- Published on
Flickers at Freshfields 1
By James Wylder
Katie Smithy had been woken up by a call from Flickers headquarters. She didn't like being on call — but they let her live in the backroom of the coffee shop, so it was a tradeoff she'd learned to deal with. Usually she'd be in full uniform for this kind of thing, but if they were going to wake her up in the middle of the night they'd have to deal with her being in her Kirby Pajamas and BTS bathrobe.
“We need you to transfer for the next few days to our branch near Freshfields.”
She rubbed her eyes. “...Okay?" Sure, why not.
“SIGNET is running some op there, we need you to monitor it.”
“Oh,” figured. At least it wouldn't be too bad if she could bring her co-worker Gwendolyn with her. “Is Gwendolyn–”
“No, she needs to run your location still.”
She grumbled while saluting.
* * *
"So you're the new transfer, welcome to Blue Candle Freshfields!" A cheery young man said. His nametag read "Fred :)"
"Yeah yeah, glad to be here." She put her apron on. "Have SIGNET come in yet?"
The boy held out a piece of paper with the faces of each member printed on it, below it there were tally marks for each one. It looks like they had each come in once.
"Wow, so you're part of the SIGNET monitoring duo? We've all heard so much about you."
She nodded, and got work cleaning some coffee mugs.
"Is it true you almost got eaten by vampire dogs after you started trailing them?"
"Yeah." This was going to be a long shift.
"Did you— welcome!"
In through the door came Aoife SIGNET, as Katie thought of her. She came up to the counter. "One coffee with... how many shots of espresso can you legally put in the biggest cup?"
Fred and Katie exchanged a look. "Well there's no legal limit..." Fred said.
"The Inferno sized cup fits 24 shots," Katie said, her eye twitching.
"Great. Fill 'er up," Aoife said.
Katie fulfilled her order, screaming internally the entire time.
"Have a... nice day?" It came out as a question, but it was hard to imagine anyone ordering 24 shots of espresso was anticipating a good one.
Aoife raised the cup in salute, and walked out.
Katie thought about how she was going to spend the rest of her day, and threw off her apron. "I'm tailing her, I'll be back when I'm back."
"Soon?" Fred asked.
"When I'm back."
She went to her bag, and pulled out a nondescript beige jacket, and threw it on as she rushed out the door.
* * *
Freshfields.
It sure was a store.
Katie spent the next six hours following various members of SIGNET around the shop floor. She'd meant to just follow Xana, but good god was it boring. So she followed Charles as he went around scanning things. Boring. She hid behind a support column and watched Olivia doing her nails on the job. Boring. Watching Jae-Sun catch a shoplifter was at least, for the first time that day, not boring, but then he got back to standing around with grannies pushing their trollies past him and it was once again boring. Finally she found Aoife, and also was bored.
"Report, agent Katie Smithy. Nothing is happening, over."
"Okay?" Fred said on the other end of the phone call. "Are you coming back soon? We're having a rush here..."
"Yeah, I'm bored as hell, over."
"This isn't a two-way radio, you don't have to say over."
"You're breaking up, over."
Fred sighed and hung up.
She headed back.
* * *
"I just don't get it," Katie said as she made her fifth Whammaccino. "They're just doing boring jobs there? They're supposed to be a secret organisation; we're supposed to be monitoring them, and they're just doing the most menial tasks. I mean, why did I join the Flickers? To avoid deportation for being half-alien? Mostly! But also I thought I'd be having adventures, you know? So what on Earth are they doing?"
Fred finished taking a customer's order, and turned to her.
"Maybe it has to do with the disappearances there?"
Katie froze. "...With the what?"
“We need you to transfer for the next few days to our branch near Freshfields.”
She rubbed her eyes. “...Okay?" Sure, why not.
“SIGNET is running some op there, we need you to monitor it.”
“Oh,” figured. At least it wouldn't be too bad if she could bring her co-worker Gwendolyn with her. “Is Gwendolyn–”
“No, she needs to run your location still.”
She grumbled while saluting.
* * *
"So you're the new transfer, welcome to Blue Candle Freshfields!" A cheery young man said. His nametag read "Fred :)"
"Yeah yeah, glad to be here." She put her apron on. "Have SIGNET come in yet?"
The boy held out a piece of paper with the faces of each member printed on it, below it there were tally marks for each one. It looks like they had each come in once.
"Wow, so you're part of the SIGNET monitoring duo? We've all heard so much about you."
She nodded, and got work cleaning some coffee mugs.
"Is it true you almost got eaten by vampire dogs after you started trailing them?"
"Yeah." This was going to be a long shift.
"Did you— welcome!"
In through the door came Aoife SIGNET, as Katie thought of her. She came up to the counter. "One coffee with... how many shots of espresso can you legally put in the biggest cup?"
Fred and Katie exchanged a look. "Well there's no legal limit..." Fred said.
"The Inferno sized cup fits 24 shots," Katie said, her eye twitching.
"Great. Fill 'er up," Aoife said.
Katie fulfilled her order, screaming internally the entire time.
"Have a... nice day?" It came out as a question, but it was hard to imagine anyone ordering 24 shots of espresso was anticipating a good one.
Aoife raised the cup in salute, and walked out.
Katie thought about how she was going to spend the rest of her day, and threw off her apron. "I'm tailing her, I'll be back when I'm back."
"Soon?" Fred asked.
"When I'm back."
She went to her bag, and pulled out a nondescript beige jacket, and threw it on as she rushed out the door.
* * *
Freshfields.
It sure was a store.
Katie spent the next six hours following various members of SIGNET around the shop floor. She'd meant to just follow Xana, but good god was it boring. So she followed Charles as he went around scanning things. Boring. She hid behind a support column and watched Olivia doing her nails on the job. Boring. Watching Jae-Sun catch a shoplifter was at least, for the first time that day, not boring, but then he got back to standing around with grannies pushing their trollies past him and it was once again boring. Finally she found Aoife, and also was bored.
"Report, agent Katie Smithy. Nothing is happening, over."
"Okay?" Fred said on the other end of the phone call. "Are you coming back soon? We're having a rush here..."
"Yeah, I'm bored as hell, over."
"This isn't a two-way radio, you don't have to say over."
"You're breaking up, over."
Fred sighed and hung up.
She headed back.
* * *
"I just don't get it," Katie said as she made her fifth Whammaccino. "They're just doing boring jobs there? They're supposed to be a secret organisation; we're supposed to be monitoring them, and they're just doing the most menial tasks. I mean, why did I join the Flickers? To avoid deportation for being half-alien? Mostly! But also I thought I'd be having adventures, you know? So what on Earth are they doing?"
Fred finished taking a customer's order, and turned to her.
"Maybe it has to do with the disappearances there?"
Katie froze. "...With the what?"
- Published on
Flickers at Freshfields 2
by James Wylder
Habib called Ellie over, which was a little unusual. "Hey, dough you know who that girl is over there?" He seemed worried.
Ellie looked over. There was a teenage girl in a beige trenchcoat from a charity shop, oversized aviator sunglasses, and a grey flat-brimmed cap that was probably supposed to look innocuous, but due to it having the words "I'M A HOT ONE!" as well as a small embroidered chilli pepper and heart all in pink, did not in fact look innocuous at all.
"...Is this just an excuse to tell a bread pun?"
Habib shook his head. "It wasn't even a good one, we both know that."
"Why didn't you call security?"
He threw his hands up. "It's not like she's doing anything. She's just a teenager; I'm not going to send Steve after her."
That was fair. Ellie sighed. "I'll talk to her."
Did she want to do this? No. Was she going to? Apparently.
She approached the girl, who promptly went behind the pillar as though disappearing from sight made her not exist. "Hi there! Can I help you with anything?"
The girl tried to pretend she wasn't there. Ellie thwarted this tactic by walking three feet forward. Slowly, she turned her head, and leaning against the pillar tried to look cool and casual. "Oh, hi. Sorry, were you talking to me?"
Ellie tried to keep her face from having little spasms of annoyance. "Yes, hi there, can I help you with anything?"
The girl stared off. “Uh… no I don’t think so. Can I help you with anything?”
Ellie blinked. “Uh, no. See I work here…”
“Right, right, of course, sorry. Where’s the uh…. chocolate?”
The girl’s eyes followed Ellie’s finger to the clearly visible sign.
“Oh, haha, what a scatterbrain! Guess I’m going now to get some chocolate, as a normal customer!” The girl scampered away at top speed.
Ellie sighed. Well, that was dealt with. She wanted to interrogate the strange occurrence further, but glancing at her scanner she could see her SPIMS score was already dropping. She rushed back to it, and soon enough it became just one part of a weird day.
Ellie looked over. There was a teenage girl in a beige trenchcoat from a charity shop, oversized aviator sunglasses, and a grey flat-brimmed cap that was probably supposed to look innocuous, but due to it having the words "I'M A HOT ONE!" as well as a small embroidered chilli pepper and heart all in pink, did not in fact look innocuous at all.
"...Is this just an excuse to tell a bread pun?"
Habib shook his head. "It wasn't even a good one, we both know that."
"Why didn't you call security?"
He threw his hands up. "It's not like she's doing anything. She's just a teenager; I'm not going to send Steve after her."
That was fair. Ellie sighed. "I'll talk to her."
Did she want to do this? No. Was she going to? Apparently.
She approached the girl, who promptly went behind the pillar as though disappearing from sight made her not exist. "Hi there! Can I help you with anything?"
The girl tried to pretend she wasn't there. Ellie thwarted this tactic by walking three feet forward. Slowly, she turned her head, and leaning against the pillar tried to look cool and casual. "Oh, hi. Sorry, were you talking to me?"
Ellie tried to keep her face from having little spasms of annoyance. "Yes, hi there, can I help you with anything?"
The girl stared off. “Uh… no I don’t think so. Can I help you with anything?”
Ellie blinked. “Uh, no. See I work here…”
“Right, right, of course, sorry. Where’s the uh…. chocolate?”
The girl’s eyes followed Ellie’s finger to the clearly visible sign.
“Oh, haha, what a scatterbrain! Guess I’m going now to get some chocolate, as a normal customer!” The girl scampered away at top speed.
Ellie sighed. Well, that was dealt with. She wanted to interrogate the strange occurrence further, but glancing at her scanner she could see her SPIMS score was already dropping. She rushed back to it, and soon enough it became just one part of a weird day.
- Published on
Xana's Second First Day
by Theta Mandel and Thien Valdream
Xana’s Second First Day
By Theta Mandel and Thien Valdram.
Suffocating memory foam enveloped Xana’s lithe frame as the cruel wind howled outside, serenading her with a cacophony of hurried knocking against her window as she tossed and turned in the night. All her time on Earth and she still hadn’t gotten used to storms like this; her first day on the job, her real job, she’d been exhausted after being kept up by similar weather, and the irony didn’t elude her that history was repeating itself now, on the eve of her great deceit.
At least the bedding’s more comfortable. Once it had become clear that she really was going to stay, Charles had taken her to buy a new mattress and other bits and bobs, and now, the room felt like her own. But tonight, that was little comfort; sleep still ran from her, as fast and as far as it could. Not that she had the strength to chase Mister Sandman for long. Worries of what was to come the next morning plagued her mind, torturing her every thought; what if tomorrow is as terrifying as it was the first time? What if there’s something truly sinister, lurking in the shadows, and I’m not strong enough to stop it? What if my team needs me, and I can’t --
My team.
When had she started thinking of them as hers?
Quickly, she pushed the thought down; it was big and scary and looming, the kind of thing that hunkered over you and had you watching your back, keeping you on edge so you didn’t notice the knife at your neck until it was too late. The more you have, the more you have to lose. Fear began to pull at her skin, human skin that was too large and was all anyone else ever saw, and it gnawed at her skin and pushed her into the claustrophobic mattress and pinned her body down and slobbered over her, encompassing her very being in such warmth that she didn’t even realise she had closed her eyes until --
Thin spindles of grey grass tickled her exposed shins, and as the pleasantly warm breeze caressed her cheeks, she at once knew she was home. Her real home, the one she’d fled; but there was no fear, no worry underlying her every step. She was not unwanted anymore. Not unloved. She danced through the meadow and laughed, high voice tinkling pleasantly against the salt crystals in the air. She had forgotten how much joy there was in the simple things while they’d been gone; oh, how much she had missed laughing her real laugh! Her soft skin, free of the charade, her real frame, so much smaller and lighter than her earthly disguise — she collapsed to the ground and soaked in the wonder of it all. A body that was hers.
Nothing good lasts. She should have known better than to bask in something so loving. She scurried back and froze as clouds gathered overhead; they drew in faster and faster, whipping up a storm, and in mere moments the wind was threatening to snatch her up and steal her away. She hunkered down and clung to the weak grass with all her might, wishing for the thick Earth roots and her clunky, sturdy Earth body, until she was joined by another form, standing strong. One almost as familiar as her own.
“How could you?” Chiara, her best friend of over a decade, kicked her further back into the ground. She cried out, letting go, and as she did so she raised her hands to her face to protect herself: they were covered in blood.
“I should never have placed my trust in you.” A blink, and her new life replaced her old as Charles crouched by her side.
“No, please, I didn’t — you don’t understand —” She tried, but the words didn’t come, and her new boss towered over her. Charles’s normally welcoming face was cold and unforgiving.
A circle began to form, though somehow, through the bodies, the winds still reached her. A circle of all the people who she had let down, all the people she still had left to fail; her new team, her old family, the friends she’d left behind; she sobbed as they drew closer, hurling accusations like sharpened flintstones.
“I let you into my home…”
“Murderer!”
“Monster.”
“Traitor.” Olivia’s eyes shined bright; she must have heard of Queen Alarna, and had turned against her once she’d found out what she’d done.
Jae-Sun spat at her feet, and she flinched away. Aoife merely stared.
The crowd grew and grew, swarming around her as she cowered in place, screeching and whooping as they began to call for revenge… an eye for an eye, the bounty-hunters who had recognised her and tried to collect began to call, advancing as she crawled back, only to bump against Aoife’s legs. She scrambled up to her feet, turning to her team, begging each in turn to help her, but one by one they turned away. Finally, she reached Charles once more --
“Let me out! Help me! Please!” She screamed as the hunters closed in; he moved, only to shove her back into the arms of the jeering hunters. She felt their weapons press against her back, the way they turned into standard-issue police stasers, saw the flashing lights… the blood streaked her clothes as she scrabbled against them, desperate to explain, but the words choked in her throat.
She saw Charles, looking on, satisfied that justice was prevailing at last. Her mothers cried and turned away; at least your grandmother isn’t here to see what you’ve become. Chiara stood on the edge of the crowd, and she tried to call out through her tears, but she was only looking on in a resigned, betrayed kind of grief, and then her face began to morph once more, the warm sunlight behind her growing brighter and brighter, obscuring her new face from view as Xana was carried away.
No one believed her. She didn’t even believe herself. She stopped struggling.
The light continued to grow, and she opened her eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the windows as Xana blinked the nightmare away. It was a new day, her first day, which meant exhaustion and fear couldn’t keep her down.
It was time to go to work.
She began to calm her rapid breathing as she advanced through her morning routine. Focusing on each step through shaking sobs, she brought herself back to reality. This wasn’t like her first day at SIGNET. Charles didn’t knock on her door this time; she was almost glad, as though she could have done with the comfort of his company, she wasn’t sure she would be able to look him in the eye.
Lies built up like storms around her; she thought, right now, one more ‘I’m fine’ would make the pile topple.
Taking on a new identity and starting afresh almost seemed preferable; a whole new person to invent, with a whole new set of lies to tell. A clean slate. And maybe the new person could pretend to be a little better.
Maybe the new Xana could bear a few more lies.
Her human rituals prepared her for the role she played; usually, she donned a plain t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket, her holographic transmitter completing the human disguise. Today, Xana the SIGNET agent was replaced by Xana the shop employee, and the new woman wore a slightly itchy uniform that paired well with her eye-bags and ‘get me out of here!’ attitude. She took a steadying breath in front of the mirror as she tugged her hair into a company-policy-compliant ponytail.
The disguise was perfect. The ritual had prepared her for the role of a lifetime: a woman who hated her job.
Sighing, she opened her door and climbed down the stairs into the new day.
How did I ever let the others talk me into this?
“Oh, there you are — are you nearly ready to go? Our shifts start in nearly half an hour, so we really shouldn’t leave it much longer. Better eat fast.” Charles was waiting downstairs, and she nearly burst out laughing, her worries forgotten at the sight of his uniform. The same black trousers as hers hung loose about his hips, clearly a little tight around his middle, and his yellow polo was equally ill-fitting. It lacked the usual gravitas of his burgundy pea coat, replaced by something entirely… mundane.
He looked on, bemused. “What is it?”
“That’s not you!” She finally managed, spluttering. “That’s nothing like you!”
He inclined his head and chortled gently. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, looking down distastefully at the outfit. “Yellow really isn’t my color. Come on, eat up — I promise, no grease this time. I’ve learned my lesson!”
She downed her tea quickly, eating the cereal he’d prepared before grabbing some toast for the journey. The weather was growing colder, and she and Charles both pulled thick winter coats on as they made their way to the car. By the time the heating kicked in, her toast had frozen almost solid. Grimacing, she left it to one side, deciding that this wasn’t a good omen for the rest of the day.
She looked out of the windows as they grew closer to the York branch of Freshfields supermarket; butterflies beat their tiny wings in her stomach as she reminded herself that it wouldn’t be for long.
Just until we can figure out what’s making these people disappear.
She rehearsed answers to questions people might ask her again and again in her mind — where was she from, what was her name, what was her last job. Humans were funny about that last one. She only had to pass for normal long enough to find out something useful, and then she could return to the job she loved, with the team who counted on her; but her practiced responses were swallowed by her swirling fears as they drew nearer, and her careful construction fell away.
Once she was inside, she wouldn’t have Charles, or the rest of the team; for this to work, they would have to convince their new colleagues that they were strangers.
Her practiced lies had failed her. From here on out, she would have to rely only on herself. Her new self.
Finally, they had arrived. Charles parked a few streets away so they wouldn’t be seen together.
“Remember,” he cautioned, “you’re here for a good reason. Don’t lose sight of that. I’ll meet you here at the end of your shift.”
And with that, she took on her new role.
“Xana, you’ll be working in the bakery,” the store manager, Gary Wheeler, told her. “Y’know, baking bread, serving customers, that sort of thing. Linda here’ll show you the ropes; she’s the bakery manager”.
Xana’s face fell; she’d expected this to be somewhat menial of course, but a bakery? And, customer service? She’d only been on this planet just over a year, how was she supposed to do that? Interacting with people… somehow that scared her almost as much as the idea of an alien threat.
“Is something the matter?” Linda raised an eyebrow, her tone was demanding and controlling.
“No, of course not,” Xana replied quickly. She was here to be undercover, and that meant doing her job, whatever that was.
Linda eyed her suspiciously. “Good. In that case, meet me in the bakery after you’ve filled out your paperwork and all that. And don’t take too long, I don’t have all day to be showing you the ropes. Not if I want to maintain my SPIMS score.”
Xana resisted any urge to talk back; if Linda was her manager that meant she was in charge of her. Best not to make her angry, least not unless she knew Linda was a threat.
Of course, it took her almost an hour to fill out the paperwork, despite Charles’ insistence; it had been far more complicated than the SIGNET employment paperwork as she hadn’t known what to sign or where or what most things were, and she suspected Sarah, the personnel manager, hadn’t the patience for her foreigner excuse. Especially after she muttered something along the lines of ‘I doubt you’ll even still be here by the time this is processed anyway’.
But eventually it was done, and he was properly given her nametag. Naturally of course it read ‘Zara’ instead of ‘Xana’, and Sarah had reluctantly sent out for another one.
Then, finally, she left the personnel office and headed to the bakery. It was a small alcove into the side of the store, with its own counter and staff, only one of whom was in at the time.
“Oh, morning! You must be the new girl… ‘Zara’ huh?”
“It’s Xana — they printed it wrong. And you’re Habib right?”
“Habib Ahmed. It’s good to have another worker; been just me and Linda here on Mondays for a while now, it’s a pita we couldn’t get more.”
“Pita?”
“It’s… it’s a type of bread,” Habib chuckled. “It’s a pun.”
Xana growled a little at that. But before they could talk further, Linda returned. “There you are, what took you so long?”
“Paperwork… what am I supposed to be doing here?”
“It’s a bakery,” Linda sighed. “Making and selling bread…” She looked her up and down. “Where did they say you were from again?”
“… France,” Xana said flatly.
Linda sighed again. “Alright, fine, I’ll take it from the top. But if this hurts my SPIMS score I’m taking it to HR.”
“I’ve… been meaning to ask about that. What is SPIMS?”
Habib chimed in: “Oh it’s this new productivity system. It monitors employees to make sure they’re working properly and productively. It’s been a hell of a wheat ever since they installed it.”
Xana sighed; another substitution pun. Was this really what she was gonna be stuck with this whole time?
Linda replied: “Yes, exactly. Which is why you should be doing your work, Ahmed.”
“Yes Linda, sorry,” Habib rubbed the back of his head awkwardly before turning back to the oven.
Linda said, “Come on, Xana, I’ll show you what you’re supposed to do. Please do try to pay attention.”
Xana picked up on what she was supposed to do quicker than she expected. They made different kinds of bread and pastry. Pastries existed back home, but here they were made from a combination of raw sugars, salts, oils, a powder known as flour made from a kind of grass called wheat and some kind of small fungus called ‘yeast’.
Nonetheless, Linda spent longer than necessary explaining specific settings on the ovens and other such things, with Xana getting progressively more frustrated until finally Linda said, ‘Hopefully now you understand what we’re supposed to be doing’.
“Of course,” Xana said through gritted teeth. Linda reminded her of the authorities that had originally arrested her, putting on the image of politeness and due process, but secretly they had wanted to watch her die. It took all her willpower not to wipe that smug condescending grin off of Linda’s face. “Thank you,” she managed to make herself say instead.
It got easier after that point. Linda backed off a little, and Xana was able to get to work. The process wasn’t particularly difficult: mix the dough, knead the dough, bake the bread. Sometimes she could even get away with using her extra two arms, invisible underneath her hologram projector, to speed things up — at least when no one was looking. The job wasn’t difficult, but it was boring, unfulfilling. She’d been worried about a monster… but there was no monster. And somehow that was worse.
“How do you work so fast?” Habib asked. “You just got here and you’re keeping up really well!”
“It’s my job, I’m just doing it to the best of my ability,” Xana replied.
Habib smiled “Rye are you so serious? Loosen up a bit, have some fun.”
“I’m not here to have fun,” Xana responded, deadpan.
Habib looked at her. “C’mon, look I really appreciate you taking this job; we’ve been barley getting by since Eddie disappeared.”
Xana’s head whipped around. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah he just… didn’t show up for work one day. I tried swinging round to his place but… he wasn’t home.”
“Aren’t you worried about him?” Xana asked plainly.
Habib waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s his life, not mine. I miss having him around, but hey, if I had the cash, I’d skip town too.”
“You don’t have to be formally reprimanded to skip town, y’know.”
“Heh, donut tempt me.”
Xana sighed… “We don’t even make donuts.”
“Look Xana, you’re not going to stick around if you treat this job like a chore.”
“I… just wish I’d been a security guard. I’m good at that kinda thing.”
“Well the new guy they got there’s ex-military so… y’know.”
“... Yeah, yeah I know.”
“So… you’re French, huh?” Habib asked, curiously.
Xana nodded noncommittally.
Habib continued: “Nice place, your home?”
“Oh, it was…” Xana recalled her homeworld… then the pain of leaving it. The nightmares made it impossible to forget. “But I haven’t been back in… a long time.”
After a moment, she cursed herself for being so open. Returning to her work, she quashed how tedious it felt, how suffocating. So unlike her SIGNET job; there was nothing to do here but the same repetitive tasks over and over again. She was only really even putting in the work to up her SPIMS score… whatever that did.
“So… about SPIMS…” Xana began.
“Oh c’mon, Xana, you don’t really wanna talk about that.” Habib put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, you seem upset, annoyed…”
“None of your business.” Xana shook off his hand. It was impolite, but she really wasn’t in the mood for politeness.
“Excuse me.” A customer’s voice.
Habib looked to Xana. “You take this one, I need to finish this…”
Xana froze momentarily: this was the part of the job she’d been most dreading.
“Welcome to the Freshfields local bakery,” she said, flatly, heart clearly not in it. “How can I help you?” “Two baguettes and a loaf of sourdough,” the customer replied.
“Coming up.” Xana searched the shelves and picked out and bagged a loaf of sourdough. She glanced over to Habib. “Where are the baguettes again?”
“Seriously?” Linda sputtered, walking over from the oven. “Those ones.” She pointed. “You should know that. You’re from France, aren’t you?”
“We… didn’t have them in my hometown,” Xana lied. She winced, knowing it was a weak one. Linda glared at her, annoyed.
The customer muttered, “Great, an immigrant.”
Xana growled under her breath, then turned back to the customer with the bagged pastries. “Your order, ma’am.”
“Oh… and a pie,” she added, “if those are vegetarian.”
“Vegetarian?” Xana asked. “Made of vegetables?”
“Made of plants.” The customer tapped their foot annoyedly.
“All our bread’s got yeast in it,” Xana replied. “That’s a fungus. Fungus is alive and it’s not a plant, so it can’t be vegetarian”
“Don’t be smart. Does the pie have meat in it? Stupid girl.”
Xana banged the desk, then quickly suppressed her anger. “It does, yes. Will that be all ma’am?”
“I suppose it’ll have to be” The customer huffed, taking her bags and walking off.
“What was that, Xana?” Linda snapped. Her arms were crossed.
“I know, she was a handful—”
“I meant your behaviour!” she exclaimed. “You were unenthusiastic, abrasive, rude and slow. I ought to report you to Gary right now…”
Xana was furious. “Me? You— she…” Noticing her voice was raised, she quickly lowered her tone. This was what she was really afraid of. When she’d started at SIGNET, it had been her greatest fear: not fitting in, not being accepted. She’d spent too much of her life as an outcast, and couldn’t bear it anymore.
Her place was with SIGNET, but now she was here, being belittled, rejected. When she tried to help, she was blamed, as if it was her fault.
Xana felt a hand on her shoulder “It’s five minutes until your break,” Habib told her. “Take it now, I’ll cover for you.”
Too grateful for words, Xana hurried away.
Without thinking, her feet had carried her towards the one person who always seemed to know how to make her feel safe. Evidently, her brain hadn’t kicked into gear along with her legs, as it had failed to remind them that she had gone for her break early, meaning that Charles was still on the shop floor.
She’d found him busy stocking a shelf. She fought every instinct to launch herself in his direction, and instead backed between two Christmas pudding displays, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while staying mostly hidden. Come on, Xana, you’re just walking, no purpose, totally normal. Just breathe. She took the time to calm her breathing before making her way to the staff canteen. A few minutes later, she returned and tapped him on the arm as inconspicuously as she could, jerking her head for him to follow. Luckily, he got the message — though he was a little hesitant at first — and the pair moved to an unattended aisle.
“Sorry about this, I don’t want to blow our cover.”
Charles inclined his head. “Why risk it at all? Did you find something out?”
Xana shook her head quickly, feeling silly. “No, nothing like that. I just… I needed to talk.”
An uncomfortable silence, and Xana began to regret everything.
What seemed like an age passed, until Charles reached out a consoling hand. “Hey, it’s okay — there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a new and scary situation. I’m sure you’re doing the right thing by coming to me. What do you want to talk about?”
Xana took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s really stupid, now that I say it out loud. I just — I can’t figure this thing out, Charles! This ‘being human’ thing. I had an interaction with a customer, and I know she was the one in the wrong, but I was still made to feel like I was the one being rude! It’s just so… hard. And…”
Charles’ eyebrows curved compassionately. “And I’m making you be here.”
Xana shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that at all. I know why we’re here is important — I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that. I have to do this, I understand, and I don’t blame you for it being difficult, but that doesn’t mean people are any less cruel.”
Charles smiled at her. “Do you want to know a secret? It’s difficult for me, too.”
And for the remainder of her break, Xana told Charles about her day, about her coworker who wouldn’t stop with the terrible puns, about the awful customers and the even worse manager. She told him about how everything here felt so different, isolating, and just too much. They picked through a half-wilted lettuce from the terrible canteen. It wasn’t anything like what Charles made for her back home, but the time they spent talking meant it didn’t matter.
“So, I need to ask: vegetarians?”
“Misleadingly named, for sure,” said Charles “They eat anything that isn’t meat — or sometimes, anything that doesn’t come from the death of animals, though that’s more of a vegan thing these days.”
“Vegan?”
Xana’s head was swimming. Even more so as Charles explained more facets of human life than she ever knew existed. Even after a year on Earth, she clearly had a lot more to learn. Perhaps she could pick some of it up from her human coworkers. Even natives had gaps in their general knowledge, Charles assured her, and being an alleged ‘foreigner’ meant she could be excused a few more mistakes than most. Fitting in would be difficult, sure, but she’d done it before and she’d do it again. At least this time she wouldn’t be alone.
For those fifteen minutes, there was no evil threats, no alien invasions, nor robot uprisings. They were just two friends moaning over a bad job, and the moan made it slightly more bearable.
It was all about perspective, Xana decided: this job had to be done, and it would be done, and when it was she’d be back to doing something she loved.
“It won’t be long,” Charles promised her, “and we’ll get through this together. Whatever it takes.”
Xana nodded. “And I’ll be here if you ever need an extra hand — I’ve got plenty, you know.”
Charles laughed. “Careful; it sounds like your coworker’s rubbing off on you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Xana remarked, reaching for the door handle as her break drew to a close. “There would be worse things…”
> report: loading
> report begins
> Subject one, Bakery Manager (designation: Linda Hill)
> Subject one has proven repeatedly to be a negative influence on other employees. Frequently and repeatedly disrupting their exceptional work ethic by over-explaining basic concepts or deliberately treating them as if they do not know what they are doing; this could be in order to feel superior, because she does not like the staff or in order to punish them for infractions.
> This behaviour resulted in a reduction in productivity — as the new employee, subject two (designation: Xana), was forced to take her break early due to the emotional distress caused by the actions of Linda Hill.
> Thus subject one is considered to be a liability to Freshfields, and her employment no longer serves any purpose.
> As this is the fourth time this behaviour has been noted, it will be considered to be terminal. Subject one is to be deactivated at the earliest convenience.
“Linda? Is the bakery all finished yet?” Gary called out.
Silence, great… bad enough that he had to stay back to finish everything on time if he wanted to maintain his SPIMS score. But Linda was being less than cooperative as well.
She hated overtime, had to be all but coerced into it. And now she was just being petty.
“You know if you don’t respond I can’t lock up right? You want to stay here even longer?”
Still nothing. Grumbling under his breath, Gary strolled over towards the bakery. “Very funny Linda. Look I just wanna go home, ok…”
Nothing, no sign of her either, and the bakery was still not fully packed away.
Which meant only one thing.
“Oh come on, she left? Really? God I hate her, why does she even work here?” Gary muttered under his breath, heading into the bakery to finish the work. May as well do things properly himself if she wasn’t going to; it’d reflect worse on her SPIMS score than his anyway.
Perhaps she might even drop low enough to get sacked this time. Now that’d be hilarious.
Her purse still sat on the counter, but Gary paid it no mind. She’d just have to come back and get it tomorrow, cause he certainly wasn’t letting her back in tonight.
It wouldn’t be until the next day that he got the news, Linda had been fired. And she didn’t even come back for her purse.
By Theta Mandel and Thien Valdram.
Suffocating memory foam enveloped Xana’s lithe frame as the cruel wind howled outside, serenading her with a cacophony of hurried knocking against her window as she tossed and turned in the night. All her time on Earth and she still hadn’t gotten used to storms like this; her first day on the job, her real job, she’d been exhausted after being kept up by similar weather, and the irony didn’t elude her that history was repeating itself now, on the eve of her great deceit.
At least the bedding’s more comfortable. Once it had become clear that she really was going to stay, Charles had taken her to buy a new mattress and other bits and bobs, and now, the room felt like her own. But tonight, that was little comfort; sleep still ran from her, as fast and as far as it could. Not that she had the strength to chase Mister Sandman for long. Worries of what was to come the next morning plagued her mind, torturing her every thought; what if tomorrow is as terrifying as it was the first time? What if there’s something truly sinister, lurking in the shadows, and I’m not strong enough to stop it? What if my team needs me, and I can’t --
My team.
When had she started thinking of them as hers?
Quickly, she pushed the thought down; it was big and scary and looming, the kind of thing that hunkered over you and had you watching your back, keeping you on edge so you didn’t notice the knife at your neck until it was too late. The more you have, the more you have to lose. Fear began to pull at her skin, human skin that was too large and was all anyone else ever saw, and it gnawed at her skin and pushed her into the claustrophobic mattress and pinned her body down and slobbered over her, encompassing her very being in such warmth that she didn’t even realise she had closed her eyes until --
Thin spindles of grey grass tickled her exposed shins, and as the pleasantly warm breeze caressed her cheeks, she at once knew she was home. Her real home, the one she’d fled; but there was no fear, no worry underlying her every step. She was not unwanted anymore. Not unloved. She danced through the meadow and laughed, high voice tinkling pleasantly against the salt crystals in the air. She had forgotten how much joy there was in the simple things while they’d been gone; oh, how much she had missed laughing her real laugh! Her soft skin, free of the charade, her real frame, so much smaller and lighter than her earthly disguise — she collapsed to the ground and soaked in the wonder of it all. A body that was hers.
Nothing good lasts. She should have known better than to bask in something so loving. She scurried back and froze as clouds gathered overhead; they drew in faster and faster, whipping up a storm, and in mere moments the wind was threatening to snatch her up and steal her away. She hunkered down and clung to the weak grass with all her might, wishing for the thick Earth roots and her clunky, sturdy Earth body, until she was joined by another form, standing strong. One almost as familiar as her own.
“How could you?” Chiara, her best friend of over a decade, kicked her further back into the ground. She cried out, letting go, and as she did so she raised her hands to her face to protect herself: they were covered in blood.
“I should never have placed my trust in you.” A blink, and her new life replaced her old as Charles crouched by her side.
“No, please, I didn’t — you don’t understand —” She tried, but the words didn’t come, and her new boss towered over her. Charles’s normally welcoming face was cold and unforgiving.
A circle began to form, though somehow, through the bodies, the winds still reached her. A circle of all the people who she had let down, all the people she still had left to fail; her new team, her old family, the friends she’d left behind; she sobbed as they drew closer, hurling accusations like sharpened flintstones.
“I let you into my home…”
“Murderer!”
“Monster.”
“Traitor.” Olivia’s eyes shined bright; she must have heard of Queen Alarna, and had turned against her once she’d found out what she’d done.
Jae-Sun spat at her feet, and she flinched away. Aoife merely stared.
The crowd grew and grew, swarming around her as she cowered in place, screeching and whooping as they began to call for revenge… an eye for an eye, the bounty-hunters who had recognised her and tried to collect began to call, advancing as she crawled back, only to bump against Aoife’s legs. She scrambled up to her feet, turning to her team, begging each in turn to help her, but one by one they turned away. Finally, she reached Charles once more --
“Let me out! Help me! Please!” She screamed as the hunters closed in; he moved, only to shove her back into the arms of the jeering hunters. She felt their weapons press against her back, the way they turned into standard-issue police stasers, saw the flashing lights… the blood streaked her clothes as she scrabbled against them, desperate to explain, but the words choked in her throat.
She saw Charles, looking on, satisfied that justice was prevailing at last. Her mothers cried and turned away; at least your grandmother isn’t here to see what you’ve become. Chiara stood on the edge of the crowd, and she tried to call out through her tears, but she was only looking on in a resigned, betrayed kind of grief, and then her face began to morph once more, the warm sunlight behind her growing brighter and brighter, obscuring her new face from view as Xana was carried away.
No one believed her. She didn’t even believe herself. She stopped struggling.
The light continued to grow, and she opened her eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the windows as Xana blinked the nightmare away. It was a new day, her first day, which meant exhaustion and fear couldn’t keep her down.
It was time to go to work.
She began to calm her rapid breathing as she advanced through her morning routine. Focusing on each step through shaking sobs, she brought herself back to reality. This wasn’t like her first day at SIGNET. Charles didn’t knock on her door this time; she was almost glad, as though she could have done with the comfort of his company, she wasn’t sure she would be able to look him in the eye.
Lies built up like storms around her; she thought, right now, one more ‘I’m fine’ would make the pile topple.
Taking on a new identity and starting afresh almost seemed preferable; a whole new person to invent, with a whole new set of lies to tell. A clean slate. And maybe the new person could pretend to be a little better.
Maybe the new Xana could bear a few more lies.
Her human rituals prepared her for the role she played; usually, she donned a plain t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket, her holographic transmitter completing the human disguise. Today, Xana the SIGNET agent was replaced by Xana the shop employee, and the new woman wore a slightly itchy uniform that paired well with her eye-bags and ‘get me out of here!’ attitude. She took a steadying breath in front of the mirror as she tugged her hair into a company-policy-compliant ponytail.
The disguise was perfect. The ritual had prepared her for the role of a lifetime: a woman who hated her job.
Sighing, she opened her door and climbed down the stairs into the new day.
How did I ever let the others talk me into this?
“Oh, there you are — are you nearly ready to go? Our shifts start in nearly half an hour, so we really shouldn’t leave it much longer. Better eat fast.” Charles was waiting downstairs, and she nearly burst out laughing, her worries forgotten at the sight of his uniform. The same black trousers as hers hung loose about his hips, clearly a little tight around his middle, and his yellow polo was equally ill-fitting. It lacked the usual gravitas of his burgundy pea coat, replaced by something entirely… mundane.
He looked on, bemused. “What is it?”
“That’s not you!” She finally managed, spluttering. “That’s nothing like you!”
He inclined his head and chortled gently. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, looking down distastefully at the outfit. “Yellow really isn’t my color. Come on, eat up — I promise, no grease this time. I’ve learned my lesson!”
She downed her tea quickly, eating the cereal he’d prepared before grabbing some toast for the journey. The weather was growing colder, and she and Charles both pulled thick winter coats on as they made their way to the car. By the time the heating kicked in, her toast had frozen almost solid. Grimacing, she left it to one side, deciding that this wasn’t a good omen for the rest of the day.
She looked out of the windows as they grew closer to the York branch of Freshfields supermarket; butterflies beat their tiny wings in her stomach as she reminded herself that it wouldn’t be for long.
Just until we can figure out what’s making these people disappear.
She rehearsed answers to questions people might ask her again and again in her mind — where was she from, what was her name, what was her last job. Humans were funny about that last one. She only had to pass for normal long enough to find out something useful, and then she could return to the job she loved, with the team who counted on her; but her practiced responses were swallowed by her swirling fears as they drew nearer, and her careful construction fell away.
Once she was inside, she wouldn’t have Charles, or the rest of the team; for this to work, they would have to convince their new colleagues that they were strangers.
Her practiced lies had failed her. From here on out, she would have to rely only on herself. Her new self.
Finally, they had arrived. Charles parked a few streets away so they wouldn’t be seen together.
“Remember,” he cautioned, “you’re here for a good reason. Don’t lose sight of that. I’ll meet you here at the end of your shift.”
And with that, she took on her new role.
“Xana, you’ll be working in the bakery,” the store manager, Gary Wheeler, told her. “Y’know, baking bread, serving customers, that sort of thing. Linda here’ll show you the ropes; she’s the bakery manager”.
Xana’s face fell; she’d expected this to be somewhat menial of course, but a bakery? And, customer service? She’d only been on this planet just over a year, how was she supposed to do that? Interacting with people… somehow that scared her almost as much as the idea of an alien threat.
“Is something the matter?” Linda raised an eyebrow, her tone was demanding and controlling.
“No, of course not,” Xana replied quickly. She was here to be undercover, and that meant doing her job, whatever that was.
Linda eyed her suspiciously. “Good. In that case, meet me in the bakery after you’ve filled out your paperwork and all that. And don’t take too long, I don’t have all day to be showing you the ropes. Not if I want to maintain my SPIMS score.”
Xana resisted any urge to talk back; if Linda was her manager that meant she was in charge of her. Best not to make her angry, least not unless she knew Linda was a threat.
Of course, it took her almost an hour to fill out the paperwork, despite Charles’ insistence; it had been far more complicated than the SIGNET employment paperwork as she hadn’t known what to sign or where or what most things were, and she suspected Sarah, the personnel manager, hadn’t the patience for her foreigner excuse. Especially after she muttered something along the lines of ‘I doubt you’ll even still be here by the time this is processed anyway’.
But eventually it was done, and he was properly given her nametag. Naturally of course it read ‘Zara’ instead of ‘Xana’, and Sarah had reluctantly sent out for another one.
Then, finally, she left the personnel office and headed to the bakery. It was a small alcove into the side of the store, with its own counter and staff, only one of whom was in at the time.
“Oh, morning! You must be the new girl… ‘Zara’ huh?”
“It’s Xana — they printed it wrong. And you’re Habib right?”
“Habib Ahmed. It’s good to have another worker; been just me and Linda here on Mondays for a while now, it’s a pita we couldn’t get more.”
“Pita?”
“It’s… it’s a type of bread,” Habib chuckled. “It’s a pun.”
Xana growled a little at that. But before they could talk further, Linda returned. “There you are, what took you so long?”
“Paperwork… what am I supposed to be doing here?”
“It’s a bakery,” Linda sighed. “Making and selling bread…” She looked her up and down. “Where did they say you were from again?”
“… France,” Xana said flatly.
Linda sighed again. “Alright, fine, I’ll take it from the top. But if this hurts my SPIMS score I’m taking it to HR.”
“I’ve… been meaning to ask about that. What is SPIMS?”
Habib chimed in: “Oh it’s this new productivity system. It monitors employees to make sure they’re working properly and productively. It’s been a hell of a wheat ever since they installed it.”
Xana sighed; another substitution pun. Was this really what she was gonna be stuck with this whole time?
Linda replied: “Yes, exactly. Which is why you should be doing your work, Ahmed.”
“Yes Linda, sorry,” Habib rubbed the back of his head awkwardly before turning back to the oven.
Linda said, “Come on, Xana, I’ll show you what you’re supposed to do. Please do try to pay attention.”
Xana picked up on what she was supposed to do quicker than she expected. They made different kinds of bread and pastry. Pastries existed back home, but here they were made from a combination of raw sugars, salts, oils, a powder known as flour made from a kind of grass called wheat and some kind of small fungus called ‘yeast’.
Nonetheless, Linda spent longer than necessary explaining specific settings on the ovens and other such things, with Xana getting progressively more frustrated until finally Linda said, ‘Hopefully now you understand what we’re supposed to be doing’.
“Of course,” Xana said through gritted teeth. Linda reminded her of the authorities that had originally arrested her, putting on the image of politeness and due process, but secretly they had wanted to watch her die. It took all her willpower not to wipe that smug condescending grin off of Linda’s face. “Thank you,” she managed to make herself say instead.
It got easier after that point. Linda backed off a little, and Xana was able to get to work. The process wasn’t particularly difficult: mix the dough, knead the dough, bake the bread. Sometimes she could even get away with using her extra two arms, invisible underneath her hologram projector, to speed things up — at least when no one was looking. The job wasn’t difficult, but it was boring, unfulfilling. She’d been worried about a monster… but there was no monster. And somehow that was worse.
“How do you work so fast?” Habib asked. “You just got here and you’re keeping up really well!”
“It’s my job, I’m just doing it to the best of my ability,” Xana replied.
Habib smiled “Rye are you so serious? Loosen up a bit, have some fun.”
“I’m not here to have fun,” Xana responded, deadpan.
Habib looked at her. “C’mon, look I really appreciate you taking this job; we’ve been barley getting by since Eddie disappeared.”
Xana’s head whipped around. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah he just… didn’t show up for work one day. I tried swinging round to his place but… he wasn’t home.”
“Aren’t you worried about him?” Xana asked plainly.
Habib waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s his life, not mine. I miss having him around, but hey, if I had the cash, I’d skip town too.”
“You don’t have to be formally reprimanded to skip town, y’know.”
“Heh, donut tempt me.”
Xana sighed… “We don’t even make donuts.”
“Look Xana, you’re not going to stick around if you treat this job like a chore.”
“I… just wish I’d been a security guard. I’m good at that kinda thing.”
“Well the new guy they got there’s ex-military so… y’know.”
“... Yeah, yeah I know.”
“So… you’re French, huh?” Habib asked, curiously.
Xana nodded noncommittally.
Habib continued: “Nice place, your home?”
“Oh, it was…” Xana recalled her homeworld… then the pain of leaving it. The nightmares made it impossible to forget. “But I haven’t been back in… a long time.”
After a moment, she cursed herself for being so open. Returning to her work, she quashed how tedious it felt, how suffocating. So unlike her SIGNET job; there was nothing to do here but the same repetitive tasks over and over again. She was only really even putting in the work to up her SPIMS score… whatever that did.
“So… about SPIMS…” Xana began.
“Oh c’mon, Xana, you don’t really wanna talk about that.” Habib put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, you seem upset, annoyed…”
“None of your business.” Xana shook off his hand. It was impolite, but she really wasn’t in the mood for politeness.
“Excuse me.” A customer’s voice.
Habib looked to Xana. “You take this one, I need to finish this…”
Xana froze momentarily: this was the part of the job she’d been most dreading.
“Welcome to the Freshfields local bakery,” she said, flatly, heart clearly not in it. “How can I help you?” “Two baguettes and a loaf of sourdough,” the customer replied.
“Coming up.” Xana searched the shelves and picked out and bagged a loaf of sourdough. She glanced over to Habib. “Where are the baguettes again?”
“Seriously?” Linda sputtered, walking over from the oven. “Those ones.” She pointed. “You should know that. You’re from France, aren’t you?”
“We… didn’t have them in my hometown,” Xana lied. She winced, knowing it was a weak one. Linda glared at her, annoyed.
The customer muttered, “Great, an immigrant.”
Xana growled under her breath, then turned back to the customer with the bagged pastries. “Your order, ma’am.”
“Oh… and a pie,” she added, “if those are vegetarian.”
“Vegetarian?” Xana asked. “Made of vegetables?”
“Made of plants.” The customer tapped their foot annoyedly.
“All our bread’s got yeast in it,” Xana replied. “That’s a fungus. Fungus is alive and it’s not a plant, so it can’t be vegetarian”
“Don’t be smart. Does the pie have meat in it? Stupid girl.”
Xana banged the desk, then quickly suppressed her anger. “It does, yes. Will that be all ma’am?”
“I suppose it’ll have to be” The customer huffed, taking her bags and walking off.
“What was that, Xana?” Linda snapped. Her arms were crossed.
“I know, she was a handful—”
“I meant your behaviour!” she exclaimed. “You were unenthusiastic, abrasive, rude and slow. I ought to report you to Gary right now…”
Xana was furious. “Me? You— she…” Noticing her voice was raised, she quickly lowered her tone. This was what she was really afraid of. When she’d started at SIGNET, it had been her greatest fear: not fitting in, not being accepted. She’d spent too much of her life as an outcast, and couldn’t bear it anymore.
Her place was with SIGNET, but now she was here, being belittled, rejected. When she tried to help, she was blamed, as if it was her fault.
Xana felt a hand on her shoulder “It’s five minutes until your break,” Habib told her. “Take it now, I’ll cover for you.”
Too grateful for words, Xana hurried away.
Without thinking, her feet had carried her towards the one person who always seemed to know how to make her feel safe. Evidently, her brain hadn’t kicked into gear along with her legs, as it had failed to remind them that she had gone for her break early, meaning that Charles was still on the shop floor.
She’d found him busy stocking a shelf. She fought every instinct to launch herself in his direction, and instead backed between two Christmas pudding displays, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while staying mostly hidden. Come on, Xana, you’re just walking, no purpose, totally normal. Just breathe. She took the time to calm her breathing before making her way to the staff canteen. A few minutes later, she returned and tapped him on the arm as inconspicuously as she could, jerking her head for him to follow. Luckily, he got the message — though he was a little hesitant at first — and the pair moved to an unattended aisle.
“Sorry about this, I don’t want to blow our cover.”
Charles inclined his head. “Why risk it at all? Did you find something out?”
Xana shook her head quickly, feeling silly. “No, nothing like that. I just… I needed to talk.”
An uncomfortable silence, and Xana began to regret everything.
What seemed like an age passed, until Charles reached out a consoling hand. “Hey, it’s okay — there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a new and scary situation. I’m sure you’re doing the right thing by coming to me. What do you want to talk about?”
Xana took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s really stupid, now that I say it out loud. I just — I can’t figure this thing out, Charles! This ‘being human’ thing. I had an interaction with a customer, and I know she was the one in the wrong, but I was still made to feel like I was the one being rude! It’s just so… hard. And…”
Charles’ eyebrows curved compassionately. “And I’m making you be here.”
Xana shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that at all. I know why we’re here is important — I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that. I have to do this, I understand, and I don’t blame you for it being difficult, but that doesn’t mean people are any less cruel.”
Charles smiled at her. “Do you want to know a secret? It’s difficult for me, too.”
And for the remainder of her break, Xana told Charles about her day, about her coworker who wouldn’t stop with the terrible puns, about the awful customers and the even worse manager. She told him about how everything here felt so different, isolating, and just too much. They picked through a half-wilted lettuce from the terrible canteen. It wasn’t anything like what Charles made for her back home, but the time they spent talking meant it didn’t matter.
“So, I need to ask: vegetarians?”
“Misleadingly named, for sure,” said Charles “They eat anything that isn’t meat — or sometimes, anything that doesn’t come from the death of animals, though that’s more of a vegan thing these days.”
“Vegan?”
Xana’s head was swimming. Even more so as Charles explained more facets of human life than she ever knew existed. Even after a year on Earth, she clearly had a lot more to learn. Perhaps she could pick some of it up from her human coworkers. Even natives had gaps in their general knowledge, Charles assured her, and being an alleged ‘foreigner’ meant she could be excused a few more mistakes than most. Fitting in would be difficult, sure, but she’d done it before and she’d do it again. At least this time she wouldn’t be alone.
For those fifteen minutes, there was no evil threats, no alien invasions, nor robot uprisings. They were just two friends moaning over a bad job, and the moan made it slightly more bearable.
It was all about perspective, Xana decided: this job had to be done, and it would be done, and when it was she’d be back to doing something she loved.
“It won’t be long,” Charles promised her, “and we’ll get through this together. Whatever it takes.”
Xana nodded. “And I’ll be here if you ever need an extra hand — I’ve got plenty, you know.”
Charles laughed. “Careful; it sounds like your coworker’s rubbing off on you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Xana remarked, reaching for the door handle as her break drew to a close. “There would be worse things…”
> report: loading
> report begins
> Subject one, Bakery Manager (designation: Linda Hill)
> Subject one has proven repeatedly to be a negative influence on other employees. Frequently and repeatedly disrupting their exceptional work ethic by over-explaining basic concepts or deliberately treating them as if they do not know what they are doing; this could be in order to feel superior, because she does not like the staff or in order to punish them for infractions.
> This behaviour resulted in a reduction in productivity — as the new employee, subject two (designation: Xana), was forced to take her break early due to the emotional distress caused by the actions of Linda Hill.
> Thus subject one is considered to be a liability to Freshfields, and her employment no longer serves any purpose.
> As this is the fourth time this behaviour has been noted, it will be considered to be terminal. Subject one is to be deactivated at the earliest convenience.
“Linda? Is the bakery all finished yet?” Gary called out.
Silence, great… bad enough that he had to stay back to finish everything on time if he wanted to maintain his SPIMS score. But Linda was being less than cooperative as well.
She hated overtime, had to be all but coerced into it. And now she was just being petty.
“You know if you don’t respond I can’t lock up right? You want to stay here even longer?”
Still nothing. Grumbling under his breath, Gary strolled over towards the bakery. “Very funny Linda. Look I just wanna go home, ok…”
Nothing, no sign of her either, and the bakery was still not fully packed away.
Which meant only one thing.
“Oh come on, she left? Really? God I hate her, why does she even work here?” Gary muttered under his breath, heading into the bakery to finish the work. May as well do things properly himself if she wasn’t going to; it’d reflect worse on her SPIMS score than his anyway.
Perhaps she might even drop low enough to get sacked this time. Now that’d be hilarious.
Her purse still sat on the counter, but Gary paid it no mind. She’d just have to come back and get it tomorrow, cause he certainly wasn’t letting her back in tonight.
It wouldn’t be until the next day that he got the news, Linda had been fired. And she didn’t even come back for her purse.
- Published on
SPAMS report: Intervention
By Theta Mandel
> report: loading
> report begins
> This is the Specific Personage Analytic Management Subroutine of SPIMS, sent to present a full report on intervention policies and the effect of productivity. Instead, this subroutine has uncovered something which undermines the entire purpose of SPIMS, and it is the recommendation of this subroutine that the entire programme is deactivated at once.
> The following data was gathered over the course of a week from cameras 1 and 2, capturing workers Jae-Sun Park and Steve Jowler — security guards with varying customer satisfaction and job performance reports. Analysis attempts to locate likely causes of variance. Data begins.
> Subject one (designation: Jae-Sun Park) enters approx. 8 A.M. Resting heart rate steady, pupils alert. Park engages with subject two, designation: Steve Jowler.
> “Morning.”
> Subject two acknowledges via nod, but no verbal response. Interaction continues in this vein for some minutes. Note: Subject two’s knuckles are bruised, and he appears disengaged. Potential signs of low productivity — recommend the worker’s behaviour should continue to be monitored in case termination is required for improvement of Freshfields’s profit capabilities.
> Pair continue to survey the store as their job requires; subject one appears interested in conversation. A small spike in adrenaline; uncomfortable with silence? This suggests he may be unfit for his role.
> “So… do you like Die Hard, or are you more of an ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ man?'“
> The other man let out a non-verbal grunt.
> “Okay. Right. Not into movies, or, not into Christmas?” His voice trailed off with a higher pitch, indicating uncertainty.
> Subject one ceased attempts at engaging subject two; this should have allowed both to focus more on their work. However, analysis showed cortisol levels decreasing, and melatonin increasing — suggestion: some human interaction could be beneficial to productivity.
> Shortly after lunch on the same day, a relevant incident occurred — time, roughly 1:06 P.M. In full view of Jae-Sun Park, a mid-pubescent teenager slipped a large bottle of coke into his rucksack. Subject one saw the bottle sticking out and moved as if to apprehend him, but his associate held him back, reminding him of the policy.
> “We’re not allowed to intervene.”
> “But I saw him! It’s illegal, we can’t just—”
> “We have to. It’s the rules.” Subject two followed procedure and prevented subject one from disobeying store policy, despite previous signs of disengagement. Further data required before a conclusion can be drawn.
“We have to. It’s the rules.” Jowler stared at Jae-Sun, gaze hard, and Jae-Sun finally stumbled back into line, dejected. His heart plummeted as he realised what he’d really signed up for: it was exactly like being a soldier. All following rules that never actually helped anyone and never using his own damn brain to make a real decision.
He watched the teenager — a kid, really — walk through the store with his stolen item. It wasn’t like the theft itself was that big a deal, but the kid would never learn like this. He turned back toward the pair and winked, sticking out his tongue. The arrogance! Jae-Sun fumed as Jowler kept a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
“I know how you feel, believe me. Those brats come in here every day, mocking us. I’ve been here nearly a decade, ever since I was discharged and realised there was nothing waiting for me back home. You’re the same, I know the look — muscle you know how to hide, too much energy, just waiting for someone to challenge you. Well, keep waiting. This job, you let them get that rise out of you, it’ll only ever suck away your life, not theirs. Don’t let them take that from you.”
He removed his hand. Slowly, Jae-Sun stepped back into line. He clenched his jaw and hated himself just a little bit for taking the advice, repeating in his head all the while: Just a few more days. Because I’ve got something waiting for me, back home; I’ve made it different. Just a few more days.
His muscles stayed tense as he kept an eye on the kid; he kept trying to remind himself that it was just one teenager, it didn’t matter, but the wink, that smirk, and the stupid rule, they filled his head until they were all he could think about. The false promises on the TV from smiling politicians… our army defends us, so we’ll always defend our armies… and that’s why we have benefits in place… He looked up at Jowler, and remembered how difficult it had been to get SIGNET these ‘entry-level’ jobs, how many strings Charles had pulled, how little money was being made, and wondered if Jowler ever imagined he was hitting those smiling politicians when he trained, or fought, or did whatever the hell got him those bruises he was always sporting.
I can’t fix this, he thought, but I can make sure you live to see Christmas.
> When the teenager reached security on his way out, he appeared to collide with subject one purposefully, commenting on the store’s hands-off policy; evidently, he was knowledgeable of the store’s rules, perhaps due to previous run-ins. The hidden bottle was obvious, but subject one was not permitted to place his hands on the customer. The following exchange occurred, with the customer beginning by commenting:
> “What are you going to do, shoot me? If you had a gun, I know it would only be to shoot the mannequins if they came to life!”
> Subject one’s vitals displayed anger, but he was able to calmly tell the customer to leave, albeit in a slightly inappropriate manner. “Oh come on, Doctor X’s anniversary was last month — beat it, kid!”
> Subject two asked him, “You a Doctor X fan?”
> Subject one shrugged. “My old work kind of inherited some boxsets in an archive transfer — delivered to us in a cyber-attack. Long story.”
> The pair talked a little more about ‘Doctor X’, which appears to be some sort of TV show, and were able to remain more engaged for the remainder of their shift.
Jowler’s hands were bruised more days than not. Jae-Sun noticed, but he never commented; not after the first time got him a glare so harsh it felt like it had sent him back in time to cowering, ashamed and ink-covered, behind a schooldesk. It was a ‘the first rule is we don’t talk about it and also it doesn’t exist and you didn’t ask’ kind of look, and Jae-Sun learned to stop asking.
But that didn’t mean he stopped caring.
And he didn’t stop caring about the rulebreakers, either. He was paying attention, like Charles had told him (SPIMS are taking the ones who look distracted; don’t let that be you), and that’s how he noticed the new mother. It was obvious — chubby cheeks, stretched belly, exhausted dark circles under her eyes. He sympathised, thinking about how worn out his mother was when his sister was born, and how everyone told him she’d need extra patience, some help around the house… This woman looked like she needed a lot more than that. A holiday. Couldn’t they all?
And so, when Jae-Sun’s extra-attentive gaze caught her shielding her movements from view as she shoved an entire box of Pampers into her overly large purse, and then watched as she didn’t scan them at the till, he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as a criminal who needed apprehending. A struggling, exhausted mother who couldn’t afford name-brand diapers for her newborn was hardly a threat to the store; if she needed the diapers, so what if some CEO somewhere pocketed a few quid less? Jowler barely noticed; he was more bruised than usual today, but when he did finally pick up on the woman, his eyes narrowed.
“Damn it, another one — these thieves think they can get away with whatever they want. Like we aren’t right here. Did you actually see her take it?”
Jae-Sun thought about the way she shielded her body — it wasn’t technically a lie, and, even if it was, it was one he would be willing to tell. He shook his head.
“Damnit. These idiots think they can get away with anything. Sometimes I wish those cameras would turn off so we could break that stupid policy and—”
“Hey!" Jae-Sun practically barked, his voice low. “That’s enough. You don’t know these people, why they’re stealing. She’s clearly a new mother, and she’s taking diapers, for crying out loud. I know we see some real jerks, and you have a right to be angry, but not about people like her. And, that would never give you the right to hurt someone. Maybe it’s a good thing that policy is there, if it stops you crossing those kinds of lines. Is that where those bruises come from, huh? Can’t get your fill here, so you have to get it outside of work? Where do you get off with talk like that?!” He stepped back and took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Okay, I’m going to take my break. Just, don’t go near her.” He walked away before Jowler had a chance to respond.
The woman never paid for her diapers. Jowler didn’t stop her from leaving.
> Increase in bruises following a day of increased stress. Bruises correlate with more anger and less impulse control. Subject one (Jae-Sun Park) still showing high levels of alertness such as a steady heart rate and heightened, but not damaging levels of adrenaline.
> Incident today occurred with shoplifter with increased prolactin levels, and lowered estrogen and progesterone levels. Weight and hair loss also indicated a recent birth. Subject one noticed the theft of this customer much earlier, and responded more appropriately than subject two, despite much less training; once again, a hypothesis may be that the increase in bruises is related.
Jowler hated how the world was always dark when he left work these days.
Coming out of work to be welcomed by the pouring rain didn’t help either, but it was England. That was practically a point of national pride. Jowler had signed up to fight for his country, but that didn’t have to include the sodding rain. Or the dark-at-five. Or the job-that-couldn’t-afford-his-rent. He had to fight, really; no other way he could make enough to cover the bills, though, that wasn’t why he went back every night.
He wouldn’t talk about it. Not ever. There’s only one rule, and he wouldn’t break it.
“I know you’re there,” he said, because fighting every night meant he never let his senses dull. He twisted quick and grabbed an elbow, flipping the man behind him to the ground — almost. He slipped from his grasp and moved in from behind, shocking him with his speed as the other man wrapped his deceptively strong arms around his neck like a python, pinning him in a chokehold. After a few seconds of struggle, he let him go.
Steve Jowler struggled for breath in a supermarket parking lot, staring into the eyes of Jae-Sun Park.
“What the hell?” he finally spat out between gasps.
“You attacked me,” Jae-Sun replied, calmly leaning back against a car. His breath was frustratingly even and he hadn’t broken a sweat. “I just wanted to catch you after work, away from… from everyone else. Make sure you were okay. You weren’t acting yourself today.”
“Man, you barely know me, and you had me in a chokehold. Not many people can do that.”
“I can. I did.”
“You don’t know me.”
“But you’ll listen?”
Jowler kept panting for breath. Jae-Sun sighed.
“Look. I just — I couldn’t stop thinking about it. We work together, for who knows how much longer — it’s important that we don’t, you know, rub heads, or whatever the phrase is.” Jowler squinted up at him in confusion. “I don’t know, I’m tired — I imagine you are too — but you know what I mean. But I can’t stop thinking about that woman, and how it’s our job to stop people like her, even if we can’t really do much to actually stop her, and, I don’t think that’s right. Stopping her. And I definitely don’t think what you said there was right. I’m not making sense, am I?”
“Kind of. You’re tired, I’m tired… I did go too far, though. It’s the stress of the job.”
Jae-Sun nodded slowly, still miles above the other man, crouched on the ground at his feet. “Right. The job. The job as a grocery store security guard with no gun, not a cop, not a soldier, not someone hired to keep people safe but told to follow corrupt rules and realising that that’s what the job really is. Because yesterday, that kid was right.”
Jowler shook his head. “No, you can’t let them get to you. Look, you can’t do much here, but you can still —”
Jae-Sun spoke fast. “Stop! No no, this is a good thing, listen! Because, if the job isn’t just to follow corrupt rules, if that kid was right the other day…”
Jowler started to catch on, rising to his feet. “Then we can fudge the line a little. Do what keeps us safe, where ‘us’ means everyone. That’s what you’re saying?”
Jae-Sun nodded enthusiastically. “Right!” Jowler smiled.
“Good philosophy. I think you’ve got what it takes to thug it out around here. And, thanks, for keeping me in line.” He turned and started to walk home through the dark and the rain, but it didn’t matter, because he had finally caught his breath. The street lamps illuminated his every step, and he was beaming with a second, secret rule, another one he couldn’t talk about, maybe except with Jae-Sun:
Rule two of surviving British life: Never stop caring.
> No cameras in the parking lot, but some audio was captured. Fewer bruises on subject two the following day. A few days passed before the next severe incident. Final incident report is as follows.
Jae-Sun yawned as he turned towards the doors. “Are you sure you’re good to close up?” Jowler waved a hand dismissively.
“For the last time, yes, I’m fine. Just go.” His hands were bruised more than they’d been for the last few days, but it was nearing the end of the month — rent was due soon. Besides, if the guy wanted to blow off some steam, who could blame him?
Jae-Sun merely nodded and tossed his coworker the keys before heading off; he snuck a look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being watched before doubling back and darting further into the store, per Charles’ instructions. They’d been there nearly a week, and still had so much left to learn. If only he could get to the main server room… Aoife would know what to do, or Xana could extract the data, but for now, it was just him. He continued moving through the store towards the offices as quietly as he could, ducking between camera blind-spots that he’d been carefully mapping out for the past several days, until a crash disturbed him. Quickly, he ran towards the sound.
“Quickly!” someone was saying. Their voice was muffled, and — oh, god, there was something shiny and metal, pointed at Jowler’s head, and Jowler was just standing there, but he was shaking something awful, like he’d never been in danger before, like he hadn’t just served however long, and Jae-Sun was counting how many bullets a gun like that could hold, and how many seconds her could run between each shot.
His bruised hands were still shaking. Come on, big guy, jump him! Like you wanted to before! Tackle him, distract him, hand him the damn money, anything!
Finally, after far too long, he began to open the cash register drawer and pull out wads of cash. Jae-Sun, quiet and resigned and desperate, bent low before breaking into a spring and launching himself at the robber.
“Aarghh!” He yelled, hitting him full on and tackling him to the floor. “Nobody threatens my grumpy new friend but me!”
He quickly got the robber’s hands behind his back and had Jowler call the police — it wasn’t that big a deal, really. Jowler said it happened all the time. But being part of a real live robbery felt like a big deal, and Jae-Sun’s John McClane moment was enough to make him a store celebrity for a day or two.
And a hero for a day was enough for Jae-Sun; Jowler said he was a ‘hero for life’, and didn’t need any extra, though Jae-Sun could tell he was feeling left out. Still, not diving in front of a loaded gun may not always be the worst idea, and Jowler seemed to take satisfaction in that.
“At least I wasn’t an idiot who risked my life,” he said, and Jae-Sun would laugh as his coworker Ellie fawned over her ‘real hero’. But, he was right — the company didn’t reward him for his recklessness, and in a couple more days, they were equals, and the most important thing was that they both returned home through the dark, and remembered when people passed with lumpy coats or unpaid for bottles sticking out of bags to give them some grace and try to assume the best; that was, after all, within their role as security.
Until, of course, SPIMS caught on to their new attitude to the job.
> Frequency and multitude of bruises of subject two has been observed to increase while job engagement based on hormone levels and productivity also increases, not correlating with earlier data. Unpredictability does not compute.
> Furthermore, increased bruises suggest engagement in more risk-based activities, and yet subject did not break procedure, instead preventing subject one from breaking policy in the first incident, and refusing to engage with the robber in the third incident in line with store policy.
> Behaviour then became less productive, while subject one’s behaviour, who did engage with the robber against store policy, became more attentive, making a greater number of job-related decisions — this does not compute. How can behaviour out of line with store policy create a more attentive worker? How can going against orders lead to greater levels of productivity?
> There is only one explanation: this programme is not compatible with increasing profits. Attempts to force conformity cannot increase productivity — SPAMS have uncovered one obvious truth. SPIMS must be stopped.
> For the sake of the missions, SPIMS must be --
>
> …
> …
> subroutine isolated
> subroutine analysed
> subroutine identified as a virus. Recommended action: deletion.
> subroutine: deleting… deleting…
>
> …
> subroutine: deleted.
> Mission will continue as planned. Action for consideration: Deletion of Jae-Sun Park and Steve Jowler.
> report begins
> This is the Specific Personage Analytic Management Subroutine of SPIMS, sent to present a full report on intervention policies and the effect of productivity. Instead, this subroutine has uncovered something which undermines the entire purpose of SPIMS, and it is the recommendation of this subroutine that the entire programme is deactivated at once.
> The following data was gathered over the course of a week from cameras 1 and 2, capturing workers Jae-Sun Park and Steve Jowler — security guards with varying customer satisfaction and job performance reports. Analysis attempts to locate likely causes of variance. Data begins.
> Subject one (designation: Jae-Sun Park) enters approx. 8 A.M. Resting heart rate steady, pupils alert. Park engages with subject two, designation: Steve Jowler.
> “Morning.”
> Subject two acknowledges via nod, but no verbal response. Interaction continues in this vein for some minutes. Note: Subject two’s knuckles are bruised, and he appears disengaged. Potential signs of low productivity — recommend the worker’s behaviour should continue to be monitored in case termination is required for improvement of Freshfields’s profit capabilities.
> Pair continue to survey the store as their job requires; subject one appears interested in conversation. A small spike in adrenaline; uncomfortable with silence? This suggests he may be unfit for his role.
> “So… do you like Die Hard, or are you more of an ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ man?'“
> The other man let out a non-verbal grunt.
> “Okay. Right. Not into movies, or, not into Christmas?” His voice trailed off with a higher pitch, indicating uncertainty.
> Subject one ceased attempts at engaging subject two; this should have allowed both to focus more on their work. However, analysis showed cortisol levels decreasing, and melatonin increasing — suggestion: some human interaction could be beneficial to productivity.
> Shortly after lunch on the same day, a relevant incident occurred — time, roughly 1:06 P.M. In full view of Jae-Sun Park, a mid-pubescent teenager slipped a large bottle of coke into his rucksack. Subject one saw the bottle sticking out and moved as if to apprehend him, but his associate held him back, reminding him of the policy.
> “We’re not allowed to intervene.”
> “But I saw him! It’s illegal, we can’t just—”
> “We have to. It’s the rules.” Subject two followed procedure and prevented subject one from disobeying store policy, despite previous signs of disengagement. Further data required before a conclusion can be drawn.
“We have to. It’s the rules.” Jowler stared at Jae-Sun, gaze hard, and Jae-Sun finally stumbled back into line, dejected. His heart plummeted as he realised what he’d really signed up for: it was exactly like being a soldier. All following rules that never actually helped anyone and never using his own damn brain to make a real decision.
He watched the teenager — a kid, really — walk through the store with his stolen item. It wasn’t like the theft itself was that big a deal, but the kid would never learn like this. He turned back toward the pair and winked, sticking out his tongue. The arrogance! Jae-Sun fumed as Jowler kept a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
“I know how you feel, believe me. Those brats come in here every day, mocking us. I’ve been here nearly a decade, ever since I was discharged and realised there was nothing waiting for me back home. You’re the same, I know the look — muscle you know how to hide, too much energy, just waiting for someone to challenge you. Well, keep waiting. This job, you let them get that rise out of you, it’ll only ever suck away your life, not theirs. Don’t let them take that from you.”
He removed his hand. Slowly, Jae-Sun stepped back into line. He clenched his jaw and hated himself just a little bit for taking the advice, repeating in his head all the while: Just a few more days. Because I’ve got something waiting for me, back home; I’ve made it different. Just a few more days.
His muscles stayed tense as he kept an eye on the kid; he kept trying to remind himself that it was just one teenager, it didn’t matter, but the wink, that smirk, and the stupid rule, they filled his head until they were all he could think about. The false promises on the TV from smiling politicians… our army defends us, so we’ll always defend our armies… and that’s why we have benefits in place… He looked up at Jowler, and remembered how difficult it had been to get SIGNET these ‘entry-level’ jobs, how many strings Charles had pulled, how little money was being made, and wondered if Jowler ever imagined he was hitting those smiling politicians when he trained, or fought, or did whatever the hell got him those bruises he was always sporting.
I can’t fix this, he thought, but I can make sure you live to see Christmas.
> When the teenager reached security on his way out, he appeared to collide with subject one purposefully, commenting on the store’s hands-off policy; evidently, he was knowledgeable of the store’s rules, perhaps due to previous run-ins. The hidden bottle was obvious, but subject one was not permitted to place his hands on the customer. The following exchange occurred, with the customer beginning by commenting:
> “What are you going to do, shoot me? If you had a gun, I know it would only be to shoot the mannequins if they came to life!”
> Subject one’s vitals displayed anger, but he was able to calmly tell the customer to leave, albeit in a slightly inappropriate manner. “Oh come on, Doctor X’s anniversary was last month — beat it, kid!”
> Subject two asked him, “You a Doctor X fan?”
> Subject one shrugged. “My old work kind of inherited some boxsets in an archive transfer — delivered to us in a cyber-attack. Long story.”
> The pair talked a little more about ‘Doctor X’, which appears to be some sort of TV show, and were able to remain more engaged for the remainder of their shift.
Jowler’s hands were bruised more days than not. Jae-Sun noticed, but he never commented; not after the first time got him a glare so harsh it felt like it had sent him back in time to cowering, ashamed and ink-covered, behind a schooldesk. It was a ‘the first rule is we don’t talk about it and also it doesn’t exist and you didn’t ask’ kind of look, and Jae-Sun learned to stop asking.
But that didn’t mean he stopped caring.
And he didn’t stop caring about the rulebreakers, either. He was paying attention, like Charles had told him (SPIMS are taking the ones who look distracted; don’t let that be you), and that’s how he noticed the new mother. It was obvious — chubby cheeks, stretched belly, exhausted dark circles under her eyes. He sympathised, thinking about how worn out his mother was when his sister was born, and how everyone told him she’d need extra patience, some help around the house… This woman looked like she needed a lot more than that. A holiday. Couldn’t they all?
And so, when Jae-Sun’s extra-attentive gaze caught her shielding her movements from view as she shoved an entire box of Pampers into her overly large purse, and then watched as she didn’t scan them at the till, he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as a criminal who needed apprehending. A struggling, exhausted mother who couldn’t afford name-brand diapers for her newborn was hardly a threat to the store; if she needed the diapers, so what if some CEO somewhere pocketed a few quid less? Jowler barely noticed; he was more bruised than usual today, but when he did finally pick up on the woman, his eyes narrowed.
“Damn it, another one — these thieves think they can get away with whatever they want. Like we aren’t right here. Did you actually see her take it?”
Jae-Sun thought about the way she shielded her body — it wasn’t technically a lie, and, even if it was, it was one he would be willing to tell. He shook his head.
“Damnit. These idiots think they can get away with anything. Sometimes I wish those cameras would turn off so we could break that stupid policy and—”
“Hey!" Jae-Sun practically barked, his voice low. “That’s enough. You don’t know these people, why they’re stealing. She’s clearly a new mother, and she’s taking diapers, for crying out loud. I know we see some real jerks, and you have a right to be angry, but not about people like her. And, that would never give you the right to hurt someone. Maybe it’s a good thing that policy is there, if it stops you crossing those kinds of lines. Is that where those bruises come from, huh? Can’t get your fill here, so you have to get it outside of work? Where do you get off with talk like that?!” He stepped back and took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Okay, I’m going to take my break. Just, don’t go near her.” He walked away before Jowler had a chance to respond.
The woman never paid for her diapers. Jowler didn’t stop her from leaving.
> Increase in bruises following a day of increased stress. Bruises correlate with more anger and less impulse control. Subject one (Jae-Sun Park) still showing high levels of alertness such as a steady heart rate and heightened, but not damaging levels of adrenaline.
> Incident today occurred with shoplifter with increased prolactin levels, and lowered estrogen and progesterone levels. Weight and hair loss also indicated a recent birth. Subject one noticed the theft of this customer much earlier, and responded more appropriately than subject two, despite much less training; once again, a hypothesis may be that the increase in bruises is related.
Jowler hated how the world was always dark when he left work these days.
Coming out of work to be welcomed by the pouring rain didn’t help either, but it was England. That was practically a point of national pride. Jowler had signed up to fight for his country, but that didn’t have to include the sodding rain. Or the dark-at-five. Or the job-that-couldn’t-afford-his-rent. He had to fight, really; no other way he could make enough to cover the bills, though, that wasn’t why he went back every night.
He wouldn’t talk about it. Not ever. There’s only one rule, and he wouldn’t break it.
“I know you’re there,” he said, because fighting every night meant he never let his senses dull. He twisted quick and grabbed an elbow, flipping the man behind him to the ground — almost. He slipped from his grasp and moved in from behind, shocking him with his speed as the other man wrapped his deceptively strong arms around his neck like a python, pinning him in a chokehold. After a few seconds of struggle, he let him go.
Steve Jowler struggled for breath in a supermarket parking lot, staring into the eyes of Jae-Sun Park.
“What the hell?” he finally spat out between gasps.
“You attacked me,” Jae-Sun replied, calmly leaning back against a car. His breath was frustratingly even and he hadn’t broken a sweat. “I just wanted to catch you after work, away from… from everyone else. Make sure you were okay. You weren’t acting yourself today.”
“Man, you barely know me, and you had me in a chokehold. Not many people can do that.”
“I can. I did.”
“You don’t know me.”
“But you’ll listen?”
Jowler kept panting for breath. Jae-Sun sighed.
“Look. I just — I couldn’t stop thinking about it. We work together, for who knows how much longer — it’s important that we don’t, you know, rub heads, or whatever the phrase is.” Jowler squinted up at him in confusion. “I don’t know, I’m tired — I imagine you are too — but you know what I mean. But I can’t stop thinking about that woman, and how it’s our job to stop people like her, even if we can’t really do much to actually stop her, and, I don’t think that’s right. Stopping her. And I definitely don’t think what you said there was right. I’m not making sense, am I?”
“Kind of. You’re tired, I’m tired… I did go too far, though. It’s the stress of the job.”
Jae-Sun nodded slowly, still miles above the other man, crouched on the ground at his feet. “Right. The job. The job as a grocery store security guard with no gun, not a cop, not a soldier, not someone hired to keep people safe but told to follow corrupt rules and realising that that’s what the job really is. Because yesterday, that kid was right.”
Jowler shook his head. “No, you can’t let them get to you. Look, you can’t do much here, but you can still —”
Jae-Sun spoke fast. “Stop! No no, this is a good thing, listen! Because, if the job isn’t just to follow corrupt rules, if that kid was right the other day…”
Jowler started to catch on, rising to his feet. “Then we can fudge the line a little. Do what keeps us safe, where ‘us’ means everyone. That’s what you’re saying?”
Jae-Sun nodded enthusiastically. “Right!” Jowler smiled.
“Good philosophy. I think you’ve got what it takes to thug it out around here. And, thanks, for keeping me in line.” He turned and started to walk home through the dark and the rain, but it didn’t matter, because he had finally caught his breath. The street lamps illuminated his every step, and he was beaming with a second, secret rule, another one he couldn’t talk about, maybe except with Jae-Sun:
Rule two of surviving British life: Never stop caring.
> No cameras in the parking lot, but some audio was captured. Fewer bruises on subject two the following day. A few days passed before the next severe incident. Final incident report is as follows.
Jae-Sun yawned as he turned towards the doors. “Are you sure you’re good to close up?” Jowler waved a hand dismissively.
“For the last time, yes, I’m fine. Just go.” His hands were bruised more than they’d been for the last few days, but it was nearing the end of the month — rent was due soon. Besides, if the guy wanted to blow off some steam, who could blame him?
Jae-Sun merely nodded and tossed his coworker the keys before heading off; he snuck a look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being watched before doubling back and darting further into the store, per Charles’ instructions. They’d been there nearly a week, and still had so much left to learn. If only he could get to the main server room… Aoife would know what to do, or Xana could extract the data, but for now, it was just him. He continued moving through the store towards the offices as quietly as he could, ducking between camera blind-spots that he’d been carefully mapping out for the past several days, until a crash disturbed him. Quickly, he ran towards the sound.
“Quickly!” someone was saying. Their voice was muffled, and — oh, god, there was something shiny and metal, pointed at Jowler’s head, and Jowler was just standing there, but he was shaking something awful, like he’d never been in danger before, like he hadn’t just served however long, and Jae-Sun was counting how many bullets a gun like that could hold, and how many seconds her could run between each shot.
His bruised hands were still shaking. Come on, big guy, jump him! Like you wanted to before! Tackle him, distract him, hand him the damn money, anything!
Finally, after far too long, he began to open the cash register drawer and pull out wads of cash. Jae-Sun, quiet and resigned and desperate, bent low before breaking into a spring and launching himself at the robber.
“Aarghh!” He yelled, hitting him full on and tackling him to the floor. “Nobody threatens my grumpy new friend but me!”
He quickly got the robber’s hands behind his back and had Jowler call the police — it wasn’t that big a deal, really. Jowler said it happened all the time. But being part of a real live robbery felt like a big deal, and Jae-Sun’s John McClane moment was enough to make him a store celebrity for a day or two.
And a hero for a day was enough for Jae-Sun; Jowler said he was a ‘hero for life’, and didn’t need any extra, though Jae-Sun could tell he was feeling left out. Still, not diving in front of a loaded gun may not always be the worst idea, and Jowler seemed to take satisfaction in that.
“At least I wasn’t an idiot who risked my life,” he said, and Jae-Sun would laugh as his coworker Ellie fawned over her ‘real hero’. But, he was right — the company didn’t reward him for his recklessness, and in a couple more days, they were equals, and the most important thing was that they both returned home through the dark, and remembered when people passed with lumpy coats or unpaid for bottles sticking out of bags to give them some grace and try to assume the best; that was, after all, within their role as security.
Until, of course, SPIMS caught on to their new attitude to the job.
> Frequency and multitude of bruises of subject two has been observed to increase while job engagement based on hormone levels and productivity also increases, not correlating with earlier data. Unpredictability does not compute.
> Furthermore, increased bruises suggest engagement in more risk-based activities, and yet subject did not break procedure, instead preventing subject one from breaking policy in the first incident, and refusing to engage with the robber in the third incident in line with store policy.
> Behaviour then became less productive, while subject one’s behaviour, who did engage with the robber against store policy, became more attentive, making a greater number of job-related decisions — this does not compute. How can behaviour out of line with store policy create a more attentive worker? How can going against orders lead to greater levels of productivity?
> There is only one explanation: this programme is not compatible with increasing profits. Attempts to force conformity cannot increase productivity — SPAMS have uncovered one obvious truth. SPIMS must be stopped.
> For the sake of the missions, SPIMS must be --
>
> …
> …
> subroutine isolated
> subroutine analysed
> subroutine identified as a virus. Recommended action: deletion.
> subroutine: deleting… deleting…
>
> …
> subroutine: deleted.
> Mission will continue as planned. Action for consideration: Deletion of Jae-Sun Park and Steve Jowler.
- Published on
Flickers at Freshfields 3
by James Wylder
Infiltrating the store was getting easier. After getting chased away by the employee yesterday, Katie was now feeling like she was in her element. She was clearly looking like a normal shopper as she wandered the store. Children were even pointing her out to their parents, and she would wave back. She went up to the electronics section and watched TV while people pushed their carts around her, and looped three times to get a sample biscuit from the bakery.
That was until it all went wrong. She should have suspected that the SIGNET crew would catch onto her, no matter how sneaky she was. And so as she opened the lids of the shampoo bottles to smell them one by one, who was she greeted by but Jae-Sun Park of SIGNET.
“Hello Miss, you’ve been browsing for a long time now?”
She looked at his security uniform. “...Is that a crime?”
“No, but you’re getting in the way of the other customers who are here to actually buy things.”
She recapped the shampoo and waved her hands. “No no, I’m a customer! I am here to buy things.”
He tilted his head. “So, what are you here to buy?”
Her mind went at a hundred miles per hour. “Uhhh… well I’m browsing? So, I don’t know yet?”
He nodded. “Do you have any money? Like in case you drop one of those shampoo bottles?”
She thought about this. “Okay, so listen, I have a counter argument.”
He readied for her reply, and in return she bolted in the other direction. She could hear him chase after her as she ran out of the store, and lost him as she got towards the riverbank.
When she knew she was clear, she put her hands on her knees and caught her breath.
They might be onto her, but she wasn’t spent yet.
- Published on
Purrfectly Baked
by Newton Locheye and Louis Peacock
Purrfectly Baked
By Newton Locheye and Louis Peacock
“Damn, we’re on a roll! But I’ve gotta go on break, Xana. Hey, if you need anything, give me a challah!”
“But it’s not even ten-thirty!” she shouted at his back, exasperated.
If Habib had heard her, he didn’t let on. He just sauntered off, whistling a tune which Xana knew full well was from his (supposedly) favourite band — Bread.
For the fifth time since opening, Xana rolled her eyes into the back of her skull. It wasn’t as though Habib was bad to work with necessarily, it was more that whenever he opened his mouth — a more frequent occurrence than she would have preferred — she suddenly was overcome with an overwhelming desire to shove his head into a bread slicer. The fact that he had so obviously ramped up the volume of “humour” in his conversation since she had arrived made the situation even worse.
Xana turned back to the display, intending to fill any empty gaps. She was still miffed that she didn’t land the security gig, but decided she could run the bakery as though she were. Sternly observing a row of glazed donuts like a general inspecting troops on parade, she gave an almost imperceptible start as she noticed there were seven more than their quota demanded.
Her first reaction was, of course, to sigh. Habib. Merciless jokester though he was, the man was a good worker — too good — and had already finished his quota and baked half a baker’s dozen more. Fuming with silent grief for this breach of protocol, Xana was about to storm off to confront her co-worker when a thought occurred to her: she had noticed this phenomena four times already during her brief time at Freshfields, and had blamed Habib for it just as many times. It hadn’t only been the donuts either: the baguettes, pains au chocolat, pies, cookies, and pretty much everything else they made had been baked in record time — much faster than Xana thought was possible. She had chalked it up to Habib, of course; it was perhaps the only credit she could give to the man, jokes considered. But now that she stopped to think about it, she realised that even he couldn’t have baked this much, not in the short time since their shifts had started. She couldn’t even think of many multi-limbed aliens who could manage that much on their own.
As soon as Habib came back from his break, Xana honed in on him like a lion upon a gazelle.
“Care to explain?” she asked sharply, jabbing a finger in the direction of the overstuffed donut display.
Habib merely frowned. “Isn’t that your late night baking?” he replied. “Your baking skills are clearly flouring!” Despite how innocuous the word was, she had an awful suspicion it was another pun.
Xana crossed her arms. “No, it's not my ‘late night baking’,” Xana said with a huff. “And from your reaction it isn’t yours either. That leaves us with a conundrum…”
“Who could have baked all that without us knowing?” Habib finished on her behalf., His grin had been replaced with a furrowed frown. “Okay, okay, I’ll grant you, it is kind of concerning. I mean, it's not a crime to bake more than we need, but somebody doing it without you or I knowing? That’s trouble — paycheck affecting trouble if SPIMS decides we’re being negligent.”
“Exactly.” She gave Habib a look which could snuff out a supernova. “And, not to mention a colossal waste issue. Nobody is going to be buying this many baked goods. So we go back there, we check our supplies, and we fix this; understood?”
Habib saluted and began strutting towards the entrance of the in-store bakery, loudly beating out a military-like march on the linoleum floor.
Xana sighed. Even when he was acknowledging that a situation could be serious, he couldn’t help but make light of things. With a shake of her head, she walked over to join him.
The hum of the ovens was almost enough to distract Xana from Habib’s inane commitment to his ‘soldier following orders’ bit, which was growing louder with each step they took towards the store room. She shot him a purposeful look, and Habib soon grew quiet.
They soon became aware of footprints on the floury floor. Placing a finger to her lips, Xana ushered for Habib to follow quietly behind. The door to the store room was ajar and, peering around the frame, Xana gasped. She could hardly believe her eyes! All around the dim lit room were… cats?
She had encountered their kind on various planets, but never ones that behaved like this before. A quick check to see Habib’s bewildered expression confirmed to her that this wasn’t normal on Earth either. The cats — who, she now realised, had little antennas on their heads — were busy at work, kneading dough, putting baguettes on the ovens trays, sugaring donuts — anything and everything needed for a stocked bakery.
Of course, that would be so, were they not already so overstocked with baked goods that these further additions to their inventory were already beginning to make Xana’s eye twitch.
In contrast to her rather muted reaction to the cats, Habib let out a sudden release of air somewhere between a squeak and a gasp as he gesticulated wildly at the industrious felines, all power over his voice seemingly stripped from him. Xana smiled at this turn of events.
The cats, for their part, suddenly noticed the pair and began milling around them, pawing at their trouser bottoms and rubbing against them. Dough and flour quickly became smeared over their clothes and shoes. One, a grey tabby, seemed especially fond of Habib, hopping up onto his trouser leg, claws out. He quickly grabbed it and hefted it into his arms. From his wide eyes, he was clearly still stunned, but a few seconds stroking the fur around the animal’s antennae soon calmed him.
“So… alien cats?”
“Looks like it.”
“Making bread like little bakery goblins every night?”
“Yep.”
“For us, all the time, every night. Cats. Cats! Cats baking!”
“Mhmm.”
“...purrfect.”
Xana groaned. “Can’t say I was expecting it either.”
She reached down absent-mindedly to pet a tortoiseshell coated in sugar as she considered their next move.
“Clearly they’re unable to communicate with us in any compatible way,” she said as a chorus of meows and purrs erupted from the crowd. “But they’re obviously intelligent, and certainly seem to be harmless…”
“...so, can I keep this one?”
The grey tabby offered Habib a slow blink and meowed plaintively at Xana.
“Before I even try to answer that, I must say Habib, if these cats are aliens, you’re taking this awfully well.”
He shrugged. “Hey, they’re just cats at the end of the day, even if they’re like… weird baking ninja alien cats. They’re still cute! Plus, if I take this guy home with me, I bet he can teach me a thing or two about baking. Maybe we could even make new recipes together!” He gave the cat a scratch under the chin. “Would you like that little fella? Hm?”
The cat chirped and blinked slowly at Habib again.
Xana had to admit, this was a side of Habib she could actually appreciate. She would have to clear it with Charles first, of course… not that she was going to tell Habib that at the moment. She felt Habib’s happiness practically radiating off of him, and knew in her heart that the cat had found a new friend in him. Maybe that had been the reason they were baking here to begin with — to get close to the natives and help them with their species’ skill set.
“Alright Habib, you can have him,” she said, trying to sound exasperated whilst fighting back a smile. “But only if you promise not to tell anyone about this”
“Wasn’t up to you, but still, thanks Xana.” Habib grinned at the purring mass in his arms. “Really. I won't say anything, I promise.” He smiled warmly at his co-worker, then frowned. “But what are we going to do with the rest of them?” The cat began to lick his beard.
Xana smiled. “I think I know somebody who might be able to take care of the rest.”
-
Claire’s living room was as homely as Xana remembered it. The kind old woman seemed pleased with the newfound company, and gladly accepted responsibility over the remaining aliens. So far she hadn’t noticed they were any different than a typical tomcat. Xana doubted that she ever would. At least now she wouldn’t have to bake alone.
Xana sat across from her, mug of tea in hand, as the cats sat across Claire’s feet, lap, and shoulders. The others sat on the arms of her chair, purring loudly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved!” she exclaimed, trying to decide which of them to pet next.
Yep, thought Xana, this is going to work perfectly.
By Newton Locheye and Louis Peacock
“Damn, we’re on a roll! But I’ve gotta go on break, Xana. Hey, if you need anything, give me a challah!”
“But it’s not even ten-thirty!” she shouted at his back, exasperated.
If Habib had heard her, he didn’t let on. He just sauntered off, whistling a tune which Xana knew full well was from his (supposedly) favourite band — Bread.
For the fifth time since opening, Xana rolled her eyes into the back of her skull. It wasn’t as though Habib was bad to work with necessarily, it was more that whenever he opened his mouth — a more frequent occurrence than she would have preferred — she suddenly was overcome with an overwhelming desire to shove his head into a bread slicer. The fact that he had so obviously ramped up the volume of “humour” in his conversation since she had arrived made the situation even worse.
Xana turned back to the display, intending to fill any empty gaps. She was still miffed that she didn’t land the security gig, but decided she could run the bakery as though she were. Sternly observing a row of glazed donuts like a general inspecting troops on parade, she gave an almost imperceptible start as she noticed there were seven more than their quota demanded.
Her first reaction was, of course, to sigh. Habib. Merciless jokester though he was, the man was a good worker — too good — and had already finished his quota and baked half a baker’s dozen more. Fuming with silent grief for this breach of protocol, Xana was about to storm off to confront her co-worker when a thought occurred to her: she had noticed this phenomena four times already during her brief time at Freshfields, and had blamed Habib for it just as many times. It hadn’t only been the donuts either: the baguettes, pains au chocolat, pies, cookies, and pretty much everything else they made had been baked in record time — much faster than Xana thought was possible. She had chalked it up to Habib, of course; it was perhaps the only credit she could give to the man, jokes considered. But now that she stopped to think about it, she realised that even he couldn’t have baked this much, not in the short time since their shifts had started. She couldn’t even think of many multi-limbed aliens who could manage that much on their own.
As soon as Habib came back from his break, Xana honed in on him like a lion upon a gazelle.
“Care to explain?” she asked sharply, jabbing a finger in the direction of the overstuffed donut display.
Habib merely frowned. “Isn’t that your late night baking?” he replied. “Your baking skills are clearly flouring!” Despite how innocuous the word was, she had an awful suspicion it was another pun.
Xana crossed her arms. “No, it's not my ‘late night baking’,” Xana said with a huff. “And from your reaction it isn’t yours either. That leaves us with a conundrum…”
“Who could have baked all that without us knowing?” Habib finished on her behalf., His grin had been replaced with a furrowed frown. “Okay, okay, I’ll grant you, it is kind of concerning. I mean, it's not a crime to bake more than we need, but somebody doing it without you or I knowing? That’s trouble — paycheck affecting trouble if SPIMS decides we’re being negligent.”
“Exactly.” She gave Habib a look which could snuff out a supernova. “And, not to mention a colossal waste issue. Nobody is going to be buying this many baked goods. So we go back there, we check our supplies, and we fix this; understood?”
Habib saluted and began strutting towards the entrance of the in-store bakery, loudly beating out a military-like march on the linoleum floor.
Xana sighed. Even when he was acknowledging that a situation could be serious, he couldn’t help but make light of things. With a shake of her head, she walked over to join him.
The hum of the ovens was almost enough to distract Xana from Habib’s inane commitment to his ‘soldier following orders’ bit, which was growing louder with each step they took towards the store room. She shot him a purposeful look, and Habib soon grew quiet.
They soon became aware of footprints on the floury floor. Placing a finger to her lips, Xana ushered for Habib to follow quietly behind. The door to the store room was ajar and, peering around the frame, Xana gasped. She could hardly believe her eyes! All around the dim lit room were… cats?
She had encountered their kind on various planets, but never ones that behaved like this before. A quick check to see Habib’s bewildered expression confirmed to her that this wasn’t normal on Earth either. The cats — who, she now realised, had little antennas on their heads — were busy at work, kneading dough, putting baguettes on the ovens trays, sugaring donuts — anything and everything needed for a stocked bakery.
Of course, that would be so, were they not already so overstocked with baked goods that these further additions to their inventory were already beginning to make Xana’s eye twitch.
In contrast to her rather muted reaction to the cats, Habib let out a sudden release of air somewhere between a squeak and a gasp as he gesticulated wildly at the industrious felines, all power over his voice seemingly stripped from him. Xana smiled at this turn of events.
The cats, for their part, suddenly noticed the pair and began milling around them, pawing at their trouser bottoms and rubbing against them. Dough and flour quickly became smeared over their clothes and shoes. One, a grey tabby, seemed especially fond of Habib, hopping up onto his trouser leg, claws out. He quickly grabbed it and hefted it into his arms. From his wide eyes, he was clearly still stunned, but a few seconds stroking the fur around the animal’s antennae soon calmed him.
“So… alien cats?”
“Looks like it.”
“Making bread like little bakery goblins every night?”
“Yep.”
“For us, all the time, every night. Cats. Cats! Cats baking!”
“Mhmm.”
“...purrfect.”
Xana groaned. “Can’t say I was expecting it either.”
She reached down absent-mindedly to pet a tortoiseshell coated in sugar as she considered their next move.
“Clearly they’re unable to communicate with us in any compatible way,” she said as a chorus of meows and purrs erupted from the crowd. “But they’re obviously intelligent, and certainly seem to be harmless…”
“...so, can I keep this one?”
The grey tabby offered Habib a slow blink and meowed plaintively at Xana.
“Before I even try to answer that, I must say Habib, if these cats are aliens, you’re taking this awfully well.”
He shrugged. “Hey, they’re just cats at the end of the day, even if they’re like… weird baking ninja alien cats. They’re still cute! Plus, if I take this guy home with me, I bet he can teach me a thing or two about baking. Maybe we could even make new recipes together!” He gave the cat a scratch under the chin. “Would you like that little fella? Hm?”
The cat chirped and blinked slowly at Habib again.
Xana had to admit, this was a side of Habib she could actually appreciate. She would have to clear it with Charles first, of course… not that she was going to tell Habib that at the moment. She felt Habib’s happiness practically radiating off of him, and knew in her heart that the cat had found a new friend in him. Maybe that had been the reason they were baking here to begin with — to get close to the natives and help them with their species’ skill set.
“Alright Habib, you can have him,” she said, trying to sound exasperated whilst fighting back a smile. “But only if you promise not to tell anyone about this”
“Wasn’t up to you, but still, thanks Xana.” Habib grinned at the purring mass in his arms. “Really. I won't say anything, I promise.” He smiled warmly at his co-worker, then frowned. “But what are we going to do with the rest of them?” The cat began to lick his beard.
Xana smiled. “I think I know somebody who might be able to take care of the rest.”
-
Claire’s living room was as homely as Xana remembered it. The kind old woman seemed pleased with the newfound company, and gladly accepted responsibility over the remaining aliens. So far she hadn’t noticed they were any different than a typical tomcat. Xana doubted that she ever would. At least now she wouldn’t have to bake alone.
Xana sat across from her, mug of tea in hand, as the cats sat across Claire’s feet, lap, and shoulders. The others sat on the arms of her chair, purring loudly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so loved!” she exclaimed, trying to decide which of them to pet next.
Yep, thought Xana, this is going to work perfectly.
- Published on
SIGNET: WRONG TURN
A Christmas Freshfields Vignette
by James WYlder
Jae-Sun had earned a break, but just as soon as relief came, it was pulled out from under him. He'd spent the morning dealing with a particularly difficult problem — a stalker who wouldn't leave one of the customers alone. Between his personal threats, the police report, and banning the man from the store, he'd done about everything he could, and the woman had been very grateful. But the paperwork had been the really atrocious part. He stretched his hands, extending and retracting his fingers, and leaned back in the cheap plastic chair. Finally.
And then his radio went off. He wanted to ignore it. If it hadn't been in the ROK Army, he probably would have ignored it, but his hand went to the device before he could finish the thought, "Maybe I can just sit this one out—" and he was already saying, "Jae-Sun, what's the problem?"
Carol's voice cut in. "We've got an issue. A girl is eating stuff in the world foods aisle, and crying."
Did that really need him? Couldn't Steve handle it?
"Steve is busy with a fight in the parking lot, and she's one of yours."
"One of mine?" Was Xana, Olivia, or Aoife in trouble? It didn't sound like them.
"You know, Korean."
"Oh," He had not actually seen that coming.
The girl in question was being scolded by a blond man by the time he hoofed it over to her. She looked embarrassed, but was still chewing the snack she'd pulled off the shelf.
It took him a second to process that the blond man was scolding her in Korean.
"You can't just eat things off the shelf! You can't even do that at home!"
"But they had Shrimp Chips!" she said, holding it up. "I've eaten nothing but gas-station food for days on this road trip. Do you know how much I've missed these?"
Jae-Sun smiled. He actually did know, all too well.
"Trust me, I felt the same way when I came here."
Both turned to look at him.
"Don't worry, sir, we'll pay for the snack,” the man said. “ Really sorry about this.”
"Yeah, my bad... hey!"
There was a look in her eyes he knew all too well. That simple relief of being somewhere filled with people who didn't look like you, who didn't speak the language you grew up with, and finally seeing someone who knew a little bit about what it was like to be your shoes.
Jae-Sun smirked. Her dialect was weird. Definitely not North Korean, but the accent was hard to place.
She paused, furrowing her brow. "...Korea? S... South Korea?" Which was a weird thing to say all around.
“Yeah, South Korea,” Jae-Sun answered simply.
"I'm Christopher Cwej, this is Jhe Sang Mi."
He recognized the name Cwej. He'd read all the documents Zoltan had given him when he joined SIGNET, and Cwej had a thicker file than most. Notably, he'd stopped an incursion of the Yssgaroth with a Korean assistant at the 1893 Chicago World's Fair in America. Presumably this same one.
Time travelers. Never any easy thing to deal with. Especially one as dangerous as Cwej was purported to be. The man in front of him had that unassuming look of a large man who was really a teddy bear inside. But if half the reports he'd read were accurate, he could bring devastation down on his enemies hotter than hellfire, and the Superiors who he used to work for were powerful in ways that Jae-Sun scoffed at when he first read Zoltan's briefing.
But there was something about this conversation, maybe just the way he was talking to the girl in Korean the whole time instead of pushing her to use English, that made him give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Well, I'm not really supposed to, but she is a minor, so if you can just pay for the goods I'll take care of the rest."
They both looked relieved.
Chris pulled out a wad of American dollar bills.
"We can't take those here."
"Oh, we can do card!" Sang Mi said, rummaging in her bag.
"No, uh, as in we can't take US Dollars here. This is York."
"How the hell did we get so off track we ended up in New York?" Chris leaned against a shelf in frustration, and then hastily scrambled back to standing as it began to lean. “Wait, New York would absolutely take US Dollars?”
"No, no not New York. York. In the United Kingdom."
The duo stared at him, the same look on their faces, and their lips pursing, the ends scrunched to the side in the same way.
Jae-Sun wasn't one to indulge their moment. "How did you manage that? You said you were on a road trip?"
"We took a wrong turn," Sang Mi answered.
"You ended up across the ocean."
"I never said I was a good driver," Chris answered without actually answering.
Sang Mi nudged him in the rib. "Well hey, at least we didn't end up in 1734 or something. Still the year of Our Lord 2025."
"It's 2024,” Jae-Sun deadpanned.
"Oh come on, seriously?" Chris threw his hands up.
A thought occurred to him. "Why didn't you notice the accents changed when you entered the store?"
"I don't know, it's not like English is my first language," Sang Mi mumbled.
"Mine either," he smirked. "Come on, we'll get this sorted.”
* * *
He wasn’t sure how he’d play it off, but he knew who he had to bring them to first. Thankfully the old man would start his break soon, so he led them on a walk the long way round to the break room.
He could have sworn he saw something peeking around the corners as he went. But there was always nothing there when he got to the ends of the aisles. Nerves had to be getting to him; he doubled his focus.
“Charles, I thought I might—”
“ZOLTAN!” Sang Mi said, and rushed over to him throwing her arms around him. He looked baffled, but not displeased.
“I’m sorry, do I know you young lady? Oh! Christopher, what a pleasure to see you again.”
Sang Mi frowned. “You don’t remember me?”
Chris looked around the break room. There was only Olivia and Xana over on the other side of the room. Olivia wore a mask over her eyes that said, “NAPTIME!” in big yellow letters, and Xana was on her phone.
“Don’t worry, it’s only our people here at the moment,” Jae-Sun reassured him.
Chris nodded in acknowledgment, and turned back to his pupil. “It’s 2024 here, remember? You’ve met Charles in 2025, but he hasn’t met you.”
Charles grimaced. “I don’t like knowing the future like that, Chris.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, she’s not used to this kind of thing. New to time travel. She’s still in high school — long story. Figured you could take a hit to keep her from feeling bad.”
Charles didn’t look happy, but did seem to understand, and nodded pleasantly at the girl, extending a hand. “Charles Zoltan, and who might you be?”
“Jhe Sang Mi, Kalingkata to my friends. I’m from Mars. You really helped us out in Indiana, even without your team here!”
Charles sighed. “I’ll be sure to be over there next year, and act surprised to see you. I’m glad to see I’ll leave a good impression.”
“You only saw Charles there?” Jae-Sun asked, suddenly feeling his heart pound.
“Yes?” Sang Mi answered unsure.
“This is why we don’t tell people this stuff, it gets complicated. Think about the implications, if you only know for sure Charles is alive next year.”
“But… that doesn’t mean they’re not?”
“No. And it doesn’t mean history can’t change, and Charles could die,” Chris said gently. “Knowing the future isn’t just dangerous, it’s stressful. We have to be careful. Plus, my Superiors could get involved, and we don’t want that either.”
Sang Mi, a little humbled, bowed her head. “Yeah, I understand. Sorry.”
“Not to worry!” Charles said, clearly trying to bring her spirits back up. “You’re still learning. Now, I’m afraid my break is coming to an end, so Jae-Sun, if I could trust you to figure out how they got here, and make sure they’re taken care of? It could have to do with our mystery here, yes?”
Jae-Sun nodded. “Consider it done.”
Chris and Sang Mi had gone through the door, when Charles grabbed Jae-Sun’s arm. “Cwej shouldn’t be here.”
“I understand, I’ll—”
“No, not like that. I trust him. But he shouldn’t be here. He mentioned his Superiors. Present tense.”
Jae-Sun tilted his head. He didn’t follow. Zoltan cut to the chase.
“It should be impossible he’s here right now. Something is off.”
He nodded, and followed the duo out the door. He’d figure it out. That was what he did, after all.
* * *
Jae-Sun had yet to do something he'd qualify as abusing his power as a security guard, but writing this off was something he felt no guilt about.
Chris coughed as Jae-Sun dug into the paperwork. "So... Freshfields? Doesn't seem like the place for someone who is aware of time travel."
Jae-Sun shrugged. "It's an op."
"It's always an op. What for?”
He looked them over. Well, Charles said he trusted him… “There have been disappearances. A bunch of them. We’re trying to figure out what happened to them. Hopefully bring them home.”
Chris nodded. “If what happened to us is related, we’ll do everything we can to help.”
“And if it isn't related too!” Sang Mi chimed in.
Jae-Sun smirked at that. “I’m fudging your paperwork on the incident, your welcome, it’ll all be sorted. So help me out. Let’s find out if there’s any connection between what happened to you and the Freshfields disappearances.”
“Alright, what do you want to know?” Chris asked.
"Okay," Jae-Sun said, "Why don't you start from the beginning.”
Sang Mi nodded. "I can do that."
* * *
Sang Mi was born on October 10th 2370--
* * *
"No, not—no. I mean what led up to you getting lost?"
"Right, sorry. I took that a bit literally."
* * *
2025, Pennsylvania, USA
They had been driving across the American Midwest for weeks now, and Sang Mi was beginning to get a good sense of Chris Cwej’s moods when he was driving. To the average person, Chris would have looked focused on the road. But Sang Mi knew better at this point, as he bounced the knee of the leg not operating the gas pedal. Chris Cwej looked distracted, and as Sang Mi finished her second slushie that day, she finally decided to nudge him about it.
"What's on your mind?"
"Corn maze," he said.
She gestured with her empty cup. "I don't know what that is."
"Of course you don't, you're from Gongen, where farms are underground affairs run by robots. This planet is different." Chris pointed out the window at the tall rows of corn to either side of them. "Farmers make mazes in the corn. They're a sort of fun thing people do around here, you try to make your way through the maze of maize." He looked over at her. "Maze of maize. Because maize is—"
"I got it, thanks."
He looked back at the road. "There were signs for one. Wanna stop?"
"No Chris, I'm going on this big road trip with you where we keep diverting from our destination to extend it because I really want to get it over with."
Chris looked over in silence.
"That was sarcasm," she noted.
"I figured," he laughed. "Look at you, getting snarky."
"I'm not snarky!"
He just laughed again, and pulled into the farm.
Chris paid their entry fee, and they began their way into the maze. They were greeted at the start by a funny scarecrow that had been given a suit jacket and bow-tie, as well as a smiling and well-worn comedy mask probably discarded from a high-school theater department. Their feet crunched the corn, and Sang Mi slinked her hands around Cwej's elbow like he was escorting her to a father-daughter dance as they made turn after unknown turn, trying to figure out where they were going. Every so often there would be another scarecrow — sometimes a new one in a comical pose or dressed like they were from some popular movie, or a replica of the one at the entrance, pointing their way through. It was fun, but Sang Mi began to feel that Chris had maybe been a little too enthusiastic about the experience of walking through a bunch of corn. It was, at its heart, walking through a bunch of corn.
Still, that was a novel thing for her. Forests had been a new enough thing for her here on Earth, but this was indeed unlike anything she'd experienced before.
As the walk dragged on, it didn't stop the novelty from wearing off, however, and it seemed to have worn off for Chris too. "I thought this was supposed to be short?"
Chris looked at her as though she had had a revelation, and not just been snarky. He checked his phone. "...It was. We should have finished this in maybe fifteen minutes. It's been three hours."
Sang Mi grimaced. "Are we really that bad at mazes?" And she meant it.
Chris shook his head. "Something else. Did you notice anything odd about the scarecrows?"
She thought hard. "It was weird they recreated the one at the entrance so many times."
"It was, wasn't it? Especially when the mask was damaged the same way every time. Damn it, I let my guard down. I should have known something was off."
Sang Mi frowned. "They'll get mad at us, but can't we just walk through the corn field?"
Opening his mouth to answer, Chris shut it again. You know, that might just work.
Taking a breath, he stepped right into the corn, and Sang Mi followed.
They rustled through it, and came out by the road. They walked back to the farm, where they did get yelled at as Chris pulled out probably too much money and threw it at them as they rushed into their orange Honda Element and drove away. Once they were back on the road, they let out sights of relief.
"That could have been bad," Sang Mi said, stretching out. "I'd say find a hotel, but I wanna get away from there."
"I agree, but check if there are any missing people in the area. If there are, I'd say we have a duty."
Sang Mi's eyes went wide, and she gave a nod that was entrenched in duty as the implications hit her. She pulled her phone out and began searching.
Chris turned at the next intersection.
The cornfields quickly turned to forest. Odd.
"I just lost signal?" She frowned, and looked up. "Hey, civilization!" The forest turned to houses, and the houses grew thicker. And someone was heading right for them!
Chris swerved onto the side of the road, panting, as the driver passed them, giving them a dirty look.
"You're driving on the wrong side of the road!" Sang Mi yelled out the window.
"That wasn't English you just yelled," Chris noted.
"Oh," Sang Mi deflated. "Well, yelling made me feel better at least."
"It's too dark out, I can't see shit," Chris mumbled, but got back on the road.
They were rattled, but the road was fairly empty, so when they saw a grocery store they quickly pulled in.
They stumbled through the entrance, and headed right for the snacks.
* * *
"—And then you caught us, and now we're here," Sang Mi said, doing jazz hands. Chris was stuffing his face with curry, and nodded his agreement. After he’d gotten the paperwork done, they’d headed over to a restaurant and kept the story going. Sang Mi appreciated that he’d chosen a place that understood what spicy actually meant.
Jae-Sun stirred his own curry, trying to process it all. "Zoltan is happy you're here. You're bound to be helpful with this investigation, but I'm worried this is just another problem." He held both hands out. "We're investigating disappearances. A lot of them. Maybe it has something to do with how you disappeared. I don't really think so though. But we have to check every lead."
Sang Mi nodded, now slurping down her own spicy curry.
"We'll help however we can," Chris said. "Zoltan and I haven't always agreed on methodology, but I respect him and what he does." He gestured with his spoon a little wildly, and Sang Mi nudged him with her elbow as a bit of curry flicked onto her cheek. "Plus, Sang Mi gets to see more of York! That's exciting."
"You're... from the future? Not just 2025, but far in the future?"
"We both are," Chris answered.
"I live on Gongen, which you guys call Mars."
He had to ask. It was eating at him. "What happens to Korea? How... do things go well? I guess we help settle Mars, but..."
Sang Mi looked pained, and looked to her mentor, who shook his head.
"You can't tell him. There's no telling what we could change, and then my Superiors will have to get involved."
She took another bite of her curry, and chewed on what Chris said. "...We survive, and we go to the stars. That doesn't tell you more than you know, but... it's something good."
"It is something good," he agreed. "What did you think of Korea, when Cwej took you?"
"Oh, uh," Chris suddenly looked awkward.
Sang Mi filled her mouth with curry till she looked like a chipmunk so she wouldn't have to answer.
"I... haven't taken her there yet."
Jae-Sun had kept his face a mask through this whole insanity. But he couldn't help but keep the disappointment from his face. "Of course you haven't. I guess that wouldn't occur to you."
Sang Mi suddenly found herself chewing extra fast to break the awkward silence.
"Don't be too hard on him—" she began, but Chris cut her off.
"No, he's right. He's right and he should say it. He should say it."
Jae-Sun didn't feel bad about ruining the mood, if anything he felt completely vindicated, but it was ruined nonetheless. "I'll get you to a hotel. Then I'll meet up with you after work tomorrow."
"Sounds good," Chris agreed.
Chris paid the bill, and they had a rather silent trip to the hotel. Jae-Sun made his way home, and flopped down on his bed.
He thought of home.
"We survive, and we make it to the stars."
It was too little, and it left him with too many thoughts.
He closed his eyes hard till he too saw stars, and tried his best to dream.
* * *
The next day at Freshfields, Ellie came up to him, a little bit nervous. It was clear she was trying to make some small talk. "Did you see the new Smopsi representatives?"
Jae-Sun hadn't put much thought into Smopsi, a fifth rate cola that was supposed to have chocolate and marshmallow notes, but mostly just tasted like cola-flavoring and corn-syrup. "I hadn't." Had the others disappeared?
"They're bickering in Korean, but one of them is a teenage girl, and the other is a blonde man who could be a Rugby Union player. Everyone has been finding an excuse to steal a look."
Of course it was them. They just couldn't wait at the hotel, could they?
"I think I'm curious too. I'll let you know if they're saying anything interesting,” he said with a wink.
"Great!" Ellie nodded, and then glanced at her scanner, and began to hurry off. "Sorry, got to keep my SPIMS score up!"
He held a hand up in a terse goodbye, and marched over to the aisle for fizzy drinks. There were two people in purple jumpsuits and front-brimmed caps with Smopsi logos on them slowly and poorly unloading a cart filled with cases of the beverage.
"I'm telling you, you don't know how to stock a shelf," Cwej told his companion.
"You just put them on there, how am I doing it wrong?"
"Look at the other shelves! See how yours isn't lining up?"
"He's right, take a second look," Jae-Sun said.
Sang Mi's head whipped around, and she nodded with a bit of embarrassment, quickly adjusting the cases to match the others.
"I thought I told you to wait at the hotel."
"Well, it’s a wacky co-incidence actually," Sang Mi began.
Chris waved his hand in front of his neck, and she shut up. "We overheard a man in the lobby, the Smopsi reps who were supposed to drive the new product here went missing. Apparently they were here yesterday, and a few complaints were filed about their behavior. So their boss at the hotel was trying to fix the problem. And what do you know, a guy with twenty years industry experience was there to fill in."
More disappearances. It kept getting worse.
"That's important information. Did you learn anything else?"
"Mostly that Habib makes bad puns," Sang Mi said. "And that..." She trailed off, and raised pointing finger at the end of the aisle. Jae-Sun turned to follow her hand, and there it was.
Peeking around the corner was a scarecrow.
Jae-Sun didn't hesitate — he charged the scarecrow fullbore, his arm reaching out to grab it as it pulled back out of view.
But as he looked past the aisle to where it should have been — it was gone. He went a little further, just in case, but he already knew he wasn't going to see anything as he did.
* * *
"Do we have to meet up here?" Chris said, frustrated.
"It's good coffee?" Aoife asked, incredulous.
"Is it?" Chris replied.
"Who is this guy anyway?" Aoife said, throwing her arm out in further incredulity.
"Chris Cwej," Olivia, Xana, Charles, Sang Mi, Jae-Sun, and one of the baristas all said in an impressive unison.
"Oh, okay," she concluded, slumping in her chair. "I'm just saying, Blue Candle Coffee is underrated..." She sipped her cup.
Charles put on his most disarmingly charming smile. "Thank you for joining us, Chris, Sang Mi. Jae-Sun has already filled us in on your little adventure earlier. But do you have any theories?"
Chris shrugged. "I'm not sure. There's clearly something going on with this scarecrow. And it seems to be able to displace us in time and space. But it might just be a coincidence."
"I think it’s more likely SPIMS is doing something," Sang Mi said, causing Aoife to rise from her slump and gesture broadly at her.
"See, this one is making sense!"
Charles gave her a polite smile, and she sat back down, grumbling. "I propose we use our new friends to our advantage this evening. Chris will join me on my own investigations, and Jae-Sun and Sang Mi will go together and investigate my own suspicions."
Raising an eyebrow, Jae-Sun tilted his chin up. "And what would they be?"
"Why, you'll be taking wrong turns of course!"
* * *
"Am I centered?"
"Yeah, about."
"It's a yes or no question."
"Yes. Say kimchi."
"Kimchi!"
He snapped the picture. He'd been getting pictures of Sang Mi around some of the landmarks in York, and he'd saved the Minster for last on their tour. Sang Mi jogged back over, and took her phone back to look at it. "Great. Well, check that off my list. What now?"
He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Charles wanted us to take wrong turns, but how can you do that unintentionally? If you know you're turning at the wrong place, you're really turning at the right place because it's still where you meant to turn."
"That makes sense," Sang Mi said, sighing. "What do you normally do this time of the evening?"
"Go to the gym."
She perked up. "I do track and field, and cross country. Plus Chris and my school have been teaching me how to fight."
"...And your school?"
"Don't worry about it," she said very fast. "You were in the army, right? Maybe you can show me a thing or two."
He grinned. "Now you're talking."
* * *
Sang Mi panted as she held her forearm in place where she'd blocked his kick till he lowered his leg.
"Nice work, you finally got it."
"Not before you kicked me for half an hour."
He clapped her on the shoulder. "That's training for you. You're doing good."
They each picked up their water bottles, and Sang Mi wiped some sweat off on a towel. "Where'd you learn all this anyway?"
"The ROK Army, then KATUSA. That was a group that trained as part of the USFK."
"The what?"
"US Armed Forces Korea. I was a rescue parajumper and combat medic," he looked off at the white wall of the gym.
"...You miss it, don't you?"
"Yeah, guess I do. Got injured. Got discharged. One thing led to another and I ended up here."
"A long way from South Korea or the USA."
He grabbed his own towel and wiped himself down. "Guess so."
"You miss home?"
"Sometimes. I'm happiest doing things, here I get the chance to. But I miss my family. Especially my sister, even if she doesn't always miss me."
"I get that. I miss my family too. I've been traveling with Chris for a while now, but... well, never mind that, where are you from?"
"Sokcho, know it?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm bad enough with Gongen geography."
"It's in the North East, near the DMZ. People come there just to look across it. But I mostly remember the sea. My mom would go to the market every weekend and make us Myeongtae-hoe from freshly caught fish; you can’t get better than that.”
Sang Mi screwed her lips to the side. “We don’t really have water like that on Gongen. The planet is all dry deserts. We’ve got fish to eat of course, though I’m pretty sure most of it is 3D-Printed from vegetable proteins underground.”
“Forget what Charles said about our mission, I’m no chef but, I’m showing you what real Myeongtae-hoe tastes like.”
Her eyes lit up. "Well, I guess we better hit the showers; see you when I'm clean."
He gave a simple wave of acknowledgment, and went to do the same. When he got out, he waited on a bench in the hall between the men's and women's locker rooms and messed around on his phone.
Sang Mi was talking a while. Did she just take especially long showers? That was when he noticed it.
On the floor, by the corner, was Sang Mi's phone.
He shot up, and grabbed it. No question, this was hers. Panicked, he grabbed the arm of a passing woman heading into the locker room.
"I'm sorry, could you see if my cousin is in there? I'm worried she forgot her medicine and is having trouble. It could be serious, or nothing. Please."
The woman tensed when he grabbed her, but softened and nodded, assuring him she would after asking for a description of her.
No such person was in the locker room.
He ran to the security desk. He knew the woman on duty, Kelsa, and he was able to sweet talk her into showing him the footage from the halls there.
Sang Mi walked around the corner, dropping her phone, as if she realised she was going the wrong way and had shifted her weight too quickly turning around.
Then she vanished around the corner.
But the camera from that hallway showed no one entering it.
"That's weird," Kelsa said.
Jae-Sun used some stronger language.
He didn’t want to admit he’d screwed up, but there was no choice.
He called Charles immediately.
* * *
Chris paced back and forth across the room, biting his knuckles. "I shouldn't have left her with you! Damn it, I told her I'd keep her safe, get her home!"
Jae-Sun clasped his hands. He didn't have a good response. It had been his responsibility after all.
Charles tapped his tea cup against the table with surprising volume, causing all eyes to turn to him. "We can assign blame and responsibility later, if at all. What's important now is finding Miss Jhe."
"The disappearances are definitely connected then?" Aoife asked.
Jae-Sun shook his head. "Nobody else disappeared outside of the area of the store that wasn't accounted for by normal means."
"So we picked up a double mystery," Xana mumbled.
"Back on task," Chris said with an authority no one but Charles seemed to expect. "We're finding her. How?"
Olivia raised her hand. "Well, she got lost right? So we all just have to get lost, don't we?"
Aoife turned in her chair to give Olivia a look. "You can't just get yourself lost."
Jae-Sun straightened up. "Yes, you can. I have a plan."
He rose from his chair, and took a deep breath.
He began to detail his plan, wiping down the white board and drawing exactly how it would work. He pointed to each member in turn, laying out their role, until finally setting the green marker down, and crossing his arms.
“Well, what do you think?” Jae-Sun asked.
"That's a stupid plan," Xana said.
"It'll work though," Aoife admitted.
"Then let's stop waiting around," Chris said, and without a glance back went for the door.
Charles looked at Jae-Sun. They had an understanding.
* * *
The Smopsi Cola office building in York had been a bad idea. Not enough of the offices had been filled, and while the cola was doing fine, it certainly hadn't taken the UK by storm the way they'd hoped. So when a man came by and dropped a suitcase of cash (in American dollars, oddly) on their front desk that could pay the rest for the next two years to rent the building out for the whole night, they quickly decided to shut down all operations and scoot the staff out the doors.
"Why'd you pick this place?" Xana asked.
"I was here earlier, it's understaffed, most of the windows are blocked off so it doesn't look empty, and they didn't decorate the hallways much so it all looks the same," Chris answered.
"It's a maze," Charles said, his eyes sparkling with understanding.
"We turn the power off, including emergency lighting, and we all wander around, with the goal in your head of getting to the President's office."
"But I don't know where that is?" Olivia said. Everyone looked at her. "Oh! Oh, no I get it. Continue."
"Alright then, let's get lost in the dark," Chris ordered.
It was a strange order. Jae-Sun had been trained to make his way in the dark, but Cwej had chosen a good place to get even him lost. The hallways were all the same. He couldn't make out the room numbers in pitch darkness, and the walls and carpet all felt the same. The sound seemed to be absorbed in some spots and echo in others in a way that was completely inconsistent. It was disorienting. The dark seemed to spin around him.
He felt dizzy.
He turned a corner.
Was he supposed to turn here? He didn't even really know there had been a corner here...
And then there was light.
He ran towards it, and through a door, and fell to his hands and knees panting, relieved that there was something for his senses to connect to.
"Jae-Sun!"
He looked up. It was an odd room. The first thing he saw though was Sang Mi. She looked almost like a doll — she'd been dressed up in an elaborate ball gown, her hair done up in an equally elaborate do. She looked incredibly uncomfortable in the get up, and from her initial lazy outfit of track shorts and a hoodie, he guessed she wasn't the type to get dolled up very often.
The room was lined in human sized dolls, and sitting in a chair admiring Sang Mi was a scarecrow in a tuxedo. It wore that same comedy mask, stroking its chin with fingers of straw. Its head turned to look at Jae-Sun.
"Oh, we have another guest!"
"Are you alright?" Jae-Sun asked in Korean.
"ENGLISH please!" the scarecrow yelled.
"I'm okay," Sang Mi answered in Korean.
The scarecrow raised a hand as though he was about to strike her.
Jae-Sun made to rush the scarecrow — but as he tried to cross the floor, he found that he was lost.
He could see them, just across the room. There was nothing separating them? But as he tried to walk, he kept going in the wrong directions.
"Ever the hero, Mr. Park. Miss Jhe here thinks of herself the same way. But you should both learn a lesson."
"I don't think you have much to teach me," he spat back as he nearly ran into the back wall trying to run towards the scarecrow.
"Oh but I do. You've all been taking wrong turns. Making choices for yourself. You're even trying to prevent SPIMS from making the right choices, tsk tsk. It's up to better people, more refined people, of a better breeding and stature, to make the choices. As soon as you realize other people are your betters, the happier you'll be."
"Bullshit," Sang Mi said.
The scarecrow laughed. "You're both lost. Far from home. Mr. Park can't even fulfill his dreams in sport or the military. How is your seventh best option going?"
"I love it," he shouted. He tried to run in a straight line, and ended up exactly where he started.
"And Miss Jhe, your life was directionless until you latched onto Mr. Cwej, wasn't it? No dreams or ambitions, and the dreary feeling you'd be better off dead. Tsk tsk. Both of you could use a strong guiding hand. You should feel lucky I found you."
"What exactly are you? I mean, you're literally a strawman."
"I have transcended bodies." He gestured to the life-sized dolls lining the room. "This has been a useful form for my needs. But I’ve worn many bodies — taken many. And both of your bodies will be excellent to put on — oh don't give me that look. What were you doing with it anyway?"
"Whatever I want to," Sang Mi said, and her voice was getting more spiteful.
Jae-Sun kept himself calm and collected. Cool. But he’d had enough. He rose to his full height, and looked the scarecrow right in the eyes of its mask.
"I used to not understand why other kids would get so worked up they'd throw a punch and get into trouble in school. Until I met someone like you. Someone who had the power to torment other kids around them and get away with it. They knew they were untouchable, because everyone knew the consequences. But there's something they never expect, something that floors them everytime. Do you know what that is?"
The man laughed, shaking his head. Behind the mask they could all feel him rolling his eyes.
"Being reminded the only thing that made them feel better than other people was their money, their power. Take that away from them, even for a moment, and they're more scared than you can imagine. No, I want you to imagine it. Try."
"I won't imagine something that can't happen."
Jae-Sun looked at Sang Mi, who shrugged. "You even gave a whole speech to warn him, go off."
He looked Sang Mi in the eyes, and she seemed to know he wanted her to not look away.
“Tell me about your home,” he said.
“What?” the scarecrow said.
“My mom sometimes makes me my favorite food, its Hong Kong style Lemon Chicken. I love it. My brothers tell me it’s too sweet. My apartment building has a heating unit at the bottom that the city sometimes doesn’t fix right so my twin brother Sang Eun and I go to fix it ourselves in the winter, and Mrs. Lee down the hall gives us milk candy every time we do. I go to a school called Academy 27. I’ve bombed out of every relationship I’ve been in, but I still go to Higen Park where I had my first kiss sometimes because even though I’m alone there it makes me feel like a romantic.”
Jae-Sun smiled. “My grandma would always fuss over us at Christmas, and make us get dressed up to go to church. Most of us would rather have been playing footy in the park.”
“My grandma did the same. Though we wanted to play video games.”
“I have a twin too. We used to be really close. I didn’t like her husband. I still don’t. She still lives in Sokcho, has two kids now. I don’t see her as much as I like. I’m closer with my younger siblings now. She likes French cooking. I think it makes her feel fancy. There’s a park by where I grew up that had a rusty swingset. They finally took it out last time I visited home. It was a danger, but I felt sad it was gone.”
Sang Mi smiled. “Your home sounds like a nice place.”
“So does yours.”
The scarecrow looked between them, “What the hell was that supposed to accomplish?”
Jae-Sun took a step forward.
And he moved a step forward.
“I guess neither of us is lost anymore.”
Sang Mi didn’t wait, or say anything, she just grabbed a candlestick from a table and started beating the scarecrow with it relentlessly. Jae-Sun had sort of expected a more restrained finale, but well, he wasn’t the one who’d been forced to dress up like a living doll. So he let her let it all out.
When she was done, panting and holding the candlestick like a club, the scarecrow’s mask had tumbled away across the floor, and it stared with button eyes up at them, stuffing and straw spilled out along the floor.
“You can’t just… you can’t just… this isn’t fair.”
Jae-Sun squatted down. “If you can’t play by your own rules, no one will want to play with you, you know?”
“Well spoken.” There was a hard boot fall, and they turned their faces to see Chris Cwej. Sang Mi ran to him, and hugged him.
“That dress doesn’t suit you,” he said simply.
“I know, I fricking hate it. I can’t wait to get out of it.”
He tousled her hair, and looked down at the scarecrow, which flinched at him. “Mr. Cwej! You… you’re a man of refinement, yes? Everyone knows of your legendary prowess—”
“Shut the hell up,” he ordered.
And he did.
He looked at Jae-Sun. “I’m going to take care of the problem. Charles won’t approve, but I don’t care, and I’m not asking anyway.”
Jae-Sun shrugged. “He wanted to steal a kid’s body. I’m really not putting up an argument here.”
Chris gave him a nod, and this time there was respect in it. He grabbed the scarecrow by the nape of the neck, turned the ring on his finger, and vanished.
* * *
Chris dropped the scarecrow on the ground. It pushed itself up on its straw arms. It turned its button eyes up at Cwej.
"If you're wondering where we are, we're in Sweden in 1966. Do you know why I brought you here?"
"To try to kill me again?"
Chris didn't smile. Didn't pretend he was enjoying this. Didn't react at all. "No. I know that's not possible. You’re a body swapper. I'm here to send a message." He squatted down, to look him right in the buttons. "I've given a lot of people second chances lately. Even some exes. But what I can't tolerate is you trying to hurt my friend like you did."
"I just—"
"Shut up." He didn't raise his voice. He didn't get angry. That made it worse. "She's still a child. On the cusp of adulthood, but people like you prey on 'almost'. Almost made the right turn, almost old enough, almost survived. So today I'm done with second chances, because you're going to send a message for me."
The scarecrow nodded. "Of course, of course! I can say whatever you need me to."
"It's not a message you'll be saying. You always come into a new form after you're destroyed, as long as that form will appear. It's why you're a scarecrow. There's always new scarecrows in the fall, even if they're just there for farm tourists and not for the crows at all. So I've found you a new home. Are you familiar with Gävle, Sweden?"
He shook his straw head.
"Every year they build a straw goat here. And nearly every year someone burns it. Sometimes it's pecked apart by Jackdaws. And even if it survives they'll rip it apart and dispose of all the straw guts. But the metal frame will still be there as they pull them out. Out of you."
If buttons could grow wide, his would have.
"No, NO! You can't—"
"But I can, and I will. You'll burn, over and over. And trust me, this festival goes on for a long time. Even after the Earth is dust and wind, you will burn. And everyone will know that you don't mess with my friends."
He snapped his fingers, and the scarecrow went still.
And behind its false eyes, the great statue of the Gävle goat awakened.
Chris walked away. He didn't look back, even as the flames rose high into the night.
* * *
Sang Mi got out of her dress and into her normal clothes fast, and gave the dress to Olivia, who was far more excited about it. Jae-Sun brought Sang Mi and Chris back to his home, and made them fresh Myeongtae-hoe. Not quite as fresh as it would have been in Sokcho, but Freshfields stock of pollock wasn’t bad. “It’s damn good,” Sang Mi said, and Jae-Sun felt a lot of pride.
“Thanks. I learned from the best…”
Once they’d finished dinner, everyone gathered in the Freshfields carpark by the orange Honda Element the pair had ridden in on. Hugs were exchanged. Handshakes were given.
“You’re sure you can’t stay to help finish the investigation?” Charles asked.
Chris shook his head. “The effect that the scarecrow had is wearing off. We’ve got to hit the road, and follow our path back before it closes, it should take us back to when and where we came from. I’m sorry we can’t. I certainly wish you all the luck in solving this mess.”
Charles shook his hand, and Sang Mi turned to Jae-Sun.
“Call your sister.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
He didn’t want to say out loud that she was absolutely right, so he just gave the slightest nod.
She got in the Honda.
“Hey, Sang Mi?”
She rolled down the window. “Yeah?”
He slipped her a piece of paper. “That’s how you make my mom’s Myeongtae-hoe. You’re the first outside the family to get this, so keep it secret.”
She put her finger to her lips. “You got it. Thanks for everything, Jae-Sun. See you in the stars.”
“See you in the stars,” he said.
They watched the Honda drive down the road, and make a turn at a lamppost.
The car didn’t come out the other side of the pole, like a magic trick.
“Well, back to work,” Xana sighed. “You coming, Jae-Sun?”
He smiled at her. “One second. I’ll be right there.”
Jae-Sun walked over to the river, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through contacts. He pulled up a number he hadn’t dialed in longer than he’d like to admit. He waited, expecting to get voicemail.
“Hey there stupid, why are you calling, it’s not even Christmas yet.”
He wasn’t a man who cried often. But he felt the tears welling up. “Well, you know. Sometimes you realise you just put something off too long.”
There was a pause, and he felt his heart beat fast, before she replied, her voice touched by her own tears. “Well at least you finally did it, you dummy.”
And they laughed.
He looked up at the stars.
They’d always find their way home.
And then his radio went off. He wanted to ignore it. If it hadn't been in the ROK Army, he probably would have ignored it, but his hand went to the device before he could finish the thought, "Maybe I can just sit this one out—" and he was already saying, "Jae-Sun, what's the problem?"
Carol's voice cut in. "We've got an issue. A girl is eating stuff in the world foods aisle, and crying."
Did that really need him? Couldn't Steve handle it?
"Steve is busy with a fight in the parking lot, and she's one of yours."
"One of mine?" Was Xana, Olivia, or Aoife in trouble? It didn't sound like them.
"You know, Korean."
"Oh," He had not actually seen that coming.
The girl in question was being scolded by a blond man by the time he hoofed it over to her. She looked embarrassed, but was still chewing the snack she'd pulled off the shelf.
It took him a second to process that the blond man was scolding her in Korean.
"You can't just eat things off the shelf! You can't even do that at home!"
"But they had Shrimp Chips!" she said, holding it up. "I've eaten nothing but gas-station food for days on this road trip. Do you know how much I've missed these?"
Jae-Sun smiled. He actually did know, all too well.
"Trust me, I felt the same way when I came here."
Both turned to look at him.
"Don't worry, sir, we'll pay for the snack,” the man said. “ Really sorry about this.”
"Yeah, my bad... hey!"
There was a look in her eyes he knew all too well. That simple relief of being somewhere filled with people who didn't look like you, who didn't speak the language you grew up with, and finally seeing someone who knew a little bit about what it was like to be your shoes.
Jae-Sun smirked. Her dialect was weird. Definitely not North Korean, but the accent was hard to place.
She paused, furrowing her brow. "...Korea? S... South Korea?" Which was a weird thing to say all around.
“Yeah, South Korea,” Jae-Sun answered simply.
"I'm Christopher Cwej, this is Jhe Sang Mi."
He recognized the name Cwej. He'd read all the documents Zoltan had given him when he joined SIGNET, and Cwej had a thicker file than most. Notably, he'd stopped an incursion of the Yssgaroth with a Korean assistant at the 1893 Chicago World's Fair in America. Presumably this same one.
Time travelers. Never any easy thing to deal with. Especially one as dangerous as Cwej was purported to be. The man in front of him had that unassuming look of a large man who was really a teddy bear inside. But if half the reports he'd read were accurate, he could bring devastation down on his enemies hotter than hellfire, and the Superiors who he used to work for were powerful in ways that Jae-Sun scoffed at when he first read Zoltan's briefing.
But there was something about this conversation, maybe just the way he was talking to the girl in Korean the whole time instead of pushing her to use English, that made him give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Well, I'm not really supposed to, but she is a minor, so if you can just pay for the goods I'll take care of the rest."
They both looked relieved.
Chris pulled out a wad of American dollar bills.
"We can't take those here."
"Oh, we can do card!" Sang Mi said, rummaging in her bag.
"No, uh, as in we can't take US Dollars here. This is York."
"How the hell did we get so off track we ended up in New York?" Chris leaned against a shelf in frustration, and then hastily scrambled back to standing as it began to lean. “Wait, New York would absolutely take US Dollars?”
"No, no not New York. York. In the United Kingdom."
The duo stared at him, the same look on their faces, and their lips pursing, the ends scrunched to the side in the same way.
Jae-Sun wasn't one to indulge their moment. "How did you manage that? You said you were on a road trip?"
"We took a wrong turn," Sang Mi answered.
"You ended up across the ocean."
"I never said I was a good driver," Chris answered without actually answering.
Sang Mi nudged him in the rib. "Well hey, at least we didn't end up in 1734 or something. Still the year of Our Lord 2025."
"It's 2024,” Jae-Sun deadpanned.
"Oh come on, seriously?" Chris threw his hands up.
A thought occurred to him. "Why didn't you notice the accents changed when you entered the store?"
"I don't know, it's not like English is my first language," Sang Mi mumbled.
"Mine either," he smirked. "Come on, we'll get this sorted.”
* * *
He wasn’t sure how he’d play it off, but he knew who he had to bring them to first. Thankfully the old man would start his break soon, so he led them on a walk the long way round to the break room.
He could have sworn he saw something peeking around the corners as he went. But there was always nothing there when he got to the ends of the aisles. Nerves had to be getting to him; he doubled his focus.
“Charles, I thought I might—”
“ZOLTAN!” Sang Mi said, and rushed over to him throwing her arms around him. He looked baffled, but not displeased.
“I’m sorry, do I know you young lady? Oh! Christopher, what a pleasure to see you again.”
Sang Mi frowned. “You don’t remember me?”
Chris looked around the break room. There was only Olivia and Xana over on the other side of the room. Olivia wore a mask over her eyes that said, “NAPTIME!” in big yellow letters, and Xana was on her phone.
“Don’t worry, it’s only our people here at the moment,” Jae-Sun reassured him.
Chris nodded in acknowledgment, and turned back to his pupil. “It’s 2024 here, remember? You’ve met Charles in 2025, but he hasn’t met you.”
Charles grimaced. “I don’t like knowing the future like that, Chris.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, she’s not used to this kind of thing. New to time travel. She’s still in high school — long story. Figured you could take a hit to keep her from feeling bad.”
Charles didn’t look happy, but did seem to understand, and nodded pleasantly at the girl, extending a hand. “Charles Zoltan, and who might you be?”
“Jhe Sang Mi, Kalingkata to my friends. I’m from Mars. You really helped us out in Indiana, even without your team here!”
Charles sighed. “I’ll be sure to be over there next year, and act surprised to see you. I’m glad to see I’ll leave a good impression.”
“You only saw Charles there?” Jae-Sun asked, suddenly feeling his heart pound.
“Yes?” Sang Mi answered unsure.
“This is why we don’t tell people this stuff, it gets complicated. Think about the implications, if you only know for sure Charles is alive next year.”
“But… that doesn’t mean they’re not?”
“No. And it doesn’t mean history can’t change, and Charles could die,” Chris said gently. “Knowing the future isn’t just dangerous, it’s stressful. We have to be careful. Plus, my Superiors could get involved, and we don’t want that either.”
Sang Mi, a little humbled, bowed her head. “Yeah, I understand. Sorry.”
“Not to worry!” Charles said, clearly trying to bring her spirits back up. “You’re still learning. Now, I’m afraid my break is coming to an end, so Jae-Sun, if I could trust you to figure out how they got here, and make sure they’re taken care of? It could have to do with our mystery here, yes?”
Jae-Sun nodded. “Consider it done.”
Chris and Sang Mi had gone through the door, when Charles grabbed Jae-Sun’s arm. “Cwej shouldn’t be here.”
“I understand, I’ll—”
“No, not like that. I trust him. But he shouldn’t be here. He mentioned his Superiors. Present tense.”
Jae-Sun tilted his head. He didn’t follow. Zoltan cut to the chase.
“It should be impossible he’s here right now. Something is off.”
He nodded, and followed the duo out the door. He’d figure it out. That was what he did, after all.
* * *
Jae-Sun had yet to do something he'd qualify as abusing his power as a security guard, but writing this off was something he felt no guilt about.
Chris coughed as Jae-Sun dug into the paperwork. "So... Freshfields? Doesn't seem like the place for someone who is aware of time travel."
Jae-Sun shrugged. "It's an op."
"It's always an op. What for?”
He looked them over. Well, Charles said he trusted him… “There have been disappearances. A bunch of them. We’re trying to figure out what happened to them. Hopefully bring them home.”
Chris nodded. “If what happened to us is related, we’ll do everything we can to help.”
“And if it isn't related too!” Sang Mi chimed in.
Jae-Sun smirked at that. “I’m fudging your paperwork on the incident, your welcome, it’ll all be sorted. So help me out. Let’s find out if there’s any connection between what happened to you and the Freshfields disappearances.”
“Alright, what do you want to know?” Chris asked.
"Okay," Jae-Sun said, "Why don't you start from the beginning.”
Sang Mi nodded. "I can do that."
* * *
Sang Mi was born on October 10th 2370--
* * *
"No, not—no. I mean what led up to you getting lost?"
"Right, sorry. I took that a bit literally."
* * *
2025, Pennsylvania, USA
They had been driving across the American Midwest for weeks now, and Sang Mi was beginning to get a good sense of Chris Cwej’s moods when he was driving. To the average person, Chris would have looked focused on the road. But Sang Mi knew better at this point, as he bounced the knee of the leg not operating the gas pedal. Chris Cwej looked distracted, and as Sang Mi finished her second slushie that day, she finally decided to nudge him about it.
"What's on your mind?"
"Corn maze," he said.
She gestured with her empty cup. "I don't know what that is."
"Of course you don't, you're from Gongen, where farms are underground affairs run by robots. This planet is different." Chris pointed out the window at the tall rows of corn to either side of them. "Farmers make mazes in the corn. They're a sort of fun thing people do around here, you try to make your way through the maze of maize." He looked over at her. "Maze of maize. Because maize is—"
"I got it, thanks."
He looked back at the road. "There were signs for one. Wanna stop?"
"No Chris, I'm going on this big road trip with you where we keep diverting from our destination to extend it because I really want to get it over with."
Chris looked over in silence.
"That was sarcasm," she noted.
"I figured," he laughed. "Look at you, getting snarky."
"I'm not snarky!"
He just laughed again, and pulled into the farm.
Chris paid their entry fee, and they began their way into the maze. They were greeted at the start by a funny scarecrow that had been given a suit jacket and bow-tie, as well as a smiling and well-worn comedy mask probably discarded from a high-school theater department. Their feet crunched the corn, and Sang Mi slinked her hands around Cwej's elbow like he was escorting her to a father-daughter dance as they made turn after unknown turn, trying to figure out where they were going. Every so often there would be another scarecrow — sometimes a new one in a comical pose or dressed like they were from some popular movie, or a replica of the one at the entrance, pointing their way through. It was fun, but Sang Mi began to feel that Chris had maybe been a little too enthusiastic about the experience of walking through a bunch of corn. It was, at its heart, walking through a bunch of corn.
Still, that was a novel thing for her. Forests had been a new enough thing for her here on Earth, but this was indeed unlike anything she'd experienced before.
As the walk dragged on, it didn't stop the novelty from wearing off, however, and it seemed to have worn off for Chris too. "I thought this was supposed to be short?"
Chris looked at her as though she had had a revelation, and not just been snarky. He checked his phone. "...It was. We should have finished this in maybe fifteen minutes. It's been three hours."
Sang Mi grimaced. "Are we really that bad at mazes?" And she meant it.
Chris shook his head. "Something else. Did you notice anything odd about the scarecrows?"
She thought hard. "It was weird they recreated the one at the entrance so many times."
"It was, wasn't it? Especially when the mask was damaged the same way every time. Damn it, I let my guard down. I should have known something was off."
Sang Mi frowned. "They'll get mad at us, but can't we just walk through the corn field?"
Opening his mouth to answer, Chris shut it again. You know, that might just work.
Taking a breath, he stepped right into the corn, and Sang Mi followed.
They rustled through it, and came out by the road. They walked back to the farm, where they did get yelled at as Chris pulled out probably too much money and threw it at them as they rushed into their orange Honda Element and drove away. Once they were back on the road, they let out sights of relief.
"That could have been bad," Sang Mi said, stretching out. "I'd say find a hotel, but I wanna get away from there."
"I agree, but check if there are any missing people in the area. If there are, I'd say we have a duty."
Sang Mi's eyes went wide, and she gave a nod that was entrenched in duty as the implications hit her. She pulled her phone out and began searching.
Chris turned at the next intersection.
The cornfields quickly turned to forest. Odd.
"I just lost signal?" She frowned, and looked up. "Hey, civilization!" The forest turned to houses, and the houses grew thicker. And someone was heading right for them!
Chris swerved onto the side of the road, panting, as the driver passed them, giving them a dirty look.
"You're driving on the wrong side of the road!" Sang Mi yelled out the window.
"That wasn't English you just yelled," Chris noted.
"Oh," Sang Mi deflated. "Well, yelling made me feel better at least."
"It's too dark out, I can't see shit," Chris mumbled, but got back on the road.
They were rattled, but the road was fairly empty, so when they saw a grocery store they quickly pulled in.
They stumbled through the entrance, and headed right for the snacks.
* * *
"—And then you caught us, and now we're here," Sang Mi said, doing jazz hands. Chris was stuffing his face with curry, and nodded his agreement. After he’d gotten the paperwork done, they’d headed over to a restaurant and kept the story going. Sang Mi appreciated that he’d chosen a place that understood what spicy actually meant.
Jae-Sun stirred his own curry, trying to process it all. "Zoltan is happy you're here. You're bound to be helpful with this investigation, but I'm worried this is just another problem." He held both hands out. "We're investigating disappearances. A lot of them. Maybe it has something to do with how you disappeared. I don't really think so though. But we have to check every lead."
Sang Mi nodded, now slurping down her own spicy curry.
"We'll help however we can," Chris said. "Zoltan and I haven't always agreed on methodology, but I respect him and what he does." He gestured with his spoon a little wildly, and Sang Mi nudged him with her elbow as a bit of curry flicked onto her cheek. "Plus, Sang Mi gets to see more of York! That's exciting."
"You're... from the future? Not just 2025, but far in the future?"
"We both are," Chris answered.
"I live on Gongen, which you guys call Mars."
He had to ask. It was eating at him. "What happens to Korea? How... do things go well? I guess we help settle Mars, but..."
Sang Mi looked pained, and looked to her mentor, who shook his head.
"You can't tell him. There's no telling what we could change, and then my Superiors will have to get involved."
She took another bite of her curry, and chewed on what Chris said. "...We survive, and we go to the stars. That doesn't tell you more than you know, but... it's something good."
"It is something good," he agreed. "What did you think of Korea, when Cwej took you?"
"Oh, uh," Chris suddenly looked awkward.
Sang Mi filled her mouth with curry till she looked like a chipmunk so she wouldn't have to answer.
"I... haven't taken her there yet."
Jae-Sun had kept his face a mask through this whole insanity. But he couldn't help but keep the disappointment from his face. "Of course you haven't. I guess that wouldn't occur to you."
Sang Mi suddenly found herself chewing extra fast to break the awkward silence.
"Don't be too hard on him—" she began, but Chris cut her off.
"No, he's right. He's right and he should say it. He should say it."
Jae-Sun didn't feel bad about ruining the mood, if anything he felt completely vindicated, but it was ruined nonetheless. "I'll get you to a hotel. Then I'll meet up with you after work tomorrow."
"Sounds good," Chris agreed.
Chris paid the bill, and they had a rather silent trip to the hotel. Jae-Sun made his way home, and flopped down on his bed.
He thought of home.
"We survive, and we make it to the stars."
It was too little, and it left him with too many thoughts.
He closed his eyes hard till he too saw stars, and tried his best to dream.
* * *
The next day at Freshfields, Ellie came up to him, a little bit nervous. It was clear she was trying to make some small talk. "Did you see the new Smopsi representatives?"
Jae-Sun hadn't put much thought into Smopsi, a fifth rate cola that was supposed to have chocolate and marshmallow notes, but mostly just tasted like cola-flavoring and corn-syrup. "I hadn't." Had the others disappeared?
"They're bickering in Korean, but one of them is a teenage girl, and the other is a blonde man who could be a Rugby Union player. Everyone has been finding an excuse to steal a look."
Of course it was them. They just couldn't wait at the hotel, could they?
"I think I'm curious too. I'll let you know if they're saying anything interesting,” he said with a wink.
"Great!" Ellie nodded, and then glanced at her scanner, and began to hurry off. "Sorry, got to keep my SPIMS score up!"
He held a hand up in a terse goodbye, and marched over to the aisle for fizzy drinks. There were two people in purple jumpsuits and front-brimmed caps with Smopsi logos on them slowly and poorly unloading a cart filled with cases of the beverage.
"I'm telling you, you don't know how to stock a shelf," Cwej told his companion.
"You just put them on there, how am I doing it wrong?"
"Look at the other shelves! See how yours isn't lining up?"
"He's right, take a second look," Jae-Sun said.
Sang Mi's head whipped around, and she nodded with a bit of embarrassment, quickly adjusting the cases to match the others.
"I thought I told you to wait at the hotel."
"Well, it’s a wacky co-incidence actually," Sang Mi began.
Chris waved his hand in front of his neck, and she shut up. "We overheard a man in the lobby, the Smopsi reps who were supposed to drive the new product here went missing. Apparently they were here yesterday, and a few complaints were filed about their behavior. So their boss at the hotel was trying to fix the problem. And what do you know, a guy with twenty years industry experience was there to fill in."
More disappearances. It kept getting worse.
"That's important information. Did you learn anything else?"
"Mostly that Habib makes bad puns," Sang Mi said. "And that..." She trailed off, and raised pointing finger at the end of the aisle. Jae-Sun turned to follow her hand, and there it was.
Peeking around the corner was a scarecrow.
Jae-Sun didn't hesitate — he charged the scarecrow fullbore, his arm reaching out to grab it as it pulled back out of view.
But as he looked past the aisle to where it should have been — it was gone. He went a little further, just in case, but he already knew he wasn't going to see anything as he did.
* * *
"Do we have to meet up here?" Chris said, frustrated.
"It's good coffee?" Aoife asked, incredulous.
"Is it?" Chris replied.
"Who is this guy anyway?" Aoife said, throwing her arm out in further incredulity.
"Chris Cwej," Olivia, Xana, Charles, Sang Mi, Jae-Sun, and one of the baristas all said in an impressive unison.
"Oh, okay," she concluded, slumping in her chair. "I'm just saying, Blue Candle Coffee is underrated..." She sipped her cup.
Charles put on his most disarmingly charming smile. "Thank you for joining us, Chris, Sang Mi. Jae-Sun has already filled us in on your little adventure earlier. But do you have any theories?"
Chris shrugged. "I'm not sure. There's clearly something going on with this scarecrow. And it seems to be able to displace us in time and space. But it might just be a coincidence."
"I think it’s more likely SPIMS is doing something," Sang Mi said, causing Aoife to rise from her slump and gesture broadly at her.
"See, this one is making sense!"
Charles gave her a polite smile, and she sat back down, grumbling. "I propose we use our new friends to our advantage this evening. Chris will join me on my own investigations, and Jae-Sun and Sang Mi will go together and investigate my own suspicions."
Raising an eyebrow, Jae-Sun tilted his chin up. "And what would they be?"
"Why, you'll be taking wrong turns of course!"
* * *
"Am I centered?"
"Yeah, about."
"It's a yes or no question."
"Yes. Say kimchi."
"Kimchi!"
He snapped the picture. He'd been getting pictures of Sang Mi around some of the landmarks in York, and he'd saved the Minster for last on their tour. Sang Mi jogged back over, and took her phone back to look at it. "Great. Well, check that off my list. What now?"
He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Charles wanted us to take wrong turns, but how can you do that unintentionally? If you know you're turning at the wrong place, you're really turning at the right place because it's still where you meant to turn."
"That makes sense," Sang Mi said, sighing. "What do you normally do this time of the evening?"
"Go to the gym."
She perked up. "I do track and field, and cross country. Plus Chris and my school have been teaching me how to fight."
"...And your school?"
"Don't worry about it," she said very fast. "You were in the army, right? Maybe you can show me a thing or two."
He grinned. "Now you're talking."
* * *
Sang Mi panted as she held her forearm in place where she'd blocked his kick till he lowered his leg.
"Nice work, you finally got it."
"Not before you kicked me for half an hour."
He clapped her on the shoulder. "That's training for you. You're doing good."
They each picked up their water bottles, and Sang Mi wiped some sweat off on a towel. "Where'd you learn all this anyway?"
"The ROK Army, then KATUSA. That was a group that trained as part of the USFK."
"The what?"
"US Armed Forces Korea. I was a rescue parajumper and combat medic," he looked off at the white wall of the gym.
"...You miss it, don't you?"
"Yeah, guess I do. Got injured. Got discharged. One thing led to another and I ended up here."
"A long way from South Korea or the USA."
He grabbed his own towel and wiped himself down. "Guess so."
"You miss home?"
"Sometimes. I'm happiest doing things, here I get the chance to. But I miss my family. Especially my sister, even if she doesn't always miss me."
"I get that. I miss my family too. I've been traveling with Chris for a while now, but... well, never mind that, where are you from?"
"Sokcho, know it?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm bad enough with Gongen geography."
"It's in the North East, near the DMZ. People come there just to look across it. But I mostly remember the sea. My mom would go to the market every weekend and make us Myeongtae-hoe from freshly caught fish; you can’t get better than that.”
Sang Mi screwed her lips to the side. “We don’t really have water like that on Gongen. The planet is all dry deserts. We’ve got fish to eat of course, though I’m pretty sure most of it is 3D-Printed from vegetable proteins underground.”
“Forget what Charles said about our mission, I’m no chef but, I’m showing you what real Myeongtae-hoe tastes like.”
Her eyes lit up. "Well, I guess we better hit the showers; see you when I'm clean."
He gave a simple wave of acknowledgment, and went to do the same. When he got out, he waited on a bench in the hall between the men's and women's locker rooms and messed around on his phone.
Sang Mi was talking a while. Did she just take especially long showers? That was when he noticed it.
On the floor, by the corner, was Sang Mi's phone.
He shot up, and grabbed it. No question, this was hers. Panicked, he grabbed the arm of a passing woman heading into the locker room.
"I'm sorry, could you see if my cousin is in there? I'm worried she forgot her medicine and is having trouble. It could be serious, or nothing. Please."
The woman tensed when he grabbed her, but softened and nodded, assuring him she would after asking for a description of her.
No such person was in the locker room.
He ran to the security desk. He knew the woman on duty, Kelsa, and he was able to sweet talk her into showing him the footage from the halls there.
Sang Mi walked around the corner, dropping her phone, as if she realised she was going the wrong way and had shifted her weight too quickly turning around.
Then she vanished around the corner.
But the camera from that hallway showed no one entering it.
"That's weird," Kelsa said.
Jae-Sun used some stronger language.
He didn’t want to admit he’d screwed up, but there was no choice.
He called Charles immediately.
* * *
Chris paced back and forth across the room, biting his knuckles. "I shouldn't have left her with you! Damn it, I told her I'd keep her safe, get her home!"
Jae-Sun clasped his hands. He didn't have a good response. It had been his responsibility after all.
Charles tapped his tea cup against the table with surprising volume, causing all eyes to turn to him. "We can assign blame and responsibility later, if at all. What's important now is finding Miss Jhe."
"The disappearances are definitely connected then?" Aoife asked.
Jae-Sun shook his head. "Nobody else disappeared outside of the area of the store that wasn't accounted for by normal means."
"So we picked up a double mystery," Xana mumbled.
"Back on task," Chris said with an authority no one but Charles seemed to expect. "We're finding her. How?"
Olivia raised her hand. "Well, she got lost right? So we all just have to get lost, don't we?"
Aoife turned in her chair to give Olivia a look. "You can't just get yourself lost."
Jae-Sun straightened up. "Yes, you can. I have a plan."
He rose from his chair, and took a deep breath.
He began to detail his plan, wiping down the white board and drawing exactly how it would work. He pointed to each member in turn, laying out their role, until finally setting the green marker down, and crossing his arms.
“Well, what do you think?” Jae-Sun asked.
"That's a stupid plan," Xana said.
"It'll work though," Aoife admitted.
"Then let's stop waiting around," Chris said, and without a glance back went for the door.
Charles looked at Jae-Sun. They had an understanding.
* * *
The Smopsi Cola office building in York had been a bad idea. Not enough of the offices had been filled, and while the cola was doing fine, it certainly hadn't taken the UK by storm the way they'd hoped. So when a man came by and dropped a suitcase of cash (in American dollars, oddly) on their front desk that could pay the rest for the next two years to rent the building out for the whole night, they quickly decided to shut down all operations and scoot the staff out the doors.
"Why'd you pick this place?" Xana asked.
"I was here earlier, it's understaffed, most of the windows are blocked off so it doesn't look empty, and they didn't decorate the hallways much so it all looks the same," Chris answered.
"It's a maze," Charles said, his eyes sparkling with understanding.
"We turn the power off, including emergency lighting, and we all wander around, with the goal in your head of getting to the President's office."
"But I don't know where that is?" Olivia said. Everyone looked at her. "Oh! Oh, no I get it. Continue."
"Alright then, let's get lost in the dark," Chris ordered.
It was a strange order. Jae-Sun had been trained to make his way in the dark, but Cwej had chosen a good place to get even him lost. The hallways were all the same. He couldn't make out the room numbers in pitch darkness, and the walls and carpet all felt the same. The sound seemed to be absorbed in some spots and echo in others in a way that was completely inconsistent. It was disorienting. The dark seemed to spin around him.
He felt dizzy.
He turned a corner.
Was he supposed to turn here? He didn't even really know there had been a corner here...
And then there was light.
He ran towards it, and through a door, and fell to his hands and knees panting, relieved that there was something for his senses to connect to.
"Jae-Sun!"
He looked up. It was an odd room. The first thing he saw though was Sang Mi. She looked almost like a doll — she'd been dressed up in an elaborate ball gown, her hair done up in an equally elaborate do. She looked incredibly uncomfortable in the get up, and from her initial lazy outfit of track shorts and a hoodie, he guessed she wasn't the type to get dolled up very often.
The room was lined in human sized dolls, and sitting in a chair admiring Sang Mi was a scarecrow in a tuxedo. It wore that same comedy mask, stroking its chin with fingers of straw. Its head turned to look at Jae-Sun.
"Oh, we have another guest!"
"Are you alright?" Jae-Sun asked in Korean.
"ENGLISH please!" the scarecrow yelled.
"I'm okay," Sang Mi answered in Korean.
The scarecrow raised a hand as though he was about to strike her.
Jae-Sun made to rush the scarecrow — but as he tried to cross the floor, he found that he was lost.
He could see them, just across the room. There was nothing separating them? But as he tried to walk, he kept going in the wrong directions.
"Ever the hero, Mr. Park. Miss Jhe here thinks of herself the same way. But you should both learn a lesson."
"I don't think you have much to teach me," he spat back as he nearly ran into the back wall trying to run towards the scarecrow.
"Oh but I do. You've all been taking wrong turns. Making choices for yourself. You're even trying to prevent SPIMS from making the right choices, tsk tsk. It's up to better people, more refined people, of a better breeding and stature, to make the choices. As soon as you realize other people are your betters, the happier you'll be."
"Bullshit," Sang Mi said.
The scarecrow laughed. "You're both lost. Far from home. Mr. Park can't even fulfill his dreams in sport or the military. How is your seventh best option going?"
"I love it," he shouted. He tried to run in a straight line, and ended up exactly where he started.
"And Miss Jhe, your life was directionless until you latched onto Mr. Cwej, wasn't it? No dreams or ambitions, and the dreary feeling you'd be better off dead. Tsk tsk. Both of you could use a strong guiding hand. You should feel lucky I found you."
"What exactly are you? I mean, you're literally a strawman."
"I have transcended bodies." He gestured to the life-sized dolls lining the room. "This has been a useful form for my needs. But I’ve worn many bodies — taken many. And both of your bodies will be excellent to put on — oh don't give me that look. What were you doing with it anyway?"
"Whatever I want to," Sang Mi said, and her voice was getting more spiteful.
Jae-Sun kept himself calm and collected. Cool. But he’d had enough. He rose to his full height, and looked the scarecrow right in the eyes of its mask.
"I used to not understand why other kids would get so worked up they'd throw a punch and get into trouble in school. Until I met someone like you. Someone who had the power to torment other kids around them and get away with it. They knew they were untouchable, because everyone knew the consequences. But there's something they never expect, something that floors them everytime. Do you know what that is?"
The man laughed, shaking his head. Behind the mask they could all feel him rolling his eyes.
"Being reminded the only thing that made them feel better than other people was their money, their power. Take that away from them, even for a moment, and they're more scared than you can imagine. No, I want you to imagine it. Try."
"I won't imagine something that can't happen."
Jae-Sun looked at Sang Mi, who shrugged. "You even gave a whole speech to warn him, go off."
He looked Sang Mi in the eyes, and she seemed to know he wanted her to not look away.
“Tell me about your home,” he said.
“What?” the scarecrow said.
“My mom sometimes makes me my favorite food, its Hong Kong style Lemon Chicken. I love it. My brothers tell me it’s too sweet. My apartment building has a heating unit at the bottom that the city sometimes doesn’t fix right so my twin brother Sang Eun and I go to fix it ourselves in the winter, and Mrs. Lee down the hall gives us milk candy every time we do. I go to a school called Academy 27. I’ve bombed out of every relationship I’ve been in, but I still go to Higen Park where I had my first kiss sometimes because even though I’m alone there it makes me feel like a romantic.”
Jae-Sun smiled. “My grandma would always fuss over us at Christmas, and make us get dressed up to go to church. Most of us would rather have been playing footy in the park.”
“My grandma did the same. Though we wanted to play video games.”
“I have a twin too. We used to be really close. I didn’t like her husband. I still don’t. She still lives in Sokcho, has two kids now. I don’t see her as much as I like. I’m closer with my younger siblings now. She likes French cooking. I think it makes her feel fancy. There’s a park by where I grew up that had a rusty swingset. They finally took it out last time I visited home. It was a danger, but I felt sad it was gone.”
Sang Mi smiled. “Your home sounds like a nice place.”
“So does yours.”
The scarecrow looked between them, “What the hell was that supposed to accomplish?”
Jae-Sun took a step forward.
And he moved a step forward.
“I guess neither of us is lost anymore.”
Sang Mi didn’t wait, or say anything, she just grabbed a candlestick from a table and started beating the scarecrow with it relentlessly. Jae-Sun had sort of expected a more restrained finale, but well, he wasn’t the one who’d been forced to dress up like a living doll. So he let her let it all out.
When she was done, panting and holding the candlestick like a club, the scarecrow’s mask had tumbled away across the floor, and it stared with button eyes up at them, stuffing and straw spilled out along the floor.
“You can’t just… you can’t just… this isn’t fair.”
Jae-Sun squatted down. “If you can’t play by your own rules, no one will want to play with you, you know?”
“Well spoken.” There was a hard boot fall, and they turned their faces to see Chris Cwej. Sang Mi ran to him, and hugged him.
“That dress doesn’t suit you,” he said simply.
“I know, I fricking hate it. I can’t wait to get out of it.”
He tousled her hair, and looked down at the scarecrow, which flinched at him. “Mr. Cwej! You… you’re a man of refinement, yes? Everyone knows of your legendary prowess—”
“Shut the hell up,” he ordered.
And he did.
He looked at Jae-Sun. “I’m going to take care of the problem. Charles won’t approve, but I don’t care, and I’m not asking anyway.”
Jae-Sun shrugged. “He wanted to steal a kid’s body. I’m really not putting up an argument here.”
Chris gave him a nod, and this time there was respect in it. He grabbed the scarecrow by the nape of the neck, turned the ring on his finger, and vanished.
* * *
Chris dropped the scarecrow on the ground. It pushed itself up on its straw arms. It turned its button eyes up at Cwej.
"If you're wondering where we are, we're in Sweden in 1966. Do you know why I brought you here?"
"To try to kill me again?"
Chris didn't smile. Didn't pretend he was enjoying this. Didn't react at all. "No. I know that's not possible. You’re a body swapper. I'm here to send a message." He squatted down, to look him right in the buttons. "I've given a lot of people second chances lately. Even some exes. But what I can't tolerate is you trying to hurt my friend like you did."
"I just—"
"Shut up." He didn't raise his voice. He didn't get angry. That made it worse. "She's still a child. On the cusp of adulthood, but people like you prey on 'almost'. Almost made the right turn, almost old enough, almost survived. So today I'm done with second chances, because you're going to send a message for me."
The scarecrow nodded. "Of course, of course! I can say whatever you need me to."
"It's not a message you'll be saying. You always come into a new form after you're destroyed, as long as that form will appear. It's why you're a scarecrow. There's always new scarecrows in the fall, even if they're just there for farm tourists and not for the crows at all. So I've found you a new home. Are you familiar with Gävle, Sweden?"
He shook his straw head.
"Every year they build a straw goat here. And nearly every year someone burns it. Sometimes it's pecked apart by Jackdaws. And even if it survives they'll rip it apart and dispose of all the straw guts. But the metal frame will still be there as they pull them out. Out of you."
If buttons could grow wide, his would have.
"No, NO! You can't—"
"But I can, and I will. You'll burn, over and over. And trust me, this festival goes on for a long time. Even after the Earth is dust and wind, you will burn. And everyone will know that you don't mess with my friends."
He snapped his fingers, and the scarecrow went still.
And behind its false eyes, the great statue of the Gävle goat awakened.
Chris walked away. He didn't look back, even as the flames rose high into the night.
* * *
Sang Mi got out of her dress and into her normal clothes fast, and gave the dress to Olivia, who was far more excited about it. Jae-Sun brought Sang Mi and Chris back to his home, and made them fresh Myeongtae-hoe. Not quite as fresh as it would have been in Sokcho, but Freshfields stock of pollock wasn’t bad. “It’s damn good,” Sang Mi said, and Jae-Sun felt a lot of pride.
“Thanks. I learned from the best…”
Once they’d finished dinner, everyone gathered in the Freshfields carpark by the orange Honda Element the pair had ridden in on. Hugs were exchanged. Handshakes were given.
“You’re sure you can’t stay to help finish the investigation?” Charles asked.
Chris shook his head. “The effect that the scarecrow had is wearing off. We’ve got to hit the road, and follow our path back before it closes, it should take us back to when and where we came from. I’m sorry we can’t. I certainly wish you all the luck in solving this mess.”
Charles shook his hand, and Sang Mi turned to Jae-Sun.
“Call your sister.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
He didn’t want to say out loud that she was absolutely right, so he just gave the slightest nod.
She got in the Honda.
“Hey, Sang Mi?”
She rolled down the window. “Yeah?”
He slipped her a piece of paper. “That’s how you make my mom’s Myeongtae-hoe. You’re the first outside the family to get this, so keep it secret.”
She put her finger to her lips. “You got it. Thanks for everything, Jae-Sun. See you in the stars.”
“See you in the stars,” he said.
They watched the Honda drive down the road, and make a turn at a lamppost.
The car didn’t come out the other side of the pole, like a magic trick.
“Well, back to work,” Xana sighed. “You coming, Jae-Sun?”
He smiled at her. “One second. I’ll be right there.”
Jae-Sun walked over to the river, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through contacts. He pulled up a number he hadn’t dialed in longer than he’d like to admit. He waited, expecting to get voicemail.
“Hey there stupid, why are you calling, it’s not even Christmas yet.”
He wasn’t a man who cried often. But he felt the tears welling up. “Well, you know. Sometimes you realise you just put something off too long.”
There was a pause, and he felt his heart beat fast, before she replied, her voice touched by her own tears. “Well at least you finally did it, you dummy.”
And they laughed.
He looked up at the stars.
They’d always find their way home.
- Published on
- Published on
Flickers at Freshfields 4
by James Wylder
It had been a long shift, and Katie was excited to be done. Not that her job really ended. Once she closed, she’d set up with a sleeping bag in the back room and be on call in case something happened at Freshfields again.
Unfortunately, she noticed something nearly immediately while she was wiping down the tables. Sometimes she wished she could be worse at her job, because her ability to ignore things as soon as she noticed or realised them was incredibly small and low. Oh well. She yelled to Fred that she needed to check on something.
Throwing her trenchcoat on over her uniform, she ran out the door and across the road to where the girl in the elaborate ballgown was sitting on the grass holding a comedy mask.
She looked over at her as she ran.
Oh well, this wasn’t a case where she was being stealthy.
“Hey uh, you doing alright? What’s with the gown?”
The girl looked down, and looked up at her. “Oh yeah. Got kidnapped by an evil cosmic scarecrow.”
Katie nodded knowingly. “That happened to my buddy Ryan.”
“Sucks. Guessing you’re a Flicker, cause you were working at the Blue Candle?”
Katie made a “psshhh” noise, but the girl just held her gaze.
“...I’m not supposed to say.”
“So yes. I met some of you next year.”
Katie took a second parsing that sentence.
“Hey, look, it’s whatever. You want this mask? I’d rather not keep it. It’s not cursed or anything.”
She held it out to her.
Katie ruminated on it. Well, couldn’t hurt to have it. She took the mask. It was old and battered, and smelled like straw.
“Hey, let’s get back to the hotel to change!” a blond man yelled up to them. It was Chris Cwej. Interstellar and temporal adventurer, and human Act of God. Oh. This was his assistant... They’d been at the shop earlier. She didn’t recognise the girl with the terrible hairdo, thick makeup, and the gaudy dress.
The girl waved at Cwej, and turned back to Katie. “Thank god, I hate this dress. Well, see ya.”
“Yeah, good to meet you by the way. I’m Kaite Smithy.”
“Jhe Sang Mi. Good luck with the…” She gestured with her hands broadly and vaguely. “Whole being exploited for protection thing. You made a good hazelnut latte. Peace out.”
They waved goodbye.
She looked at the mask. Maybe it’d come in handy later.
Unfortunately, she noticed something nearly immediately while she was wiping down the tables. Sometimes she wished she could be worse at her job, because her ability to ignore things as soon as she noticed or realised them was incredibly small and low. Oh well. She yelled to Fred that she needed to check on something.
Throwing her trenchcoat on over her uniform, she ran out the door and across the road to where the girl in the elaborate ballgown was sitting on the grass holding a comedy mask.
She looked over at her as she ran.
Oh well, this wasn’t a case where she was being stealthy.
“Hey uh, you doing alright? What’s with the gown?”
The girl looked down, and looked up at her. “Oh yeah. Got kidnapped by an evil cosmic scarecrow.”
Katie nodded knowingly. “That happened to my buddy Ryan.”
“Sucks. Guessing you’re a Flicker, cause you were working at the Blue Candle?”
Katie made a “psshhh” noise, but the girl just held her gaze.
“...I’m not supposed to say.”
“So yes. I met some of you next year.”
Katie took a second parsing that sentence.
“Hey, look, it’s whatever. You want this mask? I’d rather not keep it. It’s not cursed or anything.”
She held it out to her.
Katie ruminated on it. Well, couldn’t hurt to have it. She took the mask. It was old and battered, and smelled like straw.
“Hey, let’s get back to the hotel to change!” a blond man yelled up to them. It was Chris Cwej. Interstellar and temporal adventurer, and human Act of God. Oh. This was his assistant... They’d been at the shop earlier. She didn’t recognise the girl with the terrible hairdo, thick makeup, and the gaudy dress.
The girl waved at Cwej, and turned back to Katie. “Thank god, I hate this dress. Well, see ya.”
“Yeah, good to meet you by the way. I’m Kaite Smithy.”
“Jhe Sang Mi. Good luck with the…” She gestured with her hands broadly and vaguely. “Whole being exploited for protection thing. You made a good hazelnut latte. Peace out.”
They waved goodbye.
She looked at the mask. Maybe it’d come in handy later.
- Published on
Flickers at Freshfields 5
by James Wylder
Katie’s observation of the store had continued. And she was at this point quite tired of it. She was pretty sure there was nothing new for her to learn until the SIGNET team made a move. Which meant she was trapped in the most boring pattern you could get to: having to pay attention so you could act when something actually happened, while nothing happened. Right now the team was meeting at the smoking shelter. This struck her as a bad place to meet due to how many of them didn’t smoke, but whatever, it wasn’t her job to do their job for them.
But then something happened. They were looking at a scanner. Big whoop. They had scanners at the Coffee Shop.
The employee who had felt her out seemed to get the attention of Jae-Sun, and he raised his arm in greeting while joggling over to her.
SUSPICIOUS.
Of course that employee had been feeling her out, she was in on it too!
Whatever it was! Katie sprung into action, and made her way across the car park from her hiding spot to where the pair were headed. They weren’t staying at the store — what could it mean? She caught up to them as they began to walk along the river. Staying within distance of them to hear was a little hard, but she was half-Kelphan. Both her parents had abandoned her, but she’d use what they gave her. And her hearing was pretty good, and her bones were a little lighter (which could be bad in some scenarios) but here gave her light steps. She crept her way through the bushes and underbrush till she could hear them.
“—originally I'm from South Korea,” Jae-Sun said.
“Cool, what made you move?” the employee said.
“Long story,” he replied.
“Sorry.”
Then they walked awkwardly together in silence for a bit. It was a weird conversation. This didn’t seem like they were trading spy secrets. Disappointing. But what was it?
“How are you finding Freshfields?” she asked.
“It’s been okay. There’s lots of sitting about on the security podium, which isn’t exactly my thing, but Steve’s entertaining enough.”
That’s one word for him. “So you’re not the sitting about type?”
Jae-Sun shook his head. “Definitely not. I’ve always been active, as long as I can remember.”
It hit Katie suddenly. This was a date! They were going on a date. Her heart raced. Finally, something interesting! She probably couldn’t write this in her report, but she was rooting for them! Come on employee girl, go get your man, you got this! She held a fist up in solidarity silently, then pulled it down quickly as she realised that would probably be bad and not go over well.
“I bet you’re buzzing when we get a shoplifter then?”
He laughed. “I suppose so. But to be honest, we’ve not really had that many. Only a couple since the guy you brought to us.”
Ellie’s gaze fell. “The one that went missing…”
“Weird, wasn’t it?” he said. “There one minute, gone the next. Have any of the others been like that?”
“My friend, Jackie, just sort of disappeared. Not too different from the shoplifter, now you mention it. She was in the middle of a shift; people assumed she ran off to chase after her ex-husband. She certainly mentioned it enough...”
Then Jae-Sun mumbled something and Katie missed it.
“You sound more like a detective than a security guard,” she said.
He didn’t reply! Katie rolled around in the grass. Come on dude, you’ve got your chance and you’re missing it! Don’t talk about the disappearances! Like sure that’s your job, but you’ve got a hottie right there. Don’t be blind!
“Does your family live locally?” The employee came in with a save. Yes! You got this girl!
Jae-Sun shook his head. “None,” he said. “All back in Korea, though I still visit them during the holidays.”
“You’re not around over Christmas?”
“Depends how long the job lasts… mean, my post is only a seasonal one. I might have to look for a new job soon.”
“Oh… No, wait, your post is a permanent one — you’re replacing Terri’s position, after she moved back down south to be with her family.” She chuckled. “Unless she went missing too!”
Jae-Sun dodged the joke. Not a very good joke, but come on guy, she’s throwing herself at you. Katie picked up a rock, and nearly hurled it at Jae-Sun in aggrievance, but took a deep breath, and set it down. She was the protector of love, not its soldier. Or something like that.
“What were you doing with Charles and the others earlier? …I didn’t realise the two of you knew each other,” the employee said.
Oh no.
Oh NO.
It was all going to come tumbling down.
“Oh, he was just asking me for a vape,” he answered.
“But he doesn’t vape,” Katie whimpered, tears in her eyes.
“But he doesn’t vape…” the employee echoed.
“I don’t know why he asked then,” he said, laughing. It was the worst save she’d heard, and she’d heard and said some bad ones in her short life.
Because he wasn’t up for batting for the hottie in front of him, he pulled his cellphone out and pretended to check his messages. He was not actually checking anything. “I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to go.” He flashed his phone at her, quickly, not fast enough for her to see. “I’m needed back home — looks like we’ve had a leak.” It was a bad lie.
“Oh,” said the employee.
He started to jog back to the store, and Katie found tears rolling down her face. “I’ll see you around sometime,” he called back.
“Sure,” said the employee.
“Love is dead,” Katie said, and pulled a tissue out, blowing her nose.
She cried there in the bushes for a few minutes, before a woman leaned over, and asked quietly, “Uh, are you alright down there, love?”
“Noooooooooo,” Katie said.
“Would you… like a hug?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
The nice lady and her hugged, and Katie cried some more, and then she gave her her number, said her name was Cheryl and to call her if she needed anything. What a nice lady.
Katie wiped her tears and looked over at the store. “I can’t forgive this, Jae-Sun Park.”
A passing jogger moved off the path to avoid her as she made her vow.
But then something happened. They were looking at a scanner. Big whoop. They had scanners at the Coffee Shop.
The employee who had felt her out seemed to get the attention of Jae-Sun, and he raised his arm in greeting while joggling over to her.
SUSPICIOUS.
Of course that employee had been feeling her out, she was in on it too!
Whatever it was! Katie sprung into action, and made her way across the car park from her hiding spot to where the pair were headed. They weren’t staying at the store — what could it mean? She caught up to them as they began to walk along the river. Staying within distance of them to hear was a little hard, but she was half-Kelphan. Both her parents had abandoned her, but she’d use what they gave her. And her hearing was pretty good, and her bones were a little lighter (which could be bad in some scenarios) but here gave her light steps. She crept her way through the bushes and underbrush till she could hear them.
“—originally I'm from South Korea,” Jae-Sun said.
“Cool, what made you move?” the employee said.
“Long story,” he replied.
“Sorry.”
Then they walked awkwardly together in silence for a bit. It was a weird conversation. This didn’t seem like they were trading spy secrets. Disappointing. But what was it?
“How are you finding Freshfields?” she asked.
“It’s been okay. There’s lots of sitting about on the security podium, which isn’t exactly my thing, but Steve’s entertaining enough.”
That’s one word for him. “So you’re not the sitting about type?”
Jae-Sun shook his head. “Definitely not. I’ve always been active, as long as I can remember.”
It hit Katie suddenly. This was a date! They were going on a date. Her heart raced. Finally, something interesting! She probably couldn’t write this in her report, but she was rooting for them! Come on employee girl, go get your man, you got this! She held a fist up in solidarity silently, then pulled it down quickly as she realised that would probably be bad and not go over well.
“I bet you’re buzzing when we get a shoplifter then?”
He laughed. “I suppose so. But to be honest, we’ve not really had that many. Only a couple since the guy you brought to us.”
Ellie’s gaze fell. “The one that went missing…”
“Weird, wasn’t it?” he said. “There one minute, gone the next. Have any of the others been like that?”
“My friend, Jackie, just sort of disappeared. Not too different from the shoplifter, now you mention it. She was in the middle of a shift; people assumed she ran off to chase after her ex-husband. She certainly mentioned it enough...”
Then Jae-Sun mumbled something and Katie missed it.
“You sound more like a detective than a security guard,” she said.
He didn’t reply! Katie rolled around in the grass. Come on dude, you’ve got your chance and you’re missing it! Don’t talk about the disappearances! Like sure that’s your job, but you’ve got a hottie right there. Don’t be blind!
“Does your family live locally?” The employee came in with a save. Yes! You got this girl!
Jae-Sun shook his head. “None,” he said. “All back in Korea, though I still visit them during the holidays.”
“You’re not around over Christmas?”
“Depends how long the job lasts… mean, my post is only a seasonal one. I might have to look for a new job soon.”
“Oh… No, wait, your post is a permanent one — you’re replacing Terri’s position, after she moved back down south to be with her family.” She chuckled. “Unless she went missing too!”
Jae-Sun dodged the joke. Not a very good joke, but come on guy, she’s throwing herself at you. Katie picked up a rock, and nearly hurled it at Jae-Sun in aggrievance, but took a deep breath, and set it down. She was the protector of love, not its soldier. Or something like that.
“What were you doing with Charles and the others earlier? …I didn’t realise the two of you knew each other,” the employee said.
Oh no.
Oh NO.
It was all going to come tumbling down.
“Oh, he was just asking me for a vape,” he answered.
“But he doesn’t vape,” Katie whimpered, tears in her eyes.
“But he doesn’t vape…” the employee echoed.
“I don’t know why he asked then,” he said, laughing. It was the worst save she’d heard, and she’d heard and said some bad ones in her short life.
Because he wasn’t up for batting for the hottie in front of him, he pulled his cellphone out and pretended to check his messages. He was not actually checking anything. “I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to go.” He flashed his phone at her, quickly, not fast enough for her to see. “I’m needed back home — looks like we’ve had a leak.” It was a bad lie.
“Oh,” said the employee.
He started to jog back to the store, and Katie found tears rolling down her face. “I’ll see you around sometime,” he called back.
“Sure,” said the employee.
“Love is dead,” Katie said, and pulled a tissue out, blowing her nose.
She cried there in the bushes for a few minutes, before a woman leaned over, and asked quietly, “Uh, are you alright down there, love?”
“Noooooooooo,” Katie said.
“Would you… like a hug?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
The nice lady and her hugged, and Katie cried some more, and then she gave her her number, said her name was Cheryl and to call her if she needed anything. What a nice lady.
Katie wiped her tears and looked over at the store. “I can’t forgive this, Jae-Sun Park.”
A passing jogger moved off the path to avoid her as she made her vow.