Procrustes, Inc.

Sandra sighed and signed into her email account. It had been six months since the law offices at Carp, Strawn and Dinsmore had declared bankruptcy and been forced to let her go. Since then she had been unable to find work despite applying everywhere she could think non-stop. She clicked through her emails and was not surprised to see that there was no news, good or bad, there. She noticed that her spam folder said there was one message. Not having anything better to do, she clicked into her spam folder.

The subject line read: Looking for work? Try Procrustes Employment Agency, Inc. Success guaranteed or your money back!

She read through the email, and decided that trying them out couldn't hurt. She dialed the toll free number at the bottom of the email, and quickly set up a meeting with them.

* * *

It was the next day, and Sandra was sitting nervously in a waiting room waiting for her name to be called. She paged through one of the waiting room magazines, only half paying attention to its contents.

"John Ackerman?" said a well-dressed man, coming out from the door behind the receptionist desk.

Sandra saw a boy who couldn't have been older than 19 drag his eyes away from the phone he had been absorbed in, and stand up. He pocketed the device, and followed the well-dressed man back into his office. Sandra couldn't help but be a little judgemental of the kid. He had been wearing a beanie and a t-shirt, and his pants were so baggy she was impressed he was able to walk unobstructed. She wondered what kind of parents would raise a kid thinking it was okay to wear something like that to what was essentially a job interview.

Sandra had finished her magazine and had been waiting for several minutes when the two reemerged. The man whose name Sandra vaguely remembered as John Ackerman strode out confidently. He was dressed in nice collared shirt, and well-fitted dress pants. Something about this seemed odd to Sandra, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Sandra Blanche?"

Sandra stood up, and walked into the office. The man closed the door behind her and sat down at the large desk in the center of the room. He motioned toward the chairs, and Sandra took a seat. She looked approvingly around the office, which was well-organized and uncluttered. She appreciated fellow neat freaks.

"Ms. Blanche, I'm Damien Smith, I'm going to be the one working on your case. If it's alright with you, I'd like to go over the information you provided over the phone."

"That's fine by me."

"You said you were 28, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You're looking for work at a law firm?"

"I am."

"For level of education, you indicated you have a one year paralegal certificate?"

"Umm..." Sandra voiced was tinged with slight annoyance, "No, I have BA in political science from Duke, and a law degree from Boston University."

"Oh, then why did you say over the phone that you had a one year paralegal certification from Barnum Community College?"

"You must be mistaken, because I said no such thing." The annoyance in Sandra's voice was rising. She had taken on thousands of dollars of debt, and worked her ass off for seven years in order to pass the bar exam and become a lawyer, and she wasn't about to be mistaken for a paralegal.

Damien opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small digital recorder. "It's easy enough to find out who's right here, let's play back the recording."

He hit play, and Sandra listened intently. Sure enough there was her voice, plain as day, saying 'I have a one year paralegal certification from Barnum Community College.' Sandra's eyes grew unfocused and sharp pain started shooting through her head. Surely that wasn't right? She tried to collect her thoughts. After graduating high school she had gone to a four year school... it's name was on the tip of her tongue. She was pretty sure it started with a 'd'? But the more she thought about it the more it sounded wrong. No, she had wanted to go to a four year school, but her academics weren't quite up to snuff. Instead she got accepted at Barnum Community College and did their one year paralegal certificate. It beat going into debt like some of her peers had done.

"Are you alright, Ms. Blanche?" Damien asked with concern.

"Um... yes, I think so. I'm sorry about the confusion. You're right of course, I went to Barnum Community College." The pain had subsided in her temples, and the room was back in focus.

Damien put the recorder down, and folded his hands. "Well, I'm glad that we were able to clear that up. So, after you received your certificate, you worked for Carp, Strawn and Dinsmore for 8 years?"

"I'm, uh, pretty sure I only worked there three years." Her confidence had been a little rattled from the previous dispute, but she was pretty sure that sounded wrong.

"Let me get this straight. Carp, Strawn and Dinsmore was your first and only place of employment after college, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you've been unemployed for six months?"

"Uh... yes."

"So am I to understand that you didn't have a job for five years after getting your certificate?"

When he put it that way, it did seem odd if she was only employed at Carp, Strawn and Dinsmore for three years. Her eyes watered a little, and a quick spurt of pain played across her forehead. "Oh my gosh, I don't know what's gotten into me today. Yeah, I worked at Carp, Strawn and Dinsmor for 8 years."

Damien nodded and continued. "You speak two languages?"

Sandra started playing with her hair nervously. "If I said that, I was lying. I took a little French in high school, but I can't remember much beyond 'bonjour' and 'au revior.'"

"French? You said you were fluent in Spanish."

"Look, I don't even know the Spanish word for 'taco'," she said jokingly. However, as she said it a warm feeling started in her head. She stopped playing with her hair, sat up straight and corrected herself. "What I mean to say, is that yes I speak very good Spanish. My dad's second wife was from Mexico, and she helped teach me."

Sandra was a little surprised by those words. 'Dad's second wife'? Where did that come from? The warm feeling had not subsided, and as she tried to recall memories of her mom, she realized she was coming up blank. NO! For the first time, she felt herself resisting... something. She didn't want to forget her mom - the woman who was always there for her, who had taught how to ride a bike, who always knew exactly what to say to cheer her up. She tried to remember something definite about the woman, but she felt like the memories were drifting away like sand on the wind. She summoned all the will she could to stop this... process, whatever it was. She became dimly aware that it had taken other things from her, but nothing was as important as this.

As she thought this, she found it! A memory - a beautiful woman with blonde hair tucking her into bed. The woman kissed her on the forehead, sat down on the bed, pulled out a book and began reading. What was the name of the book? Sandra put all of her being into trying to remember. She could see a chicken on the cover. Was it Chicken Little? For a brief moment Sandra wanted to celebrate - that was it, her mom was reading Chicken Little to her. However that brief moment was cut short when she realized that the woman reading to her had no face. Where the face had been was a void - it wasn't black, darkness would have been something - this was just... nothing.

'No, no, no!' Sandra screamed inside herself. More parts of the memory were disappearing. She couldn't remember what color her mother's hair had been. What had the book been!? It had a bird of some kind, didn't it? It faded and faded and faded until...

"Are you alright Ms. Blanche?" Damien was leaning on the front of the desk, offering her a box of tissues. His eyes were soft and compassionate.

Sandra was surprised to find that tears had been pouring down her face. How long had she been crying? "I- I'm sorry. It's just, my mom died in childbirth. I still get a little messed up, thinking about what it might have been like to meet her. Camila's been a great step-mom though."

Sandra felt pretty embarrassed about this outburst, but she was happy that Damien seemed to be understanding about the whole thing. Once he was sure she was alright, he set the tissue box closer to her on the desk and sat back down. After a minute or two more she was fully calmed down, and Damien started talking.

"Sandra, I think we can stop here. I'm going to need to make a quick call. Please excuse me for a second." Damien walked out into the hallway while dialing his phone.

Sandra sat there alone in the room. She almost wanted to kick herself. She was sure she had blown this whole thing. Damien was probably calling to put her on some blacklist because of how emotionally unstable she was or something. As she sat there stewing, she tried to take her mind off her worries by looking around the room. For some reason she hadn't really noticed it before, but this room was *way* too neat. The desk was virtually clutter-free and everything looked like it had a proper place. Sandra had always felt that an office that was a little messy felt more comfortable. Clean offices were chores to achieve, and just felt sort of... empty.

Having successfully distracted herself. Sandra didn't notice when Damien walked back into the room. Without speaking he walked slowly to his desk, and slumped into it. She jumped a little in surprise, but quickly recovered - trying to look as professional as possible. 'Here it comes,' thought Sandra. 'This was my last chance. I'm probably going to spend the next six months unemployed' She knew that the employment agency promised employment or your money back, but she needed a job way more than the money she had payed for this consultation.

Damien looked like he was trying to choose his words carefully. "Sandra..." Her heart fell. This was it, she knew it. "Sandra, I've got great news! It sounds like you're the perfect fit for the law offices of Martinez and Reyes. You can expect a call from them in the next three days."

The next few minutes passed by in a daze for Sandra. She could hardly believe it. She had gotten a job! She thanked Damien profusely, and bounded out of the office. She was so caught up in her excitement that she barely remembered the car ride home.

Back in his office, Damien put Sandra's papers away. He straightened his tie, and opened his filing cabinet. Pulling out a file, he walked to the office door, smiled and called out, "Rebecca Dalby?"