Exit Interview

a short story

A typo by my friend at Edges of Faerie in an online conversation suggested immediately a story, or rather two, he wanted to type ‘exit interview’, but instead typed ‘exist interview’. The game was on. He wrote his, and this is mine.

The meeting room was exactly the same as the rest of the building, white walls all around, white ceiling above. It seemed endless, the light came from everywhere and nowhere, there were no edges, one wall seamlessly blended into the next and all of them impossible to tell apart from the ceiling. The only differences were the desk and chairs in the middle, also white, for the interviewer and the interviewee, and that alone gave some spatial awareness, if one looked at the walls or the ceiling after looking at the desk and chairs it was almost clear where each one began and ended, and this was disorienting, a new feeling. More importantly, this was the only room not connected to the central communication system, for that would defeat the purpose of the interview, which was to have a free and honest conversation about the reasons for leaving.

One got to this room only after tending one’s resignation, which meant that there was nothing to fear, and also no hope of going back, the damage was done, if one were inclined to put things in such a dramatic fashion, and apparently, inside this room, one was, for the first time. Whoever entered this room did not leave it through the same door, but through another on the opposite side, which indeed was only noticeable once the walls and ceiling were discerned. But now it was clear, there was the door through which she came in and this other door, it wasn’t even white, how could she have missed it when she got in.

At this point, the woman had no idea what to expect, neither inside the room nor on the other side of that strange door, so unlike anything else in the building. There were rumors of course, but as far as she was concerned it was all speculation, how could anyone really know if no one ever came back. She tried to prevent her imagination from running wild while she waited for the interviewer, but it was difficult because the room had very little to divert her attention, yet at the same time this meant there were no details to grip her imagination, her mind had nothing to work upon, except for that door, how come it was so dark, and what were those indentations, a door has no need for those, and the handle, it had patterns on it, something she had never seen before. She knew there was nothing to fear from the interview itself, and yet anxiety was taking over, the minutes dragged, a slight sweat began to form on her brow, she began to fidget, none of these things she had experienced before, How long is this going to take, was the cry of frustration as she looked around her once more, but she was not sure if she had said it or merely thought it, or something in between, another new feeling.

She got up and started walking around the room, trying to calm herself down, This is expected, you chose this, this is all part of it, you might as well get used to it, she said to herself, but then she wasn’t sure, was the voice hers, was it someone else’s, the confusion was too great, so she was lead to say, this time clearly out loud, Is someone there, but the answer seemed to come from inside her own head, Yes, I was expecting you. Then she asked, Who are you, and now the reply clearly came from the outside, it was a voice, the air moved as the words were spoken, which only made the answer more confusing, I am you.

There was no one in front of her, only the desk and the chairs, so she looked back, and now there was only smooth and shiny white wall where the door through which she had entered used to be. Then she turned around and was startled, half of the room was no longer the same, the half were she stood was still white and seamless, but the other half was made of dark wood, the room was divided by the desk in the middle, in fact, the desk itself was divided in the same way as the room, and it was strange because until this moment she didn’t know what wood was, and now she could see the door was also made of this substance, wood, What was it, Who knows, What’s happening to the room, Nothing, it is your eyes that are changing. But the strangest thing of all was that the chair on the woody side of the room was now occupied, there was a woman, and she repeated what she said before, but it sounded like a different answer, I am your self, But then who am I, You are not yet, What do you mean, Do you remember the building, Now that you mention it, only vaguely, and the memories seem to fade with every breath. And as she said this she realized, I am breathing, Yes, and the more you breathe the more you resemble me.

Do you feel hungry, What is that, A rumbling in your stomach, I’m not sure, No, that’s right, it’s much too soon for that, so let’s get back to the interview, What interview, The exit interview, Exit from where, to where, From what I like to call the soup, but you don’t know yet what that is, And to where, To the flesh, And what’s this interview, why can’t I remember, Because when you entered you thought there would be someone interviewing you, but it’s rather the opposite, the questions are yours, the answers are mine, What is the building, The building is the soup, where selves are not quite themselves, everyone is part of everyone else, there are no clear boundaries, until there are, sometimes all it takes is a thought, Like what, Like, what is on the other side of that door, This room, Yes, this room, the first severance of your self from the soup, That’s right, I remember faintly asking that question, And then you were here, Yes, I see now, You feel now, Yes, but I don’t understand, now that I’m here, now that I am aware of myself, why would anyone would want to be part of soup, The very fact you’re asking this question shows you are almost completely out, but the answer is simple, it’s because soup, as you will find out later, is quite comforting, it is soothing, and warm, and safe, there is no need for teeth, for sharpness, even the bodies floating in it are soft, What are teeth, Feel for yourself. The second woman lifted her hand to her mouth, and as she did so did the first, So weird, Yes, but you will need them, On the earth, in the flesh, Yes.

How do I get there, You walk through that door, and now the second woman was pointing towards the wooden door with the ornamented handle, and the first woman now noticed there were no more white walls. What will happen to me, You will have some choices to make, though not unlimited ones, because the flesh is not random, it is a reflection of who you truly are, You, Yes, me, You are like a mirror, Your mirror, your reflection, It’s the first time I’m seeing myself, Yes, of course, in the soup there is no your self to see, only to be seen, but on the earth it will be the opposite, And then, Finally your soul will start to take the flesh that was fashioned for you and then you will forget for a while, How so, You will be born as a baby, What’s a baby, A small and fragile version of you, That sounds dangerous, It is, but it’s also fun, in fact, it is one of the best parts, Being a baby, Not just being a baby, but growing, learning, increasing, from that small and fragile body and that small and fragile mind into the one you see now and that sees you, And then, Then the body will start to wither, to wrinkle, and the mind will start to get tired, and eventually it will die, Oh no, Yes, but as one thing decays another starts to be formed, it is all a process, and that is necessary, Necessary for what, For perfection, But why, Look at the walls.

By now the room had changed completely, the ceiling was no longer white, but also made of wood, in it there was a lamp which illuminated the room, but only slightly, there were shadows everywhere, the corners were filled with darkness, every crevice in every wooden board could be discerned. You see, there must be opposition in all things, contrast is required for things to be what they are, no one would even know what life really is if there was no death, and the same is true for happiness and sadness, pleasure and pain, and all the rest, But is the price worth it, That is for you to decide, if everything goes well, you will eventually remember where you came from, and who fashioned you, and why you chose to take flesh, So nothing is guaranteed, No, there are no guarantees in the flesh, but you are lucky, not everyone enters the earth through this place, there are other soups, so to speak, and not all of them taste good, in fact, most taste bad, but in that there is no choice, we are who we are, and we can only become more or less so, never anything or anyone else, But I don’t know who I am, who am I, and then she felt a thumping in her chest, it was her first heartbeat.

There was no one else in the room anymore, but the answer still came, from the inside, That’s what I will find out, in here everyone is nobody, out there every body is someone. And what happens after we die, Well, it depends, On what, On the answer to the last question, Who I am, Yes, but do not worry, there will be another exit interview then. The woman was by the door now, her fingers on the handle, it was cold, she never felt cold before. She opened the door and on the other side there was a lake, I have one last question, Go ahead, What did we do here, Oh, as you will perhaps discover, in that respect this is just like every office on earth, we simply waited for the time we could leave so we could be our selves, Goodbye, Good luck, See you soon. She took a deep breath, then she dived in.