Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl and the setting "St Barteby's" are the creation of Mr Eoin Colfer. Not me. Elyse Johnson, unfortunately, is mine, and I'm sure you're all queuing up to steal her. NOT!
Authors Notes: I wrote this today basically because I liked he idea and thought it would be a good way to practice speech – believe me I need to! I think I may have made a bit of a mess of it… I'm not sure.
A lot of intelligent people go off the rails because they have too many options…
Anyone who could R and R, particularly in relation to speech, or just in general will have my eternal gratitude. In fact, anyone who reviews this, I promise to review one of your fics because I need the help!
Oh What Shall One Do?
Artemis imagined that most people who sat in this chair usually felt nervous, or excited, or a mixture between the two. He felt neither.
It was one thing for an E grade GCSE student to sit and talk to a struggling Mum of three about which supermarket they wanted to work in. But he clearly was different.
The room was cluttered, with few photographs, pens and paper spread around the cheap wooden desk. Filing cabinets towered around the perimeter of the room, menacingly guarding the walls. It was clearly makeshift; Artemis supposed that it was probably used for a number of different things throughout the year involving external visitors to St Barteby's.
The careers adviser was late and Artemis found it very irritating; whilst he had no desire to return to his inane lesson, this was a far less subtle waste of his time. Perhaps, she was trying to add a layer of mystique; perhaps it was a way of getting students to focus on the task ahead. With Artemis, she had accomplished neither. – She was just late.
The door behind the desk swung open. It opened was a narrow tunnel, which Artemis guessed probably twisted and turned all the way to the staffroom and admin area. St Barteby's was like that. – Tunnels everywhere.
In walked a tall, smartly dressed, lady in her mid twenties, with pleasantly arranged facial features, blue eyes and sweeping blonde hair. Artemis didn't even bother to check what was below; he just laughed sardonically.
It was so cliché; every other male pupil at the school was probably drooling by this early point in proceedings.
"Hello, Mr…" She started in an annoyingly pleasant and friendly voice, as she bent her neck down to pretend to look for his name on her clipboard. Who did she think she was fooling? "That's it, Fowl… Hello Mr Fowl. And how are you this fine day?"
"My well being is none of your concern. Now, who are you?" Artemis asked abruptly.
"Why, I am the school's careers advisor, of course. Expensively employed, I might add." She replied, appearing un-offended by Artemis's blunt tone.
"Yes, I know that. I meant what is you name, woman." Artemis snapped.
"Oh," she said, slightly taken aback now, "My name is Elyse Johnson. You can call me Elyse," She said, like she was giving Artemis some kind of treat.
"And why exactly are you late?" He demanded.
Johnson ignored the query.
"Right then, Artemis, shall we begin? Do you mind if I call you Artemis?"
"Yes, I do." He answered. "And no, we will not begin; not until you answer my question. We are not paying good money to have you stroll into an appointment at a time which pleases you."
"Oh, I am sorry, Master Fowl. I got caught up in the staff room. – Dear old Mrs Reynolds is a bit of a chatterbox you know." She replied, with the tiniest hint of remorse, sitting down in her soft beige armchair as she spoke. "So how is school? You clearly have a huge list of academic qualifications already." She said, looking down at Artemis's file.
"Me being at school is like a first class athlete in a primary school Physical Education lesson. And, yes, my qualifications are extensive; they almost certainly outweigh your own - like a rhinoceros and a corn flake. I do hope all these similes allow you and your tiny understanding to comprehend my thoughts."
Again, she ignored the quip and smiled.
"So do you have any ideas of what you want to do with your life?"
"If I did, would I tell you?"
"Well, I am in a position to advise you, so if you had any common sense, yes. Yes you would" She retorted, a little more aggressively.
The silence was damning.
"How about becoming a doctor; that's always rewarding for the intellectuals."
"I am not going to spend the next seven years studying, so that I can routinely administer drugs that I could probably create superior alternatives to."
"What about actually doing it then? "Creating" these "alternatives" then. You could go into medicine."
Artemis took a deep patronising breath. "No. Sadly, our government wouldn't look twice at anything I concoct until I'm about fifty."
"A lawyer then."
"If I went into the upper end of corporate law, I would simply be helping business my competitors to get richer than me."
"Criminal law?"
"As you very well know, there's no money in it. And I have little desire to participate in the game, which our legal system has become, especially, when it centres around people's pathetic but sensitive lives. Oh, and once again, there's that small matter of a degree."
"You obviously have a gift with words. - Journalism perhaps? Or politics?" She suggested
"You have me wrong, Miss. Whilst this experience may not be entirely pleasant for you, you may be surprised to learn that I am not, in fact, the scum of the earth."
"I see…" She said, in a way that made Artemis think that she really, really didn't.
He sighed; this was going to take a while...
"And finally, a Zoologist?" Elyse breathed unhopefully.
"Would you like the full rant, or would you prefer the shortened version."
"Given that in the last two hours we've covered every plausible career known to man from Priest to Soldier; from Historian to Mathematician; from Writer to Pilot and you have rejected every single one of them… - I think I'll take the short version." The flustered blonde beauty rambled quietly.
"I don't like animals." He mumbled gently.
Artemis had begun to feel sorry for Johnson around about 'dentist.' - She was clearly very disheartened by the ordeal.
The closest they had come was 'Entrepreneur,' but he had decided firmly that the market would limit him too much.
"I'm sorry, Artemis, but I am out of ideas; you have exhausted me completely. What do you want to do? There must be something, surely."
Artemis looked at her, sadly. He had made the bitter realisation about an hour ago.
"I'm going to be a Criminal." He said dryly.
Elyse laughed. Artemis didn't.
End.