Something was wrong with this place. I knew it the moment I arrived. After so many years on this job I can smell wrongness. And in most cases I also knew what was wrong. But this was different. I only had the clear knowledge of wrongness, with an intensity that bordered on panic. And not the slightest inkling of an idea why.
But of course, as usual, there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t have done anything if I had known what it was, either, so maybe it was even better this way. Yet, the uncertainty increased the apprehension, and so it was with great reluctance that I began my day’s work. As I unwrapped the cart I took a closer look around. In this line of work it doesn’t do to pay too close attention to your wares and I had made that into a habit a long time ago. Not just like that, of course. Like almost everybody I know in the business I had to get burnt first before appreciating the dangers of fire on a visceral level. It was a close call back then but I made it through. They kept me on the special ward for only the shortest time before letting me resume my duties. Fully graduated they call it. There is no other way, I have since learned. You either make it through that phase or not. I did. Guess I was a little lucky.
The street corner was normal enough, even at a closer look. Four to five-story buildings, shops on the ground floors all around, four lane traffic in both roads, side-walks wide enough for decent trade. The vehicles in the street and the general infrastructure indicated your average post-industrial civilization. Internal combustion engines dominated the street, but nothing too smoky or smelly, suggesting a certain awareness of health and environmental issues, while the absence of clean (or driver-muscle-based) locomotion said loud and clear “we know we’re making a mess, but we don’t care enough to do something about it”. Visible smog-level was low, but the air spelled ‘cancer’ and other diseases for most life-forms I was aware of. Anywho, I was only here for a day and after shifting out my body would be put back into its pristine state. One of the perks of this job, I say. Never age more than a day.
Speaking of body, Looking at the locals brought me the shivers. Quite amazing that I’m still this aesthetically sensitive after all these years. But I guess I have to live with it. Can’t have it all. Seeing them teetering precariously on those stubby two legs I didn’t need to remember the other lesson each of us learns the hard way sooner or later: never look at yourself while on the clock. I certainly wouldn’t want to see myself like THAT. Instead I brought up the memory from this morning, looking into the wall-covering bathroom mirror while performing the bodymind cleansing ritual. The right number and configuration of legs, eyes, and decently covered by hair, the overall beauty rounded off by a nice brown-black color.
Sorry, I’m getting carried away sometimes with my own appearance. Some people say I am rather easy on the eye. Others say I’m a little too fond of that fact. Well, not my call, either way. But I should return to the story.
The shops around the intersection I was working that day seemed to be selling clothes (the locals had at least enough decency to cover some of that terrible nakedness with fabrics). Predominantly, with some rather pricy-looking shops thrown in that sold accessories of some kind or other. Or something. If you get to see each world for only one day you don’t pay too much attention to specifics like that. But you learn pretty quickly to spot the tell-tale signs of wealth that is connected with power in most places I’ve seen. And this place was going out of it’s way demonstrating that only the rich and powerful need to even think about buying anything. The old saying comes to mind, “If you have to ask the price, you can’t afford it.” Although I prefer the version, “if you have to ask the price, you’ve had too much grun-hgt’srh.” Question of attitude if you know what I mean.
The setting was plain enough, and trade would be good, I could feel that. But the wrongness of the place still didn’t reveal its cause. Neither the locals nor their technology were advanced enough to cause any problems, and there was no indication whatsoever that anything was not what it appeared to be. Well, the dispatchers do make mistakes, but obvious errors like that were a thing of the deep past, so I didn’t really expect anything so simple to be at the root of my unease.
By the time the cart’s covers had disappeared into the false bottom of the thing I was familiar enough with the place to be able to relax a little bit. The morning’s shoppers had yet to show up in significant numbers and I decided to let the cart take care of itself for a little while (it was actually much more able to do that than I ever would be, but somehow management seems to believe that live sales staff is better for the trade, and they certainly won’t hear any arguments from me about that).
Walking slowly around the corner, out of sight from my cart, I found a place where the locals gathered to feed. In public, imagine that! I turned away quickly before the urge to lose my (decently, privately ingested, mind you) breakfast could cause my current body to misbehave, and made my way back to the cart, any impulse to explore thoroughly wiped from my system.
And thatâs when I saw it. This abomination the locals have made of their moon. Hanging right there, between the buildings right at the end of the street as if it were getting ready to land there. The recognition hit me like a freight train. And on its heels came the second recognition: I knew what was wrong with this place.
I wasn’t here for the first time. The wrongness was simple familiarity. Not close familiarity mind you, but enough to frighten me when I arrived. And enough to scare me almost shitless now as I recognized it for what it was. Not strangeness but familiarity had thrown me off balance when I came in. You may not know that, but we never, NEVER, N.E.V.E.R, N-E-V-E-R!, ever visit the same place twice. And that wasn’t just some quirky management policy like the live sales staff, it was essential to our trade. We’re not so big in customer service, you know. No warranties, money-back guaranties, returns, or anything like that. And no-one gets seconds. Customer loyalty is a contradiction in terms in our line of business.
When I rounded the corner again still fighting my panic I saw one of the locals standing at the cart, its back to me, but the body language clearly giving away its agitation. I activated my best ‘we only want the best for our customers’ attitude (or was it ‘from our customers’? I seem to never be able to quite remember that), and approached the bi-ped confidently.
Instead of clearing my voice and risking to startle the creature I walked around it and the cart, giving them a wide enough berth to not appear having snuck up on it. Turning to face her (passing by I had seen out of the corner of my eyes the unmistakable signs of a mammal female) I opened my mouth to say something but then stopped dead.
Here I was, face-to-face with a previous customer, in a place that should never ever have seen any of us again, let alone me myself. Someone had screwed up in dispatch, and if I got out of here alive there would be hell to pay. Unfortunately I was only too well aware that that was a big if. But my anger at this major fuck-up actually helped me overcome the panic that might have swept me away otherwise. I would go back home and raise hell, or die trying.
âAh, excuse me,â the woman began, some emotion vibrating in her voice, my translation software not fully online enough to make it understandable yet, âIâve bought this here yesterdayâŠâ
With that she pulled something out of her purse, and I had to mentally scramble not to focus on it too hard, instead gazing just a few hairs past her right outer hearing organ.
But of course it wouldnât be that simple. Noticing my lack of specific focus she waved the thing in my face as she continued with her complaint. I couldnât look away without aggravating her more, and I definitely couldnât look at the merchandise too closely. So I unfocused my eyes, at the same time doing my best to ignore her yammering.
Making acknowledging noises that I hoped would help calm her down, I took the item from her and replaced it with one from the cart trusting the system still to work well enough to make sure it would look similar enough to the supposedly defective unit.
âThere, maâam, this one should work,â I said when she paused for breath, âplease accept my apologies for your inconvenience.â
With that I turned away from her, smiling, affecting a friendly dismissal, and lucky me, she actually shut up. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that she put the new unit into her bag and turned to go, head held high, a battle with customer abuse clearly won.
Good for her.
Having resolved the situation without too much trouble should have put me on ease but as I watched her disappear into the thickening crowd of shoppers I couldnât completely shake off the growing feeling of foreboding.
Shaking my head trying to dislodge the unpleasant cognitive dissonance I turned back to my cart.
âHow much for this?â A young man asked, turning over one of the units in his hands, obviously and strongly attracted.
I quoted the price, which on our side was as always purely symbolic, and he said, âhow much if I take three?â
I put on stern smile #3 and pointed pointedly to the sign above the merchandise that said in the local lingo, âOne unit per customer, no exceptions. Thank you.â
He looked at me and turned his head, clearly thinking he might be able to trick us. Waving to two passers-by he said, âexcuse me, would you mind helping me for a moment?â
They hesitated, looked past him taking in the cart and yours, truly, and lowered their heads, continuing on their way, pace picked up a little, embarrassed.
âSuppose these two would have bought together with me, what discount would we have gotten?â
âSir, they havenât even stopped to look, why would you assume they might actually buy?â
âJust supposeâŠâ
âYou know what, youâre the first customer, I give you 30% discount on the unit youâre interested in. How about that? I really canât make an exception from the one-unit-per-customer policy, as much as Iâd want to make you happy.â
ââŠâ
âAnd it doesnât matter how many other people youâd like to give it to, either, Iâm afraidâ I interrupted him before he could try the next argument.
Even after as many years on this job as I have been Iâm still amazed how some customers get really greedy while others wonât even look at the merchandise. Theyâve tried to explain it during training, of course, something about causes and conditions, but to me it sounded just like so much noise.
Still, canât deny it works.
âHere you are, sir, and here is your change,â I gave him the packaged unit in the nice baggies weâre obliged to hand them out in, and affected as strongly a dismissal as I knew how. Things were warming up, apparently, as he left without further comment.
âAh, there you are,â an elderly gentleman beamed at me from a few meters away as he approached the cart at speed. Knowing what was coming I steeled myself. âIâm so glad youâre still here. I bought one of these yesterday, and would very much like to buy moreâŠâ
Stern smile #3 re-applied, finger pointing at the sign. Hoping.
But no dice.
âAlright, Iâll have only one, then,â he said and smiled smugly.
âAwfully sorry, my good sir, this is unfortunately not open to negotiation or interpretation,â I tried, knowing full well that he wouldnât give up that easily.
âExcuse me,â a short man in an expensive suit interrupted, cutting in from the side. âWhy do you even bother? They donât work. I know my rights. I want a full refund. And Iâm reserving the right to sue for damages, too, fraudulentâŠâ
He waved grandly and I saw he hadnât come alone.
âCan I see your papers, please, sir?,â a uniformed giant asked with a voice so low I felt it rumble in my stomach almost as much as I heard it. Neat trick. Just like the big member of the constabulary standing behind the small complainant made for an impressive picture.
I shrugged and pulled the paperwork from its place in the cart. If dispatch had messed that up like they had the location, things might get interesting.
Splitting my attention between the glowing fan who wanted more and whom I couldnât satisfy and the equally but opposedly glowing detractor, whom of course I could even though I shouldnât, I kept a metaphoric eye on the constable perusing the paperwork.
âNow, about my todayâs purchase,â the fan said, and I could hear the emphasis on the time, âis it still the same price as yesterday?â
âI am really terribly sorry, sir, there is no time limit on the restriction. Even if you had purchased ten years ago, I couldnât sell you another one. Thereâs really nothing I can do, Iâm afraid.â
Moving fluently from excited to agitated he joined the small angry man and the huge authority figure, looking to the latter to maybe support his right to buy and state my lawful obligation to sell, but the giant was still busy going through the papers.
Two new customers stepped up to the cart on my other side and I was able to complete their transactions while the troubled trio was still busy figuring out what to do next. At least I hadnât come here only for unpleasantness.
âThe papers are in order,â the giant rumbled with what I thought was reluctance and a little bit of respect. The translator unit was finally getting up to speed it seemed. âThe one-unit-per-customer policy is reflected here properly, as well as the no-returns policy displayed here.â
He pointed at the sign saying exactly that, right next to the one previously discussed, âAll purchases are final. No returns, no refunds, no exchanges, no exceptions. Have a good day.â
âWhile I canât take the unit back or exchange it for another one, I am authorized to offer you this voucher for your purchaseâs worth of pet supplies at our partnersâ outletsâŠâ
âI donât want no fucking dog-food,â the little man screamed, face tomato red, and turned to the constable. âArrest him, impound his cart, do somethingâŠâ
The giant slowly turned to him and shook his head. âSadly, thereâs not much I can do here, as much as I sympathize with your troubles, sir. The papers are in order, and by making your purchase yesterday you agreed to the implicit contract. He isnât even obliged to offer you the voucher, sir. If I were you Iâd calm down, take the voucher or not, and leave things be.â
âOr else, what? Youâll arrest me? I know my rights, you have to arrest him. Iâll sue his company to kingdom come.â And added with a poor attempt at sly, âBesides, I play golf with the chief, and Iâm sure you value your careerâŠâ
The constable was visibly taken aback by the threat. He straightened up standing almost twice as tall as the small man as he did so. His face went hard. Looking at the small guy with what if he were one of us Iâd say was a passable glare #5, and said, âYou may want to tread very carefully now, sir, or you wonât be playing any golf with anyone for a while.â
âMaybe I could buy your unit, since this so-called merchant isnât selling me one today,â the former fan cut in, somewhat defusing the situation.
As far as I was aware there was no actual danger in customers swapping or passing on their units, but normally it shouldnât occur to either party to even want something like that. Just like the two passers-by earlier had not been able to raise even the slightest interest in my merchandise, so should this kind of thing not happen.
This was as unprecedented as my being here for the second time, apparently in as many days local time. The unease I had felt when the previous complainant had walked off with her replacement unit, went up a notch as I watched them go through their negotiations while the constable looked on thoughtfully.
âHave a care, now, sir,â he said to me as he turned away. âYour business is in order but if your activities disrupt my peace Iâll have words with you. And you wonât want that.â
I nodded and smiled, still watching the two customers as they finalized their deal, apprehension rising.
Something wasnât right. And it was getting worse. If I only had a way to abort the dayâs trading and return to dispatch, but thatâs not how it works. I had to tough it out hoping the day and my shift would end before things went completely out of control.
The minutes crept past, accreting first one hour, then two. The local day at this time of year was long, and with the feeling of unease growing with every attempt at returning a previous purchase or, worse in some cases, getting more, time seemed to be slowing up instead of running faster as would usually be the case with a progressing day.
Lunch hour was the busiest as all around offices emptied of worker bees and word apparently had gotten around that I was here. But one by one I fielded the impossible requests and sold record numbers, beginning to wonder whether the stock would even last until shiftâs end.
When the crowds began to thin, work in the offices resuming, the hour too hot for leisure strollers, I dared breathe a sigh of relief, allowed myself some hope that things wouldnât spin out of control after all.
And of course thatâs when they did.
âDhisje, hirh-hhd.â
I almost jumped out of my disguise. Might have, if it hadnât been my own flesh, really.
âThere, thatâs better,â the apparition added as I spun around to face it, my translation system catching up with itself.
âWhat,â I spluttered, swallowing a curse directed both at the intruder and my own jumpy nerves and eloquence.
âNo worries, youâre the only one seeing through my mask,â he smirked as I frantically looked around for first signs of panic, âand weâll fix that momentarily, I think.â
As I looked on, still trying to process what Iâd just seen and heard, the nightmarish apparition morphed into an almost ordinary-looking specimen of the local sapients, just like the language had shifted to one I could comprehend a moment earlier.
âWho,â I began, but immediately lost track of my own words as the memory of what I had seen and heard became whispy and ethereal and soon lost any substance at all. I blinked, feeling slightly dazed.
âAre you alright, son,â the man standing in front of me said. He was dressed in what the locals apparently considered business attire and held out one of those little cardboard rectangles they use for introductions.
âIâm OK,â I responded, catching myself. âMaybe too much sun or too little water.â To give me a moment to recover I picked up a drinking bottle from within the cart and took a long slow sip. Yes, that was better. What was all this, really.
âTuor Aminta Palomer the third,â the man said as I took the card from him, âIâve heard a lot about your remarkable and unique products and would very much like to explore possibilities of mutually beneficial business relations with your organization.â
This was wrong. Totally wrong. Wronger than wrong. The carts and products were designed to attract beings, of course, but only ever in a narrow, self-centered way. The one-item-per-customer policy wasnât just a matter of scarcity marketing.
Maybe this had to do with my being back here again, which was also wrong.
Or was it another aspect of whatever it was that had been bothering me more and more the whole day already?
âHow did you hear about us, sir?â I asked, more to gain some time to think than for the actual information.
âWhy, your products have received rave reviews all over, no false modesty. Itâs only a matter of time before you go franchise, you know. Thought Iâd come in early, get in on the ground floor, kind of thing. Big, big things coming, Iâm sure. And with our expertise in marketing and developing this kind of thing, why, itâs going to be stellar.â
âThank you for your offer. Im sure youâll understand that I have to discuss this with central, sir. If they are interested, someone will be in touch,â I said, stern dismissal smile #4 generously applied, as I pocketed his card and turned back to my cart.
After fussing over the display for a few moments I surreptitiously checked and found the guy was still standing there, grinning, and tapping a foot. Lightly.
âOK,â I said slightly exasperated, turning around to him, âwhat else can I do for you?â
âYou could sell me one of those, couldnât you?â
âI suppose I could, seeing as thatâs what Iâm here for.â
I reached behind myself and picked up one of the few remaining display units, handing it to him, trying hard to keep my face on neutral half-smile #2.
âAre you sure these are the genuine items?,â he asked, turning it over in his hands and squinting at it from all sides, looking first straight and then out of the corner of his eyes, then passing it quickly and very closely in front of his nose, making me fear he might knock himself out.
âI just sell them, sir, but I have no reason to believe they arenât,â I said, getting more nervous again, the earlier unease back in force. âCentral packs the cart, I pick it up, thatâs all.â
âNoticed nothing out of the ordinary today, then,â he said, half asking, half accusing.
âIâm not sure I follow, sir,â I tried to stall, âwould you like to purchase or not?â
âDonât mind if I do,â he said. âSome material evidence wonât hurt.â
âEvidence? Listen, Mr., ah, Palomer,â I said, finally growing too impatient to keep up appearances, but he interrupted me.
âMr. Palomer was my grandfather, call me Tuor, but yes, evidence.â
âWhat are you playing at, Tuor? You havenât even gotten the deal yet you came for, and youâre talking about collecting evidence?â
âAlright, Iâll level with you. First of all, you canât have failed to notice that youâre here the second day in a row. And thatâs not just out of the ordinary, as far as I am aware, thatâs utterly unheard of. Impossible, even. But here you are. So, donât tell me you havenât noticed anything. Even if it wasnât yesterday on your own timeline, you shouldnât be here.â
By now I had my arms crossed over my chest and was giving him something that might once be called puzzled stare #1 if it ever makes it into the facial expressions library. Which I very much doubt, of course. itâs not conducive to soliciting trust and business, believe me, Iâve since checked in the mirror.
âDonât look at me like that,â he said, jovially, quite apparently enjoying himself. âIâm glad youâre here. Iâve been trying to catch up with you for ages now. Would still be lagging behind if you hadnât come back here. Your dispatch people usually really know what theyâre about.â
So, he knew about the one-time rule and he knew about dispatch. Whatever this guy was (there was an itch in my memory, something I was missing, but I couldnât for the life of me scratch it), he was not Mr. Whatever the third.
I decided to go on the offensive.
âWhat makes you think they might not be the genuine items, Tuor?â
âLet me ask you something,â he said, holding up the item he had been toying with so I had a hard time avoiding to look at it. âWhat do you see?â
I tried looking away, tried to close my eyes, but it was like the bloody thing was a magnet for my gaze. Steeling myself for the unsanitary side effects I had experienced that one time before as a rookie, I allowed my gaze to briefly touch it. And found that I wasnât surprised to see it change into what I knew they really looked like. A large, irregularly shaped, smooth crystal, about the size of one of the localsâ fists.
âHow are you doing that?â I asked between clenched teeth. âThatâs supposed to be impossible.â
âWell, just like you showing up here two local days in a row should be impossible, right?â
âYou got me there. But it looks genuine enough to me. Not that Iâm an expert, really.â
âLook more closely, follow the colors and the movement. Allow your gaze to settle but keep the focus relaxed.â
I followed his instructions, feeling a little spooked by his apparent knowledge of things I hardly understood. A recently lost memory tried getting unlost again but failed as the inner life of the jewel slowly filled my awareness. And kept filling it until nothing else was left.
His voice brought me back. Startled I blinked and found that he had removed the object from my immediate field of vision, and it had also returned to its local appearance, which once more I knew I shouldnât look at too closely.
âSo, what did you see?â
I shook my head trying to dislodge the cobwebs that seemed to snare my thoughts, jumbling and slowing them.
âWeâre not allowed too much time with them,â I said, still trying to rouse myself from the state the jewel had put me in. âAs far as I remember it didnât look much different from the one demonstration I had received when I started the job. Multicolored lights, moving and shifting and changing, and triggering something in the observerâs mind. ButâŠâ
âExactly. But.â
âI remember that gazing at them in their revealed original state creates clarity of mind, a sort of wakefulness thatâs almost painful, while the impressions come through loud and clear if you will, leaving you with insights and inspirations and stuff.â
âBut that wasnât what you experienced just now, was it?â
I finally snapped back to the supposed reality of the situation.
âOK, you got me. Something is going on here. But before I go any further discussing this with you, weâll need to clarify something else. Youâre not a local. You know things and can do things the locals canât possible even be aware of. None of them. Or things would look very different here. So, Tuor, or whatever, kindly come clean and give me a good reason why I should keep talking with you.â
âNot that you have anywhere else to go, or anything else to do,â he said, grinning mischievously.
I looked around and saw that while the pedestrian traffic had picked up again, there was a distinct lack of interest in the cart and its display in every single face I saw. The unease I had experienced earlier sat up and shook itself, realizing it wasnât alone anymore. It had been joined by a second, and much clearer feeling: fear.
âEnough already. I may not have customers anymore, and I may not be able to leave at will, and I suppose thereâs not much I could do about you even if I wanted to, but I could still just shut up instead of cooperating and talking. So, once again, spill it. Please?â
âMaybe you would, maybe you wouldnât. Either way may not make much difference. But I like you. I think youâre a nice guy despite appearances. And your reaction to my trade deal shows youâre not involved in whatâs going on beyond accidentally being here. Explaining is not so easy. And I donât think we have a lot of time. But letâs go with a metaphor. Your employers are engaged in a long-term project of, for lack of a better word, charity. They are extremely positively motivated. The methods applied, however, are, of necessity sneaky, and thus donât allow for a lot of, well, lets call it quality control. So the interest your bosses are working for, have in turn contracted my bosses to, as it were, tidy up after you guys, and make sure things are moving in the right direction.
âThereâs a certain amount of, ah, animosity, if you will, between our two organizations, even though we work towards the same overall end. Your bosses donât really like anyone checking up on them, they are too proud by half, if you ask me, and someone looking into what they are doing feels too much like lack of trust, like implicit criticism, you know?
âThatâs why we donât have access to your dispatchersâ plans and schedules, and thatâs why it took me way too long to catch up with you.
âAnd now that I have, as it were, caught up with you, I have been able to confirm something neither of our organizations has been able to plan for. You see, as Iâm sure youâre aware, your methods arenât always above board, being sneaky, and all that. Which creates an opening for those who would rather see a very different outcome from the one we should all be working towards.
âOnce the jewels are being used by your customers, it cannot be discerned anymore with any level of certainty whether the newly-emerging qualities are built-in or result from the interaction between jewel and the customersâ mind streams. Thatâs why I needed to look at one fresh off the boat, if you will. And I have, and I now have the confirmation for my worst fears.
âSomeone has meddled with your stock. And I mean not just your stock here on this cart at this time, but with all your output. For quite some time now. And I suspect that your follow-up appearance here, which allowed me to catch up with you, although a good thing on the face of it, is a really bad sign underneath. A sign that whoever is behind this is ready for us finding out. And that scares the living shit out of me.â
I stood speechless with my mouth hanging open as he wound down. The unease about this day finally had a label. And unfortunately that didnât make it better. At all.
âThen you didnât cause the fuckup that brought me here for a second time in order to catch up with me?â I finally asked.
âThat is as far beyond me as it is beyond you to influence your daily trajectories. Luckily while I canât divert any of you in transit out, I do have some tricks up my sleeve now that weâre here. With your permission, I think we need toâŠâ
Staring at him, cart and customers forgotten, I nearly jumped out of my skin when he suddenly disappeared in a kind of negative flash. There was a hint of something monstrous that tried to trick a recently lost memory into resurfacing, and then he was gone, replaced for a moment by an imploding absence of light. Along with him this implosion seemed to try to suck the memory of him and of our conversation straight out of my mind. But surprised as I was, this time I was ready and I held on with everything I had. I knew that more than just my life depended on not forgetting everything.
I almost succeeded. And I almost didnât.
I blinked again at the sudden rush of passers-by approaching the cart, wondering why I thought it was sudden, and only dimly recalling that there was something I needed to remember about my merchandise.
But then there was no time nor space to breathe, let alone remember, as the rest of the day brought a buying frenzy I had never before experienced.
I should have run out of stock after the first hour of it. I knew that I had been running low already before. But every time a customer stepped up to the cart, a unit was there for him to pick up, pay for, and carry off. That felt completely wrong, adding to the unease and pulling at that thin strand of not-quite-memory I just couldnât get to solidify enough to grasp.
Another thing that didnât feel right and contributed to the unease that was growing into something physical, something nauseous and migraneous, was the fact that every passer-by who came within a certain range of the cart, swerved and came right at me. I knew that wasnât right. Our business simply doesnât work that way. Only a few percent of any given group has the right conditions to be attracted by and make use of our products. But this afternoon they all came, and they all bought. Feverishly so.
But like all good things, the not quite so good things also must come to an end sooner or later. Or something like that. Iâm never quite sure. In my line of work âbeginningâ and âendâ are somewhat fluid concepts. And donât get me started on good and bad.
One thing did happen, though, whether you call it an ending or something else. When the sun had set fully and the light would have gotten that special transitory quality that signifies change if it hadnât been for electricity and civilization, the shift finally came to an end and as a result the whole damn world shifted around me.
Releasing a breath of relief I hadnât realized Iâd been holding I relaxed and prepared to raise hell with whoever had been responsible in dispatch. Looking down at myself I fully expected to see something much more aesthetically pleasing than the weird hairless ape shape Iâd been enduring for a day. Apparently the universe had other plans, though. Instead of nice fur I sawâŠnothing. Yes, thatâs right. Looking up again (not quite stopping to wonder what I was moving and looking with if the absence of a lower body was in any way indicative regarding the upper part) I found that instead of the institutional decoration of transit hall #29 at dispatch, I was surrounded by the same stuff my body had apparently been turned to: nothing.
Amazingly panic didnât join me in my nothingness. Or maybe it did, but since it was also, ah, nothing, it didnât make its usual strong impression.
What did join me was a faint outline of something I still didnât quite remember seeing earlier on that damned planet. Huge, bird-like shape, mean beak, but instead of the mean stare youâd expect to complete that image his eyes were full of mischief. Garuda, I thought. That does explain some of it.
âHang on, weâre almost there,â Tuor said, and this time my translator picked up his language and did its job right away.
His outline solidified first, followed by my own (yes, all limbs accounted for, fur nice and smooth, thank you ver much), and then finally the surroundings took shape. Not that they were too shapely, mind you, but on a day like this Iâd take anything, really.
âThis is a safe house,â he said by way of both apology and explanation. âYouâre my only witness right now and until I know who is involved I canât risk your return to dispatch. Your actual return, that is. Since we still need some answers, Iâve taken the liberty of swapping you out for a simulacrum and weâll both be riding thatâŠhang on.â
âWhatâŠ,â I began but he shut me up with a gesture. Literally. Now that feels weird, I can tell you.
Then the world shifted again and I was finally back at dispatch, in transit hall #29 as expected, beginning to seriously doubt my sanity. What a weird transit hallucination that had been.
âWelcome back, Hawker #2895,â the lovely voice of my favorite dispatcher came over the speakers, returning me fully to the reality of the situation.
âFeeling lucky I am back,â I shouted, âwhat the fuck happened with my deployment today? Never go back, my ass.â
There was a tiny pause, but before I could even begin to wonder whether I had been heard, she replied, âAh, yes, youâre expected for a routine debrief in meeting room twenty-seven A. Please proceed there immediately. And have a nice evening!â
Right, I thought, nice evening. And routine debrief, right, indeed.
âThanks. But hey, speaking of evening, you free for dinner tonight?â I shouted, knowing full well that sheâd hear me but equally as well that sheâd never respond.
She didnât disappoint me and I made my way to the indicated conference room already rehearsing what Iâd say first to the desk jockey whoâd be debriefing me. Had enough to say about the day for half a dozen debriefings, after all.
Arriving outside the meeting room I stretched my arm towards the contact space that would identify me and grant me access, only to freeze in mid-stride.
âEasy now, fella,â I heard a distinct and by now unpleasantly familiar voice inside my own head. No translation needed anymore as he was now talking mind to mind. Brrr. âThis might well be the moment when we learn something.â
âWhatâŠâ I began, my voice sounding annoyingly shrill with rising panic, but he interrupted me, once more right in there, between my ears, not as would have been proper, on the outside shouting in.
âExactly. Which part of âeasy nowâ did you not get? Weâre both in here, riding the simulacrum, no need to use the bodyâs vocal infrastructure to communicate with me. Actually not just no need. Definitely donât. Just think. Youâll get the hang of it, or weâll both hang.â
âOK,â I furiously thought at him, âwhat the fuck is going on here?â
âI thought you were faster than that, but I suppose youâve had a long day full of unpleasant surprises, so Iâll pretend I didnât hear the question and we can both pretend I didnât have to explain, OK?
âIf you focus your attention as youâve surely learned in hawker 101 to anchor your mind in the present, you should be able to remember enough to get you started. Iâll take it from there. Let me know when youâre ready.â
Embarrassed that I had to be reminded of something fundamental like that I concentrated as he had suggested and finally most of the fog I hadnât even noticed filling my mind dissolved and I became aware of my body being in the safe house with the Garuda who had introduced himself as Tuor while we were both âridingâ this simulacrum of my body here in dispatch. Together with that, most of my earlier encounter with the weird âclean-upâ bird came back in a rush.
âThe screwed-with jewels..the return visitâŠtheâŠâ
âI see youâre getting it. Good. About time or weâd attract attention standing out here in the hallway like an action figure of you. Not that anyone would make an action figure of you, of course. Still, better get a move on and be smooth now.â
I completed the movement towards the door guardian mechanism and as smoothly as I could manage feeling as I was two bodies at the same time, followed through as the door recognized me and swooshed open.
Not sure what to expect except that something had to be on given that debriefings werenât all that common in normal everyday operations here, I wasnât disappointed to see Qiwiah, the deputy head of dispatch, ensconced behind a meeting table the size of a minor island state, his head barely clearing the mountain range of paper files stacked in front of him. Quaint.
âAh, number 2895, come on in, have a seat,â he said, setting the tone to jovial, level 3 to 4 if I didnât miss my mark. âIâm sure you must be tired from attending your CaMoSaDU all day long.â
Thatâs camouflaged mobile sales and distribution unit of you civilians, yes, they love acronyms here just as much as the next bureaucracy. And, no, my body here did not carry over any of the exhaustion the projected body on the other side might have accumulated during the day. A certain mental weariness, not to mention a lot of stressed-out-ness, especially given that I wasnât exactly âhere,â mind you, but sitting wouldnât do fuck all about that.
âThank you, sir,â I said, instead of pointing out the obvious to him. Let him relax into thinking Iâm going along easy.
I deliberately chose a seat one quarter around the table, though, not quite at one of the narrow ends, so he had to shift his position to look at me.
âThatâs good,â Tuor remarked inside my head, âkeep him guessing.â
âVery well,â Qiwiah said, âlet me start by expressing our sincere concern about the perceived irregularity in your deployment today. Management has tasked me with highest priority to get to the bottom of this issue, determine whether it hasnât just been a matter of misperception, and if indeed it was genuine, take whatever action necessary to assure it will remain an isolated and non-repeating incident. Yes.â
He looked at me, having to shift a little in his chair to see past one particularly mountainous pile of papers. I didnât offer any response, just kept my face at what would have been neutral #2 or thereabouts, and waited.
âAhem, yes. So. In order to help us clarify the veracity or falseness of the, ah, perception, please report, in your own words, what exactly happened at the beginning of your shift today.â
âI arrived on time, as every morning,â I began, âand checked in with dispatch. After a short wait, apparently there had been quite a queue this morning, due to some of the transit halls being offline for unscheduled maintenance or something, I went to, let me see, yes, transition node #982, and was transferred out. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Some mornings itâs faster, some mornings it takes a little longer. Doesnât really matter as time isnât synchronized in the target worlds, anyway. There had been no heads-up, no messages, no special announcements about the merchandise, nothing. A day like any other, really.
âUntil, that is, until I materialized on the other side of the transit with my cart.â
âAh, yes, the other side. Thatâs what we are interested in, please continue with as much detail as you can remember.â
âThe dislocation effect wasnât very strong as those things go, maybe that was already an effect of the re-visit,â I continued, only to be interrupted by a noise emitting from somewhere underneath the mountain range on the table.
âAh, yes, please restrict your report to factual observations only at this time. We will be the ones drawing any conclusions. Thank you, continue.â
âRight. So, the dislocation effect was light. Maybe a 2 or 3, not more.â
âI see. Just to clarify, the world you believed you found yourself on was HJER-34-H-76-3, wasnât it? Thatâs quite far removed.â
âIndeed, sir. The locals call it something that loosely translates as âdirt.â Thatâs a few hundred million light years, give or take a parsec or five. Plus, the time displacement was roughly minus 3.21 eons, not to mention the lateral remove. So, quite a distant corner, indeed. And yet, hardly any displacement effects. I remember the previous time, it took me almost half an hour to overcome the effects.â
âYes, thank you, please stay with this visit. Continue.â
âI supervised the cartâs auto-setup getting under way, and went for a quick look around to see whether I could pinpoint why the place felt weird from the moment I opened mind there.â
âYes, yes, and?â
âRounding a street corner I found myself facing something I couldnât have mistaken for anything else, anywhere in the multiverse, sir. Thatâs when I knew someone somewhere had screwed up and sent me back to a place I had been to before, a few months ago. Although it turned out that it had been only the previous day, locally.â
âWhat was it exactly that you saw and that triggered your memory with such intense recognition?â
âTheir moon, sir. It was just about to set over the cityâs skyline. Youâd have recognized it, too.â
âA moon? Millions of planets have moons. What makes you so sure it was the same you had seen before?â
âYouâd have to have seen it, sir, but I ensure you, youâd never forget.â
âIs that so? Well, doesnât sound too conclusive to me. Please continue with your report. What happened after you opened your cart for business?â
He looked down and seemed to be scribbling notes, or maybe he was doodling. I had expected a lot of things, but denying the reality of what had happened was not among them. Interesting.
âBesides business as usual (although the beings were distinctly familiar, which they shouldnât have been), I had about half a dozen customers who came specifically to either return items they had just bought yesterday, or get more.â
âThat is impossible,â he said, dismissively. âYou must have misunderstood them. And as for familiarity, just like millions of planets have moons, millions of worlds have near identical human-level sentients who believe they are running things. Thatâs why our mission is even possible. You should know that after so many years on the front lines.â
âI donât think this will be going anywhere,â Tuor interrupted in my head before I could vent my reaction out loud. âHeâs either involved in whatâs going on or just trying to cover his ass. He looks like a prototypical bureaucrat, my money is on the latter. Although, of course, that could be a camouflage. Either way, this is not getting us anything except what we already know, that something is deeply wrong.â
âSeeing how you penetrate things with great wisdom and clarity,â I said out loud, swallowing my original reaction after Tuorâs comment, âI humbly state that there is nothing further to report, sir. Apparently business was indeed as usual, and for some reason I misperceived it as not being so.â
âIndeed, that would very much appear to be the case,â he said, trying but not quite succeeding to hide his smugness with a polite little cough. âYou believed to have been sent to HJER-34-H-76-3, whereas in reality it had been HJAR-34-H-76-3, much closer to out location, but quite similar in many ways. The result is clear, the causes apparent. Probably overwork on your part, some sort of exhaustion. Small wonder looking at your performance record. Youâve been burning the candle from both ends for too long. Management appreciates the keen spirit but of course we need to be careful when it starts affecting the quality of the work. You will present yourself at medical on your way out for a thorough checkup to make sure itâs nothing material, and then youâll take a well-earned paid R&R period of two weeks with an optional extension. Thank you.â
âSounds like weâre dismissed,â Tuor commented drily. âThoroughly dismissed. Better get out of here before that changes into detained. That would be awkward.â
I got up, bowed formally, and left, trying hard to relax and not let my agitation show.
âSpeaking of awkward,â Tuor continued once I was back out in the hallway. âMedical is a big no-no with the simulacrum, of course. Weâd be found out too easily.â
âWhat to do?â
âHow is your relationship with that dispatch girl, really?â
âWeâre friendly. Nothingâs ever happened but sheâs goodâŠâ
âSounds like youâll be having a conversation over something edible or potable with herâŠletâs seeâŠher shift ends in half an hour. Would she be cool if you just happened to run into her on her way out?â
âMaybe. Weâve had after work drinks before. Depends on her mood, I suppose.â
As it turned out I neednât have worried. I hadnât been totally upfront with Tuor about my history with her. There had never been much, but not nothing at all. And while that could have gone all sorts of wrong, it surprised both of us to mature into an unlikely friendship. Or so we kept pretending.
âHey, Da’reeque, you look like your head hasnât been chewed off completely. Lucky you,â she said, by way of greeting when I managed to make it appear accidental bumping into her just outside the dispatch complex.
âWhy, did you expect otherwise, Da’shonda?â My surprise was over-the-top sarcastic and she snorted with suppressed laughter. âWould have been possible to get the blame for the fuckup, though, I suppose. Instead Qiwiah chose to rearrange history and make it into a fatigue-conditioned perception issue instead of a fuckup in dispatch. No offense.â
âNone taken. But maybe we should take our gripe elsewhere and temper it with something made from grape?â
âIâm on extended medical leave, paid to boot. Iâm game for anything. And Iâm buying.â
âSmooth, man, smooth,â Tuor commented offline. âDonât tell me youâre not interested in her.â
âWhat, and pursue her with you riding shotgun? I may sometimes be a bit kinky, but Iâm not that bent. Forget it.â
I ignored his chuckles and focused instead on keeping up with Da’shonda without getting too close. I had meant what I had told Tuor, but better safe than, ah, sorry.
When we had settled into our favorite corner at The Fountain of Nouth, a small and not too popular watering hole a couple minutes walk from the the office, our drinks in front of us, Da’shonda picked up the conversation without me having to prompt her. Like I said, old friends. Nothing more. Well, nothing much, anyway.
âI knew something had gone wrong the moment you were sent out this morning,â she said. âI tried alerting tech support and supervision. But you know what? They stonewalled me. Sent someone over to check the systems and the logs. Instead of finding confirmation for what I knew had happened, they fiddled with the log files, rebooted everything, and declared my perception a matter of faulty feedback of my console. When I checked again after they were gone, the relevant parts of log files in question turned out to have been cleaned up thoroughly. Not a botchy delete, no, surgical replacement with plausible-looking data that told a completely different story.â
âI see. Thatâs why you already had a debriefing order waiting when I came back. It had nothing to do with my complaint. Didnât think it had, of course, but this is interesting, indeed.â
âWell, thatâs not all. They didnât just do their cleanup job and then leave like you would have expected for a normal cover-up. Instead they stuck around, checking and re-checking not just my system but everything. As far as I can tell no other transfer went wrong today. But Iâll eat my dispatch operations manual if it had anything to do with their work. And they were positively spooked.
âAfter lunch they called me in for routine debrief, too. Yes, laugh all you want. They really called it that. Pretended they wanted to double-check on the event and find out what had happened. But really, they just wanted to rule out it had been me, and then bury it as quick and hard as they could without having to bury me in the process. Actually, I should be grateful. Could have gone much much worse.â
âDamn right. They could have bombed the whole of dispatch, physically or digitally, and blamed it on some obscure outside agency,â Tuor commented offline, and I almost lost my drink.
âYouâre kidding, right?â
âNo, Iâm absolutely not. Look at the larger picture. Take into account the screwed-with jewels youâve been peddling. Thereâs at least two groups at work here, very likely at cross-purposes considering the dispatch fuckup allowed me to catch up with you.â
âAh,âŠâ
âBefore you start, no. that wasnât us. Weâre doing some interesting things every now and then, but this is way too risky. Youâve gotten off with nary a scratch and not even a black eye. This could have gotten a lot worse.â
âAre you OK, Da’reeque?â
Da’shonda looked at me with a mix of worry and upset.
âIâm OK, I just flashed on some of the possibilities for âworseâ as you put it. None of them pleasant. Iâm really glad it went down as it did so we can sit here and have this drink.â
âTell me about it. For a moment during that debriefing it felt like things might go sideways but then they just thanked me for my cooperation, assured me that it was a malfunction of instruments rather than the actual dispatch process, and things had been fixed, so everybody should be safe again. Then they bade me a good day and dismissed me.â
âBring her in,â Tuor said suddenly. âOr at least bring her up to speed. Canât be sure but my intuition hasnât failed me too badly. Yet. Recently. Anyway. The situation is weirder than I thought and we need allies. You have been effectively suspended. Going back into the station will be difficult for you. But she is expected to show up for work again tomorrow. And she seems at the same time unimportant and perceptive enough. Bring her up to speed.â
âListen, thereâs something more, something even weirder,â I said but she stopped me with a wave of her hand.
âReally. You donât say. I know youâve been sent back to that dirt place, and to just the next day after your previous visit there. Thatâs a total, unmitigated catastrophe. By rights the whole operation should have ground to a stop, and every single part of the machinery dismantled and examined to find the problem. Instead they just pretended it didnât happen and went back to business as usual. You tell me thereâs something weirder going on? Of course there is.â
âYes, there is. And apparently has been for a while already.â
I filled her in on the whole thing. Including my encounters with Tuor and his revelation about the jewels. The only thing I didnât tell her was my not actually being there, but back in the safe house with Tuor.
âWow, ok, that does explain some things. Most disturbing. How sure are you about the jewelsâ corruption?â
âIâve experienced it. If it hadnât been for Tuor shoving it in my face I never would have noticed. Our conditioning to not under any circumstances ever look too closely at the merchandise is so universal and strong, I donât know any hawker whoâd find out by themselves.â
âYes, thatâs what makes it so clever, isnât it. Only rookies would, and whatever symptoms they come back with would not be examined closely but would just be used to imprint that prohibition on them. If they survived it. Very clever indeed.â
âTuor says this has been going on for quite some time, and with the dispatch system working the way it does that may well mean a rather large footprint throughout the multiverse seeded with the fiddled jewels. Whatever it is they actually do instead of what theyâre supposed to do.â
âAt this point we can only guess at that, I suppose, or has Tuor offered any insights into that?â
âWe hadnât had a chance to talk about that yet, what with all the other stuff going on.â
âTuor, this is untenableâ I thought furiously at him, âsince she doesnât know about the whole simulacrum thing. Can we resolve that somehow?â
âYeah, I think we can.â
Before I could phrase a response, Da’shonda looked up at something behind me, anxiety creasing her beautiful face.
âWhat is it?â
âSomeone isâŠâ
âHey, here you are,â the newcomer interrupted her as he stepped up to the table from behind me, at the same time answering my question. âIntroduce me to your friend, will you?â
âAh, Tuor, meet Da’shonda, a friend and colleague from dispatch. Da’shonda, meet Tuor, the guy I told you about. Come just in time, as if you heard us, huh.â
Of course he promptly ignored that last barb at jumping in without giving me a heads up and having me scramble to connect the dots as I obviously hadnât seen his latest disguise before.
âNice to meet you, Da’shonda,â he said, and added, to me, âsorry I was held up, came as quickly as I could. Youâve brought Da’shonda up to speed?â
âYes, and weâre both curious as to what you and your people have been able to learn about the actual change made to the jewels.â
âWeâre still working on that,â Tuor said, as he eased into the booth next to me. âOur best guess is that the effect is a kind of subtle reversal of what the jewels are actually supposed to do. By their very nature they canât be used for completely different things, and most possible changes would probably have been noticed.â
âSubtle reversal? Their original function is to fulfill wishes and remove obstacles,â I said. âWhat would be a reversal of that?â
âYouâre forgetting that they do that by purifying karmic obscurations and pacifying contrary habits in the userâs mind stream.â
âSure, sure, and?â
âWell, weâre guessing theyâve been corrupted to instead do the opposite. Introduce more karmic effects instead of reducing them.â
âOh,â Da’shonda said, summing things up rather comprehensively.
âOh, indeed.â
âThe question is,â I said after a lengthy pause to let this information sink in and ferment a little, âwhat kind of karmic effect and where does it come from.â
âThere may be another important question, if we want to get to the bottom of this,â Tuor added, âwhy would anyone do something like that and who might they be?â
âDonât forget the question who caused the mis-placement of your day today,â Da’shonda noted. âSince it helped Tuor find you and finally begin to unravel this, it looks like those may not be the same guys with the same motives.â
âYeah, weâve been thinking about this.â Tuor said. âIf this was indeed caused by the same people they may be much further along in their plans than we had thought possible.â
âWhere do we go from here?â Da’shonda looked back and forth between Tuor an me.
âI canât go back officially anytime soon. Iâm all but suspended.â
âI can, though,â Da’shonda replied. âActually, Iâm expected back by shift start tomorrow. I can look around some more, ask around, too, see if I can turn up anything else.â
âThere might be a wayâŠ,â Tuor said, trailing off. I cocked an eyebrow at him. But before I could say anything myself or try to say something on the inside, strongly suspecting that Tuorâs presence here was as virtual as my own, he continued, âwhat the hell, in for a penny as they say. Letâs go, Da’reeque and I have to show you something, Da’shonda, and seeing that weâve finished our drinks, why donât we do it now.â
We all got up and left, Da’shonda clearly curious and puzzled, but Tuor leading at a brisk pace, leaving no space for further questions. Even though I knew what to expect if not when exactly to expect it, I was more than a bit startled when the transition came. One step we were just outside the bar, the next step we were back in the safe house. Only this time there were three of us, and of course Tuor was in a very different form.
âWhatâŠ,â Da’shonda exclaimed. âWatch out there is aâŠwhat is this? Where are we? Where is your friend Tuor? What happened?â
âDa’shonda, meet TuorâŠagain,â I said, pointing out the huge bird-like shape filling half of the considerable space of the safe house. âTuor, you already know Da’shonda.â
âApologies, Da’shonda,â Tuor said managing to sound completely unapologetically. âThis is a safe house. You are here in your physical form now, just like Da’reeque and I have been the whole time. The space you just vacated is now occupied by a simulacrum, and of course Da’reeque and I were never physically there, so our simulacra are unchanged. All of them are right now on auto-pilot, you and Da’reeque headed back to your respective quarters, mine trailing along with Da’reeque to supposedly crash on his couch or something, in case anyone asks. Of course the simulacra need no sleep.
âIn a few hours, i.e., tomorrow over there, we can all ride Da’shondaâs simulacrum to shift start at dispatch and snoop around while we are safe here. As you may have guessed things are getting progressively more dangerous, and this arrangement will allow us much bolder and more immediate action than having only one actual physical presence to continue investigating without direct communications with the rest of us.â
Only that we never made it that far. Sometime that night, if indeed it was night, they came for us.
I remember going to get some sleep in one of the safe houseâs bedrooms, regrettably without lovely Da’shonda, having to endure a bit of heckling from Tuor for it.
The next thing I know I am somewhere else, entirely.
Or at least I think it is somewhere else. I have this beautiful jewel hanging on a chain around my neck, and whenever I look into it, whole chunks of my life disappear. Together with stretches of time I canât name. At least thatâs what I think. Itâs hard to say, really, I just feel that my life is getting smaller, somehow. Less. I still remember quite clearly from the moment I arrived on Earth that fateful second time until I went to sleep in the safe house. Knowing that the next day we would get to the bottom of this.
—
And maybe thatâs exactly what we did, and thatâs why Iâm here. Or maybe itâs still going to happen and this is a dream. And a beautiful dream, fueled and made whole by my precious jewel.
Ah, but Iâm not alone. Yes, itâs Da’shonda. Did we spend the whole night together after all? Memory is a funny thing, isnât it. How beautiful she is. How do I know that I had always thought so? She was at the safe house with me, and at the bar before that. Yes, she was at dispatch. But I feel Iâve known her much longer than that. Itâs all getting a bit hazy. But too much hassle to worry about it, I think.
âHey Da’reeque, how you holding up?â She asks and smiles at me. She doesnât come closer, sadly. But thatâs OK, Iâm just happy to see her.
âFeeâinâ guâ,â I say, and find that I am almost but not quite surprised that my mouth and tongue donât seem to work like they used to or I should have expected them to.
âIâm sorry that it turned out to be you, you know,â she says. I am not sure what she means, but she really seems sad. Why should she be sad? Sheâs here, Iâm here, and soon weâllâŠthere was something we were going to do, wasnât there?
âThe jewel is doing its work, I see. They told me what to expect. I am so so so sorry. Listen, I need to tell you this as long as thereâs something left of you in there. Itâs not going to change anything, probably, but I have to get it out and once youâre gone thereâs no one leftâŠâ
âAll is fine, Da’shonda,â I say, making an effort to enunciate and am very happy it sounds OK.
âNo, itâs not, Da’reeque. But there was no time to change anything. You were the one who had been to that place before and it was the place where the Garuda was investigating. I suppose it could be worse. Ach, who am I kidding.
âThereâs not much time left. The jewelâŠyou know, that stuff the Garuda told us about? The modification? Turns out he was the one who had fiddled with them. I hadnât known that was even possible. This one is tweaked to, ah, reset you. When it is done you will be an empty shell. They say they canât leave the memory of what happened intact. Have to clean up very carefully. The jewelâŠâ
âYou mean this?â I hold up my wonderful treasure. âIt seems there is something about this I should remember. ButâŠno, itâs OK, Iâm happy now.â
âYes, you are. And thatâs what youâll remain once the null point hits. Beyond that itâsâŠno, I need to focus. I need to get this over with before itâs too late.
âThey said they needed to trap an interloper. The Garuda had reported that one of their agents had gone rogue. Instead of quality assurance he had apparently decided to sabotage the whole operation. And they couldnât be having with that. He might unravel everything if he was left running around unchecked. So they had me stand by until they found the right place and time. And when the signal came through it turned out to be you they used. I am so sorry, really.â
âYou mean Tuor,â I say, plucking that name from somewhere. âHe was with us, in that house, before, wasnât he? Where is he?â
âThatâs what they need to know,â she replies. âHe wasnât there when they sprung the trap. They tell me they can reverse the process youâre going throughâŠmostly. But for thatâŠpllease, Da’reeque, try to remember. Where is he?â
âWhere is who?â I am puzzled. Who is she talking about? And who is it that is talking to me? Things are getting really hazy now.
âStay with me, Da’reeque,â she sounds desperate now. âYou can do this. You are the only link.â
Who is this Da’reeque person sheâs talking to, I wonder, dreamily, as everything fades to pastel.
—
And this should have been the end. Or rather, it should have stayed that way. But it didnât. I didnât, either, as youâve probably already guessed.
The next thing I remember (and things are kind of jumbled, as afterwards a lot of memories came back from what I have to surmise was âearlier,â whatever that really means) is another room, simply furnished, and with a window. Which seems like an improvement for some reason. Except for this thing hanging in the middle of the view beyond.
âWhat am I doing here again?â As first utterings after near-fatal encounters go itâs not necessarily world-class, Iâll give you that. But there I go. So, sue me.
âThe last place theyâll be looking for either of you,â a vaguely familiar voice says.
I look around, still somewhat dazed and lost without context or content, and the figure I find standing next to the piece of furniture Iâve apparently been lying on brings the first batch of memory potpourri rushing back.
âTuor,â I say, putting name to face. âWhatâs wrong with you?â
I look down at myself and groan. Not again. But then of course his appearance also makes sense.
âYou were almost completely gone when I finally got to you,â he says, not explaining much. âYou may not recover fully, ever, but at least youâll still be there to try.â
âRecover?â
âWhat is this place?â Ah, another voice from the mostly-still-lost past. Looking around I find a stranger, try to match voice to weird Earthling face, to swirling memory, and fail.
âAh, Da’shonda,â Tuor says, and more pieces fall into place in what passes for my mind these days. âGlad you made it through, too.â
âI can explain,â she says, and thereâs panic and pleading in her voice.
âAll in due course. And you donât actually need to explain to me. Da’reeque here is the one you seem to have sold out. And since that is the main cause for my having to rescue and hide you here, I suggest you explain to him, rather than to me. I donât care much, either way, there is little you can do here no matter where your loyalties really lie.
âDa’reeque, Da’shonda,â Tuor takes a deep breath. âBoth your and my organization have been subverted. Iâm a refugee and renegade wanted by my own people. Not to mention yours. They will have told Da’shonda here that Iâm the bad guy, but if you think on it for a moment, if they were as good as they should and claim to be, would they have had to resort to the kind of nastiness they did? Exposing Da’reeque to a tweaked jewel that would have reduced you to an empty shell had I not intervened. Using Da’shonda to try and extract what you knew about me even as you were losing that knowledge. I think you can answer that for yourself.
âBy now I am quite sure that someone has subverted both organizations so they can distribute jewels that, instead of fulfilling wishes and removing obstacles, both benevolent tweaks of karmic processes, will remove whatever (supposedly) positive karma the user may have and then open them to receive and absorb whatever negative karma is sent their way. This sending side I still need to figure out. And I donât know what Iâll be able to do about it when I do. But what I am fairly certain about is that all the people who picked up one of the tweaked jewels are being converted into some sort of karmic garbage dump allowing whoever is behind this to escape the consequences of whatever they do.â
âWow, thatâs a lot to take in,â I say trying to do just that. âWhat are we supposed to do about it?â
âWe,â Tuor says, âare not going to do much of anything. Da’shonda is an unknown factor, and Iâve just brought you here on the even chance youâre as innocent of it all as Da’reeque. The bodies you are now wearing are yours for better or worse. Apologies for the yuck factor. Nothing I could do about it. You should accommodate soon, though. Your original bodies at the prison facility I broke you from are empty shells now. Which should keep the opposition from investigating too closely or following up. The jewel will simply look to have fulfilled its intended function on Da’reeque and then somehow have snared and emptied Da’shonda as well. The simulacra have been taken care of.â
âSo they wonât come for us, like, ever?â Da’shonda sounds like sheâs not quite able to decide whether that is a good thing or not.
âWell, never is a long time,â Tuor says dismissively. âEven if they do try, and even if they do somehow deduce where and when I have hidden you, they have next to no way of identifying you. Like I said, these bodies are yours now and they have no connection whatsoever to your old ones or the mask Da’reeque has been wearing here on his routine and not so routine visits.â
âSo what are we supposed to do now?â I hate how querulous I sound.
âYouâre going to have to figure that out on your own, Iâm afraid. I need to leave and soon, and I better not come back unless I want to give them something they might be able to follow to you after all. Thereâs only two scenarios weâll meet again. If I succeed, as unlikely as that may be, and you can return from this exile.â
âYou said âtwo scenarios,ââ Da’shonda expresses my thoughts succinctly.
âWell, the other one is too unpleasant to dwell on, really. If things go neither too well nor too poorly, yet certainly poorly enough that I need your help or you need mine, and Iâm still able to return. Not sure this is any more likely than the happy ending. So better not dwell on it. Iâll be off chasing dragons, then. Toodledoo.â
âHang on, you still havenât told us what weâre supposed to do.â
âAh, right, and I wonât. But thanks for reminding me, I have something for you that should help. These are the originals. Untweaked. And unused. Iâm fairly sure, at least. They should help you along the way once you figure out what to do and where to go from here. I think.â
With that he hands each of us a nondescript object and disappears. And here we are, together at last, even though it is in these disgusting naked-ape bodies. And with Da’shonda maybe on the side of the bad guys. Or Tuor. And jewels that may or may not be the genuine article.
No wonder I had known something was wrong with this place.