《OtheR》 Preface Rhythmic scraping sound disrupts the overwhelming silence of a dimmed basement. The fingers squeeze a quill pen, making it move faster along the black board, reminding an archaic clay tablet. Scraping grows louder.
Summer of 69. Earth crust continues to shrink. Earthquakes hit Mon York regularly. It¡¯s getting worth. The city may disappear into the mantle in the next decade. The Circles are narrowing down. No more elections. This ghost of democracy is gone. Underground works in upper mantle now. They are sent to die. We all will soon.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
The hand holding the pen freezes. It scrapes a 69 symbol on the bottom right corner of the tablet. Now it¡¯s ready. Man¡¯s figure in a long black robe stands up and heads to the dark wall behind him. As he brushes his hand against it, the shelves get out of the wall, revealing an astonishing collection of the same black clay tablets. The man slowly slides the tablet into one of the half-empty shelves in front of him. Click. The shelf accepts the new tablet and hides back into the wall. Click. The man lingers his hand on the wall for a mere second, paying his respects. Next moment, he heads towards the massive black door and reaches out for the key from around his neck. Another entry is done. The history is secure, so are the humankind memories. https://youtu.be/Gs_4_oAepN0 Prologue My eyes wander through the veil over my reflection in the full-size mirror. Gorgeous embroided ivory dress. Diamant pendant. Long golden earrings. Exquisite make up. Artistically styled hair with perfectly shaped curls. Iconic portrait of the happy bride, except a tiny little detail ¨C she''s everything but happy on the inside. But who cares about the inside, right? Usually, no one. The image we project into the world is our everything, that''s what we get percieved by, but... The times have changed. Empathetic human-looking creatures infiltrated our world and my husband-to-soon-be is potentially one of them, potential Other, so I need to be, to seem happy. I fidget my golden engagement bracelet, meeting my eyes in the mirror. In an hour, this girl will become Mrs Fandor, a humble wife to Mr. Grossen Fandor, Circle''s candidate and one of the most prominent financial enterpreneuers in the city. I''ve been trying to become this woman for the last two weeks. Have I succeeded? That''s to our guests to judge. After all, that''s the reason they''ve all gathered here today, to witness this. I look at the mirror again, turning off all the unuseful thoughts like who''s that girl staring at me. Who cares? She''ll be who she needs to be. The women are taught who they supposed to be, even by other women. Isn''t it as it has always been? During the five years in the agency I tried different roles besides being a field agent. Rich heiress? Sure, why not. Kitchen girl? Of course, your poached eggs with roasted salmon will be served at 7:00. Prostitute? Any special wishes for tonight, sir? I''ve learned to become so many people that in the previous life I could easily get an Oscar, but today is about something more than a stupid award, today is about millions of lives on our planet, including mine.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Some lives, though, are already lost... Horrific images from last night run across my mind, making me shudder. My grandma''s body in the living room, lonely lying there, forgotten for five years. I close my eyes and start counting. I can''t have it. Not now. Not this year. Five. My eyelids shuddering. Traces of blood. Smell of death. Four. I have a good memory. Three. That''s my gift and that''s my curse. Two. I release my numb fingers from the fists. One. I breath again. The door opens, so do my eyes. My bridesmaid Erin enters, checking on me. I squeeze out a smile, rolling back my tears of weakness to where they belong ¨C nowhere. "It''s time, Jules." Erin voices out my sentence. "Are you ready?" I correct my veil, nodding. "Of course, I am." Enough of this self pity. It won''t lead anywhere. Accept the things you can''t change, Jules. Better gather the courage to change things you do can, you''ll need that. Erin holds my hands, "You can do this, girl." I nod, accepting the bouquet. I can and I will. After all, I don''t really have a choice, neither does humankind... https://youtu.be/Gs_4_oAepN0 Chapter 1. Sleepover (pt 1) ¡°They say that home is where the heart is¡­¡± I wake up when it¡¯s dark outside. It becomes a part of your routine as you join the agency. ¡°Night is our ally,¡± that¡¯s one of the first things I¡¯ve learned and accepted, even though I¡¯ve preferred dawns. I had enough nights in my life, spending 22 years without any sunlight. I click my fingers to check the time - 4 am. I sigh. Twelve more hours till meeting with Erin. I lean back to the soft pillows. I could use some sleep. Late arrival, exhausting getaway, jet lag. I thought I¡¯ll sleep like a baby for a good twelve hours straight. I was dreaming about that, but my brain had a different plan. It always has. Speeding when I don¡¯t need it to. Habits¡­ I wipe the rest of the sleep from my eyelids. It was a pleasant one, it was about Eric. It always is once I turn off the focus mode after the mission, even though I¡¯m not supposed to. But come on, we are humans, not robots, even if we pretend to be so. Mon York has always been a hard place for us. Headquarters and base of National Agency, where we spend a huge amount of time between missions, living a fake life for a cover story, reloading and preparing for the next missions. We saw each other more often than usual, but it¡¯d better if we didn¡¯t. It¡¯s an exquisite torment: to see the person, every part of you is craving for, and not being able to allow yourself so much as an additional glance. Secret meetings and stolen minutes of precious time together aren¡¯t helping, just leaving you craving for more. Once you feel the glimpse of possible happiness you don¡¯t want to let it go. It¡¯s like holding your breath after you discover the pleasure of oxygen in the air. You become greedy, you want all of it. This drives me crazy every time, nudging to get out of this city that suffocates me as soon as possible. This time is different though. Haven¡¯t seen Eric for a couple of month, due to the circumstances of our latest missions, I¡¯m willing to accept even the exquisite torment. The desire to simply see him prevails. My brain circles back to our latest encounter in Mon York as I¡¯m making myself some morning coffee. Ground bitter mocha. That¡¯s how I feel. I take a sip. Yeah, that¡¯s it. I dive into its taste, allowing my memories to surface. I was taking the subway from the agency, waiting for the train on the empty platform as usual, when I felt his eyes smoldering my back. I know the feeling. I wouldn¡¯t mix it with anything else. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I called out, feeling him ungluing from the wall, leaving just a shadow on it. It¡¯s so reckless and mind-blowing at the same time. Always that edge. ¡°Making sure you get home safe, nothing more.¡± He approached leaving only a few feet¡¯s between them, tickling my inner goosebumps as the hair in my arms goes up and hushing my voice of reason as he always does. ¡°I can¡¯t be seen with any man, you know.¡± I did a weak try to withstand this charm. ¡°I know.¡± He¡¯s just two feet behind me. ¡°I¡¯m just waiting for a train here, just like you.¡± His breath reached a strip of bare skin on my neck, warming it, tickling its sensitive nerve endings. ¡°We are just a man and a woman, waiting for the train. Nothing more.¡± I tried to keep my gaze straight, despite the arising temptation. The signal of approaching train chimed in just in time. Not sure how much longer I could have fought it. It¡¯s stronger than me, some carnivore parts of myself, encrypted in my DNA, which ignite in a blink of an eye in Eric¡¯s presence. I got on the train and took the seat on the left. Eric took the one seat behind me. Just the safe distance to make it seem as an ordinary man and an ordinary woman. I turned away to the dark window, managing to catch a glimpse of his reflection. Handsome as always. Exhausted as always. The bruises under his eyes seemed to become bigger though. When was the last time he had a proper sleep? He could probably had a good one that night, but followed me here. Traced me like a predator, ignoring all the precautions for a few hours with me. I lean over the kitchen counter like he did it with me. His warm torso pressing me into the marble coldness. Forgotten sensations run through my body. I fantomly feel his fingers brushing against my spine, his lips getting lost in my messy hair, his hot intermittent breathing tickling my earlobe¡­ I swallow, clenching my fingers, trying to ignore the urge arousing inside. Not the time. The whistle from my security system confirms that. ¡°Breakfast delivery, miss,¡± reports Linda, which oversees the smart home system in my apartment. I examine the data of the drone, flying towards my balcony. Ours. The automatic scan confirms the content of the package ¨C blueberry pancakes with banana milkshake. Good morning message from Carl, my boss. I would wonder how he knew that I¡¯m awake at 5 am, but I know the answer. The biochip inside me automatically shares my healthy data with the agency. Not a lot of privacy but it turns out to be not that significant when it can save your life and it did, a couple of times. I press my palm to the window, letting the package inside. ¡°Enjoy, your breakfast, Miss Moore,¡± announces the drone flying away. I put pancakes on the plate, looking for the note on the bottom of the box. It¡¯s pretty short: ¡°6 pm, Grand Boutique opening, sleepover.¡± I bring the note to the sink and put it under the hot water stream. The note disappears in a few seconds. One of a few valuable inventions of ecologists. I sit at the table, staring at the pancakes. Not much of appetite even though I really missed them in the desert. The note is to blame for that. Carl doesn¡¯t usually endorse spending time with other agents and here he goes, offering a sleepover at Erin¡¯s. Something¡¯s not right. He wouldn¡¯t suggest it if it wouldn¡¯t help some mission and there¡¯s none it could help, at least those I know about. That¡¯s what alerts me. The unknown unknowns don¡¯t bother us but the known unknows do and suddenly the unknown unknown became a known unknown. Chapter 1. Sleepover (pt 2) My beige heels clink on the wet pavement as I try to avoid the puddles. Not a very smart choice of colours, but I can allow myself that slip. The drops of rain caress my city printed umbrella in a range of rhythmic beats. That¡¯s the music to my ears. I¡¯ve missed it. God, I¡¯ve missed it. I stop for a second to breath in cool October¡¯s air, enjoying the taste of humidity as it fills in my lungs. I forgot how it feels in those three months in the desert. I hold out my hand and catch a few drops, feeling them soak my skin, still dry from the abundance of sun and sand. I¡¯ve always loved rain, especially after our latest mission with Eric in Lon-Is. I saved him from unnecessary interrogations from French police, playing his wife, probably the single role I neeedn¡¯t to play. After a lovely time in the bubble bath, we¡¯ve escaped the unfriendly Normandy coast on the jet ski as the wall of rain covered our tracks. A sad smile curves my lips. That was the last time I saw Eric. I flew straight to the Cape-Af and he was supposed to get back to Mon York. His mission didn¡¯t have an end date. That¡¯s what he told me back then. Probably, some deep undercover. I didn¡¯t pry. We never do, but I wish I did. Patience was never my strong side and lately it¡¯s been getting worse. Five years in the agency, doing whatever they asked me to, five years without any proper leads, five years of making plans that were failing one after another. How much longer, Jules? You don¡¯t want to dedicate all your life to vengeance and searching for answers, do you? I need to get on top of that. It¡¯s high time to work out the solution which works. Who knows, maybe that known unknown will help with that? Neon signs of Grand Boutique shimmer a few feet in front of me. I fold my umbrella, lunging inside. Not many people for the grand opening though. A few women near the counter, a group of people in the aisle with dresses and Erin, who runs towards me as soon as she lays her eyes on me. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Jules!¡± her arms wrap around me before I even get to say hi. She presses me to her chest, gently squeezing my hand ¨C are you okay? I squeeze Erin¡¯s hand in response ¨C I¡¯m fine, pulling away to take a proper look at her. Smiling, in black jumpsuit. Exhausted. Probably, spending more nights in the lab. A bit sad. The heavy makeup doesn¡¯t cover it or maybe I just know her too well to distinguish it in the greeness of her eyes. Will need to talk to her about it. She grew her hair and bleached it a bit. Now it streams down her shoulders, beach waves style. It suits her. Other than that it¡¯s the same Erin, my partner, my bestie, my soul mate. ¡°Happy to see you, Erin.¡± ¡°You too, dear. You too. It¡¯s been too long.¡± ¡°It definitely was,¡± I chuckle, making it seem a silly girlish conversation as I see the bald consultant squintingchis eyes at us. ¡°Come,¡± Erin pulls me to the aisle with warm winter clothes. ¡°I found something. You will love it.¡± Erin hands me over a hanger with a knitted dress, ¡°It¡¯s perfect for Christmas, right? What do you say?¡± I frown, trying to grasp the story. There is always a story in my field of work. Erin shoves me another hanger. This time it¡¯s the red sweater. I put a silly smile on my face,¡°It¡¯s lovely!¡± ¡°And it suits you! With those black heels and red lipstick, it would be just perfect! And check the texture, it¡¯s so smooth.¡± I touch the red fabric, fidgeting it with my fingers. I glance at Erin. She¡¯s radiant. Here we go. I give out a smile, this time a real one. That¡¯s the story. Erin nods, confirming my theory. ¡°I guess you¡¯ll need something too. What about this burgundy cardigan? You can take it for your lakehouse getaway. Warm sweater, fireplace, a glass of wine¡­¡± Erin pokes me, rolling her eyes. Everything for the sake of the story, sis. I feel the movement from the side, signalling to Erin just in time. ¡°Anything I can help you with Miss, Madam?¡± half bold consultant Terry chimes in into our private conversation, reminding where we are. Erin politely smiles, weighing the right words, but I outpace her, grabbing a few more hangers. ¡°No, thank you. I think I have everything I need. Just having some fun while dad is out of town, you know.¡± I pass the hangers to Terry, ¡°Would you be so kind?¡± Terry frowns but obliges, taking the hangers to the counter. Erin shakes her head at me. She doesn¡¯t approve, but I simply follow the consultant to pay for the evidence we need. All means are justified here. Sleepover (pt 3) Erin struggles with the key, before finally entering into the dark bowels of her house, inviting me in. I reach to the switch, but Erin stops me half-way, ¡°Let¡¯s go to the yard first.¡± I comply, following Erin through the long hall to the back door. As we step on the cracking porch automatic latterns light the tiny backyard, surrounded by decrepit fence. Mowed lawn. Nothing unusual. I squint my eyes, noticing strange plants in the far corner. They weren¡¯t there before. I turn to Erin. ¡°Is it what I think it is?¡± ¡°It is,¡± smiles Erin, proudly glancing at the thick stems, peeping from the large leaves, reminding banana palm one. ¡°How?¡± I kneel in front of the baby plant, fighting the temptation to caress its flawless leaves. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like that.¡± I mumble, completely bewitched by those green hues. ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to,¡± chuckles Erin, ¡°It¡¯s not from this world.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a true fairy, Er.¡± ¡°Just a scientist, love.¡± Reluctantly, I stand up. I feel the ash under my feet. Something clicks inside my head. Now I get it. ¡°That¡¯s what clothes are for, right?¡± Erin gives out a smile. ¡°Just not that apricot dress,¡± I beg, ¡°I really liked it.¡± Erin rolls her eyes, ¡°Come, it¡¯s getting chilly.¡± This time she turns on the switch herself. It got nicer from the last time I was here ¡°Cozy.¡± I say out loud. Erin gets the bottle of champagne from the cupboard. ¡°Thanks. I was allowed to get this place, my touch, you know.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I look around. ¡°Where¡¯s Tommy? Isn¡¯t he home?¡± Indifferent, Erin focuses on the bottle neck. ¡°You know, he¡¯s crazy about you, right?¡± Another question of mine stays unanswered. Instead, Erin hands me a glass of champagne. ¡°Welcome back, dear! Your delivery sample was brilliant. Deadly dangerous but brilliant. I¡¯ve put it to work already.¡± I frown, unexpectedly getting tuned into work mood. Bloody Erin! ¡°But you¡¯ll be able to neutralize it, right?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± I wish I had such confidence as Erin does but she proofs to be an amazing scientist. If it¡¯s in work, than no need to worry. ¡°So what about Tommy?¡± I take a seat on the sofa, ignoring Erin¡¯s grimace. ¡°Come on. I haven¡¯t been home for months. I¡¯ve been all into useful information. Give me some slack. I need fresh gossip.¡± ¡°And my personal life is the best source for it, huh?¡± Erin rolls her eyes. ¡°Well, I only have one best friend, so¡­¡± Erin downs her glass and pours herself another one. ¡°What do you want to hear, Jules? Nothing has changed and nothing is going to change. Stop waiting for a miracle and helping me get my happy ending. We are not in a fairytale, Jules. It¡¯s not coming.¡± I take a sip from the glass. Erin has always been stubborn. It gets worse with each passing year. Her heart grows stale, tangling in the lies. ¡°So you kicked him out?¡± I dare to make an assumption. Erin scoffs. ¡°No. He just discovered some remains of his pride. So he finally gave up trying and now focuses on something far more useful ¨C doing his job in my lab. ¡°He¡¯s still working under you? You know it¡¯s not easy for a man to work for a woman, especially these days and especially when you¡¯re in love with that woman.¡± Erin shoots daggers at me with her eyes. ¡°God, I forgot how annoying you may be, Jules.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I chuckle. ¡°I really missed you and our chit chats. I¡¯ve been talking to myself mainly, inside my head. It should have some side effects.¡± I burst into laughter and this time Erin joins me. It feels good to finally see her a bit relaxed. I reach out for her hand and gently squeeze it. ¡°You know, I want the best for you, Er. I want you to find some joy in this life. It¡¯s already dark enough. Sorry if I was being too pushy. It¡¯s all for love.¡± Erin nods and we clink our glasses. She doesn¡¯t like all those emotional talking. They killed it in her. If it wasn¡¯t for Eric, I¡¯d be the same. Now that¡¯s my turn to down my glass and pour more as unpleasant thoughts started their invasion to my head. They don¡¯t give me a break, so I need to say them aloud. I hesitate for a second, making another sip for courage ¡°So¡­ Why am I here? Not that I¡¯m complaining, Er. I missed you and I was glad to catch up but we both know that¡¯s not the reason enough. Carl wouldn¡¯t risk it, so¡­ Why am I here?¡± Erin pours me more champagne. Not a good sign. Another not good sign. My gut feels it. Erin finally breaks the silence, ¡°Carl wants to see you.¡± I frown. ¡°What do you mean? He could have just summoned be to the quarters, what¡¯s all this for¡­¡± I think aloud as the puzzles keep coming together. ¡°Carl wanted me here. He wanted you to talk to me, didn¡¯t he?¡± Erin doesn¡¯t rush to confirm my hypothesis. ¡°And if he wanted you to talk to me¡­ He knew that I¡¯d take it better from you, so I guess it¡¯s pretty bad for me, huh? Okay¡­¡± I down the glass and start pacing around the tiny living room, bumping on the furniture. ¡°What is it? A mission to somewhere cold probably? Arctica? Or he transfers me to the desk job? Arctica is better. I would die at the desk job from boredom.¡± ¡°Neither,¡± Erin shakes her head, sympathetically looking at me. I have a bad feeling about this already and it keeps growing. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s diving again¡­¡± Erin purses her lips, ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± I start loosing patience, ¡°Then what is it, Erin? For God¡¯s sake!¡± I stare at Erin as she breathes in, ready to deliver my sentence, ¡°Marriage. To potential Other. In two weeks.¡± The glass slips away from my fingers, shuttering into thousands of little pieces as does my heart. Marriage¡­