Six years of Meny, six years of Corporate Law, Applied Violence, Sniper Tactics, Sewer Tactics and Media Subversion and he still felt like he was back at primary school.
His shoulder felt numb so he shifted from the wall, perhaps he should go for a walk to loosen up, but what if someone dropped by whilst he was gone? He could try to network, do his spiel again...no he couldn't bear seeing their expression change to disinterest when he said "Mechanics".
The Clearance Hall, he'd heard of it off course whilst at Meny, it made sense and sounded businesslike. Where all those operatives who hadn't formed a squad by the time they left came together. It never worried him that he'd end up here, he wasn't a real people person, not one to make lasting friendships easily. He'd leave it, come here and form a squad that would work, here you got the chance to pick carefully and form a squad based on logical thought not just because you and your drinking buddies thought it would be great to stick together after you graduated. That way led to oddities like five-man Kick Murder Squads, what do you call them? A murder seemed appropriate a murder of Kick Murderers. Or everybody's favourite a six-pack of Frothers who generally go belly up in their first encounter when someone yells "Bundle!" Still such spectacular ends tend to get televised so they probably die happy.
Of course what had never occurred to him is why everyone else here weren't part of a squad by graduation. After several hours here it was beginning to dawn on him.
The students top of their class were quickly snatched up by corporate departments or subsidiaries, often before they had even finished their training. No doubt spirited off to some secret training facility and then straight in to a high SCL position in Cloak or Karma.
Some were recruited by existing Squads who need to fill a few vacancies. Squads who know who to talk to in order to view student records or sit in on a few training sessions. He often wondered how they got over the SCL difference though.
In their wake came the Business Managers with an eye on "the next big thing" who pick-and-mixed designer squads that will media well, attract a fanbase and then sponsors gaining big bucks from merchandising deals. Of course some students realised this themselves and went about selecting their own fellow pretty-boy mod-squad, though generally these included a Business package trainee who had the original idea.
He'd watched as most other people networked during the shared classes or at lunch, at bars and clubs or the multitude of parties and raves. Squads just seemed to evolve without any apparent effort of the part of the students, a Death Squad here, a Pilot there, room for an Ebon on top. I mean how does everyone seem to come up with an Ebon. As far as he can see the Ebons seemed to keep to themselves, eating together, playing together, meditating together. He hadn't managed to say more than half a dozen words to an Ebon during his entire life as a student yet everywhere he looked small groups of people would suddenly develop an Ebon. All human one day, the next, oh look they've got an Ebon. Where did they get them? Were they assigned in a class he missed?
The same went for Stormers and Shaktars and Wraiths. Granted he wasn't likely to meet many in his Mechanic classes...
There were certainly none here, lots of people wanted an Alien. They didn't have to worry about ending up here amongst the Loser Squads. That's what he had heard people calling them now. Had they just made it up? He hadn't heard of them all year? Perhaps everyone knew what it was really like and didn't want to talk about it for fear they would become infected and end up here. But once they have squad membership it's OK. Were they always called Loser Squads? Did the name change each year, whatever the gestalt study body came up with. No-Hope Squads, Wiener Squads, Reject Squads, Sub-standards? Even BrainWasters, who in their right mind would want to hang with a BrainWaster? Some of the most insane and violent people on the planet yet they all managed to join a squad. Perhaps its an equal opportunities thing he missed, perhaps they get assigned as well. Actually it wouldn't surprise him if ones that didn't get asked to join a squad thought "Fuck the lot of you" and went off as a solo Op. Solo...that's something he hadn't really considered. What the hell sort of BPNs is a solo Mechanic going to take?
No he needed a squad, needed one from the people all around him in this hall. He had a day to do so or he faced the ultimate embarrassment of the Department of Administration putting together squads from what was left. How did they do that he wondered, alphabetical, date of birth, throwing ID cards up in the air? So here they were, the friendless, the hopeless who clung to the bottom of the class just above washout, the genetically unsociable. Kick Murderers who were even bigger conceited heirs-and-graces laden arseholes than most Kick Murderers, even more than could be ignored by a squad in need of their services. Few Death Squaders of course, everyone needed a Death Squader to hide behind. Wannabe Medias who face just didn't fit peoples idea of what a media should look like. Freelance pilots with nothing to pilot hoping someone out there had big plans for the future. Medics who failed a practical or who were beaten to the good stuff by an Ebon. Frothers who were just, well too frothy or who appear to have missed what was going on due to spending their entire time in a drug induced haze. Strikers who were just too general for their own good. Scouts who were too laconic.
And mechanics of course, there seemed to be an awful lot of mechanics.
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