The cell phone chirped on Austin’s nightstand. He opened his aching eyes and looked at the screen. He had a text message. It took a minute for his bleary eyes to focus and make out what it said:

“Be here at 7 AM sharp for orientation training module.

Baltic & Ass”

Austin looked at his clock. Ten after six. God damn it. He wasn’t going to get to shower.

He had stumbled into his tiny apartment and passed out facedown on his bed three hours earlier with a stomach full of oysters and beer from the pub at the corner.

His new employer, Dan Baltic, Esquire, had thrown him and the other junior associates the lavish dinner party as a welcome to the firm. Deep in debt from law school, Austin had not been eating much other than ramen, and he had to admit he might have overindulged on Mr. Baltic’s tab. But he would pay the firm back in revenues; Mr. Baltic would not regret investing in him. He was looking forward to finally making some real money.

Austin dragged himself out of bed. As soon as he stood up, the room spun around him.

“Fuck,” he said. He was still drunk. But he was good at hiding that by now.

He changed out of his sweaty leisure shirt. He put on his best suit and tie, splashed some cold water on his face, and gazed at his own bloodshot eyes. His dinner gurgled in his stomach and a fresh sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He didn’t feel well at all. But no way was he going to miss orientation.

He took five minutes to polish his loafers—a graduation gift from his father—and then walked the two blocks to the towering edifice emblazoned with the words he would soon proudly bear on stationery and business cards: BALTIC & ASS. He met half a dozen of his fellow junior associates in the lobby. As a gesture of solidarity, they took the elevator together.

Austin made sure to say hi to Tanya, whom he had met at the dinner party the night before. Petite and brunette, she cut a damn fine figure in her belted skirt suit.

She glanced at his forehead with a polite smile. “Nervous?”

He took a deep breath. “A little.”

“It’s OK. Me too.” She touched his arm. Out of flirtation or perhaps pity, he couldn’t tell.

The elevator started moving and Austin could have sworn he left his stomach behind on the bottom floor. An acidic belch roiled up his esophagus. God. If he let that out in this confined space, in front of a girl this hot, he may as well just stop the elevator and toss himself out the nearest window.

At the top floor, the rest of the junior associates waited in leather chairs. All ten of them exchanged polite greetings, except for Austin, who kept his tongue clamped against the roof of his mouth and tried to swallow the hot air bubble.

A large desk made out of a polished dark wood dominated the far side of the room. Framed by a gigantic plate glass window was a hunched old troll of a woman with iron-grey hair and deep lines in her face. She typed with her face about three inches from the keyboard, her thick red-framed glasses close to slipping off her nose. Austin could smell cigarette smoke from way over here.

The intercom on her desk buzzed and a clear baritone voice rang out, “Are the junior associates here?”

The old woman pressed the mic button. “They’re here, Mr. Baltic,” she rasped in a low smoker’s growl. Austin wondered if she was doing a Tom Waits impression to mess with them, but then she coughed and he understood her voice was genuine.

“Wonderful, Miss Grunwater,” Mr. Baltic answered. “Send them in for orientation training.”

“Mr. Baltic will see you now,” said Miss Grunwater. “Follow me.” She took two minutes to stand up, and either she or her chair creaked the entire time. She shuffled over to an ornate double door, and the junior associates followed.

Through the doors, they were met with a spacious and beautiful office decorated with a massive desk and several wall-length bookcases. But those were not the most interesting sights in the room. Neither was Dan Baltic. Neither was his senior partner, Chad, whom Austin recognized from dinner. Both Baltic and Chad sat on the desk with identical looks of amused mastery. Their arms threatened to split the seams of their business suits. Tanya’s eyes lingered on Chad’s shoulders. Austin noticed.

No, the most unusual sight in the room was the human gyroscope ride standing on the Persian rug in the middle of the floor. Austin had seen these before, at malls and fairs, but he’d never been interested in trying it out. Being spun around and flipped over had never sounded appealing.

“Good morning, junior associates,” Baltic thundered in a voice unnecessarily loud for the size of the assembly. “Welcome to your first day at Baltic and Ass. This is your orientation training. We’re going to train you to remain oriented in chaotic environments.”

Tanya pointed at the human gyroscope. “Are those… handcuffs?”

Austin peered at the machine. She was right; the ride had been modified with chains and cuffs at the wrist and ankle mounts.

“Correct!” Baltic roared. “Who’s first?”

There was not a sound in the room. Every junior associate shut their mouth and avoided eye contact, trying not to catch the attention of Baltic, Chad, or Miss Grunwater. That was the exact moment Austin’s burp slipped its bonds and announced itself to the whole office. All eyes fell on him. Tanya wrinkled her nose.

“Thank you for volunteering,” Baltic bellowed. “Chad, please secure Austin in the orientation training module.”

“What?” Austin backed away, but the second Chad’s hand cupped the nape of his neck he knew there was no point resisting. He let Chad lead him up the steps and cuff him into the gyroscope. His stomach gurgled again.

“Everyone gather ‘round,” Baltic boomed. “Austin, we’re going to turn you in this training module until you can correctly answer all orientation questions. Blindfolded.”

“What—” Austin started to say, but Chad pulled a bandana out of his sleeve and tied it snugly around the top half of Austin’s head.

“Miss Grunwater,” Baltic ejaculated, “would you do the honors?”

“My pleasure.” The secretary flipped a switch and the machine jerked to life. Austin immediately started to panic as his body was flung around and upside down. The sheen of sweat became a clammy cold. He was flipped around for somewhere between ten and thirty seconds; he couldn’t tell for sure. He was lost in the sensations of his pulse pounding in his temples and his guts changing directions.

The machine halted. Now he could tell he was upside down. Sort of.

“Austin, what’s your pitch?”

“What, Mr. Baltic?”

“Your pitch! What’s your yaw, Austin?”

“My what?”

“Miss Grunwater, turn it up.”

Austin yelped in fear as the machine spun to life again, faster this time. His stomach groaned and did a full somersault right as he did. A chill ran up the back of his neck. His ill-advised dinner obeyed the forces inflicted on it and began to reverse course.

“Austin, say ‘Aye’ when you’re facing true north.”

“MR BALTIC”

“WHAT’S YOUR ANGULAR VELOCITY MOTHERFUCKER”

“MR BALTIC PLEASE I’M GOING TO—”

But it was too late. Austin caught the flavor of hops and oyster an instant before his dinner, now a half-digested rancid slough, came gushing out of his mouth and nose in an expanding ring that drew hysterical screams from his colleagues.

The machine jerked to a stop once again with Austin’s body nearly parallel to the floor. The remnants of his dinner pooled in his right cheek. Miss Grunwater lifted the blindfold and shined a penlight in Austin’s eyes. Over her shoulder, Austin could see Tanya fuming over a splotch on her skirt the size of a catcher’s mitt.

“That asshole puked on my fucking new clothes!”

Chad was doting on her with another cloth pulled from his sleeve. “Here. Come on. Let’s get you changed.”

“OK.” She walked off with him.

“Austin,” Baltic hollered, “please recite Euler’s theorem.”

Austin made a sound that wasn’t quite a word.

“Verdict, Miss Grunwater? Is the junior associate oriented?”

“No, Mr. Baltic.”

“I concur. Let’s go again.”