“Well done, Traveler.” Arden’s peppered hair, slender face and minuscule features are peeking over the cranial opening of my horizontal shifting station. I feel immediate relief that it is Arden’s forgiving expression I’m looking at instead of the Shifting Authority, here to escort me permanently out of the building. And then there’s that rare emotion I almost never experience, guilt. Friends aren’t something I tend to maintain in my life, but Arden’s mentoring and respect are two things I value. Well done? If only he knew what had just happened out there in those woods.
“Did you expect anything less, boss?”
“Certainly not humility.” Arden smirks, then begins checking the seven other vital screens and countdown clocks around the room to determine how the others’ shifting assignments are faring. After a quick visual inspection, I’m pleased to see I journeyed back first. Anything other than the norm would already spark curiosity with the division, and I can’t have any questions being raised on this assignment. “A monitor should be along soon, Traveler, try not to fidget and relax,” he calls from across the room before returning his attention to the machines.
Because of the adrenaline rush from shifting, my entire body feels like it’s exploding with electricity. My fingertips tap the glass of the shifting station, my legs are giving off involuntary muscle twitches, and I can’t stop my eyelids from fluttering and blinking. Lying here in this glass coffin, waiting for a Health Division monitor to check my vitals when I feel like I could fly through the roof, is difficult to say the least. But it’s the interview with a Shifting Authority agent after an assignment that always has me the most nervous. I may be efficient and quick, but the authority will pick apart my mission based on my recounting of events and compare them to my vital log. We aren’t just talking about blood pressure and heart rate either. They also monitor my brain function and the variations in all five senses through a chip placed at the base of my skull. It’s how Vlad found discrepancies and completely busted apart my story, twice.
Feigning an itch on my lower back, I raise my hips, running my fingers against the smooth edges of the girl’s wallet. It’s still there, covertly tucked away in my back pocket. Part of me is anxious about the fact I broke the rules again, but it pales in comparison to the part of me that feels excitement. I actually did it. I successfully completed a Collecting assignment. But I can’t tell anyone about it now that the girl is an issue. I have to go back and find her. I need to replace the story of what she saw with something new and explainable. The discovery of a shifter during the early 2000’s would completely jeopardize the history the UWD has worked thousands of years to shape, and I’ll be damned if I’m the cause of it.
The rhythmic beeps to my left quicken in pace, signaling Eero’s return from shifting. He and I entered observation class the same week. Out of all the other shifting agents, Eero is the most tolerable.
Arden walks to his shifting chamber and brightens the lighting over the glass so that he can evaluate Eero’s manifestation process. There is a flashing arc of light within the glass tube, revealing the atoms and cells within Eero’s body have returned. Similar to a flickering pixelated screen, pieces of him gradually appear. Everything that makes Eero who he is, his scars, his personality, his memories new and old…they all materialize before my eyes in a personalized glass casing. Indeed, it is a rebirth. His bones form into the chamber, his intestines weave underneath, vessels and organs take shape. The veins fill with warm, purply-blue liquid. And then, as if someone is pouring water into a cup from a pitcher, his skin pools into the shape of the human body, layered over like a blanket. The last to return is the brain, which signals that Eero’s life is to begin…again. His eyes burst open the moment he takes his first breath. Life. His manifestations have vastly improved over the course of two years. He’s gone from a two-hour shifting process down to thirty minutes. My fastest trip took me twelve point six seconds.
The door to the shifting room slides open, and my heart stalls in my chest. I realize it’s the Shifting Authority I’m terrified of walking through the door. I’m actually pleased to see Sephia.
“Traveler, your vitals are looking well. Please lie still until I have securely powered down the chamber, then I’ll remove your sensory chip,” she instructs, smoothing a hand over her red hair. She elevates my enclosure to a vertical position and places her cold hands through the glass and around the base of my scalp. She locates the one-inch metal plate hidden under a patch of hair, and extracts the sensory chip from its docking position. My sensory chip holds information from every elevated heartbeat to every scent I picked up during my assignment.
“Sephia, why are you talking to me like I haven’t seen you naked?” I grin. She darts her head from side to side, looking to see if I outed her in front of anyone.
Through gritted teeth she smiles, and growls under her breath. “Shut up.” I can’t help but laugh. “Oh, my God, you’re the worst, Traveler. I swear you are a twelve-year-old boy. Just let me do my job. This is why Vlad hates you, you know?”
“Vlad hates everything. The worst? I remember you specifically saying it was the best tha—”
“Arden! Traveler is all set and ready for his checks,” she belts, stopping me mid-sentence and pinching my calf for good measure. I watch her stomp off to the input station, pretending to be overly annoyed with me. “And for the record, that was two years ago. My standards are much higher now,” she yell-whispers, then nods her head toward the Shifting Authority quarters. I look toward the door, hiding nervousness with a laugh.
Eero chuckles to himself, then shouts across the space between us, “I’m gaining on you, slick!”
“Ha! You shifted to 2189. You should already be back and jacking off in the showers by now,” I tease, throwing him a wink.
The lights in my chamber dim, and the pressurized oxygen puts off a low hiss while it begins shutting down. A blast of cool air brushes across my skin when Arden unlatches the locking mechanisms. Finally, I’m free to climb out. I stand a good foot over Arden, stretching on my toes, reaching high above my head, loosening my limbs.
“Let’s get you into health checks and authority. Anything interesting you would like to share with me about your surfacing, Traveler? It’s better to mention it now so that I may assist you with anything Authority may throw at you later,” Arden asks, with a pleading edge to his voice.
“You are always trying to help me, Arden, when really I’m just a big pain in your ass,” I joke. The truth is, if it weren’t for Arden, I wouldn’t be a shifting agent. I met all health, physical, and intellectual qualifications. My appearance was alarming to the Diagnostic Division, but that wouldn’t have kept me entirely ineligible. It was during evaluations, when I displayed difficulties in following strict instruction and obedience to Authority that tossed out red flags to them. It was Arden who vouched for me. It was Arden who told Diagnostics that with his mentoring I would fare well as a shifter. And it is Arden who holds my true talent as one of his best kept secrets. I still don’t know why. The Diagnostics Division’s respect for Arden as a retired Herder is astronomical. They highly value his opinion, and Arden highly values me. I’ll take it.
I should have lost the title of shifter three assignments ago. I could be working in the Division factory making clothing for the 1800s if it weren’t for Arden. He knew the second I went off course in my first solo shifting assignment, and as soon as I resurfaced, he grilled me in perfect Arden fashion. It was the first taste of freedom I had been exposed to in a full year, and while ending up in the barn with the busty blonde on her knees was satisfying, it definitely wouldn’t have been worth losing my job over. It was almost as if he expected me to go awry and had a plan in place. He then guided me through the questioning I would receive with Authority. He knew I couldn’t hide the vitals or brain activity from them; what can I say, she was good with her mouth. But he knew a way to help shape my story so that I would go free with a strike-one probation instead of immediate termination.
“What scent caused you discomfort forty-three minutes into your assignment?” Malloid’s boisterous, raspy voice fills the room.
“Bologna.” I cringe at the words coming out of my mouth.
“Ahhh, I see. Bologna is a mere afterthought in meat processing. Organs and trimmings all shaped into an edible circle and typically placed between two slices of bread.” He’s practically salivating.
“Spare me the details, Malloid.” Covering my lips with my fist, I’m on the brink of nausea.
“And here? A pleasing scent one hour, twelve minutes in?” he asks, with a curious but non-threatening expression. Malloid is always overly inquisitive when it concerns the aromas of my assignments. When I asked Arden about this after my first physician’s check, he informed me that decades ago Malloid suffered an aneurism that caused him to lose his sense of taste and smell.
“Citrus of some sort, I believe grapefruit.” I catch myself smiling at the memory, the girl’s features flashing in my mind’s eye. What the fuck?
“This was pleasing to you, Traveler. The scent elevated your heart rate.”
What Malloid doesn’t realize is my heart rate was elevated due to the discovery of the wallet and my instant decision to collect it. However, he has just provided me with the first alibi for my assignment. Great. I only need eighty more. I unintentionally shift in my seat, and I see Arden has immediately homed in on my unease.
“Let’s check your vitals and send you off to Authority. You need to get a good meal and rest, Traveler. Stress is beginning to settle in your semispinalis muscles.” Malloid checks my blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate. He also does a complete body check to make sure all ten fingers and toes have managed to manifest through time as well. As he’s looking over my manhood, I shoot Sephia a glance as if to say, “Look all right to you?” She rolls her eyes before a moment’s hesitation. My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“All right, Traveler. We are done here,” Malloid says, slapping his hands together. All is seemingly good enough for me to continue on to Authority. He hands my sensory chip to Sephia as she exits the room. After every assignment, my chip is scanned for any technical problems, and then inserted back into its docking position inside my head.
Out in the hallway, Arden stops me with a hardened expression. “Traveler, I cannot help you if you don’t take advantage of my confidentiality. Have I ever steered you in a direction that was not beneficial to you and your status within this Division?” His eyes are narrowed, and his mouth is set into a thin line.
I give him a puzzled look, though I know he isn’t buying it. The truth is I’ve not only risked being discovered in the past, I’ve also risked my life by Collecting. I’m not sure even Arden could help me with this one, and I know it’s something I can mend on my own. I just need to get back to 2016 and find Johanna Martin.
We arrive at Authority, and I’m thankful the sensory chip has temporarily left my body so that I can get my heart rate managed. Arden is nervous for me; I can tell he knows something didn’t go as planned during my trip.
“Be calm and answer in short, Traveler. Remember their job is to trip you up. They want to discover a discrepancy in your story. And please, do not make it harder on yourself than it needs to be with Vlad. Other shifters should be arriving soon. I must go.”
“No worries, boss.” I give him an exaggerated thumbs-up, and he shakes his head in response.
I push through the metal double doors and enter Shifting Authority. I’m met by an expectant guard who escorts me into questioning. This quarter of the Division is divided into offices, interrogation rooms, and the largest portion belonging to the Division Prison. The prison backs into the dense sedimentary rock of the Colorado mountain range. Its carved-out chambers housing prisoners who, like me, couldn’t follow the rules Authority had in place for them. Their crimes vary from repeat carelessness in their shifting to murder. The cool moist air along with the acute sense of being watched sends a shiver down my spine.
The guard leads me to the back interrogation room. The place where Vlad conducts his interviews. Out of all the Authority officers, it’s always Vlad. I sense this isn’t a coincidence and that it has to violate some sort of conduct code. The space is four walls of gray metal, a metal table, and two metal chairs. No windows. It completely lacks warmth, much like Vlad. I’m instantly feeling defensive and pissed off when I know I need to maintain control, especially on this one. I close my eyes and take in slow and steady breaths, fighting the shake of my balled fists. I already feel like punching his face in, and I have to keep my emotions in check.
The metal door slamming against the wall reverberates on the cold concrete floor. Vlad enters the room. His blond hair is shaved close to his head; his icy blue eyes stare intently at me as he sits across the table. He attempts to come off as menacing, but after knowing him my whole life, his demeanor is that of an immature school-yard bully. His position of power is a catalyst to his nature of being a complete dick.
Vlad and I were placed in the same Fostering Building as infants. Though he was a few years older than me, our paths crossed daily within the eighteen-bedroom home. It was the day I saw him holding a young girl against the brick wall of the outdoor facilities, her skirt flipped over her hips and tears running down her face, which started our outright hatred for one another. I hated him because of what he was, and he hated me because I caught him doing it. It was the first of many times my fist would meet his face. I’ve never forgotten that day, and Vlad has never forgotten that I know his secret.
“Traveler, what a surprise to see you in my room. No one else available yet, I suppose.” His lip curls in delight.
“My lucky day, I guess.” I cock my head to the side.
A screen emerges in the middle of the table. It is displaying a variation of waves and charts that are all related to my shifting. I have no clue what any of it means. Vlad’s eyes are glued to the screen in front of him as he replays the activity from my shifting. Vlad is a master at interrogation and is responsible for the majority of the inmates in the prison. I’m aware that one of the thousands of reasons he despises me so intensely is not only because I disregard the rules on occasion, but also because he hasn’t been able to nail me down for it. He always knows I’m lying, but unfortunately for him my manipulations match the brain activity.
“You spoke to the subject. I don’t recall that being part of assignment five. Or any assignment in Observation. Observe.”
“Right. I can see why saying a sentence to a dying man could be risky. Can’t have a dead dude blowing my cover.” I wink. “It was either speak when spoken to, or he would have thrown me out. Which looks more suspicious to you?”
Vlad’s irritation is beyond apparent and my plan to play by the rules this questioning is quickly getting squashed.
“When you left the hospital, what occupied your time? I see you didn’t immediately return to the location you originally manifested?”
“Blending practice.” My response is purposefully clipped.
“Was that authorized?”
“Arden will tell you it was.” I smirk at him.
As he’s studying the screen, his expression suddenly becomes more elated than I’m comfortable with. He’s seen something.
“An hour and forty-five minutes into your assignment, you seem to have encountered something…concerning for you? Elevated heart rate, thermal heat index raised, your vision was erratic? Getting laid on the job again, Traveler?”
“Sephia was enough to last me a couple years,” I say, unab
le to help the grin from turning the corners of my mouth upright.
His knuckles are white as his fingers work into his palm. His face raises slowly from the screen, a murderous-red flushes his cheeks.
“Besides, Vlad, that never happened, remember. Laid on the job? Only a shifter with complete disregard for your precious rules would do something like that.” I wink at him, and the muscles in his jaw clench so hard I think teeth may come flying out of his mouth at any moment.
“You fucking shit. You think you’re clever. You think because you’re Arden’s golden boy I can’t pluck you from his grasp and toss you in that prison?” His spit flies into air like a rabid dog.
“I began the shifting process until my ever-so excellent senses picked up a sound in the woods. After a jog into the forest, and some investigating, I saw it was a pack of raccoons. Also, I’m just teasing you about Sephia. Ya know, good ol’ brotherly joking around. No need to get your panties in a bunch.” I give him a sly half smile.
“Stay the hell away from Sephia,” he commands, his lips curled into a snarl.
“Unfortunately for her, she’s all yours.”
The guard enters the room, and I abruptly stand. “Arden is waiting in the lobby for you when you are finished.” I look over at Vlad, and he flicks his hand toward the door, dismissing me.
Vlad is left seething in his chair as we exit. While it wasn’t my intention to cover my shifting indiscretion by pissing off Vlad, it has definitely worked to my advantage. Though I might pay for it later on.
The walk to the lobby feels like miles stretching between Vlad and myself. No matter how many years have passed since being in the fostering home, twenty minutes in a room with Vlad brings all the hatred I’ve worked to escape right back.
Arden greets me, his face kind and welcoming.
“You’re just glad to see I wasn’t thrown in a rocky cell.”
“And that your hands are clean of blood,” he replies, shaking my hand.
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