Saturday's Storyteller: "The well-dressed man stepped out of the ocean, fixed his tie, and walked, dripping, straight to the interview."

by Belinda Roddie

The well-dressed man stepped out of the ocean, fixed his tie, and walked, dripping, straight to the interview. He didn't stop by the available bathroom by the beach to rub himself down with paper towels. He didn't consider swinging by the nearby drugstore for a blowdryer. He simply strolled into the corporate building with the silver logo complete with red flame, full blazen, perched on its metal lip.

"Hello," the man enunciated carefully, his voice somewhat garbled and warbling like he had been gargling saltwater. "I have an appointment at three PM with Mister Shaw?"

The receptionist eyed him curiously and cautiously before gesturing to a clipboard. The man signed carefully, making sure not to leave wet blotches on the appointment sheet, and then slogged to the bench to sit and wait. He picked up a National Geographic magazine and flipped through it, settling on a twenty-page article regarding the future of marine life in the aftermath of climate change and overfishing. His current job, in fact, was attempting to serve as a community outreach manager for those fish that had been displaced due to dying coral reefs, meaning that there was a huge lack of homes. Nowadays, however, he was literally looking for dryer land - and a larger salary with health benefits and a 401k plan to boot.

"Mister Proteus?"

"That's me," the man murmured with a faint grin, setting down the magazine. His loafers made loud, sloppy squeaks as he slipped his way toward the conference room, where the interview would be held. He stopped by the water fountain on his way, sighing as he slurped up nearly a quart of fresh water from the spigot. He hadn't been able to enjoy this kind of refreshment since he had visited Asopos in Argos.

In the conference room sat Mister Peter Shaw himself, CEO of the Corporation for the Advancement of Renewable Energy Resources (or CARER, an acronym he prided himself on snagging). He was an innocuous looking fifty-something-year-old man, with the usual receding hairline and the cropped beard sprouting from his jaw and the furrowed brow. It was a typical look, and one that Proteus expected after his research. He sloshed his way to the table and sat down, his jacket still very damp.

"Mister...er..."

"Proteus," Proteus finished for him, holding out a soggy hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

He noticed the grimace growing on Shaw's face, looked down, and noticed a small string of seaweed dangling from his index finger. Smiling with slight embarrassment, he stripped it off his skin, looked for a wastebasket, and found one in the corner, where he tossed the plant with ease.

"No need for handshaking," Shaw still insisted even after Proteus had lobbed the seaweed away. "If I may make a blatant observation..."

"By all means."

Shaw frowned. "Did you fall into the sea on your way here, Mister Proteus? Because you are, quite obviously, soaked."

Proteus smiled. "No, sir. I apologize if it's confusing. You see, my current job, as you can tell from the résumé I mailed you two weeks prior..."

"I couldn't read that résumé. It, along with the envelope it was in, was also soaked."

"Er, right," Proteus recovered himself, "hence the later e-mail. But you received it, and you should know that my office is deep in the Atlantic. A rather cozy office, if I do say so myself."

Shaw blinked. "I thought you were joking. You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm very much so."

Proteus reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his wallet, which he had carefully laminated so it avoided water damage. He opened it and offered Shaw a look at his father's picture, and the CEO seemed to recoil in shock.

"You see, Poseidon is my father. For years, he had me in charge of the sea lions and walruses. I was an excellent herder in my youth." Proteus sighed nostalgically before putting his wallet away. "But after thousands of years, you're bound to get restless, so I became somewhat of an activist for fish and other sealife who lost their homes due to human pollution and global warming. Hence why I took an interest in your company."

"You expect me to believe," Shaw snapped, "that all that stuff you put down on your résumé took place underwater, and not in a standard facility for marine biologists?"

"Well, it was in a standard facility..."

"I mean on land!" the CEO barked.

Proteus stared. "Well, now," he mused, "I thought there was an anti-discriminatory policy in your state. Does that apply to sea deities or nymphs who might not be accustomed to living on land?"

It was clear, by now, that Shaw thought Proteus was crazy. Proteus was used to that. It had been a good one hundred years since he had last tried to get a job on land. It was easy to take human form, and he certainly loved his suits, his cubicles, and his typewriters and computers. Of course, those in the nineteen twenties had shooed him off as well, but he figured, after almost a century, politics and ideals had changed. Perhaps he was wrong.

"Do you have gills?"

Proteus snapped out of his thoughts and stared at the CEO, who was white-lipped, his hands folded tightly against the conference room table.

"Beg pardon?"

Shaw seemed determined to prove that Proteus was insane. "Do. You have. Gills."

"Well." Proteus laughed. "Not right now. But if I show you, I could compromise my lung capacity. But perhaps, if you could get me a bottle of water..."

Shaw didn't move, but Proteus could see, on the shelf nearby, a crate of water probably reserved for meetings. Without so much as asking for permission, he stood up, fetched a bottle, and prized it open with eager hands. He cricked his neck to one side, and immediately, slits opened up against his throat, and he very quickly splashed water through the openings in an effort to stay alive.

Shaw's screeching at the display was enough to get the receptionist bolting in, but by the time she was there, Proteus had capped the water bottle, and his gills were gone. The three of them looked upon each other for a moment, Proteus beaming the whole time with fresh water running down his neck and across his collarbone, before Shaw could speak again.

"So..." He was trembling, but it was clear that the CEO was trying to compose himself. "You know a thing or two about water?"

"Oh, of course," Proteus replied with a grin. "I could provide several innovative and environmentally friendly measures to harness electricity through hydro-power."

"And...and...and..." Shaw stuttered. "No financial drawback?"

"None. Oh, and I also encourage the use of junk such as old cars as a replacement for coral reefs," continued Proteus. "Just until we can get ocean acidity to die down."

"And how long could that take?"

"With my plan?" Proteus cocked his head in thought. "Twenty, maybe thirty years. I assure you, I have ideas for hydropower that could make you hop out of your seat. Though after my little show, I'm surprised you're still sitting down."

Shaw was, though Proteus wondered if the groin part of his trousers were now as wet as Proteus's entire body was when he emerged from the sea. The CEO sputtered for a bit, noiselessly gestured for the receptionist to leave, and deeply breathed in and out for about ten seconds before speaking again.

"Do you have references I can call?"

Proteus's smile simply got bigger. His father would be so proud.

This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.