Chapter 1: Earth is Floor 1

Manhattan, New York

New York City, the City that never sleeps.

New York City isn’t just a place.  It’s a lifestyle.  Here, all sorts of things don’t make sense.  The fact that you slept late because you were out partying all night isn’t something to be ashamed of.  The dark circles under your eyes are a badge of honor.  How little you have in your bank account due to how overpriced your apartment is another way to one-up your friends.  You can’t just have one job either; you have to have a 9-5, a side-hustle then a hobby plus a project that’ll help you make it to the big leagues.

The finance bros, the project managers and your girlfriend in marketing are all part of this diverse ecosphere, which is kind of like a living breathing organism in and of itself.  Money is the blood, waste and thoughts of New York City and we are all the tiny little worker ants that perpetuate the cycle of plastic wastes and vegan pizza (trust me on this one, don’t try it).  Everyone seems to be busy, hustling and going someplace important to do even more important things.

Well, everyone except me.

If that ain't a fast ball straight down the middle for an introduction, my name ain't Jane Templar Serynak.

The name's Jane Templar Serynak, professional Psychic. Ask for me at your own risk. Before you ask, no, I’m a guy and yes, I do realize that it’s a girl’s name. Don't even get me started on the Templar part.  Are my powers real, you ask?

Well, if I was a real psychic, I wouldn’t be interviewing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art now would I?

Surprise, surprise.  There’re no such thing as magic or psychic or destiny or even fate.  My mom (the one responsible for naming me after a girl) and her buddhist side of the family would be aghast.  My father –a skeptic– would be horrified for a different reason.  Why would I interview for a honest working man’s job when I could just travel with him and the other carnies, scamming marks?

Sorry to tell you pops, but the fortune telling occupation ain’t exactly congruous with 401K and Roth IRAs.

So I sat there in the museum hallway, awaiting my turn when my name was called.

“Jane Serynak?”

“That’s me.”  I got up from my seat, walking over to the receptionist.

“Dr. Erste is waiting for you.  Good luck.”  She smiled.

I entered the double-doors that separated the high and mighty Dr. Erste’s throne room from the rest of us common folk out in the halls.  “No such thing as luck.”  I murmured softly, but she didn’t hear.

Dr. Erste’s office was fully furnished with display cases made of rich mahogany and a leather couch set designed to be looked at, not sat on.  The display cases were set up so that they created a path towards the man’s desk, exactly like a throne room.  There were various paintings on the walls.  The room was meticulously set.

When I turned 18, my dad brought me back to the States and he taught me a lot of things.  Skills needed to convince people that you’re a psychic and open their wallets.  And for a psychic without actual supernatural powers, the most important skill of all was people reading.  

By the time I sat in the chair, I already knew what kind of man Dr. Erste was.

He had to be a man of control, someone used to having things his way.  This room here was the seat of his power, his personality and career manifested.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr… Serynak, was it?”  He held out his hand.

He was a well-groomed man, with salt and pepper hair.  He wore a well-fitted suit of burgandy; meant to match the interior design of his office.  His handshake was firm and strong.  Confidence radiated off of it.

“Please, call me Jane.”

He gave me an empty smile and immediately looked down at the resume.  “Mr. Serynak,”  he said, putting emphasis on the first syllable, “do you know what position you are being considered for?”

“Researcher Grade 1.”  I said without pause, “in the myth and folklore department.  Responsibilities include basic research into culture surrounding mythology of different countries as well as the folklore surrounding them.  I read your latest article as well as the museum news, it looks like the museum is expanding their collection to include a lot of East Asian influences, as well as Central Europe.”

He gave me the quirk of an eyebrow, surprised at my answer.  “You’re well informed.”

“I studied up.”

“Not in an official capacity though.  Am I write?”

Oof.  Here we go.

“You have an interesting resume, to say the least.”  He looked at my resume again, one finger tracing a random line.  “No Highschool diploma.  No college degree either.  Your professional experience is… a bit lacking compared to our usual applicants.”  Dr. Erste tilted his head, like a man finding a fly in his soup, “Our usual candidates come prestigious schools; Master’s degrees, Ph.Ds and Doctorates.  Why should I hire you?”

“Because I lived it, Sir.”  I took a deep breath, calming myself.

‘He’s the king of this Museum.  You’re obviously unwanted in this little empire he’s created.  You have to make yourself look like you belong, even as a Jester.  Being a Jester ain’t so bad, if it means you can pay the rent and get a 401K.’  

“You lived it?”  The hint of a smile graced his lips.  “Would you care to explain?”

“I grew up in one of the largest Buddhist temple in South Korea until I was 14,”  I explained, “A lot of those candidates you talk about come to do research and interview our monks for their expertise on the subject.  I’m not one of those candidates staying for a month or two and taking notes.  I’m the expert that they want to interview.”

I skipped the part where my mom dropped me off because of my birthday and fate being auspicious and what not.

“And a lot of those experts have a college degree in religion, philosophy and history.”  He said.

“And I grew up, being raised by those very experts.”  I countered.

He smiled, gesturing for me to go on.

“I know a lot of other things besides just myth and folklore.    The art of Sajoo (사주), Gwansang (관상); I worked as a Shaman’s assistant until I was 18 once I left that temple.”

I also left out the part where the Shaman in question was actually my mother.

“I think one gift-shop is enough.”  He said smugly.

Not with the prices you’re charging.  But I kept that to myself.

‘401K, Jane.  Roth IRA.  Hot Water.  Food, real food, not bits of pizza without mold on it.’

“I’m not suggesting them as a service, but simply saying that I have deep insight into both buddhist and shamanistic cultures; even some esoteric folklore that only people in remote countryside would know.  Those not written in any books.”  I shrugged.  “The Museum could benefit from a first-hand perspective.”

He folded his hands.  Dr. Erste’s eyes were a dull-brown, the color of faded pennies.  “That’s nice and all, but most of our visitors aren't looking for just East Asian influences.  Our candidates have to be well-rounded.”  He didn’t give me a chance to answer.  “Tell me more about your time as a Carnie.”

I gritted my teeth.  I debated walking out right there and then.

‘No more Dollar Menu.  An actual burger.  With cheese.’  

“What I did during the four years that I traveled with the Carnival don’t pertain to this job, but the people that I met taught me a lot of things.”  I started counting off on my fingers.  “Greek and Roman Mythology, Catholic-christian mythos; and during my travels I even got exposed to a lot of Native American Folklore as well.  The stuff that they don’t tell outsiders.”

“Oh?”  My last sentence caught his interest, the first positive sign in this entire conversation.

“The type of stories that they wouldn’t dare tell at night.”  I leaned into it.

What I didn’t mention was that my dad was a showman and he demanded that I learn how to be a proper psychic-fortune-teller from our Grandmother; bless her heart.  My dad, a skeptic, thought she’d just teach me how to go through the motions.  What he didn’t realize was that my Grandmother was a bona-fide genuine believer; and did the same thing my mom did.

Teach me everything.

I didn’t dare mention that I knew the skills of the trade.  He didn’t react well to the previous ones.

I hadn’t meant to, but somehow I’d opened up.

Oftentimes, I’m ashamed of my past; on account of it being so different from other normies, I mean.  I love my mom and dad, don’t get me wrong.  But one’s batshit crazy and the other is a flatout cheat.  They didn’t give me a lot to work with in the ‘proud of my parents’ department.  But they gave me this life and honestly, I had a lot of happy moments in my childhood too.

Somehow through this interview, Dr. Erste had managed to drag out my life story.  That told me something: that I really did want this job.  Not just to pay the bills, but because it was something I could do without lying to people, or cheating them out of their money.  I could actually use my life to do something good, teach people and expose them to a world that they’d never imagined before.

I actually wanted this job.

So when Dr. Erste said ‘I’m sorry’, I was crushed.

So crushed that I didn’t even notice the blue screen that popped up into the corner of my vision.

[System Initializing…]

[Set Environ: Earth.environ]

[Tower Integration… 83%]

“I’m sorry, Mr. Serynak.  But I don’t this is a good fit.”  He shook his head.

[Pre-loaded Pkgs Found:

Religion.1.0

Mythos.1.0

Folklore.1.0

FearManifestation.1.0

Gods.1.0

…

Error% ]

He took my resume, pretending to read it before passing it back to me.  “I can tell you are a smart and capable young man.  But you have no references, no school records and no real professional experience.”

[Updating Pkgs… 96%

Religion.2.0

Mythos.2.0

Folklore.2.0

…

Error% ]

[New Pkgs Found:

Xenobiology.1.0

Cryptid.1.0

PopCultureHorrors.1.0

…

Error% ]

He shook his head.  “There are too many other well-qualified candidates.”

[Tower Integration… 96%]

[Searching: TowerHandbook.var destination path…]

[No Suitable Destination Path Found]

[Creating: TowerHandbook.var file folder…]

[Created: TowerHandbook.vidyagame ]

[Vidya.Status.Wndw Loading…]

While I sat there, crushed by the enormity of my failure, Dr. Erste began blinking rapidly.  Then he reached out with his hand and swatted at the air, rubbing his eyes.  “What?  What’s this?  Huh?  What the-”

Screw this.  I was never going to get a real job.  I’d been trained to be nothing but a fraud my entire life, or a charlatan.  Someone who was going to make his money by feeding off of the superstition of others.  Never having a real honest job, tricking people and making them think I was some kind of mystic seer.  I had wasted my life and I was going to be nobody.

[Tower Integration… 100%]

[Earth.environ is set as Floor.1.environ]

I hated this.  All of it.

“Mr. Serynak?  Something… something’s happening, can you call an ambulance?  I think, I think I’m having a stroke-”

If only I hadn’t been taken to that fucking temple.  If only my mom wasn’t a shaman.  If only my dad wasn’t a carnie related to superstitious gypsies.  If only…

[Universal.Language.pkg Loading…]

“If only magic was real.”  I whispered.

[Hello Earth! Welcome to the Tower!]

[Earth is now Floor 1!]