Bowler Opposites

There was no sign on the door to the non-descript building you entered, just rusty old numbers barely hanging on. But that was how you’d expected it from the handwritten note the oddly hatted man left on the napkin besides the hundred dollar bill tip that convinced you to follow the instructions written on it.

3600 Main Street St 402

White paint no sign,

Electronic Door Code 1956#

Tell receptionist “Bill Sent you”

Of course that wasn’t the only information he’d given. You were no fool. Throughout his meal at the diner you worked at, he talked about an opportunity should you be interested. He was thirty-something in a business suit, cuffs worn but not tattered. Starting to bald, but tried to hide it with the hair he had left by combing it to one side. Ordinarily, nothing about him would have raised any interest outside of your duty to serve his meal, but when he sat down he’d placed a bowler hat on the back post of his chair.

The dated fashion statement was enough to open a dialogue with him. So as you had time between refilling drinks, greeting customers, running food, busting tables, and all the chaos that was your job; he was able to tell you details about his.

He was a founding member of a YouTube channel that primarily did interviews and minor psychological studies. Things like how people react when left in a room alone for extended periods. Getting someone dressed up as a perfect copy of you and mimicking you through a window. Or just interviews with seemingly random people; from VFX artists, to cooks, landscapers, even a couple CEOs. You’d watched some of their videos after your shift and found them interesting.

As he was finishing up his meal, he informed you that they had another interview video that they were getting ready to shoot and needed people to potentially interview. After you expressed your interest, he told you he’d leave the details on the table, promised it would pay for your time, and said to come by anytime the next day. You were barely able to see him and his bowler hat exiting the diner when you noticed the bill he had left you on the table.

The experience played back in your mind as your eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lights in the building. The inside seemed to be a repurposed small doctor’s office. A window directly forward from the door that revealed a young dark skinned woman with a welcoming smile looking up from her computer as a little chime announced the door closing behind you.

“Hi, welcome in. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” She said as you approached the open sliding glass window, looking around at the faded yellow wallpaper peeling from the walls. It had flowers and woodland animals scattered around it, holes where what used to be a mounted tv probably was, and scuff marks from the lines of chairs still present in the room, though vacant.

“Killer long line.” You said awkwardly, trying to use your voice to drown out the sound of your steps echoing around the mostly empty room. She smiled again and accompanied it with a small chuckle as she moved her chair to face you more instead of the computer on the corner of her desk.

“I know right? I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? How may I help you today?” As you’d gotten closer you’d noticed a nametag pinned to her lapel.

“Well, Miss Sharon, I was actually sent here by Bill. He said that there was a potential interview spot available for the channel?” Now that the two of you had started conversing, your voice grew firmer and you pulled your hands out of your pockets, leaving the napkin inside, and continued.

“I hope I’m in the right place, it would be really embarrassing if I wasn’t”

She nodded as you spoke and reached over to a stack of papers on her desk and a jar of pens, grabbed a single from each group and handed them to you with a clipboard.

“Ah right, you work at the diner down the road. Bill told me to expect you at some point today. We do still have that spot available, just go ahead and fill out this sheet and I’ll get you into the waiting system.” You took the items from her and nodded thankfully, starting to review the list as you walked over to one of the chairs on the side of the room so you could see both the window and the front door.

You started to fill out the paper. It was mostly generic information.

Name: Date of Birth:

Occupation:

Average Yearly Salary:

Hours Worked Per Week:

All things you’d expect to see on an application pertaining to an interview about your career. As you continued to fill it out, however, some of the questions got a bit more personal. Not all at once, but occasionally, then gradually.

Dream Job:

First Job:

Number of Jobs Held:

Longest Time at One Occupation:

First Job You Ever Dreamed Of:

Worst Job You’ve Ever Had:

Best Job You’ve Ever Had:

Do Your Parents Support You:

Have You Made Progress Towards Dreams:

What Is Stopping You From Achieving Dreams:

When the questions turned more personal, you looked up towards Sharon at her computer and found her watching you. She didn’t look away when your gaze caught hers, instead she smiled and asked if you had any questions about the application, and if not, to let her know when you finished. You’d thought about asking after the nature of some of the questions but ultimately decided to just finish out the questionnaire and brought it back to her. She’d had you sign an additional sheet and took a quick picture of you for a visitor sticker that you placed over the left breast pocket of your button down shirt.

She informed you to have a seat and wait to hear your name. It didn’t take long before that happened and you were ushered through a door to the side of the window. Sharon smiled at you and nodded as you glanced at her when you walked past.

Your hands slipped back into your pockets as this new figure, a man in a functional blue polo and slacks with a clipboard, led you down the hall. Now that you were in the back, you were certain it used to be a pediatric office. More faded animal pictures scattered the walls, there was an empty nurse’s station, rooms to the sides where signs had been removed and never replaced.

The entire facility had a lingering eerie sense about it, the way abandoned locations tend to, but you didn’t say anything as you were led to the end of the hall, then left, down another hall, and into an open spaced room. It was mostly empty aside from a singular square table with two chairs opposite each other. There were two microphones positioned in front of the chairs on the table and a camera on a tripod pointing at the table which the man who had escorted you walked over towards.

“Please have a seat and we’ll get started as soon as the other participant arrives.” He said. He wasn’t demanding but his tone also didn’t leave room for argument.

You sat in one of the two chairs, the closest to you, and waited. It briefly occurred to you that you had been expecting to only apply today and not necessarily do the interview itself, but the train of thought was quickly put to rest as you heard two other figures enter the room behind you. As you turned, one you recognized as Bill from the diner. He had his same bowler hat on, though his suit was a different shade today. Beside him was someone that made your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion.

The newcomer was dressed fairly similar to you. A functional white button down, though yours was long sleeve where theirs was not. You both wore slacks and worn black non-slip shoes. Even your hair was similarly toned and textured, though they kept it down whereas you tended to keep it out of your face in a tie of some sort. But what really struck you was their physical characteristics. They were unnaturally similar to yours. Not identical, but close enough that it wouldn’t have been a surprise for the two of you to be considered siblings. Their eyes met yours for a moment before darting away, looking over to Bill as he walked to the other man while telling them to have a seat at the table and that they would begin shortly.

As they walked towards the table, you could see that they had their hands in their pockets; from the way the fabric was shifting, it was clear they were picking at it from the inside. You didn’t say anything, but nodded politely as they sat across from you at the table, your hands already resting on the cold sleek meal, clasped gently in front of you.

Their eyes met yours briefly again and it seemed as though they were about to say something before Bill spoke and approached the table.

“Welcome to you both. You’ve been selected for our interview today following the occupation of Waitstaff. I have an NDA here for you to sign. Pretty simple stuff just saying you won’t talk about the making of the video or questions asked until after it’s released. Go ahead and go over it and sign it if you agree.” He set a single sheet of paper in front of you both along with pens. As you skimmed over the page, you learned he was truthful about the contents. A simple legal agreement stating that you would remain quiet about the video until it was published. The time estimate for that was around a week or two.

Seeing no obvious issues, you signed the paper and noticed that the other person seated with you was just finishing up reading the agreement as well. They tapped their pen against the table repeatedly for a few more moments as they seemed to skim it again, then signed as well and turned to look at Bill as he started to speak again.

“The format will be simple. Once we start recording, I’ll give the intro and we’ll jump pretty quickly into the questions. We’ll take the answers in order of arrival to avoid confusion and issues in the transcript. Be honest and thoughtful, but try not to ramble too much. You can think before answering but try not to take more than a minute or two for each question. The less dead space in the video, the less editing our team has to do and the faster we can get the video online. You’ll receive half of your payment after the interview is finished from Sharon at the front, and the other half will be sent to your address via check upon the release of the video. If for some reason we choose to scrap it, you’ll still be paid at the time that decision is made and will be informed that your NDA has been lifted.” You nodded along thoughtfully at the words. Everything made sense and it seemed as though they were attempting to be fair. That bit about only half payment here was a bit disconcerting, but you hadn’t been specified an amount yet anyway.

You looked over at your companion for the interview and found them picking absently at their cuticles, though they were intently listening to Bill as he spoke. He gave a few more details though he seemed to be stalling for the other man standing by the camera. Finally the man gave Bill a head’s up and he asked if you both were ready. After receiving a pair of nods, he looked down at his clipboard and gave his introduction.

“... and today with us we have two servers from different local diners. I personally experienced their work this week and am happy to say that I believe they will provide us with good insight into one of the most common, yet essential roles in our society.” Bill concluded, turned away from the camera and stepped to the side as to not hide you and your companion from view. You noticed that they were still picking at their cuticles in the same way, seeming to follow a pattern between fingers.

“We’re gonna jump right in with the first question. When faced with customers that seem to be in negative moods, what steps do you take to improve their experience?” You nodded along with his words, not needing much time to think before answering the standard question.

“I tend to lean more towards enthusiasm based service. Moods can be infectious so if someone seems upset, I’ll try and keep a bigger smile when around them, more compliments, maybe strike a conversation about something they enjoy.” Bill turned as you finished your answer and without missing a beat your companion gave their answer as well.

“I make sure to pay special attention to their service. Maybe give them larger portions, make sure to refill their drinks quicker, a complimentary dessert or side to help cheer them up.” Bill smiled and turned back to you, already ready with his next question.

“How do you deal with anxiety when work gets stressful?”

“I focus on my pacing. Making sure that I handle the tasks that I can as I can, doing them in a reasonable order and offering assurances to customers as needed.”

“I’ll ask for help if I need it. Relying on others when facing my own shortcomings is a way to balance my own load and still ensure things get done.” You nodded at your companions answer, but your head stilled as you noticed that they had been staring at you as you answered. Bill, however, simply continued on.

“Do you think that others should be more like you at work?” You chuckled softly then answered.

“I don’t think anyone can be just like another person. Unique solutions require personal experience and ability. While advice can be helpful, nobody can imitate another perfectly.” You had barely finished your reply before the other person started theirs.

“I often think that even just one more like me would make work run significantly smoother.” They let out quickly before elaborating.

“Not because I think I’m better, but because I’m efficient and think that someone I could seamlessly communicate with would help that efficiency.”

“Do you often find yourself trying to emulate others at work and in life?”

“I try my best to focus on only being myself. While it may be true I subconsciously imitate those around me and that I learn from, I place a lot of value in everyone’s individuality.” You turned your head slightly and felt a bit of unease at the look your counterpart was giving, their head tilted slightly and eyebrow raised almost as if they found your response ironic.

“I believe that we are the culmination of those around us. Each experience and interaction we have shapes a piece of who we are. I also actively try to emulate someone else in a task or otherwise if they’re more capable or knowledgeable than I am.” They said, never quite stopping looking at you as they responded. They had stopped fidgeting with their cuticles and their hands mimicked yours on the table.

“Do you think you are indispensable at your job?” Silence hung in the air for a moment before you realized it had been your turn to answer. You turned away from your companion and turned back to Bill with your response.

“I don’t have a false sense of my own importance to where I think I can’t be fired, but I don’t believe the diner could run as well without me there.” Your voice sounded firmer than you felt as you responded, glancing back across the table as they gave their own reply.

“No, I’m not. I can be replaced just as easily as anyone else with my skillset. That’s why I always give it my all.” Their eyes stayed on you, causing you to shift in your seat.

The interview went on like that for some time. Some questions were more difficult than others, and the person across the table from you never lost their strange attitude, but never spoke directly to you. Once it was over, you were led separately out of the room and back to the front of the former doctor’s office.

Just as you were told, Sharon paid you for your time. $350 in crisp bills that you slid into your wallet as you thanked her. You gave one last nod to Bill, thanking him as well. He reminded you to keep an eye out for the video in coming weeks and the mail for your check. You made note of the current date and left the office, the feeling of unease never quite leaving you.

Fourteen days later, a new video was posted to the YouTube channel you were told about. As you tapped on the thumbnail and read the title, your mouth went dry and Bill’s voice gave a different intro than you remembered hearing him record.

“Welcome to our newest interview. Today’s video is ‘Real vs Replicated’. We have with us someone who underwent an ai cloning service to create a near duplicate of themselves. Neither of them have any memory of the procedure or any idea who the other is and both have unique lives and memories. Let’s see if you can figure out which is which.”

Seemingly frozen blood sludged through your veins; your answers and that of the strangely similar looking not-stranger played back to you.

And as you watched, you realized you couldn’t.