New York City wasn't too bad a place to live in. He'd been born and raised among the high buildings of the great city.
Sure it was crowded, and noisy, and even the simplest necessities of the everyday were ridiculously expensive, and the fact that New Yorkers were viewed as a completely different race by the rest of humanity. But overall it was a good place to call home. A good place to grow up, get an education, find the right girl, maybe even make a name for yourself.
Not the place to get dumped, fired, and evicted all in one night.
Needless to say this day wasn't a good day for him as he trudged down the street, intent on reaching the unemployment office before the gloomy sky opened up into a downpour...too late.
He sighed and walked on, sticking close to cafe overhangs in an attempt to keep himself relatively dry. Considering he already walked ten blocks, another two wouldn't hurt. He was successful at keeping himself dry, until he reached the next block, and was showered with a mixture of exhaust fumes and water as a taxi whipped past him. He sighed again, and wished he had at least enough for a taxi. He didn't. He didn't have enough for anything, really So, he carried on.
Sylvia had taken all of it. First sneaking it out of his bank account, claiming it was to pay for her "textbooks" for her "law degree." Then she took the rent and bill money to "fix her car." What she really did? Shopping sprees, nights on the town with her girlfriends, and a deluxe trip to the Bahamas. The last one had been the whip that broke the horse's back.
The call from the travel agency had concerned him since the devil woman had said she was "visiting her sick mother" for a couple weeks. Unfortunately, the trip was nonrefundable, leaving him broke and faced with a massive credit card debt for a trip he couldn't even go on.
She'd left him swimming in debt, leaving him to face the angry landlord pounding on his door every night threatening eviction by police interference and a nice, cold dumpster if he couldn't pay him the money, and the power company demanded their balance or they would cut him off. And on top of all that, Sylvia worked at the same job as him, meaning the manager sided with the pretty, simpering blonde demon for everything.
The night after he'd confronted her she'd thrown a fit with tears, yells, and accusations in front of all the customers. He'd been pulled aside by the manager, into the "death trap," or so it was referred to by his coworkers but was really his boss' office. Just as he'd feared, the loyal employee of twenty years was pink slipped, and cast out of the place, watching through the window as the demonic woman was given his position. And higher pay.
Not that the job was really worth it, he'd started after graduating high school as a way to make ends meet while in college and was planning on starting on his own. He didn't go to NYU and get a degree in Ancient Military Strategies emphasis on the Roman Empire to spend his nights and a good part of his days at the 32nd Street PourHouse. Paid a quarter over minimum wage an hour so he could be the short order cook on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and then the bartender Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, not counting he'd had to go in on Sundays to do the bookwork and inventory.
It was shaming to him that the unemployment office was his only option. His parents both lived in California and could do little to help their now poor son, and he'd found out the hard way that the other bars in the area wouldn't take him. The manager had apparently called them all and trash talked him, using Sylvia as his credible source. It was typical, managers always listening to pretty girls first...there was a word for that, but he was too tired to utter it.
He trekked on through the city, seeing the office just around the corner, desperate for a paying job that would let him keep at least his apartment and electricity. He'd been disappointed when the first two he'd visited had nothing, and was hoping that the third time would be the charm. It just had to be. If not, he was doomed.
The traffic light was red when he paused at the corner crosswalk, stamping his feet impatiently as he waited. A school bus full of kids made him turn, glancing up at the Museum of Natural History as they rushed inside and out of the rain. A "Help Wanted" sign was taped to one of the front doors, making him shake his head as he finally saw his chance to cross. There was no way was he ever working there. Not even if it was the very last job in New York. It was just too busy for him,being so antisocial. A slight smile appeared on his face as he finally entered the office, and he shook himself down.
"Can I help you?" Asked the woman behind the desk, her voice sounding slightly irritated as she put down the nail filer she'd been holding.
"Yes, um," He stuttered, trying to sound as professional as he could. "I'd like a job, please."
"Take a seat."
He sat down, rubbing his hands together to get the chill out of them. He glanced around the office, picking up some details of the place. He realized that this was the same building his father had found a job in. It must be good luck, he decided. He faced the woman as she finished writing on a few papers.
"So," She said, peering at him over her glasses. "You have a history degree."
He nodded.
"You know those aren't that useful here, right?"
He gulped, and nodded slowly.
"Well, I do have one job available..."
A hopeful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he scooted his chair closer. He eagerly took the paper form her hand, looked at the address...and frowned.
"You're kidding me." He said, reading the address over and over again.
The woman shrugged. "It's the last job we have with your credentials. I can organize a meeting for you if you like."
"But...no...I but..." He sighed, and bowed his head in defeat. "Fine...any time after 2:00."
"Good!" The woman said, smiling. "I hope you get this. Everyone who's tried has left. It seems like no one wants to be an assistant night guard." She handed him the paper, waved goodbye, and watched him walk out the door.
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He looked at himself and frowned, running his fingers through his mottled hair. He'd been wet and exhausted after the long walk to and from the unemployment office, and had fallen asleep as soon as he'd hit the bed. He'd woken just a quarter before three, and had almost panicked when he remembered his meeting was at 3:00 exactly. He'd had little time to get ready, and had hurriedly threw on his best suite- which barely fit him- and had quickly brushed his teeth and grabbed his papers. He'd been heading for the door when he realized his hair was a mess, but had no time to fix it. He'd found some loose change in his couch cushions, just enough for a taxi to and from the museum.
He rushed out the door in a hurry, hailing the first taxi he laid eyes on. He got in and began looking over his papers one last time. After a while he tired of it, and contented himself with looking out the window at the city going by. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, giving him a glimmer of hope. He could get this job if he tried. If he really, really tried, he could keep everything he'd worked so hard to get. He just had to get through the meeting.
That was his downfall.
Though good with formal discussions, people had always been strange to him. He was the kind of guy who preferred to spend time alone rather than with people. As long as the meeting was short and to the point, he assured himself he'd be fine.
When the cab reached the museum he paid, and got out. He stood looking up at the large building, the engine fading into the sea of noises in the road. He quickly climbed the steps, and stepped aside as a couple and their two children came through the doors, talking excitedly as the made their way down the steps. He couldn't help but smile. If this place made people so happy, maybe he'd enjoy it here. He walked through the hallways, looking around for the office. Surely there was one somewhere. As he walked on he found himself getting sidetracked, the various exhibits and artifacts catching his eye. One in particular caught his attention, and he bent down to get a better look.
In one display, which, obviously, held a Roman legion and a city, sat two statues. One he recognized as the great Caesar, but the other was unknown to him. Yet it looked familiar...for some reason an image of himself looking in the mirror of the cab flashed in his mind, and he laughed at the ridiculous parallels. It was a statue.
"Excuse me," Came a voice from behind him.
He jumped, startled by the man in uniform by the doorway, and dropped his briefcase, his papers going everywhere. "Oh, no." He said, bending down to pick them up. "I-I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't know you were there-"
"It's fine," The man said. He then bent down and picked up the few papers which lay at his feet. He glanced over them, then up at the man. "You're here for the interview, right?"
The man quickly nodded, and extended his hand in formal greeting. The night guard took it, and then handed him the papers.
"I'm Larry. Larry Daley. Nice to meet you..." The night guard's voice trailed off as he saw the man's face.
"Larry Daley?" The man asked, an excited tone in voice. "Of Daley Devices?"
Larry shook his head for a moment, dismissing the familiar voice and appearance of the man. "Yep. That's me."
The man smiled, a rather familiar smile, and took his hand again, shaking it vigorously. "I'm Owen Scott. Huge fan of you, sir."
"Oh, really?" Larry questioned, still unable to shake the feeling that he knew this man from somewhere.
Owen nodded again. "I've got all your products. They work quite well."
Larry smiled halfheartedly, still looking at the man's face. He looked from it to the small statue he'd installed in the Roman exhibit, and couldn't shake the feeling he was seeing the figure. The man followed his gaze for a moment, looking slightly confused.
"What do you make of that..." Larry said, almost to himself.
The man leaned over the exhibit. "I'd say it was a legion, sir. About five hundred strong. That building there would be the Coliseum."
"What about the statues?"
"Well that one is Julius Caesar and that one is..." Owen frowned for a moment, then looked up at the night guard. "I don't know who that is. He looks like a general though. It could be anyone."
"Do you notice anything strange about the Coliseum?"
Owen looked at it for a while, before shrugging and turning to Larry again.
"It's early for the time period this exhibit portrays." Larry explained. "We'd had a...a figure for the main attraction of this exhibit, but we lost hi- it. We lost it somehow and replaced it with a statue. That's the statue of a general named Octavius."
Owen frowned."I don't remember hearing that name before..."
"What's your degree in?" Larry asked.
"Romans, pretty much. Architecture, military, that kind of thing."
The night guard nodded thoughtfully. "I think you've got the job. Come back tomorrow and we'll show you around."
Owen nodded slightly, turned, and broke into a smile and joyous laughter as soon as he made it outside. Perhaps life wasn't so bad after all.