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OP
OP
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2014
- Location
- Central US
Sherlin let them arrange themselves in silence. He watched without expression as Marina claimed her corner, as Callum stretched out on the risers like it was instinct, and as Helen colonized her patch of floor with the quiet determination of someone setting up a spellcraft emporium at a trade show.
"Well," he said, bouncing on his toes with hands loosely clasped behind his back, "you've all done an admirable job of inventing real estate from a classroom. That's harder than it looks." He wandered a few paces forward, surveying the room as if considering how to buy it at auction. "You'll be surprised how much of a person can be read by where they choose to sleep. But we'll set that aside for now, because your next task is not about sleeping."
He paused, just long enough for a few heads to lift. "It's about paperwork." With a single gesture, the chalkboard at the front of the room gave a metallic crank and flipped top-over-bottom to reveal a gold-stamped header across the top:
Sherlin turned back to them as he retook his place at the front of the room, smiling like a man preparing to auction off their sense of control. "Please direct your attention to the board."
As text began to scrabble itself down underneath the header, the professor began to explain while pacing back and forth in front of the board, occasionally obscuring view. "You will be divided into departments. Not houses, not factions, not dueling teams. Departments. As in, bureaucratic silos designed to miscommunicate with each other as elegantly as possible. Your objective is a coordinated response to a fictional threat. You will receive incomplete information, arbitrary constraints, and shifting priorities, just like real life."
He produced a scroll with a flick of his wand, letting it unroll midair with a snap. "Strategy. Communications. Logistics. Operations. Each has its own powers, responsibilities, and rules. You may not trade roles. You may not improvise outside your lane. Unless, that is, you're very clever about it—in which case, I encourage you to try." He walked away from the scroll, letting it float, scooping up the conspicuous stack from his desk. He began handing out the folders, thick, slightly sticky, and smelling faintly of burnt parchment and bureaucracy. Each bore a faux-gilded Ministry seal with "PROVISIONAL TRAINING USE ONLY" stamped diagonally across it.
"You will communicate across departments via Ministry memos: standard enchanted paper, charmed to transmit brief messages. Any attempt to bypass this system will be punished by increased paperwork." He paused for a long moment, then added, with a sense of finality. "There is no final answer. There is no perfect outcome. But there will be points, and there will be blame." Sherlin clapped his hands together once. The chalkboard shifted again, revealing this week's "incident" in faded typewritten text:
Then, as he turned toward his chair, he shot back, "Oh, and someone left cake in the records office. If you eat it, you must explain it to the press."
Each student, when they took a look at their folder, would see their department printed across its top in monotype lettering that looked antiquated even for Ministry standards. Angier's folder read Operations, while Helen and Callum's said Strategy. Ryan stared blankly at the word Logistics as if trying to decipher hieroglyphs. Olivia's folder header read Communications, leaving her and Angier as solo operators in their departments.
"Logistics!" he called out, pointing to Ryan, who looked up at him like two deer in four sets of headlights. "You will begin with three tokens, enough for each department to take an action. More tokens will be awarded as actions are performed, and you will receive more tokens for actions that are valuable or successful. If anything leaks to the muggle world, you must sacrifice one token to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to tie things up."
Sherlin looked down at his watch, tabbing over a screen to set a timer. "You have five minutes to discuss amongst yourselves, then your exercise will begin." He tapped the watch, and a dim, barely-audible beep was the only notice that the planning period had begun.
"Well," he said, bouncing on his toes with hands loosely clasped behind his back, "you've all done an admirable job of inventing real estate from a classroom. That's harder than it looks." He wandered a few paces forward, surveying the room as if considering how to buy it at auction. "You'll be surprised how much of a person can be read by where they choose to sleep. But we'll set that aside for now, because your next task is not about sleeping."
He paused, just long enough for a few heads to lift. "It's about paperwork." With a single gesture, the chalkboard at the front of the room gave a metallic crank and flipped top-over-bottom to reveal a gold-stamped header across the top:
INTERDEPARTMENTAL DIRECTIVE 7-F: CROSS-FUNCTIONAL RESPONSE SIMULATION
Please Wear Sensible Shoes
Please Wear Sensible Shoes
Sherlin turned back to them as he retook his place at the front of the room, smiling like a man preparing to auction off their sense of control. "Please direct your attention to the board."
As text began to scrabble itself down underneath the header, the professor began to explain while pacing back and forth in front of the board, occasionally obscuring view. "You will be divided into departments. Not houses, not factions, not dueling teams. Departments. As in, bureaucratic silos designed to miscommunicate with each other as elegantly as possible. Your objective is a coordinated response to a fictional threat. You will receive incomplete information, arbitrary constraints, and shifting priorities, just like real life."
He produced a scroll with a flick of his wand, letting it unroll midair with a snap. "Strategy. Communications. Logistics. Operations. Each has its own powers, responsibilities, and rules. You may not trade roles. You may not improvise outside your lane. Unless, that is, you're very clever about it—in which case, I encourage you to try." He walked away from the scroll, letting it float, scooping up the conspicuous stack from his desk. He began handing out the folders, thick, slightly sticky, and smelling faintly of burnt parchment and bureaucracy. Each bore a faux-gilded Ministry seal with "PROVISIONAL TRAINING USE ONLY" stamped diagonally across it.
"You will communicate across departments via Ministry memos: standard enchanted paper, charmed to transmit brief messages. Any attempt to bypass this system will be punished by increased paperwork." He paused for a long moment, then added, with a sense of finality. "There is no final answer. There is no perfect outcome. But there will be points, and there will be blame." Sherlin clapped his hands together once. The chalkboard shifted again, revealing this week's "incident" in faded typewritten text:
A Class-IV Spell Creature has breached containment in Sublevel Theta. It has consumed a Prime Archive. Containment protocols have failed. A cover story is required. Budget approvals pending. Begin.
Then, as he turned toward his chair, he shot back, "Oh, and someone left cake in the records office. If you eat it, you must explain it to the press."
Each student, when they took a look at their folder, would see their department printed across its top in monotype lettering that looked antiquated even for Ministry standards. Angier's folder read Operations, while Helen and Callum's said Strategy. Ryan stared blankly at the word Logistics as if trying to decipher hieroglyphs. Olivia's folder header read Communications, leaving her and Angier as solo operators in their departments.
| Communications | Logistics | Operations | Strategy |
| Acts as the sole relay between departments. May not speak directly to anyone outside their assigned channel. Uses enchanted memos to transmit messages. Responsible for maintaining clarity, fidelity, and morale, though failure in any of these is highly likely, and sometimes encouraged. | Manages magical resources, equipment, and "tokens" required for actions. Distributes limited supplies upon formal request. May deny requisitions at will, provided they include a reason (real or imagined). Performance depends on foresight, stinginess, and the occasional abuse of power. | Executes the mission under the direction of Strategy. May cast spells, move physical objects, and respond to on-the-ground conditions. Cannot alter objectives. Effectiveness hinges on speed, coordination, and the ability to improvise without asking too many questions. | Responsible for mission planning, objective prioritization, and general oversight. May issue orders to Operations, propose tactical shifts, or initiate contingency plans. Not authorized to perform spellwork. Success depends on clarity, delegation, and resisting the urge to micromanage everyone else's jobs. |
"Logistics!" he called out, pointing to Ryan, who looked up at him like two deer in four sets of headlights. "You will begin with three tokens, enough for each department to take an action. More tokens will be awarded as actions are performed, and you will receive more tokens for actions that are valuable or successful. If anything leaks to the muggle world, you must sacrifice one token to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to tie things up."
Sherlin looked down at his watch, tabbing over a screen to set a timer. "You have five minutes to discuss amongst yourselves, then your exercise will begin." He tapped the watch, and a dim, barely-audible beep was the only notice that the planning period had begun.