Interview

You find yourself anxiously waiting outside the pair of wooden doors barring your access to the study. Over the course of several months, you’d pulled so many strings, bribed, and plotted out this interview. It took a lot of convincing to get even one private interview with The Headmaster, and even then, you had to schedule months in advance. Now you’re finally standing here, and it’s suddenly become surreal. Sure, seeing The Headmaster around Origin is a normal occasion, but he rarely ever steps foot out into the rest of Armarium. To have a one-on-one conversation is a once in a lifetime shot. You hold your breath as one of the guards to the side nods you in, opening the doors. You walk inside to the smell of old books and fresh paper; bookshelves line the walls all around. A desk sits nearby, facing you. Behind it sits the tall, recognizable figure, and your heart skips a beat. “Sit, please.” He motions at the chair in front, and you swiftly obey, trying to tuck yourself in neatly. “Now then, I understand you’re here for an interview?” He inquired politely, and you nod. He sits back, inclining his head as it to allow you to start. You gather your thoughts, and turn on your recorder. **1: Where do you feel most at home? If it’s not the place you were born, why? Or, is there a certain somebody that makes you feel at home, wherever they may be? What does home mean to you?** “Here is my home.” He answers, almost reflexively. Then he seems to think and rewords his answer. “Origin is…home. That may be because of the mentors I have here, the family I hold, you understand.” He waved a hand flippantly. “I don’t believe birth defines home for a person, it’s a rather crude assumption. Home is the place you choose to feel comfortable in. Safe. And for me, that place is Origin.” He goes quiet, and you almost go to the next question, but then he remarks quietly, “That, and the smell of peach blossoms.” **2: Have you ever gotten sheer joy out of hurting someone else (physically or mentally)? If so, who and why? Did it scare you, or just make you feel power?** He seems to watch you for a moment after that question, and though it’s hard to tell any kind of expression behind that mask of his, your skin crawls at the silence. Maybe the question was too personal? However, to your relief, he speaks up after a moment. “Physically? No. Never. That kind of pain mixed with brutal pleasure is something I don’t anyone should ever entertain. Even as some kind of prank, perhaps. Even pinches and scratches build up over time.” He muses, pressing his fingers together in a steeple position as he rests his chin on them. “Mentally on the other hand, while I do believe the same holds true, I suppose I’m guilty, like many people perhaps, of getting satisfaction out of trying to prove someone wrong. Witty comebacks, maybe. As Headmaster, I’m sure you realize why I’m not privy to sharing identities. That falls in the private domain. But no, I don’t think doing that scared me or made me feel more powerful. In those cases, if it turned out well, perhaps I was satisfied. Otherwise, guilty.” **3: What is your greatest accomplishment so far? Are you unsatisfied with where you are in life right now and feel like something's missing, or do you feel you're following the right track?** “Ah, what a variable question.” You can’t tell if that’s a hint of amusement through the monotone drawl. He leans back in his chair with a sigh, head tilted upwards. “I know many people who would have very different ideas of what my greatest accomplishments would be. Of course, being a political leader, *everyone* has different ideas of you. I know many people would suggest things like being elected in the first place, keeping the peace, handling diplomacy well..” he lists them on his fingers, then pauses. “…Making it this far in the first place.” He sighs, then shakes his head, sitting up straighter as he leans his elbows against the desk. “Personally though, I believe my greatest accomplishment lies much closer to my heart.” His voice changes to a low murmur, growing soft. “Adopting my daughter was the best thing I’ve ever done.” The gentle tone of his voice and his more relaxed demeanor make the answer all the more prominent. You nod gently, surprised at how *human* he suddenly seems. Then you shake your head, continuing onto the next question. **4: Hypothetically, you've been given $1000 and told you to spend it in an hour, or you can't keep any of it. What store do you go to? What type of things do you buy? Only things for yourself, or anything for others?** He shifts his weight to one side, considering briefly. “I’m sure you understand where my salary comes from, being The Headmaster. Most of it I tend to give back to Origin, I don’t need what I can’t spend. The city needs it more than I do. If I had another $1000, I’d likely donate it to humanities. That organization helps the city with incoming refugees, provides people with homes, clothing, essentials, etcetera. Relief funds always help, even the smallest amount.” He seems to trail off, folding his hands grimly. “Unfortunately, $1000 is a pittance compared to the funds needed to keep everyone here safe and with the minimum required for basic necessities. More refugees come in by the day, and it’s hard to sort out overpopulation.” He sighs softly, trying to lift his shoulders a little to ward off the invisible weight. **5: What is your idea of a utopia? What about a dystopia?** “Dipping into philosophy, hm?” He hums, tapping his fingers together in thought. “…Well, as an ideal, I believe a dystopia would be one where the select few silence the common people for their personal gain. And then, by that logic, a utopia would be the opposite. A place of harmony. Unity. …Peace.” You contemplate this, and then he continues. “I believe that human society has always been a mixture of the two. Somewhere, there will always be people oppressed. Unable to have a voice. And then, other times, I’m also able to see people working together as equals to accomplish a good goal. …And then you could rattle into the philosophy of what *is* good and evil, but that is a debate for another time.” He finishes with a gentle nod, motioning with his head to the clock. It’s almost exactly at the end of your specified time to talk, and you marvel a little at his way with time management. You thank him, stopping the recorder and meaning to shake his hand, but he bows politely to you instead. Then you leave, quite satisfied with the answers you’ve received.