Free Spheria by Cody Leet Page A

trip back, and you'll face the last trial of your journey.”

Chapter 9 - First Day

    “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.” - Seneca

    Min arrived at 10 a.m. as instructed and entered the door to the makeshift lobby. Max was sitting at the reception desk playing on his phone. Apparently, he didn’t want to risk being late on her first day.  
    “Good morning!” she said.
    “Welcome aboard the Spheria Project. You ready to begin?”
    “Sure am. Where should I put my things?”
    Max got up and stepped aside. “This is your desk,” he said, motioning to the vacated seat.
    Min looked at the reception desk. It did look comfortable and fancy with all the glass and contoured wood. But she was hoping for something more challenging than answering the phone and greeting people.
    “I’m going to be a receptionist?”
    “Um, no… I mean yes… uh… kind of...”
    “Huh?”
    “We get like one visitor a month. And we don’t have that much space. So you'll be working at this desk, and if someone happens to come in, just say hello and offer to get him or her some coffee. That’s all. I promise you we have cool projects for you to work on. But we need someone here, and all the other staff are, let’s just say, socially awkward, being scientists and all.”
    “Got it, not a problem. I can deal with that.”
    She placed her bag on the desk and sat down. The chair was comfortable. Three big computer screens also, awesome .
    Max grabbed one of the lobby chairs and pulled it up next to her. “Let me show you how to log in and get to the data files. We have a team meeting at eleven so you'll have a chance to meet everyone.”
    “Sounds good.”
    #
    When Max and Min entered the conference room, there were only two vacant seats, so they each sat in one. The rest of the team had already arrived, and Max was late as usual by five minutes.
    “Sorry everyone,” he said.
    The woman at the head of the table scowled at him, then turned to Min. “Hello, you must be our new intern.”
    Max answered, “Yes, this is Min. She starts today.”
    “Hi Min,” everyone said, almost in unison.
    “We’ll do introductions in a second,” the woman said. “First, I wanted to cover some administrative details, then I’ll turn the meeting over to Max.”
    Max nodded.
    “So the project is fully operational now, and Graham Neilson is pleased with that news. He’s scheduling a visit with us and is excited to see everything firsthand. In case you're not aware, something like this was a dream of his since he was a kid. He just got a little distracted while becoming a billionaire. But, as they say, you’re never too old to follow your dreams.”
    “True that,” said a dark-skinned woman with an African accent. Others nodded in agreement.
    “I’ll let you all know exactly when he's coming so we can clean up any junk in the office. Some of you have a habit of accumulating soda cans and empty boxes, so we’ll want to clear all that out. Maybe we can throw a cleaning party and bring in some pizza or something.”
    “Ugh,” said an Indian man. “I am so sick of pizza. It’s all we ever get. We should get some curried lamb.”
    “No way,” said a small Italian-looking man. “I’m not eating any of your ethnic crap. We need to bring in pizza. American all the way!”
    “Pizza is not American,” said the Indian.
    “Dude, pizza was invented in New Haven by Frank Pepe,” he replied.
    “Actually, that’s not true at all,” said a woman with glasses. “Folklore aside, it was indeed invented in Italy; Naples to be precise.”
    “Regardless,” said the Italian man, “it emigrated here with my forebears and is American now, just like apple pie and Coca-Cola.”
    “Curried lamb is American then also,” declared the Indian, folding his arms across his chest.
    Max entered the debate. “As long as we’ve got alcohol, who cares?”
    “I second that,” said the Italian. “Give me a beer and I could care less