✅ Unusual Vacancy

Part 3 - The Applicant

Amy looked herself up and down in the mirror probably a dozen times while she was getting ready for her interview, and checked again in a mirrored storefront while she waited for the bus. Thankfully she didn't have a morning shift at the coffee shop today, so she wouldn't have to let the old badger know she was looking at other possibilities.

She wanted to look perfect, but she wasn't sure what perfect would be. For a nursery? She could be smart and businesslike, in a sharp suit. She could go for something simple and functional, the kind of thing a nurse might wear if they didn't have a uniform, trying to minimise edges that could snag on something, and keeping her pockets out of sight so there was no temptation for kids to play with her phone, watch, or anything else she was carrying with her. Or she could go for a short skirt and low cut top, that might appeal to the men on the interview panel if they didn't realise it was a deliberate choice.

She'd tried looking up more info on this Yoyo Nursery place, but hadn't been able to turn up much at all. All she could find was that they were in the city's register of businesses, had filed unremarkable tax declarations for the last three years, and they had a registered office at the address she'd been sent to. It was one of the older office buildings, four storeys of rooms built around a courtyard with a couple of trees in the middle. Centuries old now, from the days when giving an office windows was still considered preferable to the power demands of inefficient lighting. It was a large business, that much was sure, because it had bought up all four sides of the courtyard, which were normally split between different companies. That made her curious; surely just one or two units would be enough for a company like that; why would they need dozens of large meeting rooms? No nursery needed a room for every child, and if they had the hundreds that the size would indicate, she would expect to find a review online.

That was disturbing in itself. No reviews on the common sites. No check-ins. And she couldn't find any advertisements either. There were a couple of single-line cryptic notes on the chaotic web, saying that the place offered "exactly what they promised". But she didn't have a handle on those parts of the net, she couldn't tell who had written the reviews or how trustworthy they were. Having reviews on the dark web didn't mean the place had a bad reputation; just that their customers wanted to review anonymously, which was really weird for a nursery.

But she still couldn't think of anything. She tried to think what kind of shady business would describe themselves as a nursery, what would be the advantage to them in running one? It wouldn't be anything that could harm the children, because all it would need was one dissatisfied parent. Unless there was something the parents never found out, but then what could it be?

Amy had no end of questions, and not a single answer. Wondering about it didn't put her off at all. If this place was hurting children in a way their parents couldn't tell, then they would need somebody on the inside to bring the truth out. If this company wasn't as clean as it looked, she would be the whistleblower.

But what was it? There weren't just no reviews, there were no advertisements. She knew nothing about the company at all.

Her phone chirped, and text scrolled across the lower third of her vision. She needed to be psyching herself up for this interview, not staring at her reflection and spacing out over irrational worries.

She looked herself up and down again. Large green eyes, which she sometimes liked to imagine were as soulful as a kitten's. She told herself they made her irresistible. Her hair was tied back sharply and braided, coming just below the base of her neck. That wouldn't be a safety hazard or hygiene violation, would it? And if it was, they'd surely tell her to have it shortened before starting work, not refuse her the job. If she saw that all the staff had short hair when she arrived, she could adjust it using her tablet in the waiting room. A practical use for having the premium version of the Morph app, proving it wasn't just the vanity purchase that her parents had said a few years ago.

Her fur was all neatly trimmed and brushed, perfectly smooth. Her coat was pale gold with dark spots, not something outlandish that might give the impression of rebellion. The spots were actually dark purple, so deep it only showed up when direct light caught it, and she'd still debated with herself for half an hour over whether she should change them.

In the end she had decided that she wouldn't change herself. This was her, this image was who she was. If she had to change her appearance for a job, that was just like wearing a uniform and that would be fine. But if she ever changed herself just to try and fit what she thought somebody else might want, it felt like she would be betraying her own identity.

She had a casual jacket on, dark grey with a half dozen thin vertical stripes of silver thread. Not the cutting edge of fashion, but something that had been very popular among young professionals and graduates a few years before. She hoped it would say that she cared how she looked, but wasn't obsessive about the changing whims of fashion.

A mid length skirt, hanging just below her knees. Straight, black, and undecorated. She didn't like to wear socks or stockings, they always made her feet itch and scruffed the fur as she walked. And sensible shoes, with wedge heels to support her feet correctly. If the boss was pro-human they might have some objection to digitigrade paws. Many incorrectly assumed that a smaller area in contact with the ground must mean they were less stable. So she'd chosen a style that was something of a compromise between being easy to walk in, and looking normal to a human mind.

Her bag was a simple canvas one painted with gloss enamel. Common enough, you could buy something like it in any mall. Neither super expensive nor bargain basement, she was sure it wouldn't attract any judgement.

She checked her phone again, to make sure the app was working. It synced with her implant, and reported normal vital statistics. She checked the tightness of all her clothes as well. Smartfibre was another luxury she was glad to have splashed out on, because it meant that adjusting the fit of her clothes would be as easy as tapping a couple of buttons on the screen. If she needed to be a little more curvaceous to appeal to a lecherous potential boss, or stern and businesslike, or heavily built to give the impression she could handle a rebellious child, she could adjust easily and her clothes would automatically match.

Another chirp, and the text at the bottom of her vision was red this time. She took one last look over herself to make sure she hadn't missed anything obvious, and turned towards the offices where she hoped she would soon be working.