Grim had been attending the careers fair for years now. He was the CEO of a multinational conglomerate. His company’s was to promote all things evil and inconvenient. But he insisted that some things should be done by himself. He liked to mould aspiring evil-doers’ young minds and get an insight into what they were interested in. He’d had a busy day so far. The careers fair was set up in a glorious great hall furnished in royal flushings and bright crimson drapes. The high ceiling and curved arches, marble flooring and general gravitas of the hall were a sign of the prestige of the location, an ancient king’s castle, which indicated the event’s magnitude. It was a careers event. Conglomerates across the universe had set up booths and tables. Everything from evil to good. There were apprenticeships for assassin contractors; job offers for experienced bruisers, torturers, loan sharks, superheroes, plumbers and even sales. Large ships would sometimes land in the adjacent field, and an announcement would go out that would call out to hire anyone, regardless of background checks to participate in some unseemly task.
Grim was here mainly to look out for sharp young minds. He believed in youth’s power and the new generation’s ingenuity. He enjoyed speaking and exploring the ideas and challenges they would pose to him, an experienced evil corporate magnate. He would offer career advice to those curious minds and, on occasion, very rarely, would ask one of them to come to his corporate headquarters for an interview.
The day had been going well so far. There were a fair number of interested people. Young people tended to have the annoying habit of walking around in groups, so everything was a little bit of a joke to them. They would poke fun at each other, extinguishing even the mildest bit of interest that any one of them displayed. There were a few solitary wanderers, who usually had more extended conversations. It was one such young man who would prove to be the highlight of his day.
He had a thin, athletic frame, almost like a runner. He was of medium build and had a constantly inquisitive look upon himself as if the whole world was puzzling him. He was wearing a tight black hooded jumper, with the hood loosely pulled over his head. Some ginger hair could be seen poking out from behind his hoody. He was wearing straight blue jeans and comfortable running shoes.
He took a moment to read the corporate display for Grim Industries before offering a greeting “hello.”
“Good afternoon, young man. Are you after a career in evil?”
He looked at grim shrewdly, puzzlement gone from his face for the moment.
“I’m not interested in all evil. I’m more interested in moral evil.”
Oh, a philosopher, thought Grim. He knew there were levels of evil and certain things he wouldn’t consider doing, but it was best not to be too choosy when getting into this business. But he thought he’d play the game “Surely evil is evil?” he said.
“Oh no,” replied the youth. “Some evil is reputationally bad. You can’t keep marketing yourself if you are seen as something that isn’t palatable to the general public. For example, genocide and enforceable eviction aren’t things you can recover from, regardless of how well you spin them.”
“Ah,” said Grim, “so the question isn’t moral. It’s a commercial viability issue.” Well, this was more promising. A practical lad, then. “Surely, there are numerous cases of propaganda campaigns that people have got away with over the years. Do you remember the Ogre revolt in the last decade? We humans had invaded and evicted most of the Ogre lands for decades. When the Ogres finally fought back, we called them terrorists.”
“Yes,” said the youth, “but ultimately, that was the beginning of the end for our dominance in those lands. After that, everyone stopped believing what we would say.”
Grim was enjoying this conversation. The boy was bright and practical. Essential components for an evil career.
“So where’s your scythe?” He asked.
Grim enjoyed the flattery. The boy was telling him that he recognised his fame. Grim reached down and picked up his scythe, concealed under the display table.
“Wow.” Grim could see the boy looking at the dried blood stains that Grim hadn’t cleaned for dramatic effect. Before bringing it, he’d made sure the scythe was sharpened and decided to show off a little. He picked up a wooden block that he’d brought specifically for this purpose, threw it in the air and, with a practised air of majesty, twirled the scythe before sweeping it through the air and cutting the block in half.
The boy was fascinated but still reserved in demeanour “What’s your name, young man?”
“Rudolph Rendreary”, he said, “I’m just starting.”
Grim felt a little sorry for him. The boy seemed to have the right attitude, but if he continued using his name, he’d never be taken seriously. “Have you thought about adopting an alias?”
Rudolph’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, this was a touchy subject. Suddenly, he took a deep breath and, in what must have been a practised baritone, shouted, “My NAME IS RUDOLPH RENDREARY; HEAR THY NAME AND FEEL THY SHAME.” Grim wasn’t expecting that at all, and he was a little startled and had taken a step back. Seeing this, the boy pointed to the side and said, “Thanks, Echinacea, you can stop recording now.” A girl, who had been inconspicuously recording the whole interaction, stepped away from the crowd she was using for cover, and they both wandered off. He could hear her saying, “Nice job, boss.”
Grim’s mouth was hanging open. He’d have to watch out for that one. Despite himself and knowing he and his company would have to deal with the consequences of this recording going forward, he was impressed!
