Indomitus Oriens (The Fovean Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF Page A

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                  You could be a robot. In fact, it surprised Bill that he hadn’t already been replaced by one. The sorry part was he was capable of so much more. Bill knew he had a good resume as a sales person, but everyone thought a good sales person in his fifties was a manager by then. A good sales person in his fifties didn’t have to sell any more, no matter how much he loved it, because he was that good.
                  Not Bill. It left him feeling depressed. When he tried to be unique and up his sales, he either ended up getting reamed by a boss or just embarrassing himself. Like they told him, “The program works. It works best if you just don’t think about it.”
                  Lunch rolled around from 12:00pm to either 12:30pm or, if you made your numbers, 1:00pm. He had made his numbers, so he logged out of his terminal and stood, planning to grab a sandwich and then listen to Rush Limbaugh for his first hour.
                  “Bill, can I see you?”
                  He turned and saw Eileen, the floor sup for his division. “It’ll just take a minute.”
                  He shrugged and followed her to her ‘office,’ a slightly larger cubicle at the end of Bill’s row. She was a slight girl with small tits, kinky blonde hair and dancer’s body, in tight black jeans and top.
                  She sat, he sat.
                  “Do you know Melissa?” she asked.
                  Bill’s first thought was that he’d said or done something no longer considered ‘PC,’ and she’d taken offense at him.
                  “I know one who bummed a cig from me at break,” he said.
                  “She’s having a hard time selling,” Eileen said. “And I was talking to her about it. I offered to set her up with someone to show her, and she asked for you.”
                  Bill shook his head. “Eileen, I’m not a trainer.”
                  “I know, but you could be,” Eileen said. “You’re really good—you always make your numbers. You aren’t some young guy who is going to be looking down their blouses, and you aren’t some young girl where they will be looking down yours.”
                  Bill chuckled. This was as nice as he had seen Eileen. Usually she just bitched about how, when she was on the floor, she never had a hard time making her numbers.
                  “More work, less pay,” Bill said. “And the first time one of them doesn’t make their numbers, they’re going to say I harassed them.”
                  Eileen gave him her best solemn eyed look. She had really missed her calling selling used cars. “We lock your pay in at your average week for the last year,” she said, “so you can never make less than you are, but you get another hundred a week and if you beat your average, then you just make more. No downside.”
                  Bill did an impressed frown. That wasn’t bad, actually, and the extra money would really help him. “And the other thing?”
                  Eileen leaned back. “Bill,” she said, and reached out and touched the back of his hand, “even I have had to deal with it. Everyone knows it’s crap. I won’t lie—if you’re ever seen with one of these kids outside of here, they are going to be able to get you fired, so don’t party with them and you’ll be fine.”             
                  Bill sighed. “Well, it isn’t like I am hitting the discotheques.”
                  She just laughed. “Actually, any place with a mirror ball, and you’re safe.”
                  “So when do I start?”
                  “You start now,” Eileen said. “Take her to lunch; keep the receipt and the company pays for it. You get one lunch per trainee. Find