She doesn't take it seriously at the time. She laughs a little and moves on, the same way she does when she hears about lighthouse keepers or those people who maintain remote castles.

But she's curious enough to idly Google it, and the application page is pretty high up in the results, and she's bored enough to send one in when she discovers the form is surprisingly straightforward.

The most important metric is her GPMG score. If you don't meet that requirement, don't even bother filling out the rest. It's a noninvasive test. Phoenix Co will do it free, walk-in, at thousands of clinics, anyone with an ID.

Is she really this committed to the bit? Okay, fine. She'll go check her GPMG. The number is meaningless to her because she has never had any reason to pay attention to these things, but she puts it in the form.

She doesn't have to do anything, just sit in the machine. The resulting number is 89.

Congratulations, that's enough! Here's some fairly exhaustive college application-slash-security clearance paperwork. They want a lot of detail on, like, everything. Career, skills, residence history, criminal history, college and high school and middle school and grade school records, do you have any friends who use drugs, do you have any friends who are felons, what non-career skills and hobbies do you have (be thorough!), romantic and sexual preferences (optional but recommended), exhaustive survey detail on how often you drive or play video games or use makeup etc etc etc. It will take several hours to fill out and she should take her time.

She feels vaguely cheated by the several-order-of-magnitude jump in level of Annoying Forms compared to what she saw when she was idly dicking around on the internet. Probably this is on her for not clicking through past the big 'check your GPMG you fool' banner. She's too grumpy to lie so Phoenix Co will find out that she reads a lot of sci-fi and has dabbled in subjects ranging from web design to fanfiction, and that she does not use cars or makeup but does play a shit ton of video games. They're bound to end up throwing her application in the trash and selling all this info to shady corporations, but whatever, she's in too deep to turn back.

Two days later she receives a very official looking e-mail. It looks like there are some positions she could qualify for! They have rigorous testing periods, and also training periods, of course. The first one is just a daylong thing, the next one would require longer commitment. She'll get paid a livable but not generous rate just for doing the testing, increasing as she passes more rounds; They want the best and are willing to pay for it.

There's a scheduling app thing. Sign up for whatever day she wants. Or she could e-mail or call these office lines if she has questions.

Yeah no she's not making a phone call over this, what is, she, a boomer?

She does use the app though. Hey, if they're paying her to show up, she might as well.

They fly her out to Atlanta, Georgia. Business class, full comp. Luxurious. The Phoenix Co office is a whole tower to itself, and at the start of the day they're left waiting in a lobby after being dropped off by a company bus. A particularly observant person may notice that there are subtle cameras everywhere.

The energy of the room is low-key anxious, excited. Buzzing. Like the period just before an AP test, or a college fair. Everyone wants these kinds of Phoenix Co positions, it seems like. The people here are varied too - mostly young adults, but there's a 14 year old guy doing something computery on a laptop and biting his fingernails, and a fat old geezer who's literally taking a nap. People are wondering what the testing is going to be like. People are surprised they got this far. People are excited about the 'lowered standards' opportunities.

April ignores them all and plays Candy Crush on her phone.

There's a written test. The proctors explain that it's supposed to be extremely difficult. Some multiple choice, lots of short answer questions, an essay.

It is, in fact, extremely difficult. Also kind of random? Advanced calculus. Ancient Greek mythology. Military tactics. Logic problems. Arcane bayesian reasoning out of a particularly inscrutable scientific journal. Evolutionary biology. Some tricks and word-traps with the exact wording, where you can sometimes figure out the answer without actually knowing the subject matter by how the question is written.

The essay question is entirely open ended. It literally just says 'write an essay'.

April's level of knowledge of these things is... eclectic. She often has the right idea on something without being able to use the right vocabulary for it, or explains a half-remembered notion and then draws some tentative conclusions from it that are logical as far as they go but may either be wrong because she didn't recall her sources accurately, or wrong because reality did the surprising instead of the obvious thing. Her ability to understand and fluently operate mathematical concepts vastly outstrips her actual level of math education, and the same with logic and philosophy.

She's put a little on edge by the sheer force of anxiety vibes permeating the room, but mostly doesn't sweat it, just plods her way patiently down the list: first knocking off all the questions where she either knows what she's talking about or is confident she won't get any better than her half-remembered notions by thinking harder about it, then going back for a second pass on the ones that require more careful consideration.

When her second pass reaches Write An Essay (which she skipped the first time around), she thinks for a second, snorts softly, and then puts pen to page on an exquisitely insightful tear-down of a mediocre fanfic she read yesterday. She is uncompromising in her attacks on its mediocre characterization and poor grasp of worldbuilding, but praises it accurately for the one or two characters it got right and acknowledges the places where the choices it made that she disagrees with are really just matters of personal taste. All in all, her essay is not really in a classic format, but it does demonstrate thoroughness, attention to detail, biting wit, a remarkable vocabulary, deep understanding of her source material, the ability to treat something fairly even when it's really ticking her off, and a solid grasp of literary analysis in the fandom tradition.

Good work everyone! Break for lunch in the company cafeteria upstairs. There'll be physical and problem-solving tests in the afternoon.

Cafeteria is a well-appointed buffet style thing. People buzz and mutter anxiously about the test questions. There's a couple of cliques; A loud group of athletic types, and a quiet group who seem to think of themselves as Smart Guys. One of them supposes that Phoenix are probably looking at how they handle stressful situations more than anything else.

Seems plausible but if they want to look at how April handles stressful situations they will have to put her in a situation that stresses her. She doesn't say this, she just collects her lunch and finds somewhere to sit that is as uncrowded as she can get it so she can eat food and scroll Tumblr in peace.

Some guy in a suit bumps her shoulder as he passes, while she's going to sit.

He scowls, mutters, "Jesus, watch it!" And then turns to continue.

She rolls her eyes and does not disguise how very 'whatever, asshole' her body language is as she keeps walking, but also does not say 'whatever, asshole' out loud.

Nobody particularly bothers her after that. There's a conveyor belt you're supposed to bus your tray to, and then they get on an elevator and change into provided workout gear and do intense exercise in a fancy gym! Horray! How fast a mile can she run? How much can she lift on various machines? How many situps? No, you need to do more situps. Now pushups. Can she do this obstacle course? This harder one? Faster? While being yelled at the whole time?

(One would think that their current physical ability wouldn't matter all that much, so maybe it's an attitude and determination thing. Maybe.)

There may be some people in this room who failed to bus their trays, but that honestly doesn't even occur to her; it goes neatly onto the conveyor belt.

She puts a solid amount of effort into coaxing a sane and reasonable level of performance out of her distinctly not-in-shape body. The obstacle course is fun the first time, annoying the second time, and when the yelling starts she visibly pauses to consider walking out entirely, then takes a deep breath, tunes it out, and puts in a sane and reasonable performance, thank you.

A few people have ducked out by now, scared off by either the test or the workout. Maybe half a dozen, still plenty left.

There's a chance to cool down, rest up, have a shower, change back. A break period.

After that is some an in-person interview in an intimidating conference room with three well-dressed employees, some of the same ones who've been hanging around so far. She has to wait a while for her turn.

While they wait, there is another optional test - some open-ended problem solving questions. A short video of a business interview; Can you trust the guy being interviewed, and why? A manual and some pictures of some unfamiliar device; What's wrong with it? Some graphs and charts of wildlife populations; What's causing the deer sightings to dwindle?

(Well, 'optional', but everyone's doing them very intently anyway. Some are grouping up and working collaboratively, some going it alone.)

But her turn comes eventually.

"April Turnberry? Welcome, welcome. Come, have a seat. Water? Coffee?"

"I enjoyed the literary criticism," the woman on the left comments wryly.

April is naturally suspicious of most human beings, great at reading manuals, and has, if not correct theories about deer population dynamics, at least plausible ones.

She'll take water if it's being physically offered but is not sufficiently thirsty to say words out loud on the subject.

When the woman on the left speaks up, she grins. "But did you look up the fanfic to see if I knew what I was talking about?"

"Maybe we'll do that later. It's really to get you to show some life and passion."

The guy on the right 'ahem's loudly. "This interview," he drones in an immediately boring voice, "Is to go over your test results thus far and discuss some of your options, interests, and answer any brief questions you might have about the program. Shall we?"

"Sure," she says, amused.

"So, your GPMG is 89. That's pretty good, but not amazing. It's one of the most important factors, and not one you can do anything about, sadly. It affects everything. Everything. Our usual cutoff is 85, though for some positions an 80 is acceptable. Even a 75 for an otherwise exceptional candidate. It's logarithmic, though, so like I said, you're in solid shape there."

"In terms of the testing, you made a solid effort even in the areas you don't have formal training in. I see no major red flags there, either. And your background check came back clean. We do match for personality as well, and I'm sure you can guess we've been watching carefully. But now, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself to cap it off?"

"I hate talking about myself, I'm only here because your ad caught me daydreaming about jobs with no human contact and unlike lighthouses and remote castles you guys pay me to apply."

"That lines up," flat-voice says.

"I suppose you're interested in the recent series of isolated terraforming positions, then? That could be promising."

"It's definitely what caught my eye! I did also spend some daydreaming time on Facility Maintenance & Design but only in the context of hoping it would be almost as isolated."