Ring ring
I hear a tiny bell charm out when I enter the building. It was a little loud for my taste, but it should get someone's attention faster, so I won't complain.
Right as I closed the door behind me, I looked up at the front desk area and saw a long banner above the desk area saying:
「Welcome to the Diver Entry Program」
And then a small chant below it:
「Change your Fate. Become a Diver.」
«Cliché, but it works, I guess.»
As I finished reading the banner, I was greeted swiftly by a man coming from the back of the building's front desk.
"Hello, sir, what can I do for ya!"
He greets me enthusiastically, coming with a practiced broad smile, hand out for a handshake, and a more grizzled American accent. I can tell this man will be very accommodating, maybe a bit too much.
«Yep. Definitely feel like I'm at a military recruitment office now...»
I returned the handshake, mostly half because I had to, the other half because his insatiable enthusiastic energy steamrolled any hesitation out of me if I had any beforehand.
Getting up close, I got the opportunity to get a better look; the first thing that stood out to me was that he wasn't tall—maybe 5'6" or 5'5"—but also built like a tank. Broad, solid, professional, bulked body. Sun-worn, golden-brown skin tone suggests Latin heritage, although I wouldn't spend my money on it.
His face was also broad but squared in shape, clean-shaven and bald across the scalp, unknown whether by choice or forced on by unnoticeable aging—strangely fitting for him. It makes him look like a tougher, more experienced person.
His outfit was also sharp but straightforward: Black polo, black pants, and polished shoes. The shirt clung to his built chest and shoulder like they were trying not to burst. On one side was a stitched long name with a '-' in the middle that I couldn't even imagine saying, even in my head. On the other hand, in a white serif font, the text 「DEP Recruitment Officer」 gives a very official vibe.
«Lozz... a no? Carrr-de...mos? What the hell, whatever, I'll just call him 'sir' until he says his name for me to pronounce.»
"Hello sir, my name is Max Verren, and I gave a call not too long ago about being interested in being a diver... Do you guys remember?"
His eyes spark, and his already practiced smile became even more pronounced somehow.
"Ah! Yes, yes, Mister Verren! Welcome, welcome, follow me to my office to talk more about it!"
He turns around and starts walking but abruptly stops shortly after taking 2 steps and then turns around just as fast.
"Oh wait! Forgot to introduce myself! My name is González Lozano-Cárdenas, but you can call me González if you want! Don't worry, we are all friends here, so you can call me whatever you want! Sorry for the delayed introduction; my aging brain sometimes goes slowly for my body to react!"
My ears rang a bit while he introduced himself.
«WHY ARE WE YELLING, PLEASE STOP YELLING, WE ARE TWO FEET FROM EACH OTHER!»
Even with him saying it out loud, I barely caught the name. It flew past me like a high-speed train.
«Also, yeah, still going with 'sir.' Sorry bro—I'm an uncultured swine.»
After the introduction that came out like a quick burst instead of an actual conversation, he clapped, turned around again, and started walking into the back again.
A bit dazed and overstimulated, it took me a few seconds to realize he was insinuating me to walk with him. Still, once I did, I sped-walked up behind him while he was speed walking for seemingly no reason besides to avoid wasting time.
The office space wasn't huge but clearly official—rowed-off cubicles and glass-door offices, each with a nameplate. Our path led toward the back.
As we passed, I caught glimpses of other recruiters inside their offices—some talking to people who looked just as nervous as me, others just... scrolling on their phones.
Eventually, we reached his door. He stepped inside without missing a beat, dropped into his chair, and then glanced back at me.
"Oh hey—can you shut the door behind you? Then we can get started."
«Well, he's not shouting anymore. Progress.»
"Sure, I can do that," I said, gently closing the door and walking in.
I barely had time to sit before I got hit with the full volume of his voice again.
"I'm sooo sorry for not chatting on the way here! I know you probably have questions. My coworkers say I'm kinda loud—hard to believe, right? Haha!—so I try to keep it down in shared spaces. But now that we're here, we can really talk! Ask me anything!"
«Yeah... I'm definitely going to have a headache when I leave. Do I still have Advil at home? Wait, no, I used them all...»
He leaned forward a bit. In response, I kinda leaned back, don't know why exactly; I wasn't scared of him. Just... kinda reflex. His extrovert power level is over 9000; it is just what happens when too much extrovert energy in one place does to a guy.
"Mister Verren—real quick, do you have a preferred way you'd like me to address you? I usually use last names, but I can switch it up."
I responded quickly. "Mister Verren works. I don't mind."
Bit of a lie. I don't love hearing my last name—it reminds me of my mother. My mother. But it's not like I'm about to unpack that trauma here.
He nodded enthusiastically, pulled a clipboard from under the desk, clipped a form, and slid it across to me with a pen.
"Perfect, perfect. Okay, first things first—let's do some quick paperwork. These are just logs that we talked about today. Don't worry, you're not selling your soul yet, haha!"
I cringed internally but forced out a polite, half-hearted chuckle.
"Haha… right."
I looked down. Just the usual stuff—basic identity info.
I grasped the pen provided, a basic grey one with some DEP branding, and started to write away.
«My hand's gonna cramp. I haven't written like this since welding class.»
{---[==={}===]---}
When I was finally done writing down my information—which took too long for the record and felt a little too personal for just a "simple sign-in sheet"—I returned it to him.
Thankfully, he was quiet for once as he took it, immediately clicking away as he began integrating the information onto his computer. Probably syncing it with some outdated government web app that hasn't been updated since 1995.
The screen sat at that classic awkward counselor angle—tilted about 45 degrees toward him, basically impossible to read unless I leaned so far forward I'd look like I was trying to kiss his monitor.
So, instead, I looked around at his office space.
The rest of the room wasn't much to look at—standard issue desk, secondhand office chair with a tear duct-taped on the side. A faint smell of old printer toner hung in the air like expired ambition. But the wall behind him? That was clearly where he poured all his effort.
On the back wall hung a plaque. At first glance, I thought it was a college certificate—but nope. On closer inspection, it read:
「Diver Level: Squire - Honorably Discharged」
「Presented to: González Lozano-Cárdenas」
«Congrats, I guess. Woohoo. Wasn't Squire the lowest mana level or whatever for a Diver?»
Next to it was a collage of photos. All of them were filled with smiling faces and dramatic poses that looked like they belonged in recruitment ads. Of which, I guess it kinda is in this case since you know he literally is a recruiter?
Dead center was a slightly larger picture: him shaking hands with some guy in a sharp suit who looked half-insane, like a conspiracy theorist at a climate summit. My recruiter—all grins and shaking his hand—was wearing a shirt that read:
「Change Your Fate. I Did.」
More photos, medals, and random trinkets were scattered around, but those seemed to be the crown jewels.
After about a minute, he finally swiveled back toward me. Big smile. Their eyes shone like a car salesman who had just hit his monthly quota. I wonder if these guys even had a quota? All they do is sit around waiting for people to walk in or call, right?
"Sorry about the wait! Bureaucratic stuff and all, y'know! Anyway! Now that you're in the system ask away! I am all yours now! Anything on your mind about Fate Diving, shoot, and I'll give you the rundown!"
Alright, here we go. Time to clear up the stuff I read online. Surely, with a recruiter who's actually been a Diver, I'll get a solid, no-nonsense answer, right?
"So, the internet said being a Diver is pretty dangerous, which is why it gets paid well and has all those benefits. In your words, what's the benefit-to-risk ratio?"
I swear, the man fired back before I even finished the sentence:
"Great question! Great question! See, I knew you had a sharp mind—fit and clever, that's the best combo! Perfect for this job! Now, yes, diving can be dangerous sometimes, for sure! BUT—and here's the kicker—Fate Divers are national heroes! You get to protect your city and country while getting paid handsomely! We're talking free housing, huge tax breaks, respect, influence, and personal growth! What's not to love?"
...That was it.
I waited, thinking maybe there was more. A follow-up. A breakdown. An actual ratio.
Nothing.
«Bro, that didn't answer any part of what I asked. Like, not even a syllable.»
"...Right. So, what are the actual dangers of being a Diver? Like, what's the survival rate of a first-time Diver?"
Again, he fired back instantly, like he had the script queued up.
"You know, I had those same fears myself! But listen: once you get through the entry trial, the job becomes safer than your average 9-to-5. Seriously! And when those benefits kick in, and they will kick in, you'll be so comfortable you won't even remember the risks. Trust me, it's worth it ten times over."
«Bro, you didn't just sidestep the question—you pole-vaulted over it, smiled midair, and landed in a pile of HR brochures.»
Not done yet. I will catch you red-handed in the peanut butter jar.
"What about the psychological side effects I read about online? Like, the trauma, hallucinations, mental fragmentation?"
No hesitation. Seemingly, no thought behind that brain, just beautifully crafted PR answers.
"Totally understandable concern! But don't worry; the government has plenty of programs to help manage and resolve those issues. Plus, you get full psychological, physical, and medical coverage free of charge! And honestly, those side effects? Only show up if people don't follow the guidelines. But someone like you? Smart, proactive? You'll be just fine!"
"What if I fail the first Fate Bath?"
"Don't worry! If you follow the Diver Entry Program, which millions of divers have finished and succeeded in, you won't fail your first Fate Bath! I Promise!"
«I give up.»
I sank a little in my chair.
«Dude's dodging harder than an Elden Ring boss in phase two.»
As I opened my mouth to push again, he hit me with the classic conversation-killer. Obviously, not liking these hard-hitting questions I am asking:
"Hey! Why don't you take this pamphlet?" He plucked a glossy brochure from his desk and handed it to me. "Scan the QR code on the back—it'll answer most of those common concerns with direct links. I'm here to get you through the DEP journey efficiently, so if you'd like, we can move along to the next step now, or you can take your time browsing the site."
The QR code sat under the bold line:
「Sign up for an intake evaluation or ask a question」
I took the pamphlet. Gave a polite nod.
Because that's what you do when you're too mentally fried to argue and too broke to walk away from opportunity. Nod, smile, and hope at least one shred of truth is buried in the sales pitch.
But if I'm honest?
«Yeeeeeeah, this guy is full of shit...»
{---[==={}===]---}