The lobby of City Hall was a cavern of marble and echoes. It was cold, the air conditioning set to a temperature that suggested power and efficiency.
Arlis arrived an hour early. His suit was pressed, his shoes shined with a kit he'd bought at a drugstore. He stood near a pillar, watching the other candidates arrive.
They looked like clones. Navy blue suits, expensive watches, haircuts that cost more than Arlis's monthly rent. The air smelled of expensive cologne and fear.
Arlis walked to the sign-in desk. The woman behind the counter looked harried, buried under a stack of files.
"Good morning," Arlis said softly. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the world today."
The woman looked up, startled. Candidates usually barked names at her. Her face softened. "You have no idea, honey. Name?"
"Zimmerman. Arlis."
"Good luck, Mr. Zimmerman," she said, marking his name. Her tone was warm.
A commotion at the entrance drew everyone's attention. The heavy glass doors swung open.
Hailee walked in. She was clinging to Kyler's arm like a trophy. She wasn't a candidate, but she was there to mark her territory. Kyler wore an Armani suit that fit him like a second skin. He looked like a prince.
He scanned the room and locked eyes with Arlis.
"Look," Kyler announced, his voice booming. "The waiter actually showed up."
A ripple of laughter went through the group of candidates. Arlis didn't flinch. He stood perfectly still.
Hailee looked at Arlis. Her eyes flicked over his cheap suit, the slightly frayed cuffs. "Arlis," she said, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper of pity. "Just go home. Don't do this to yourself."
"Hailee," Arlis said, his voice even. "This is a government building, not a sorority mixer. Lower your voice."
Kyler stepped forward, towering over Arlis. "Listen, pal. You know who got me this interview? The Deputy Mayor. Who sent you? The fry cook?"
Arlis looked Kyler in the eye. He didn't back down. He leaned in slightly.
"If I were you, Kyler, I wouldn't be shouting about nepotism in the lobby," Arlis said quietly. He nodded toward the far wall. "See those guys with the cameras? That's the Capital Gazette investigative team. They're looking for a quote on the corruption scandal."
Kyler's head whipped around. Sure enough, three men with press badges were standing near the elevators, talking to a security guard.
Kyler's face went pale. The color drained from his cheeks so fast it looked like a magic trick. He clamped his mouth shut, taking a half-step back.
Hailee looked confused. "Kyler? What's wrong?"
"Shut up," Kyler hissed at her.
Arlis didn't smile. He just turned his back on them and walked toward the elevators. The doors opened, and he stepped inside. As the doors slid shut, he saw Kyler standing there, sweating in his Armani suit.
Upstairs, the waiting room was silent. Arlis found a seat in the corner. Next to him sat a young man who was vibrating with nerves. Candidate 36.
"I'm going to throw up," the boy whispered.
"Breathe," Arlis said without opening his eyes. "They don't want robots. They want problem solvers."
The boy looked at him, grateful.
The door opened. A hush fell over the room. Commissioner Reynolds walked in. He was a large man, imposing, with a face carved from granite. He walked through the room, inspecting the candidates like livestock.
Everyone stood up, straightening ties. Arlis stood slowly. His eyes went straight to the floor.
Reynolds' shoes. Black oxfords. But along the sole, a faint rim of reddish-brown mud.
Red clay, Arlis thought. The East District construction site. He was there this morning.
Arlis looked up. Reynolds caught his eye. For a second, there was a spark of curiosity in the Commissioner's gaze. Then he turned and marched into the interview room.
The game was on.
