There was a knock on the door, and Tyria jumped up from her bed. The sound was something to be concerned about because she was certain that she was alone on her ship, floating in deep space, orbiting a Baxter anomaly she'd found a while back. In haste (and fear), she rummaged through the things in her closet looking for something to defend herself with. Apart from shoes and clothes there was nothing. As she was about to take the heaviest shoe she had, she spotted a pen. Favoring sharp over blunt, she grabbed it.
Quietly, she approached the door. She had to somehow subdue her confined visitor, and get to the controls on her ship, there was no other choice. Quickly opening the door, she was greeted to the familiar sounds of her ship. The hum of the engines, the errant clicking of something she'd still yet to discover, the whirring of her shields against the harsh ambient radiation of space. Looking both ways down the corridor, she saw nothing unusual or out of place. Behind the door, waiting for me to drop my guard she thought. Gripping the pen like a dagger, she jumped around the door and struck. However, her attack revealed nothing, just air.
Confused, she finally noticed there was something out of place, well out of place is a bit of a misnomer, as it shouldn't have existed to begin with. Still waking up, she looked at the offending object until it came into focus.
"What the hell?" She said aloud, with one pull she removed the poster from her door, and to her greater surprise found a message written on the opposite side.
Scanning the writings, made using a very chilling green ink, she jerked awake when she came to four words that made her skin crawl. Temple of the Damned. That's not real, it's a story my dad told me to get me to behave when he had meetings with the Royal Navy. But here, on her ship, in this moment, she finally realized the truth. She was crazy.
Bringing the document to her table in the main room, she turned on her coffee maker. This thing looks like a job application. But why would it appear here, to me? With her pen still in hand, she set about the task of filling in her information.
Q1 - What brings you to request being in a potential Janitor position of our almighty temple. We will work you hard. What have you done to deserve sitting at the janitors console, and hold the almighty mop of cleaning?
A1 - Request? I didn't request anything. You dropped this damn note on my ship, scaring the holy hell out of me. Apparently I've done something wrong to deserve such treatment. As for deserving to work as a Janitor for a place I believe to be a work of fiction, holding a cleaning tool of nonsensical power? Isn't my lack of sanity enough for you? Does one need further qualifications?
Q2 - What makes you a superior janitor to everyone else?
A2 - Observation. Too many people "see, but do not observe" the world around them. To truly be good at something, one must see how the world reacts to itself. For example, being a janitor? That would require seeing not only the muddy footprints, but also observing what shoe size made the prints, where the offending mud originated from, what contaminates are contained within the mud that might not be cleaned by a simple scrubbing and might need something more potent for their eventual removal.
Q3 - Do you expect to gain anything besides being being able to wield "THE HOLY WINDEX"?
A3 - No. Though I'm sure you have many worshipers out there who would be jealous of my appointment, and therefore I expect to gain nothing but hatred and contempt. Nothing new to me, as I have been a Junker my entire life.
Q4 - What responsibilities do you believe you'll have in the position. (Hint: Scaring away geese is 'not' one of these responsibilities)
A4 - Well, in the stories my dad told me, the residents of the Temple of the Damned require obscene amounts of coffee and also patsies to unleash their wrath upon. I imagine my responsibilities would be, well, torturous in nature.
a. Cleaning coffee makers that have been so neglected that the mold growing in the filter has developed a full society with seven different languages, and that under the Laws of the Divine, I'd have to learn those languages and institute a peaceful evacuation of the little lifeforms, making sure everyone has been transplanted safely to their new home before the real task of cleansing the filter may commence.
b. As a janitor, I believe my duties would consist of the normal janitor duties that I've witnessed across Sirius. Sitting on my hands, keeping them warm because my closet was kept off the heating ducts to save on costs. Waiting for the third request for service, before attending to my chores, because as a janitor I know dirt and filth better than those who cause it. There are degrees to these things and one should simply not cave to the whims of idiots who think "a little bit of blood" on the floor is worth my time.
c. Groveling. To be honest, act like I'm groveling. I mean, what all-powerful being doesn't want a bit of groveling done in front of them. Makes them feel important, keeps them satisfied so that they don't blink creation out of existence. That is a service I will humbly supply for the sake of the greater good of all, but mostly because I like being alive.
Q5 - Out of the pool of Mortals - Is there anyone else you think would be a more experienced janitor than you?
A5 - To be fair, no. Anyone more deserving, yes. Anyone whom I would wish the job of janitor upon, yes. But, as for experience, no, I haven't met someone more experienced than I, that isn't to say they aren't as experienced as I. But I definitely would not say more. I know I'd wish the job on people who have wronged me in the past. Because I don't think they would particularly enjoy the treatment that they have doled out forced upon them by all-powerful beings. Experience is nothing but the sum of one's history in the universe, and my history has granted me the ability to shrug off most distractions and focus on the work.
Looking over her answers, she then questioned her sanity once more, but more importantly, she questioned what she was going to do with this thing. It was then the wine bottle next to her caught her attention.
Tyria sat on the command deck as the bottle drifted closer and closer to the anomaly. Shockingly, the bottle didn't come out the other side, like everything else she'd thrown into that swirling ball of lights.