http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/156109857968 "The world’s best have been transported to a single building, each having their own field of expertise. You, an average Joe, have also been transported. You have no idea what you’re so good at, but everyone else seems to be afraid of you." -- Anon Guest
The right hand rule sucks. I kept finding myself back at my own marks. Upstairs, downstairs... everywhere was closed in. No exits existed. Not even in the extensive gardens that seemed to grow every food plant in existence... as well as a few food animals. Small ones. Not the large ones that needed a lot of upkeep.
There were homes. Flats, habitats, whatever you wish to call them. There were places that could have been shops if they weren't arranged by an alien. There were no checkouts. There was no security. Everything was fresh, clean and new. Scarily clean. It was like the whole place was a habitat for a human collection.
There were others here. The best of the bunch. For every job, the leading name in that field was here. Wherever here is. The best doctor. The best psychiatrist. The best gardener. The best cleaner. The best... everything. And then there's me. Someone from podunk nowhere with a dead-end job in cubicle hell. I don't get it. I'm not the best at anything.
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