body. He’s wearing a grey tweet suit that even includes a waistcoat. It takes me a moment to think back, but I realize he may be the first person I’ve seen in this time that’s wearing glasses. The last man is easily the oldest person I’ve seen since arriving in this time, not including people in the Free Union who by their own technological nature would be impossible to guess at their age. This man looks like he’s in his late-70s or early-80s with a mop of thick, unkempt white hair and a bushy mustache. His pince-nez spectacles grip his bulbous nose with a ribbon connecting to his jacket pocket. He barely glances at me as he introduces himself as Mr. Silvester Emerson, the Library Director.

Mr. Emerson pulls his spectacles off his nose and slides them into his pocket as he clears his throat and addresses me. “Miss Williams, Mr. Savidge tells me that you’re interested in working in the library. I have to tell you that we haven’t had a woman working here since I started nearly sixty years ago. There are going to be far more opportunities for you to better your social standing and find a mate elsewhere. Frankly, I won’t be happy with my staff dedicating their time to pleasing you instead of focusing on their work and would prefer you to simply work elsewhere. What makes you interested in working in a library of all places?”

I’m surprised at Mr. Emerson’s tone. Everybody in Mishigami that I’ve met so far has been so overtly polite and gracious toward women that it’s become second nature to expect it. This wasn’t open hostility, but he clearly didn’t care that I was a woman. Assuming that as the library director he’s the likely decision maker here I answer him professionally and calmly, “I appreciate you being frank with me Mr. Emerson. As I told Mr. Savidge, I’m new to Mishigami. I was raised in the Eastern Coalition and have been traveling for the past few months through the Free Union and Gilead. I want to immerse myself into Mishigami culture so that I can better fit in and participate. My social worker said I could get a job for socialization and to help support myself. While I know there are many opportunities that would care greater for my socialization, I thought working in a library would also open up opportunities of me learning more about this culture, history, and maybe even better educate myself on my future role here.”

The reaction from all three men is most easily described as surprise. It seems that none of them expected me to be well spoken, let alone expected me to have an actual answer. Mr. Savidge interlaces his fingers on top of the table and leans toward me. “That sounds idyllic Miss Williams, but you could always come and visit the library and read all that you’d like. We’re going to be naturally concerned about your well-being as we are not well prepared to care for a woman’s needs. Unlike many offices and shops around town, we have a sacred task of maintaining all known knowledge. At this branch we have a full-time staff of only eight men along with a part time staff of nine more. Mr. Emerson is the director of all sixteen branches of our library system, while I manage this central branch and depository. Mr. Colton is one of four librarians working here. Ideally, we’d have a staff four times this size, but we do with what we’re assigned. We also don’t have a considerable amount of foot traffic coming in and out of here. There simply aren’t enough people here to keep a woman satisfied. Do you live alone Miss Williams?”

Mr. Savidge’s diatribe on how I’m not welcome comes to a sudden stop with the question and it leaves me a little uncertain as to what he’s after. “Umm… yes. I mean, I have an AI educational assistant, but I don’t live with any other people.”

The mention of Sterling seems to be important as the men all lean back and look at each other. Mr. Colton goes next, “So this AI assistant, he’s able to sexually satisfy you each morning? You’re able to sate your need to care for a man by providing it with a similar level of care?”

I try my best not to blush, knowing full well that somehow sex would enter any conversation. “Yes, my AI assistant, he goes by the name of Sterling Barron, satisfies me each morning. I’m able to focus on him and he physically sates me.”

I feel a throb of arousal in my panties as I uncross and re-cross my legs. I know this culture considers them the same, but blowing my house robot twice, while making him breakfast and having him push my head up and down a dildo isn’t exactly what I’d call sexually satisfying me. But where I expected to have to throw myself at the men here, I’m on the opposite side and having to sell the fact that my robot takes care of me. Mr. Colton continues, “That’s helpful. What about other men in your neighborhood. Are there men available should you seek reality over artificiality?”

I’m fairly sure that mentioning Bradley would be enough, but as I don’t want there to be any doubt, I double up with my answer. “Yes. One neighbor, Mr. Bradley Atwood, has proven quite interested in helping me out. I have another neighbor, Dr. Atticus Moore that I arrived with that has also helped me out a lot.”

Mr. Emerson waves off my answer and moves on to another subject. “Very well Miss Williams, we’ll expect your sexual needs to be primarily met at home. Let’s get to your work here at the library as it won’t be merely you seeking out sexual pleasures like other jobs. Can you read?”

I sit blinking for a moment, wondering if I heard him incorrectly or misunderstood what he meant. When I can’t think of any other way to interpret what he said I gesture at the books on the table “Yes sir. I can read very well.”

I hold back on stating just how well educated I am, but I’m still surprised at their level of disbelief when Mr. Emerson pulls out what looks like a first-grade reader. “Please open to any page and read aloud what is written there.”

Taking the book from the library director I can’t stop my anger from rising. After flipping open to the middle of the book and seeing an illustration and few lines about a child and his teddy bear, I flip back to the first page and smirk when I find what I’m looking for. Clearing my throat, I read aloud “Copyright twenty-six-fifty-two by Whitaker Daly, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, electroscanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by AoMP copyright law. For permission requests, contact…”

Mr. Savidge’s voice cuts through my reading as he loudly says, “That’s enough Miss Williams.”

When I look up, I see three different responses. Mr. Emerson seems honestly impressed. I’d imagine if they’re starting with the question ‘can you read’ being able to read the copyright statement would be impressive. Mr. Savidge, on the other hand, seems upset. As if I’d upstaged him somehow. And finally, Mr. Colton seems… attracted? Could I possibly be turning him on by showing that I could read?

Mr. Colton leans forward, “Okay, it’s clear that you’re educated and can read. Most women here barely get past learning their letters as it’s just not important in their day to day lives. We have an entire picture book section dedicated to women’s reading. Let’s put your reading to a relevant task. Can you look through the books on this table and select out four that would likely be about history, simply by their titles? Specifically comparative economic history?”

I nod and start going through the books. After only a few minutes I’ve selected six books, all clearly about comparative economic histories. Still, having shown that I can read and even understand book titles, they show how little they think of educated women by Mr. Emerson’s request, “And could you place them in order by their author’s names. Last names please.”

I bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep the light smile on my face as I organize the books alphabetically by the author’s name.

The interview continues in that vein for another hour. Every time I believe I’ve proven that I can do at least basic tasks the three men find another way to doubt my abilities or suggest that my craven need for sex will be an unnecessary burden on them. Finally, Mr. Emerson simply stands up and says that he offers his approval but leaves the decision to the branch manager. Mr. Savidge indicates he’d like me to wait while he stands and walks both Mr. Emerson and Mr. Colton out. When he returns, he moves his chair so that he can sit next to me.

His voice shows his displeasure, “Miss Williams, its clear that you are well educated for a woman and have the aptitude necessary to do at least remedial work here. Director Emerson is of the mind that we have to follow Mishigami’s new cultural direction and allow women into the workplace even if they’re a burden. Mr. Colton was raised in this culture and clearly believes you won’t be a burden. But as the manager this decision comes down to me. I don’t know why you want to work here, but its clear you know that I can’t deny you this job.”

Mr. Savidge turns to face me more directly as his hand comes down to rest on my thigh “But I need you to know that I can and will remove you from our employment should you prove to be either a culturally inappropriate fit, or too much of a nuisance. I’m assigning you to be Mr. Colton’s assistant. You’ll do whatever task he sets up for you and you’ll seek him out with any sexual need you may have.”

I tense up, realizing what Mr. Savidge is doing. I don’t know why, but he’s clearly setting me up to fail. His next statements prove it, “Should I hear that you are able to leave Mr. Colton alone and don’t bother him with your sexual needs, I’ll know you are seeking them out elsewhere and you’ll be fired. Should I witness you seeking out sexual pleasures from other employees or customers, you’ll be fired. And finally, should I see that Mr. Colton’s productivity is diminished in the least by taking care of your needs, you’ll be fired. Is that understood Miss Williams?”

I nod my acceptance of Mr. Savidge’s terms, wondering how the hell I’m going to meet them. I knew working would be a minefield of avoiding sex from all the men, but now I not only have to avoid sex from the employees and customers, I have to GET sex from my boss and have it NOT be a burden upon his work.

Standing up, Mr. Savidge buttons his suit coat and says, “Very good then. You can officially start tomorrow. As you’ve been here for awhile and are clearly already flustered, please see Mr. Colton for relief before heading home.”