A Sword Into Darkness

3: “ZINGER”

June 15, 2034; Lee Estate; Santa Cruz, California

Looking up at the redwood shrouded main house, Nathan Kelley realized this had to go down as the weirdest damned job interview in history. If he had known the process would be quite this … complicated, he doubted he would have ever responded to Windward Technologies’ invitation to that first meeting.

That initial interview had been almost painfully normal. The Windward representative had come out to Boston as part of a larger science and technology job fair along with a score of other companies like Lockheed, Raytheon, and Orbital Sciences. Nathan—like a few hundred other prospective candidates—was finishing up his Master’s degree at MIT, ready to begin the next chapter of his life. Having come from a now aborted career in the Navy, he had been older than his competition and not a perpetual student.

His Windward meet-and-greet had been utterly typical interview fodder, blending in with his dozen or so other attempts to sell himself to corporate America that day:

“What are your goals, Mr. Kelley?”

“What are your best and worst qualities, Mr. Kelley?”

“Why should Windward hire you, Mr. Kelley?”

Nathan had left the job fair less than hopeful about the possibility of Windward calling him back, so he had gone back to school and finished the final draft of his thesis. There were no nibbles from Windward Technologies, so he had moved on to other applications, other prospects, targeting résumés to every tech-firm that might remotely be hiring.

It was so different from the Navy, where your career path was often laid out in stone. That regimented military existence had proved his undoing, however, a discordant note of calm in the white noise of life following the sinking. He had simply been unable to go back to the routine of service stateside, and the war would not keep him as damaged goods. The reason they gave for medically discharging him was post traumatic stress disorder, but Nathan knew there were other reasons as well. They were the reasons that went unsaid, the reasons related to the furtive, accusatory stares of doubt other officers gave him when they thought he could not see them, stares that would continue for the rest of his career, cleared by a board of inquiry or not.

So he had given it all up, and after a brief respite in his Pennsylvania hometown, he had sought a new existence as a student and engineer, essentially rebooting his life at the not insignificant age of 30 years old. Leaving was a big change, an unanticipated change, but a welcome one. It did necessitate some adjustment. Life in the civilian sector could be so much more uncertain, precarious even.

But in the civilian world, no one shattered your whole world in a single act of cold anger and your ambiguous split-second decisions did not lead to the deaths of 103 subordinates, shipmates, and friends. In the civilian world, perhaps he would no longer wake up in a clammy sweat, shaking from half-remembered dreams of rending steel and screaming, faceless men.

Precarious. He was fine with precarious.

On the day after graduation, while packing up his small office at the university, a welcome—though unexpected—call had come, starting him upon an extremely odd journey into the world of corporate job-seeking: “Mr. Kelley, would you mind traveling to Windward’s New York office for a second interview?”

That interview, like his first, had been deceptively normal, just the corporate machine getting to know one of their potential cogs a little better. Nathan had smiled and nodded, answering their questions as best he could and trying his utmost to exude an air of professional competence. The New York office Human Resources director had smiled back, clearly impressed. “That was very good, Mr. Kelley. Would you mind taking a short written exam?”

Again, not too unusual. Nathan supposed that many companies wanted to test their candidates to find out if their degrees were more than just sheets of paper. The test had covered a gamut of topics: physics, biology, math, chemistry, systems engineering, politics, sociology, and finance. It was not terribly difficult, but it had stretched his limited academic background. He figured it might have been a great deal harder for someone else, someone whose life experience before MIT had not been so diverse.

“Excellent job, Mr. Kelley! How about flying down to our Dallas offices for another interview?” They also put up the offer of per diem compensation for all his time, so Nathan shrugged and agreed, still happy to have gotten past the first interview, the second interview, and then the test. And now another interview in another city, for what was for all intents and purposes a relatively entry-level position in Windward Technologies engineering management program. It was then that the first pangs of doubt and anxious bewilderment hit him.

Did everyone go through such a rigorous process?

The meeting in Dallas had been more than odd. There, he met Windward’s Dallas VP, and the interview had gone far afield in both scope and location. They met in the VP’s corner office downtown and covered much of the same interview territory that had been asked in the first and second interviews. Then they had gone for lunch in the West End and the interview shifted to Nathan’s personal life: Thirty-two, small town boy, single, never married, no kids, but wants the full package later, looking for the right girl, in no hurry, love to fish, love baseball, love movies, love reading, love science fiction.

“Science fiction?” Nathan’s inadvertent admission had led to a literary discussion that lasted throughout the afternoon as they walked around downtown Dallas, down past the JFK memorial, and back up into the financial district. At times, it seemed as if the poor executive was simply starved for attention, keeping Nathan talking just so he would not have to go back to his dreary office. It ended in a somewhat awkward silence, almost like the end of a blind date, and Nathan was unsure what to do or say as the sun began to set. The VP finally turned to him and broke the silence with, “What would you think of going down to Pensacola for some physical exams?”

As long as Windward footed the bill, Nathan was game. Thus he had gone to Pensacola to be poked and prodded, but it did not end there. Then it was back to Dallas for a series of much more in depth written and oral exams, then back to New York for a polygraph, a psychological battery, and a security screening which made his Naval background investigation appear narrow in comparison. Then there was yet another interview, this time in Washington DC and mainly concerned with his military background. That one had made him the most uncomfortable, but, thankfully, they had largely avoided any discussion of the Rivero or the war with North Korea.

And now this. If this was not the final interview, Nathan knew he was done. He was either hired today, or he would finally walk away from the whole process. Of course, this was probably the last step regardless. How many more hurdles could there be after an interview at the CEO’s own home?

Gordon Elliot Lee, the founder and Chief Executive Officer of Windward Technologies Incorporated, lived in a large two-story home of cedar, stone, and glass. It was bigger than a house, but too small for a mansion, fitting into its own category as the perfect size for a single California billionaire entrepreneur. The main house led a phalanx of other buildings: a pair of guest houses on either side of the main house, barns, garages, greenhouses, and what appeared to be a large domed observatory, all of which cut into a rocky hillside of coastal redwoods and seemingly natural drifts of yellow, purple, and white flowers. At the very edge of perception, identified by the smells of salt and sea in the air, Nathan could hear the crash of waves upon rocks, from a beach no doubt beyond the house and estate.

He parked the rental hybrid next to a battered truck that he doubted could ever pass California’s emission and fuel efficiency standards. The gravel of the drive gave way to a landscaped walk lined with manicured plots of floral excess and a slate-walled porch. Taking a deep breath to settle nerves that had once again been set afire with anxiety, Nathan knocked loudly upon the front door. A blurred image soon appeared beyond the door’s translucent stained glass and it opened to reveal a smiling Gordon Lee, wiping his hands on a faded, threadbare apron.

Lee was wiry, and fit in a way that seemed to have come from work rather than working out. His features gave a hint of his Asian heritage, making it hard to discern his exact age, while his balding head and graying hair belied his nearly sixty years—a lifetime which had seen Lee’s sharp business and technical acumen turn Windward from a garage sideline into a Fortune 100 corporation.

“Nathan Kelley?” Lee stuck out a hand.

Nathan gave it a firm shake, self-consciously debating with himself just how much of a grip to use. Though he had tired of the interview process, Nathan still wanted the job, so he nervously worried over how he could make himself appear neither nervous nor worried. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Lee. You have no idea how big a deal it is to meet the man behind Windward Tech.”

Lee grinned. “Of course I do. I pay people a lot of money to make me seem as impressive as I am. If you weren’t in complete and utter awe of me, I’d have to fire a whole department of minions. Come on in. Lunch is almost ready.”

Nathan followed him in and through the house as Lee walked quickly toward the back. The interior was a mix of blonde and pale red woods, with walls of pastel green striped paper and creamy white plaster. It was a simple, elegant look, and well appointed with an assortment of lively abstract paintings and comfortable, overstuffed furnishings. It appeared inviting, lived-in, and fabulously expensive. The only incongruous element was in the foyer, where an oversized terra cotta warrior of gigantic proportions dominated the entrance, standing ready for battle, in defiance of the homey interior. Nathan felt sure it was the only decoration that Lee had chosen himself.

There had been stories, concerns in the past ten years about some of Lee’s eccentricities, but those did not bother Nathan at the moment. He was here to secure a job, and he would not have cared if Lee had answered the door painted blue and wearing just a cape and underwear. As it was, he appeared to be nothing if not kind, lucid, and rational. Nathan relaxed the slightest bit.

Exiting out the back, the two men emerged onto a stained cedar deck, where a large brick grill provided the focal point for a wrought iron and red lacquered wood dining set. Behind the house, past the deck, was a meticulously managed Oriental garden. Nathan wondered if Lee maintained it himself or if there were invisible servants waiting in the wings of this elaborate stage of tranquility.

Lee raised the cover of the grill, releasing a cloud of fragrant wood smoke and the smell of pleasantly charring meat. “Ribs or chicken breast, Nathan?”

“That depends, sir. If it’s lunch, I’ll go for the ribs, that being a secret personal weakness of mine. But if this is business, I’ll have the chicken, which I’m sure I could eat with a bit more couth. I’ll just need to know, is this lunch or is this the interview?”

“Yes.”

Nathan shook his head, reached up, and loosened his necktie and shirt collar. “Ribs then, if you please, sir.” He removed his blazer, deciding his casual interview attire was not quite casual enough in the face of the oncoming heat of the day and the apparent mood of their meeting.

Lee served up two plates of ribs, along with half a chicken breast each, and added healthy portions of potato salad and cups of frijoles rancheros. As both men sat, Lee also passed Nathan a freshly opened bottle of beer and held it up in a silent toast.

Nathan clinked the proffered bottle with his own and took a swig, letting the ice-cold brew wash away some of his own anxiety and confusion. “I’ve got to tell you, sir. This is not what I expected. Then again, almost every step of this process has defied my expectations.”

Lee nodded and had a spoonful of the spicy bean soup. “And what do you think of the process, thus far I mean?”

“It’s been frustrating, Mr. Lee. I haven’t exactly known why I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing. I’ve had five interviews, physical exams, background checks, psych tests, IQ tests, knowledge exams, and just about everything else, and it all seems a bit much for a simple systems engineering management position.”

Lee laughed. “Of course it is. You’re absolutely right. No company would spend this amount of time and expense on hiring some faceless engineer … but it makes a lot more sense when you consider the job you were actually interviewing for.”

“Pardon me?”

“Oh, yeah. You had the Systems Engineer job after the second interview. We kept the process going for you, though. It was partly out of a sadistic desire to watch you squirm, but mostly, or almost mostly, it was because we had to see if you were qualified for a far more important job.”

Nathan was quiet for a long measure as he considered the implications. He had hoped, and feared, for something like this. He took a bite of the succulent, sweet ribs, and wiped his mouth. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or pissed.”

“Too early for either, I’d say. After all, we’ve already filled that Systems Engineering position with someone else and you haven’t gotten this other job yet. You still have more than enough opportunity to screw things up, and then you can be both flattered and pissed. How’s that sound?”

Nathan took another bite of his meat and a swig of his beer. “Sounds like this is the best barbecue man has ever put to plate. And have I mentioned how handsome and youthful you are in person, sir?”

Gordon Lee laughed harder that time and touched his bottle to Nathan’s. “Funny! Clever boy. I have indeed hired some obsequious morons in the past, and it was always a mistake. But you’ve got a genuine sense of humor on you, Nathan, even if it does tend toward the smartass end of the scale. So why don’t I ask you what I brought you here to ask?”

“Suits me, sir, but I think I’ve already been asked and answered every possible question in the book.”

“I doubt that, but here it is. Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Mr. Kelley, how would you go about stopping an alien invasion?”

Nathan almost giggled, but stopped himself with a supreme effort. He took a bite of potato salad to cover any further inclination to laugh, though he could not stop an incredulous smirk as he thought about Lee’s question. Eventually, after a long pull on his bottle, he cocked his beer toward his potential boss in a quasi-salute. “That’s quite the zinger.”

“A zinger? What’s a zinger?”

“You know. A zinger’s the big ‘out-of-the-box’ question you get during the interview: If you were a plant, what kind of plant would you be? It’s the question that’s designed to show how innovative you can be, to show how you think: a zinger.”

Lee leaned back and nodded. “Quite the zinger indeed, Nathan. So, how about it? How would you stop an alien invasion?”

Nathan frowned as he thought about Lee’s odd question, and how the entire last few weeks could hinge upon his answer. He stood up and began to pace slightly. Nathan never could understand people who could think sitting down. “Okay, an alien invasion is pretty vague, but defeating any other kind of invasion depends on establishing the parameters of the battlespace. How are these aliens getting here exactly?”

“They’re flying here in a giant rocket or rocket-like contraption from a distant star. They turned around at the halfway point and are decelerating toward Earth, which they will reach in a little over 22 years.”

“My, my, how specific.”

Lee had a drink. “You did say exactly.”

“Well, from what you’re saying, several methods present themselves, but are we even sure this is an invasion?”

“No, we aren’t. Let us say that this hypothetical alien visitor has made no attempt to contact us by signals, or at least there has been no attempt that we have recognized. Also, the distances are so great that there is no way for us to have yet received a response to our own attempts at communication. And since we can think of no reason for this unknown alien species to physically come to us other than for invasion, we are proceeding upon a worst-case scenario.”

Nathan’s pacing was now more rapid, purposeful. “But they are an alien race, correct? So ascribing our own reasoning on them is an uncertain proposition, wouldn’t you think?”

“Of course. Alien race equals alien reasoning. Perhaps they are coming here just to say hello, or to plant poppy seeds and welcome us to the inter-galactic love fest. But why not just contact us with a radio signal? Radio signals are undoubtedly how they discovered we were even here in this universe, so our common sense would seem to suggest that if their intentions were benign they would have called before stopping by for a visit.

“Now, that common sense is really just the laws of motion and thermodynamics expressing themselves in our everyday reasoning, laws that the aliens are also bounded by. If their intentions are benign and they wanted to avoid conflict, it makes sense to make initial contact through signals. Signals move at the speed of light, and are transmitted at a relatively low power level. For a species forced to travel below that speed, think of all the time wasted, all the energy wasted in coming here physically. Signaling us is safer, faster, and cheaper.”

Nathan stopped and looked at Lee. “All right, it’s your game. If you contend that their worries about time and energy expenditure are identical to ours, then their reasoning might be similar to ours as well. So, the only reason for them to come here is that they need something physical from us, like our resources or our women—Mars always needs women, after all. And because they didn’t call first or yet, we have to assume their intentions are hostile.”

“That’s right, but you’re dancing around the question, Mr. Kelley. How do you stop the potential invasion?”

Nathan started to walk back and forth again. “Well, since we’ve established how they’re getting here and confirmed their intentions, the next step is to know the enemy. We have to conduct reconnaissance at the earliest opportunity. How far away are these aliens who are taking 22 years to get here?”

“Let’s say they are about three light-years away now, though they appear four light-years away due to the light speed lag. They would have slowed from 46% the speed of light to only about a quarter c.”

Nathan shook his head with a grin. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, sir. Okay. Am I assuming we have a magic space drive or current technology only?”

“I am not aware of any magic space drive. Yet.”

“Fine. With current technology, there’s virtually no chance we can field a mission to the enemy within the next 22 years. Chemical rockets have high thrust, but are too bulky and have abysmal specific impulse. Ion engines approach the right efficiency and specific impulse but lack any real thrust or payload capability, and they have the same problem as chemical rockets with endurance. They simply can’t carry enough reaction mass.

“It’s the rocket equation. Since you have to carry your fuel with you, and you have to accelerate your own reaction mass at the same time as you boost your payload, there’s an upper limit to the velocities you can achieve, not to mention that 99% of your ship will be fuel and sacrificial mass. A laser driven lightsail or an Orion-style nuclear pulse detonation engine might work, but that’s still theoretical—not exactly current technology. The furthest we might get within the next 22 years with current rockets, ion engines, gravity assists, et cetera, would be the Kuiper Belt and that’s practically in our own back yard.”

“I would agree, unfortunately. So that’s out.”

Nathan shook a finger at him. “No, sir, not out. It’s just of limited utility, but information is information, even if it’s of the last-minute variety. I would send a spy probe out yesterday with current technology and hope I come up with something better within the next couple of decades. At the same time, I’d invest in some at-home recon. Maybe I could get some time on the Earth based telescope networks, or accelerate development of the SSBA. That baby would make something a couple of light-years away look like something orbiting Mars from an Earth-based scope.” The SSBA, or Solar System Baseline Array, was a system of space-based optical telescopes which would be orbiting throughout the entire solar system in a few years. By spreading the telescopes out and combining their images electronically through interferometry, they would become a virtual telescope with a primary lens the width of the solar system from Earth to Saturn. It would be immeasurably powerful, capable of resolving terrestrial planets in nearby solar systems with ease. It was also obscenely expensive, delayed and opposed as a boondoggle at every turn.

Gordon Lee took to his feet as well. There was a strange sparkle in his eyes as he began to get caught up in Nathan’s speculations. “Yes. All right, we send out probes and we use the most powerful, most capable telescopes we can. What next?”

“Next depends on the recon. Everything depends upon what we know or don’t know about the aliens. It’s impossible to say much now, without any observational data, but there are a few assumptions we can make about the enemy just because of the way it moves.”

“Go on.”

“They’re traveling here in a rocket—a magic rocket with an inexhaustible source of fuel, but a rocket nonetheless. That would seem to indicate that they don’t have any sort of warp drive or wormhole jumps or reactionless, inertialess, Roswell alien sort of spaceships. Right?”

Lee tipped back his beer and fetched another pair of bottles as he actually seemed to consider Nathan’s supposition. Nathan finished his own beer and took the fresh bottle the other man held out to him. Eventually, Lee nodded. “I think you may have over-extended your assumptions, but I’ll go along with it.”

“Okay. They have high technology but not supernatural, magical technology. They are bound by inertia the same as we are, so the simplest way to attack them would be to put something in their way. A kinetic missile strike would ruin their day, and given the velocities involved, it would be fairly simple to achieve. On the same mission that sends out the recon probe, you can seed the outer solar system with mines. When the big bad aliens show up, the mines rocket toward them and no more invasion.”

Lee sat down, looking vaguely disappointed. “Mr. Kelley, these aliens have come here from nearly twenty light-years away and have traveled at nearly half the speed of light. Given the amount of damage a single grain of sand could do at those velocities, not to mention the radiation involved, don’t you think the aliens would have come up with some method of clearing their path? I doubt simply throwing a rock in their way to trip them up would be the best defense for the planet.”

Nathan nodded slowly and grinned in a way that was more adversarial than friendly. He would either confirm or end his chances at this mysterious job, depending upon how he responded to Lee’s criticism. Agree or disagree with the boss, both choices were dangerous. “Sir, I said that was the simplest method of attack, not the best. And while they probably do have some sort of deflector shield or clearance beam or relativistic dust-buster, it’s a completely different proposition to deflect a coordinated strike with hardened, militarized weapons than it is to annihilate some micrometeors.”

Lee’s eyes had narrowed and his mouth was set in a grim line. “Very well.”

“The best ways to defeat any defensive system is with depth, diversity, mass, and maneuver. Depth is layers upon layers of weapons. Diversity is in types of weapons. You hit them with every type of attack that might even remotely be effective: lasers, nukes, bomb-pumped lasers, particle beams, kinetic strikes, logic bombs, and more. Hell, if you can put a rocket underneath the kitchen sink, you use that too.

“Mass is the density of attacks in each layer. Every defense has a threshold, a limit to what it can take. You give me enough of the right kind of weapons, I can storm the gates of heaven. And maneuver, well, we’ve already said they’re bound by inertia. If you make your weapons agile enough, set them up on just the right bearing, at just the right offset and velocity, throw in some countermeasures perhaps, then you can slip past almost any defense short of a force field. And defeating a force field just brings us back to mass. You want to defeat an alien invasion, that’s how you do it.”

“And what is the most important part of our defensive plan?” Lee’s voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear, and absolutely too quiet to determine if his hush was in disappointment or admiration.

“Time and distance. The most important thing, sir, is to keep the aliens from reaching Earth. If they make it to the planet, it’s all over. All they have to do is turn the exhaust of their magic space drive toward us and the planet would be roasted like a marshmallow. Or, if they favor things up close and personal, put them in orbit at the top of our deep gravity well so the energy balance is on their side. They can just rain down strike after strike until not even the cockroaches are left.”

Lee just stared at him. Nathan took a long drink, nervously finishing most of the bottle. When he looked back down, Gordon Lee was walking away. Nathan grimaced and said under his breath, “Damn it.”

Lee came back with a tablet computer in his hand and gave it over to Nathan. It automatically scrolled through a series of astronomy slides. The first picture was of a particular night sky. An unfamiliar constellation drew itself around a set of stars, and a number of Greek symbols popped up next to the most prominent stars.

“Mr. Kelley, what you are looking at is the constellation Pavo, the Peacock. It’s only visible in the southern hemisphere. The fourth brightest star in Pavo is Delta Pavonis, and it’s a G-type star much like our own. In fact, of all the nearby stars capable of supporting life as we know it, Delta Pavonis has long been considered one of the best candidates for an alien intelligence, even though it is a bit old and in its declining years. All the other G-type yellow suns in our vicinity are binary pairs, and it is thought that the interactions of the sister stars would interrupt the regular orbits and seasons of a terrestrial planet, making life almost impossible. But Delta Pavonis is alone in the heavens, 19.9 light-years away, and free to develop life, much as we did.”

“Why are you telling me this, sir?”

Lee tapped the tablet’s screen and another series of slides popped up. It focused in on the fuzzy yellow circle/dot of Delta Pavonis. In the next slide, a blue pinprick dominated one side of the star. In successive slides the pinprick drifted across the face of the yellow dot and back again, getting ever brighter and wider, and drifting further and further over the dot in the background.

“In the 1930’s, radio was truly born. It went from a laboratory and military oddity to a worldwide tool, a tool which would help drive empires and wars, and a tool which cast out its beacon into the night sky. Much of it was of too low a power to penetrate the ionosphere in any sort of intelligible fashion, but it is apparent that something did. Whatever the reason, nineteen point nine years later, someone around Delta Pavonis noticed us, and they sent out a magic rocket without any sort of warning or courtesy call to the people they’re coming to visit. Forty three years later, they turned around and began to slow down, because they intend on staying a while, it seems. Ten years after that, in 2023, I saw it and began my preparations. And now, here we are, with uninvited guests en route, and no way to turn them back at the door.”

Nathan had no idea what to say. Some of the rumors he had heard about Lee now seemed to be a little closer to fact. He sat the tablet down upon the table and stared at the garden. “So, that question wasn’t a zinger. It was an actual question.”

“It was a question and a job offer, Mr. Kelley. I’ve spent the last ten years planting the seeds of our defense. Not including a few notable exceptions, people able to see beyond their own preconceived notions of what’s out there, I’ve done it all myself. Because of the nature of this new truth, it unfortunately seems like almost all of the people I can convince I’m serious are the crackpots who have the least to offer me. And don’t even ask about government support.”

Nathan turned back to Lee, whose eyes burned intensely, but whether it was in madness or determination, Nathan could not tell. “Okay. I won’t ask.”

“I’ve sown the seeds, but now I need someone to reap the results. I don’t ask that you believe me, or believe the data, but I do ask that you approach this task seriously. You have a unique skill set. I’ve read military sci-fi, but I need someone with some actual tactical and strategic skills to do military sci-fi, to make the possibilities real. I need you to lead my Special Projects branch, consolidating the results of the various research initiatives I’ve funded in order to develop a defense of the planet. I need an engineer, a manager, a leader, and a seasoned, bloodied naval warrior. You’re all of that in a single package.”

Nathan finished his beer, but his mouth was still bone-dry. He turned away from Lee and began pacing again, running a hand through his hair. “When you say ‘bloodied naval warrior’, I assume you’re referring to the Rivero.”

“Yes.”

“I sank the Rivero, Mr. Lee!”

“The enemy sank your ship, Nathan, and two other ships that day as well. You were all sucker punched, but out of every battle of that day, you were the only one to sink your attackers in return. You defeated the enemy and blunted the ferocity of his attack, saving over a hundred and fifty members of your crew.”

“And killing 103 of them, including the Captain who put me in charge.”

“I’ve read the proceedings from your board of inquiry. The board endorsed your actions and awarded you the Navy Cross in return.”

“Medals and boards don’t stop the looks of doubt every officer has when they first meet you, every officer who knows they could have done it better if they had been in that situation instead. They also don’t stop the looks you give yourself in the mirror every morning either.”

Lee spread his hands and smiled. “Look at me, Nathan. I don’t doubt you. I’m not second-guessing you. You’re who I need. Be the architect of Earth’s first space navy. Accept the most important calling in history: the defense of the whole planet. What do you say?”

Nathan turned and stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. This was the weirdest damn job interview in history, but nowhere nearly as weird as the job itself.