My feet tap against the wooden legs of my seat, the aging piece of furniture creaking under my weight after years and years of constant use. The fabric seat is worn down within an inch of its life, the once lustrous red material now dull and fraying to the point one can see the foam padding within.
The sound of whistling fills the pale yellow room, the windows within the cramped office not sealing properly against the elements outside. Books and papers pile up high on the cheap desk at the far end of the narrow room, the bookshelves flanking it sharing a similar overcrowded fate. Dust and the scent of rose water cling to the air, the smell of the usual occupant's perfume and the other self evident from the lack of cleaning.
Suddenly the door behind me creaks open, the floor board squeaking under the heavy footfalls that soon follow.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting Jordan" sighs the voice of my former manager, Mrs Mawab, her Turkish accent just barely slipping through after years away from her country of birth. "I swear, I don't know how they expect us to handle all these meetings after making us cut our..." she continues, pausing her complaint before clasping my shoulder with her soft and pudgy fingers in an attempt at comfort.
Looking back at her I spot the squat and rather heavyset woman who I had once called my boss, her hazel eyes looking down at me in my tiny chair from behind a set of small spectacles. Her once long and lustrous black hair seems well worse for wear, the ends splitting and with more than a few gray strands populating the shoulder length mass.
Deep wrinkles dig into her olive-toned skin, from crows feet and laugh lines to even a set of heavy creases around her mouth when she smiles. Her face is soft and doughy, is is much of her build, with a set of soft and rounded lips as well as a prominent double chin.
Her flabby frame is covered up under numerous layers of clothes. A bright red scarf is wrapped around her neck, draping itself over her shoulders before running down over the sagging bulges on her chest. A heavy black jacket leaves most of her build a mystery, the knee length coat working in concert with a thick gray sweater to leave her already soft frame more like an indistinct blob.
"Once again, I'm sorry that we had to..." she begins to mutter, walking around me and towards her desk as she releases her grip on my shoulder.
"That's alright" I chuckle awkwardly, shifting in my chair as it grows ever more uncomfortable. "I understand that it wasn't really your..." I begin to muse, pausing as I remember that she really did have a choice between firing me or someone else in our department.
I cough slightly to hide the pause, watching as the doughy woman drops herself down into her far larger and nicer seat behind her desk.
"Look, I'm just happy you've considered me for this hybrid role" I chirp with a smile, pulling my seat toward the desk as the legs squeak against the hardwood floor. "So what exactly is this new job? Hybrid makes it sound like... is it an mixture of in-person and online teaching? Maybe a bit of partial office work or..."
Mrs Mawab cuts me off with a nervous chuckle of her own, her double chin jiggling as her hand moves up to nervously rub at her neck.
"I... no, I believe there may have been a miscommunication here" she begins to explain, opening a draw and pulling out a small tablet with a cheap keyboard attached to the case. "It isn't a hybrid role, per say. It's a role for... oh... how best to put it..." she muses, tapping at the screen and typing out something into some unseen application. "It's a role... for a Hybrid"
From fluffy tails and furry ears to bright and colorful plumage, Hybrids as they were commonly called had quickly began to pop up only a few years ago. While their numbers had grown day by day, with new human and animal hybrids stepping out into the world every day, they were still a relative minority.
The procedure to make these new beings had even started with far more simple and commercial purposes, a way to let the owners of a deceased pet to see some semblance of it once again. Through a process often called 'distillation' the genetic memory of one animal could be implanted into another. The process itself could take anywhere from a few minutes to a matter of days, the recipient of the implant soon jumping at its own reflection as its fur changes color and patterns change to something far more familiar to the owner.
While the idea of genetic memory was up for debate, the physical aspects of the transformation were undeniable. Everything from size to coloration would, with enough time, shift to be a mirror image of the donor animal though old injuries or scars didn't seem to be afforded the same effect. Beyond this, most owners of pets who had undergone the procedure swore that it had some sort of mental effect, anything from changing preferences in food to suddenly becoming more or less vocal.
It didn't take long after the procedure hit market for someone to try it on themselves. The news was nearly impossible to not have heard about, of the young woman sprouting cat ears and a long orange tail while in mourning for her orange tabby. Despite the fearmongering in the news Cathryn quickly became a minor celebrity, the young woman seemingly loving her new form and dismissing those who suggested she should demand a way to change back.
Before long, more and more stories like Cathryn's began to pop up and the more correct term of Hybrids began to come into the discourse. While many still rebuked this 'lifestyle choice' there were those usual institutions that quickly sought to become as accommodating as they could to the growing number of Hybrids that could serve as loyal customers, eager employees, or just members of one community or another.
As more and more Hybrids began to pop up more was learnt about just how the process could effect humans, namely just how much influence the donor genetic material had over the recipient. Dramatic shifts in age, sudden inversion of sex, or even mental shifts as even the most ravenous meat eater becomes a bleeding heart vegan could all come about either intentionally or simply through improper handling or labeling of the given donor material.
I chuckle nervously as Mrs Mawab opens another drawer, soon retrieving a series hypodermic needles encased in some surgical steel shells. My eyes fixate on the disturbingly large devices, my breath catching in my chest as I try to get my words out in a calm manner.
"Um... Mrs Mawab, I... I'm not exactly sure what you mean by..." I begin to wheeze, coughing a little to clear my throat only to be cut off by the overweight woman behind the desk.
"We recently got funding for a new... representative position" she explains, attempting to phrase it as tactfully as possible. "Currently, campus wide we don't have a single Hybrid amongst the staff or student leadership. The administration has recently given us a departmental stipend to onboard someone to help make our numbers look more... well you get the point. I thought, seeing as you haven't found anything since your redundancy, that you would jump at a chance to return to our..."
"As a..." I begin to blurt out, my eyes wide as I continue to stare at the needle on the table. Mrs Mawab cuts me off once more, holding up a hand as she begins to speak once more.
"We have several roles available, though I'm not sure which..." she muses, pausing as she places her hand to her chin before adjusting her glasses. "Let's review them before you say no, shall we?"
"Given that we've lost some of our teaching staff, as I'm sure you are well aware of..." Mrs Mawab explains, smirking slightly as she joking refers to my own dismissal from the role. "We've been struggling to handle the additional work load. Marking papers, tutoring students and giving feedback, even just getting all the photocopying done."
"Aren't I a little too... experienced to be just doing the photocopying? Isn't this something a grad student would..." I begin to balk, watching as Mrs Mawab gentle rubs the bridge of her slightly hooked nose.
"Worried about your advanced age Mr Hughes? Don't worry, you'll fit the new role perfectly. Besides, someone with teaching experience would be preferable and you'd have more experience than any of the graduates we could be offering the role to.
"Speaking of photocopying though..." Mrs Mawab chuckles, nudging a pile of papers on her desk with no small amount of distaste and disgust. "We have been dying to get a new office administrator around the department. Since Sybil left we've been needing to take all our calls in our office, and don't get me started on organizing meetings with students and..."
"That's not really in line with my past experience is it?" I ask, shifting nervously in my seat.
"Oh I disagree" Mrs Mawab, waving me off playfully. "You know just how hard it can be for us teachers and lecturers, you'd be perfect in acting as a gatekeeper... and in making sure the teaching assistants don't break the photocopier..."
"Okay okay..." Mrs Mawab chuckles, obviously seeing my distaste at her jokes regarding doing the more menial elements of office work. "What about the library? Mr Lowe has been holding off on his retirement until we can find someone to replace him as our departments library technician. You'd be getting to help the students from our department, make bookings for them or guide them to the right..."
"I guess that... Are you just trying to get rid of poor old Harr..." I begin to chuckle, Mrs Mawab cutting me off with a feigned gasp.
"Now why would I want to get rid of that ancient... I mean, I'm just wanting to offer our esteemed colleague a chance to enjoy his retirement sooner rather than later. Besides, you know our textbooks and how to best integrate things digitally than that old thing down in the..."
"I do suppose..." Mrs Mawab mutters, rubbing her chin once again with her thick sausage-like fingers. "We could offer you another teaching role, though it wouldn't be the same as before. Fiona has already taken over your old classes, and we can't just substitute you into that position all of a sudden."
"I don't mind, of course I'll..." I begin to state, a tutting from Mrs Mawab quickly cutting my sentence short.
"I haven't offered you the position yet Mr Hughes" she chuckles, narrowing her gaze on me. "I'd say you should be taking over some of the more introductory classes, I'm sure someone as impulsive as yourself would get along well with..."
"Actually..." Mrs Mawab mumbles, looking up and away for a minute before her lips curve into a grin. "You might even be better as... embedded support for the studentss. We've been toying with the idea of hiring on some of the more mature and brighter ones to help their classmates and..."
"Well I'm definitely too old for that sort of..." I snap back with a laugh, only to watch as Mrs Mawab rubs her nose in a more frustrated manner.
"As I have said before, I promise you'll fit this role perfectly as well. You'll know just what the students need, you could be like a spy on the inside of the cohort and help us guide their experience as well."
Student Hub and Clubs Assistant
"Lastly... well I suppose we could place you in the student hub? Maybe you could help manage the film club or at least give them some guidance. It would be another of the more admin based roles, but you were a part of clubs and the student hub back when you..." Mrs Mawab states, musing about the situation more than anything else.
"When I was studying? Yeah, it's a position for students and..." I begin to retort, pausing as I bit my tongue rather than simply getting cut short by the older woman across the other side desk.
"So you have the right experience then. It would be important for student well being, I mean having someone actually competent handle the student admin tasks would probably make everything run far better."
I watch as Mrs Mawab takes a deep breath, her hazel eyes closing in deep thought for a moment. The whistling from the window grows sharp and loud as wind pounds the window, a slight pitter patter of rain beginning to build against the glass as well.
After almost a minute of sitting in silence I watch as Mrs Mawab's eyes snap open, her gaze darting to the needles as she searches for some kind of distinguishing marks. Finally she snatches one from the desk, giving it a more close reading before she hops to her feet with an unsteady jiggle rippling through her body.
"Okay..." she chuckles, waddling around the desk and towards me. "So... I think you would be great as our new..."
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