Ding! Dante heard the sound deep from the earth. Nine months of classes to get his certification all lead to his morning. He caught his reflection in the highly polished and began fidgeting with his slightly crooked bow tie. Twisting left and right Dante shoved the mangled strip of fabric. Stupid fancy dress, he thought and folded his arms, First days were hard enough without this getup. He struck a slightly bored pose.

The ground rumbled as the massive metal doors slid open with a clang. Three elevator operators in indigo velvet uniforms with golden braids and rows of shiny buttons stood in the open elevator carriage.

Two of the operators marched up to Dante in unison and circled him. Dante tried to introduce himself but they batted away his attempts with quick dismissive gestures.

“Well what do we have here, Hank,” said Orlando.

“I don’t rightly know, Orlando, maybe a kid in an operator Halloween costume,” Hank said.

“Hey, um,” Dante said.

“Oh you have a better imagination than me, Hank, I thought he was a little lost farm boy,” said Orlando.

With menace tinged joviality, the men circled Dante again. One bumped his shoulder while the other whispered trick or treat. Checking a tablet, the third operator stepped off the carriage.

“Okay, gentlemen, leave the fish alone. MacIntosh head over to Heavy Freight, Armed Response is en route. Lofton please relieve Wagner on E4 and review those hydraulics,” said Charlotte. “Godspeed, operators.”

The two operators nodded respectfully and headed over to their respective carts.

“Godspeed, Chief,” the pair of operators said as they rode off into the network of tunnels.

“Miss, why are those guys so extra?” Dante asked.

The operator scrutinized him. With damp palms Dante pushed at the wrinkles in his not so crisp white button down shirt. He’d wanted to iron his shirt this morning but was too afraid to be late hoping the steam from the showers would be enough. Clearly it wasn’t.

“Trainee Cooper. I am not a miss I am Chief Operator Charlotte Ortiz and those are not guys they are long hours, hard working, life risking elevator operators who maintain and run 2500 pounds of metal up and down the earth’s mantle despite sesmic quakes and mechanical failure. We take pride in our uniforms and in ourselves and in the courtesy we provide to our riders. I’m an operator. I don’t know what you are but it is not worth my time to train kids who think this is quick way to make money,” Charlotte said.

She turned her back as she checked the morning manifest. Carts were already queuing at the E 3 gate dropping off passengers, students chatting, workers yawning, and a few day trippers with fanny packs and radiation suits. Dante was from a family of fungus farmers. He had never been more than a day’s walk from his home level but he wanted something different. Dante wanted to travel, met new people, have surprises. He wanted a life in the shaft more than he ever wanted anything. Turning a massive clockwork handle, Charlotte raised the gate. Passengers began to approach. Quickly, Dante retrieved his bow tie and tied it.

“Miss I mean Chief Ortiz I don’t know what I am either but I know I want to be an elevator operator.”

“Going up,” Charlotte said. Dante stood at her side as the passengers streamed in.