by Lynne Murray
My workday was uneventful. I lost myself in the routine.
Sophie and Chad knocked on my door in the evening and we all took the bus to Feeney’s.
Kirby hadn’t arrived yet. The same imitation Victorian room Feeney let us into was occupied by a short, square-built Asian woman squatting on the floor over a briefcase with many pockets. She had a buzz cut hairstyle and horn-rimmed glasses. She wore a fawn-colored leather jacket over black denim pants.
“Hiromi Quarry.” She briefly glancing up. “Weapons Expert.”
Sophie and Chad hung back as if a little afraid. They showed no signs of introducing me. Hiromi kept searching through briefcase.
Finally, Sophie broke the silence. “We call her ‘Q’.”
The woman smiled at Sophie, evidently, no one could resist her. “No Weapons today. The real Quartermaster is Joel Martin down in the Armory, but I make house calls.”
I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to call her “Q” and none of us much looked like James Bond. What the hell. “My name’s Faust, Angie Faust.”
“Okay, Angie, today, I’ll set up with basic tactical analysis info equipment.” She examined me closely for a second as if she was measuring me. I couldn’t imagine what she concluded, or what kind of weapon anyone might imagine I’d be able to use. Finally she nodded. “Glasses,” she said. “Hand ‘em over.”
I took off my glasses and put them in her hand, feeling nervous when the room got a little fuzzy in the distance.
“We’ll customize your glasses now. It won’t take long.” She held my glasses up to the light. “You can wear this loaner pair, so that things make more sense in the orientation.”
The immediate thing that didn’t make sense was why and how my glasses were going to be modified by a Weapons Expert, but I wasn’t ready to ask questions.
She reached into a pocket in her briefcase and pulled out a pair of glasses with thick lenses and heavy black plastic frames.
I shook my head. “I’m nearsighted, they wouldn’t be my prescription.”
“They’ll adjust.”
“That’s impossible,” I said. But I slid the glasses on. Miraculously, I could see everything with crystal clarity. “Wow, that’s a neat trick.”
Hiromi unbent enough to smile. “That’s just for starters. Mr. Kirby’s waiting for you in the next room.”
This was the first I’d heard of another room. Hiromi opened a door and stood aside.
“We’ll all wait out here for you,” she said, stopping Chad and Sophie in their tracks with a stern look.
I stepped through the door.
Mr. Kirby sat serenely beaming at the old lady who had scared off my burglars the night before. She wasn’t sitting but crouching over a chair with her arms crossed in front of her.
The glasses flickered briefly. Instead of an elderly human, I saw a spider the size of a Rottweiler. A transparent visor covered her myriad of black, beady eyes anchored by a chin strap that extended under her mandibles
“I see you’ve met Grandmother,” Mr. Kirby said.
“Hello again, dear,” the giant spider said in that creaky old lady voice.
I managed to turn my instinctive gasp into something close to an affirmative answer and greeting.
Red letters hovered on the surface of my glasses above her image:
Spider-Woman from the Arachnid planet group. 1048 Mutual Protection Treaty terms: Arachnid males, breeding age females and nesting prohibited on Earth. Residence permitted to females past breeding age. Keep small children and pets away from Arachnids.
I blinked and the words went away. Blinked again and they returned. The spider stayed the same.
Sit down,” Mr. Kirby gestured me to a chair near him. Also near Grandmother.
I gingerly sat, keeping my eyes on the big spider. Her forelegs, covered with downy-looking brown fur shuttled back and forth in front of her mouth area, which hung slightly open. If she was spinning a web, I didn’t want to stare, but I kept watching covertly.
“Don’t worry, she won’t bite,” he said in a jovial tone that didn’t seem to bother Grandmother. “She can’t bite wearing that head gear. Her helmet also contains a filter to mute most of the sounds in her own language.”
“Why do you call her Grandmother?” I felt awkward discussing her when she sat so near, but Kirby was doing it and she didn’t seem to mind. I needed to keep talking to keep from shrinking away from her. The read-out in the glasses said nesting was not permitted, but I couldn’t stop my skin from crawling at the thought of her having dozens of little baby grand-spiders.
“If she voiced her name in her own language it could blow out our eardrums and distress any marine mammals up to half a mile out to sea. Southwestern Native American tribes encountered her species and honored her with that name. Sightings and contacts account for many myths about weaving goddesses and mythical figures. Her home planet is in another quadrant but the space folds line up often enough that travelers from her species have been visiting Earth for most of our recorded history.”
“You’re saying she’s from another planet?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism out of my voice.
“Another quadrant with many solar systems. Our planet appeals to some Arachnids and the galactic treaty allows a select few, older females to live here. Essentially they retire to Earth to live in solitude in remote areas and hunt small mammals, but some find humans interesting and live near us wearing disguises such as the one Grandmother has on now. Mostly, the Grandmothers are neutral or even helpful so long as you keep any tempting toddlers or pets out of their way. Before the treaty set up a non-aggression agreement, they also entered into our human mythology as predatory witches such as the one who lured Hansel and Gretel with a gingerbread house. In Japanese myths, Arachnids are noted as demons who kidnap children. Some traditions speak of demon women who gave up kidnapping children for a life helping mothers.”
“Uh huh.” I didn’t know what to say.
I ventured another look at the giant spider. It—she was slowly manipulating thread of some sort. Weaving a web? The idea sent a chill through me.
“Several Native American cultures recognized her superior technology and traded with Arachnids to learn her weaving techniques.”
I tapped my glasses. “What about males? The glasses say ‘prohibited on Earth.’”
It was Kirby’s turn to shudder. “I’ve never met a male Arachnid. The galactic laws prohibit them from leaving their own planetary system. Very aggressive.”
“Our males are impulsive but controllable,” Grandmother remarked in her scratchy voice. “On our home planets, we keep high tech away from them and keep them busy with breeding. It works fairly well.”
Kirby sighed. “Ahem, if you do see a male Arachnid, set off the emergency alert on your amulet and hide or run.”
“I don’t know how to set off an alarm,” I tried to keep my voice steady. Sitting so close to the giant spider made me tremble and desperately want to run away.
“I’ll show you before you go. We’ll practice, don’t worry. An Arachnid ambush is unlikely to happen, but the alarm might save you in a lot of situations. It’s good that you’re reading the displays. Let’s leave it at that for tonight. There’s a lot to learn. For now, let’s just say we’re happy this Grandmother is on our side.”
“Lucky for us,” I said faintly.
Grandmother moved toward me, her many eyes glistening. She bit off a thread on the piece she was weaving and held out a fur-covered foreleg with a small, flat fabric rectangle on it. The threads were incredibly fine, giving the cloth a translucent hue.
“She’s offering a gift. You can take it. Be sure not to touch her. That might be more stimulation than she can handle.”
I carefully took the small rectangle of fabric, as delicate as lace and still slightly warm.
“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
She acknowledged my words with a wave of her forelegs. “My mark is on it,” she
said. “There is some protection there.”
“It’s a rare honor for her to offer a gift so soon after meeting someone,” Kirby said.
I examined the fabric and saw that it was a kind of pouch. “You did that so quickly,” I marveled.
Grandmother bowed politely. Set your mind at ease, nestling,” she said. “Keep this pouch with you and no male of my species will attack.”
“It works great as a glasses case,” Kirby said, turning his lapel out to show a similar rectangle clinging to the lining of his jacket. “It has some kind of super Velcro qualities. Sticks wherever you place it. Then you can peel it off and put it somewhere else.”
“You are a careless nestling,” Grandmother said in her tiny, creaky voice. “Do not lose your glasses.” She rose up on her eight legs and scuttled out the door.
“You don’t have to wear them in the shower, though,” Kirby said. “Wear the amulet and keep the glasses close. Let’s call it a day and start again tomorrow. Your own glasses should be ready now.”
By the time Kirby and I went into the next room to see Sophie and Chad waiting for me. Grandmother was nowhere in sight.
Hiromi came through the outer door before I could say a word. She held out my own glasses. I took them. She kept her hand out and I took off the black-rimmed glasses and handed them to her.
“Did you modify my glasses?” I said, examining them. “They look the same.”
Hiromi smiled. “Put them on.” She waited. “Okay now tap on the right corner where the earpiece meets the lens.”
I tapped the corner and red letters popped up to float in front of me:
Victorian Meeting Room, Feeney’s. The Irving Street address was listed under it.
“Look at everyone here,” Kirby said. “What do your glasses tell you?”
“That there aren’t any spiders, um, Arachnids here now,” I ventured.
“Correct. Keep looking.”
“You look the same.” I turned to Sophie and Chad. I froze. “Chad looks the same. But Sophie...” She was completely covered in fine golden down like a baby chick. Some wild part of my mind wondered why the down[DP1] on Grandmother scared me so much. On Sophie, the soft fibers invited touching. A crown of plumes in black and iridescent green and turquoise fanned out from the top of her head, getting shorter as they trailed down her neck to the top of her spine. “Wow, feathers,” I said.
The display floated over her in red letters. I read it out loud.
Siren-Seer-Human hybrid, high empathy and persuasion. Licensed operative.
“When you wear the glasses, all of our masks come off,” Sophie said in a tone that made clear she liked to go unmasked.
“Beautiful colors in your feathers,” I said.
Sophie laughed and Chad pulled her close.
“You see why she’s so soft to touch,” he said, hugging her.
I moved my focus to Hiromi, Chad and Mr. Kirby. “I don’t see any difference or read out on any of the rest of you guys. Does that mean you’re not—um, alien?”
“True,” Mr. Kirby said. “Hiromi, Chad and I are human. Any non-human DNA would need extensive lab analysis to find it. It also can be masked, although the Twins can detect that something is hidden. In Chad’s case, he has very faint traces of a couple of strains of alien DNA, notably Siren,” Kirby said.
“But not enough Siren for feathers,” Chad said with a complacent grin. “It saves a ton in disguise money.”
“If one of us were disguised aliens, it would be a hell of a disguise to fool the glasses,” Hiromi said.
“Well, that sets my mind at ease.”
“Now, look back at Sophie. You can shift back and forth between disguise and underlying form by blinking. If you want to freeze the information display, tap the nose piece of your glasses,” she said.
I followed her instructions. The red letters and Sophie’s plumage came and went.
I remembered her small smile when reading the entry in my grandfather’s mythology book.
“Um, so you’re not the kind of Siren that lures sailors to their deaths?” I asked.
Sophie glanced at Mr. Kirby, who nodded.
“I can’t speak to what my remote ancestors did, but the Sirens who stayed on Earth and crossbred with humans mostly ended up working in entertainment,” she said.
“Or sales,” Mr. Kirby said, nodding toward Chad. “You can read more in the Galactic Encyclopedia. One of the perks of working for our organization.” He lifted a warning hand. Probably when he saw how keenly I leaned forward at the idea of extraterrestrial databases, “This is a lot to absorb,” he said to me. “The best thing would be to go about your usual routine tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said. He was right, I was still stunned and trying to make sense of it all.
“Just observe what the glasses show you. Your amulet will protect you. Don’t intervene. Take notes if you feel like it and come back and tell me anything unusual.”
“Like spider women.”
“Anything.”
Before we left, Kirby showed me how to pinch the center of the amulet tightly between finger and thumb to set off the alarm in case of danger. No sound came out of it, but Sophie, Chad and Mr. Kirby held up their amulets and a jagged line was pulsing across the front of them.
“I wish I’d known about this when those burglars broke into my place last night,” I said.
“If you’d been wearing the amulet, you wouldn’t have had that break-in.” Chad just couldn’t let that go.
“Unfortunately you wouldn’t have been able to signal for help last night,” Kirby noted. “Because Hiromi hadn’t put you in the system yet.”
“We were lucky Grandmother was keeping an eye on you,” Sophie said.
Kirby walked us out into the corridor and through Feeney’s charred front bar room to the street exit. “See you tomorrow.” He closed the door.
Chapter 6
The next day at work started off quietly. I brought along a small spiral bound pad, but there wasn’t anything unusual to note for most of the day. I submerged myself in work and managed not to think about anything extraterrestrial. Lawyers traveled and generated expense reports. I processed their receipts. The Assistant Office Manager, now doing Caine’s job for the moment, came around. Ms. Wilson—she always said, “Call-Me-Clara” when introduced. Nobody did. She didn’t insist.
She told us Caine had been pronounced dead at the hospital and everything pointed to a massive heart attack. No one mentioned that he had been screaming at me when he died. That was a relief.
A card showed up to be signed and a collection was taken to send flowers to the family. I contributed ten dollars.
My new glasses didn’t show anything unusual until Mr. Cragen, one of the senior partners, walked past on his way to his corner office. He had a characteristic loose, springy gait. My glasses flickered and showed me an octopus-like head and tentacles swept back like a giant pompadour. Claws protruded from the sleeves of his expensive suit. The red display popped up under him on the glasses:
Cephalopod from the M83 galaxy. No direct threat to humans. Work license current. Limited human contact allowed. Reproduction prohibited on Earth under the Mutual Protection Treaty.
I wrote that down on my little spiral bound pad.
Mr. Cragen vanished into his office. I kept looking at the closed door until my supervisor came past and asked a pointed question about an associate’s expense account totals.
I spent the rest of the day buried in work, glad to not have to think, until nearly quitting time when a couple of unfamiliar voices got my attention. Two women being escorted by Ms. Wilson through the office. They had the numb, stricken look of the recently bereaved.
Call-Me-Clara introduced them to everyone in the Accounting Department as Mr. Caine’s wife Angela and daughter Helen, who had unfortunately inherited her father’s perpetually red face and bulging, blue eyes, although her hair was still brown. She looked about thirty. Francine jumped up to talk to them. I took thei
r chat as the perfect time to sign out of my terminal, grab my backpack and head for the door.
I almost made it to the elevator, but Helen followed me.
“Francine told me you were the last person to talk to my father before his heart attack,” Helen said.
Mentally cursing Francine, I pressed the down button on the elevator and faced her. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, struggling to keep my tone even. “It was a staff meeting and others who were closer to him might know more.”
“No. I want you to explain it to me.” Her eyes lighting up with a dangerous emotion. Where the hell were her mother and Call-Me-Clara?
“Again, please accept my condolences but I’m not a medical expert. I don’t have any useful information,” I said, ducking into the elevator and hammering the lobby button.
Damned if she didn’t follow me in. “Francine said he was calling you out in front of everyone at the moment when he died.”
Good old Francine, I knew I could count on her for a knife in the back whenever possible.
“It all happened so suddenly. Everyone here is still in shock,” I said to her. I pressed the first floor button again, as if that would speed our descent.
The elevator door opened to the lobby. I race-walked out to the street with Helen in hot pursuit.
“You killed my father!” she screamed.
Seriously where was her mother? Thanks again, Francine, for whipping the poor woman into a frenzy.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this, but there were a dozen people there. No one touched your father.” I took a step toward her, afraid that if I turned and ran she might start hitting me and I couldn’t vouch for what might happen. That would be bad. Already people on the sidewalk were stopping to listen, some whipped out cell phones in hopes of catching a juicy confrontation in action
“Don’t come near me, you murdered my father!” she yelled even louder.
I backed away and ran into a large solid, body. I looked back and up. It was Wade. He put his hand on my shoulder. I felt the reassuring vibration in his chest as he said so softly only I could hear, “I got this.”