“Okay, next question. You had a happy childhood. Agree?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered. I was seated in the same padded reclining chair I’d been lounging in for the last two hours. If I’d realized Clarice’s “interview” would involve so many hours of tedious questions, I probably would have said no. But now it just felt rude to walk out in the middle of it. I looked to my right. The one perk to this interview was that I had a good view of the city of Oxenraith from where we sat. By my guess we were maybe ten stories up, in the university’s blue branch. It wasn’t much by human standards, but when there weren’t any other tall buildings around, it made for a nice view. The city sprawled compared to Haemir, with no walls to keep everyone boxed in. Rather than a proper castle, there was a sort of expansive mansion sitting up on a hill that swept to the ocean.

I heard a sharp snap of fingers. “Mr. Koutz!” Clarice complained.

“Sorry?” I asked. “Yeah, no. My childhood was fine. My parents used to take me on camping trips. Every Christmas we’d have a big party at my grandma’s and all my cousins would be there… Yeah, it was great. No complaints.”

“So is that an ‘Agree’ or a ‘Strongly Agree’?”

“I guess… strongly agree?”

“Is that a question? Do I need to point out, again, the inherent contradiction of being uncertain about a strong certainty, Mr. Koutz?”

“Ugh, fine. Just put ‘Agree’ so we can move on.”

Clarice scribbled a note with her quill. “I can feel your frustration and boredom, Mr. Koutz, but I will remind you this process would have been finished by now if you didn’t continue to daydream.” It seemed strange to me that someone as cold as Clarice had a Skill that could feel other people’s emotions, but I didn’t really understand how the magic worked. For all I knew, that was exactly why she’d developed the Skill.

“Well, it’s hard when the questions never stop,” I replied. “How much longer is this going to be?”

“We are almost done. Please. This is the last page of questions, then you will be free to go. You can stay here another night, or leave through the Porter’s. The university will pay to send you anywhere you desire, along with a stipend for your time. Brookie also asked to be introduced, but that will be your decision to make.”

“Oh? He wanted to meet me?”

“Yes. He’s very involved with the university and asked to be informed of any new intelligent ogres that come in. I can take you to meet him after we have finished your interview.” Clarice looked down at the notepad in front of her. She was seated at a small desk across from me; one of those golden medallions the church used was propped up on a little stand next to her. Clarice called it a Triplet Medallion and warned me it would glow if I tried to lie during the interview. I could still remember getting thrown out of the church for forgetting the last warning like that I’d received from Ferrith. I could practically feel the memory of that experience running all my words through a filter before I spoke them.

Aside from the desk and chairs, the room we were in was devoid of decoration. I assumed it was some kind of generic meeting room used for interviews. That’s why I kept looking out the window—it was the only thing to do. Clarice continued. “You prefer to make plans, as opposed to making things up as you go.”

I sighed. “Agree. Not strongly. I prefer to make plans, but I’m fine making things up if my hand is forced.”

Clarice scratched that down, stopping to dip her quill. “Why do you use a quill?” I asked, in the break between questions.

Clarice looked up at me. She did that a lot. I could never get a read on her opinions on things, because she never let anything show. “To… write things down? You indicated earlier that you were fluent in reading and writing. Was that a lie?” She glanced at the Triplet Medallion on her desk.

“We read and write plenty, but we don’t use quills. I just meant why don’t you have a fancy magical pen? You rissians seem to have all kinds of magic gadgets. You’d think there would be better options when you have to write so much. On Earth we stopped using quills, like, two hundred years ago. Pretty much everything is digital these days.”

“There are other options for writing utensils, of course,” Clarice conceded, “but we do not so frivolously create Artifacts to solve mundane problems. Quills are affordable.”

“But what about the magic lights I saw all over the city last night? That seems pretty mundane to me!”

“The answer to that is a simple cost calculation. A century ago, it was cheaper to burn sea serpent oil for light. Then their population declined and the cost of their oil rose precipitously. The same does not hold true for feather quills.” She looked down at her page again. “Now. Next question. You prefer to work in groups, rather than alone.”

I made a face, lips pulling down in a frown. “Yech! No. Strongly disagree. Nobody ever pulls their weight on group projects.”

Clarice made a note. “If the opportunity arises, you would take revenge against those that have wronged you.”

“Uh. I don’t know. I’ve never really accumulated any enemies.”

Clarice looked up. “You can think of no instances where someone wronged you?”

A memory flashed in my mind of a prank Jacob had pulled on me in our senior year of high school. He’d grabbed my phone one time when I’d left it unattended and messaged half a dozen girls on snap, pretending to be me and writing, “Hey, it’s Vince. Listen, I’ve never told anyone, but I get off on farts. The stinkier the better. I’ve been dreaming of you ripping one right in my face. You down?” I’d been pissed for a couple hours until one of the girls figured out it had to be a joke and that got us talking. I almost laughed just thinking of the memory. What had I done to get him back again…?

“Amusement, interesting,” Clarice said. She scribbled a note.

“Hey! Stop writing down my emotions!”

“That is my job, Mr. Koutz. Please answer the question. Do you need me to repeat it?”

“No, no. I remember. Mark me down for ‘Strongly Agree’ on that one.”

Scratch, scratch, went the quill. The sound was going to make me insane if I had to listen to it much longer. Clarice looked up. “Sorry if this is annoying you,” she said.

“Stop reading my mind!”

“I assure you, I possess no such gift. I only have a few questions left, and for these you will not need to provide an agreeableness rating, as they are open-ended. The first one. What do you think of the idea of staying in Earris for the rest of your life?”

I couldn’t help myself. I barked out a laugh. “Is that a joke? This place sucks!”

Clarice looked down at her notepad, hands scratching away as she recorded my answer. “Please. Continue. Be as detailed as you would like. I am collecting data to see if Outworlder opinions on Earris have any impact on Skill development.”

“Nobody actually wants to stay here, do they?”

“Some do.”

“Well, wherever they came from must have really sucked to prefer this place! Seriously. You don’t even have any idea how much more sophisticated human society is. After breakfast in the cafeteria this morning I went to use your bathroom, and it’s a hole in the ground! Do you even realize how unsanitary that is? I bet you don’t even have germ theory yet.”

“Sorry, germ theory? That word did not translate.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, “that basically confirms the answer for me. Like, right now this room is hot and muggy. Opening the window is not enough! I want air conditioning, and electricity, and my internet back!” I pulled my broken phone out of my pocket. “You know what this is?” I asked.

“It looks like… glass, and some metal. Why is the glass broken?”

“Because a harpy stepped on it. That’s not what I meant, though. When this worked, it was a computer, and I’ll bet it’s capable of more complex math than everyone in this entire world put together has figured out. Your magic is neat, but I bet one gun would beat almost every one of you in a fight.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Koutz, you are using too many words that do not translate.” Clarice’s hands scribbled furiously to keep up with my rant.

“Yeah, just proof of how primitive this place is. I’m a college dropout, and I bet I could advance your science by centuries with just the random stuff I can think of off the top of my head. Seriously! How do you live like this? Here. Look. Look at my forehead. That’s sweat! I’m lying down and I’m sweating!”

“And this… condition you put on your air, it would deal with the heat?”