"We're lucky that the Authority Bureau trusts us," I point out and shake a finger at Wiki and Conch. I swing open the door to the Bureau and the two children follow me inside. Unfortunately, when I got this job request the paper stated mandatory formal business attire. It's safe to assume that Wiki and Conch will not be participating in severe and intense labor on their first job.
I greet an Authority Official and the front desk. He smiles and leads us to a room stacked high with old files. He tells us to get busy. The room is peculiarly located on the lowest level of the building. We took an elevator down to the basement and followed a long narrow hallway down to dimly lit door. The Official uses a heavy set of iron keys that clad and clank to unlock the large, thick mahogany door.
"Why do they trust our Team so much?" Wiki asks as we shuffle papers into smaller, neater piles.
"Because," I say and slide a stack of files into my lap, "We took in wizards and people on the streets. We made them good and happy and safe. The Bureau really respects us for that, which is good," I explain.
"I see," Conch answers, "But, don't you agree this is kinda boring?"
"Yes," I say and think of the conversation Maia first gave me, "Being a wizard isn't always fun. You're stuck doing this until you're real good, yanno? We've been getting better jobs and more challenges, since we've grown."
"Do you go on jobs a lot?" Conch asks.
"No, I'm the master. It's hard to balance everything, I have a loose partnership with Echo, but it's just whenever we can both go on a job together," I say, "I miss going on jobs and having adventures, though," I admit.
"How long were you on Tempest until you became Master?" Wiki asks.
"Not long," I laugh. I pick up a thick file, Dorothy Vatz. I skim quickly through the contents of the file, even though the Authority Admin told us not to look. My thumb presses against the loose pages as I ponder through it. My finger slaps the first page again, my eyes catch a word that seems to be unfit and uncomfortable. My eyes search and bounce around the page. Deceased. I swallow my throat and put Dorothy's file to my right. I swing my legs in the chair, realizing now that we are working with the portfolios of those who have left us.
I'm surrounded, ceiling to floor, with memories. Each stack contains someone's life, their achievements, their memories, even. I feel uneasy being around it so, considering I've lost my biological family only but a few days ago. These manilla files are souls, to me, because they contain precious things about people and their lives. The say whether they have lived a good life or not. When they died, why they died, and did they die with someone. It would be tragic to die alone. They would shut their eyes, in their cold apartment, seeing the last thing burned in their retinas only their own hands. The lines are their palms could conceive them. Lies and false tales, their life lines promise a long path ahead of them. Blinking, holding back feelings, they don't even understand. This pain in their chest and this feeling of defeat in their heads. Temples swollen with unresolved passion. Their world would go black, stumble on their heels. Falling backward, no one would extend their arms to catch them. The body would slam into the bare floor and lay there until the smell bothers their neighbors.
I sigh, I have to preform the job I was assigned to do. I grab Dorothy's file and open the cabinet labeled with a large V.
Vacken.
Vader.
Vaherist.
Vandenberg.
Vapus.
Vatz.
Calmly, I slide the Vatz file behind the Vandneberg one. I glance at Wiki and Conch; both of them are hard at work. I cough to get their attention. My hip slams into the cabinet and shuts it close. I unzip the front pocket of my book bag, I retrieve my wallet.
