The New Guys

Isaiah Newton awoke with his first alarm on Monday, the 12th of June. He showered: ten minutes. Shaved: stubble smooth. Outfit: cool and casual. Breakfast: hearty with a glass of half milk. All according to plan for the first day of a new job.

The commute was practically a delight. The sun was shining, the roads were clear, and the music playing on the radio was hit after hit. It was going to be a good day.

Data Adventure, Inc. sat at the corners of 10th and Poplar, fifteen minutes from Isaiah's house. It was modern, with four stories, plenty of windows, and an open floor plan. Past the sprawling parking lot, in the courtyard, a fountain bubbled in a koi pond.

Rather than waste time searching for a spot near the crowded door, Isaiah parked at the edge of a lot on the West side. He walked past car after car, the sun glinting off each hood and blinding him a little. Finally, he reached a crosswalk leading to the side entrance.

Down the street, a car blaring upbeat music was approaching quickly. A man's voice could be heard belting the lyrics. Isaiah wasn't worried, though; the light was on his side.

He'd strolled halfway across when the chilling screech of tires stopped him in his tracks. A flash of yellow shot through his field of vision. Instinctively, he slapped his hand over his chest-an instinct to protect the vital organ. Someone was shouting in his face.

"Sorry about that!" Isaiah's vision cleared. A Bumblebee had stopped before him, uncomfortably close, two-thirds of the way through the white lines. In the driver's seat, a man with blonde hair was beaming at him.

"I didn't see you there!" He laughed.

"Motherfucker!" Snapped Isaiah. "You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Chill out," said the man. His smile dimmed a bit. "It was an accident."

"Eat rat shit!" Screamed Isaiah. He felt like punching the man in the face, but he stomped off instead. It had been a good day, damnit.

On the other side of the service entrance, a woman stood waiting for him. She was short and chubby, with long hair tied in a bun and straight, white teeth. Her hot pink, flowery dress was hard to look away from, but he managed it, anyway.

"Mr. Newton!" she greeted. "Or do you prefer Isaiah? Can I call you Isaiah?"

He definitely preferred Mr. Newton, but didn't know how to say that without sounding rude. So, he nodded. Her smile widened.

"Great! I'm Emily Scott, your supervisor for the time being," she said. "Did Miss Cathy go over your job expectations, dress code, schedule, all of that stuff during your interview?"

"Yes, she did," he nodded. "Miss Cathy," or rather, Mrs. Stentworth had been very thorough in her instructions, the normal result of Isaiah's own, numerous, questions. It didn't bear repeating.

"Awesome. That's great," she said. "So, just follow me, and I'll show you your spot." She turned on her heel and took off down the hall, beckoning impatiently over her shoulder.

He kept close, three steps behind, as she lead him through a maze of a building and up four floors to a cacophonous room. Dozens of low tables sprawled across the room, separated by chest high walls. TVs played, in fifteen separate locations, mostly the news or powerpoints in progress. Strange, colorful lamps hung from the ceiling. People talked and blabbed and shouted and hollered all around the room. It was a nightmare, and it was perfect.

Emily lead Isaiah through the chaotic mess of potted plants, pictures, and hanging schedules to a cubicle on the far wall. It was brightly lit with natural light. The table was a light green. Except for a couple people talking nearby, it was decently quiet.

"This is your space. You get two fifteens and an hour break. Start training on your computer, and I'll be back later," Emily rattled off, and then disappeared around the corner.

Isaiah glanced around one last time, released a back cracking yawn, walked over, and deposited his laptop bag into the rolling chair on the left, nearest the window.

Just then, another bag landed in the chair next to his. Isaiah looked up, into the face of the man whom had nearly run him over not twenty minutes ago.

"Oh! Ethan, this is Isaiah Newton. He's your new desk partner," said a Male voice.