by Scare Street
The doormen stared at him in amusement, Ayman ignoring them as he got into his own car and drove off, making sure to hit the other car’s bumper enough to cause a dent.
Ayman Salem was having a terrible morning.
***
From the seventh floor of the adjacent building, Twelve stood quietly and watched the entire scene unfold. She was leaning against the balcony railing, her black dress fluttering in the weak morning breeze, smiling as Ayman drove off and the doormen tried to push the other car out of the street.
“A new Recipient?”
Twelve turned and smiled at her friend. “An Instrument,” she replied.
Ten leaned down on the railing next to her and watched the scene below. “You don’t think that was a little too much?”
“Nope.” Twelve shook her head. “I think it’s fitting, really.”
Ten ran a hand through her dark red hair and took in a deep breath. “You gotta love this city’s smog.” Both women laughed. “Where’s your next assignment?”
“I have a few more in Cairo left, and then I’m off to Switzerland,” Twelve replied.
“This city keeps us busy,” Ten mused.
“Always has.”
Twelve watched the doormen for a few more minutes, nodded at her friend, then vanished.
***
The smog wasn’t nearly as bad in New Cairo as it was in Nasr City, the whole district being at a much higher altitude. But with the Friday crowd gathered, Twelve could still smell exhaust mixed with dust from the surrounding barrenness. Its appeal lay in the fact that corruption hadn’t allowed villas to grow into buildings, at least not yet. Still, the sheer volume of open door cafes and malls attracted people from every part of the city, making Friday horrific for the locals.
Twelve sat alone at a table near the entrance of Downtown Mall, invisible to all. Customers would hover around her, want to sit, then inexplicably turn away and find somewhere else. It was odd for a single table to be empty on a Friday night, but odder things had happened.
Twelve was observing a woman chastise a waiter for getting her order wrong, her voice slightly louder than the rest of the crowd, drawing a bit of attention to her. The waiter, already underpaid and overworked, was decent enough to keep his cool, which seemed to anger the woman even more. Twelve wondered when kindness had been mistaken for weakness, and started to sift through a various amount of nudges she could use. Spit in her food, maybe? She tossed the idea aside as too cliché. There was an art to nudging, and she had become very good at it over the centuries.
Another waiter was tending to a young man’s hookah at an adjacent table, and Twelve smiled as she nudged, crossed her legs, and enjoyed the show. The man suddenly turned to adjust his sitting position, oblivious to how close the hookah was, and elbowed it over. The coal on top spilled over onto the ground and the shouting woman’s lap, her voice shrill as she screamed and jumped up from her seat. At that precise moment, a third waiter was coming up behind her, a tray burdened with drinks in hand, hurrying to keep up with the crowd’s urgency. The collision doused the woman with every cup of coffee, soda, and juice it held, forcing her to move again, bump into the table, and topple it over with her.
Several guests got up at the same time to help the waiters tend to the chaos. Twelve watched with a smile as the woman, now surprised to the point of silence, was helped to her feet and whisked away quickly by her friend. The look on her face was priceless; a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and horror that glowed pink on her cheeks, even in the dim lighting of the café.
“Karma, huh?”
Twelve’s head snapped to the side immediately, looking at the man who had spoken to her and was watching the woman leave. She recognized him immediately. Ayman Salem turned to smile at her, then walked away.
***
“What do you mean, he saw you?” Ten asked. “Nobody can see you.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
Twelve was still taken aback by what had happened. They stood on the roof of a nearby villa, red brick still gathered in piles, waiting for the next day’s workers. Her eyes darted back and forth between the windows and balconies of the surrounding villas, concerned that anyone might be looking their way. In her six hundred years of service, no one had ever seen her, let alone spoken directly to her.
“That’s impossible.” Ten shook her head. “I’ve been doing this much longer than you, and have never heard of one of us being seen.”
“Neither have I,” Twelve shot back. “Why do you think I called you here? I’m worried.”
“Have you talked to the others?”
“I’m not going to pull twenty Knights out of their assignments just to ask that. Besides, what are they going to tell me?” Twelve tried to think. “One and Five are impossible to reach, and I’m not on speaking terms with most of the others.”
Ten sighed and sat down, looking thoughtful.
“What am I supposed to do?” Twelve asked.
“The only thing you can do, I guess. You have to go see him.”
Twelve shook her head quickly, waving her arms around in dismay at the suggestion. “Are you out of your mind? I haven’t been to the office since 1850, and then only when he asked me to.”
“So?”
“I avoid the man like a plague, Ten,” Twelve said.
“This isn’t a regular visit,” Ten shot back. “You’re not going in to chat about the weather and share stories. This is serious. Being seen is serious!”
Twelve sighed. She knew her friend was right, but hated the suggestion of meeting her boss. Since her last visit, she had stuck to her assignments with rigor and had tried her best not to piss him off. Get the job done and disappear, that was her motto. It had kept her on his good side for this long, and she didn’t need him lecturing her about another mistake.
“Could it have been me?” she fished for an explanation. “Could I have wanted him to see me?”
“Why the hell would you want that?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Subconscious, deep minded hocus pocus for all I know.”
“We’re not human,” Ten said. “The theories don’t apply to us.”
“But we were human once,” Twelve tried to reason. “Maybe something stayed behind?”
Ten got up and walked over to her friend, resting both hands on her shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes. “Go to him,” she said sternly, “and get this whole thing sorted out. The sooner, the better.”
Twelve knew she was right.
***
Reaching the office was pretty straightforward. When she had been recruited by Ten, she had been told that she only had to take a right turn between jumps, finding the rotating doors on the edge of existence, between what was and what never would be. She had never asked what taking a left turn would do, a quick learner when it came to taking and following instructions.
Twelve was led by an old man in a grey suit down a narrow walkway between millions of rows of grim-faced transcribers, who typed away at assignments, oblivious to anyone walking past them. Ten only referred to the man as the Secretary, the sole being in existence who could lead you through the maze of transcribers to the head office. Twelve thought it just as well since one could easily get lost for centuries between the rows.
When they finally reached the head office, the Secretary held his hand up for Twelve to wait outside, walked in, and shut the door behind him. Five minutes later, he stepped out and nodded for her to enter.
“Twelve,” the man behind the mahogany desk greeted her without looking up from what he was doing, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows, and his tie loosened. “It’s been over a hundred and fifty years. I’d like to say I missed you, but that would be outrageous.”
“Good morning, sir,” Twelve said.
“Is it?” He scribbled something on a paper, pushed it aside, and immediately grabbed the next. “I could never tell from here.”
His hair had grown longer since the last
time she had seen him, grey strands decorating the otherwise black mane. His thick lips were surrounded by stubble that would have made him handsome if one could look past his cold eyes and even colder personality. Twelve stood in her place, waiting for him to say something else before explaining the reason for her visit.
“You know something?” he asked, putting down his pen and looking up at her. “I envy you Knights. There was a time I was traveling around the world, finishing assignments, and living life to the fullest. Then these apes had to reproduce at the rate of vermin. Seven billion people and rising. This world needs another plague.”
“I agree, sir,” Twelve said.
“No, you don’t,” he replied. “Stop brownnosing me and tell me why you’re here.”
“If this is a bad time, sir, I can come back later.”
“It’s always a bad time, Twelve,” he said, “but knowing you, whatever problem you caused can probably not wait for another one hundred and fifty years.”
Twelve swallowed, thinking of how best to phrase what she had to say.
“Today, Twelve.”
“I’ve been seen.”
The man behind the desk suddenly stopped what he was doing and was very still. He didn’t look up, which worried her, and when he finally did, it took all her strength not to run out screaming.
“You’ve been seen?” he asked slowly, his tone implying that if she were wrong about something, she had better fix it quickly.
“Yes, sir,” Twelve replied, quieter this time.
Her boss put down his pen slowly and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her. Twelve could feel his eyes prying into her soul.
“Who?”
“A man in Cairo,” she answered. “Ayman Salem.”
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.”
He nodded slowly. “Who have you talked to?”
“Ten.”
“And?”
“She knows nothing about it.” Twelve relaxed a bit knowing he wasn’t going to rip her apart. “Sir, I thought this couldn’t happen.”
Her boss smiled slightly, the only sign of any emotion that had come from the man in a millennium. “Oh, it has. Why do you suppose people think I, Karma, am a woman?”
“Sir?”
“Sit down, Twelve,” Karma motioned to a chair in front of his desk.
Twelve hesitated at first, but then did as she was told. She kept her guard up, knowing the man was as volatile as they came, and was a little fazed by his sudden charm. She was starting to wonder if it was all a big mistake, that maybe she didn’t want to know the answers to her questions.
“You remember when you were hired, correct?” Karma asked.
“I was twenty,” she nodded.
“Plucked right out from under the nose of Shakespeare,” Karma smiled at the memory. “The man had an eye for you.”
“And for my brother.”
Karma laughed. “Yes, well, different times.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “I’m afraid your orientation wasn’t quite truthful, with no blame on Ten, of course, since she knew nothing of it, either.”
“Knew nothing of what?”
“As a Knight, you are a soldier of karma, one of mine, to do as the balance sees fit, forever invisible to the world as you fulfill your assignments,” Karma explained. “However, forever is a broad term.”
Twelve frowned as her boss got up from his chair and paced the room. “Your immortality is in return for your services, a contract you cannot break. But, God works in mysterious ways, and every once in a while, in our case every few centuries, you will be forced to choose.”
“Choose?”
“Free will, Twelve,” Karma said, sitting on the chair opposite her. “You have the choice to continue as a Knight or become a human again.”
Twelve was taken aback. For the past six hundred years, she had known nothing else besides her job. She was a Knight, the memories of humanity so far back she had almost forgotten what it was like. She had never been told otherwise.
“Why weren’t we informed?”
“Do you know how hard it is to train a Knight?” Karma asked, his smile fading as he fell back into his state of authority. “It took you almost two hundred years to get it right, the shift in balance so great we had to work overtime just to keep up. Besides, it’s not like I can hire more. Even we have to stick to rules.”
Twelve suddenly felt very angry. “This is something we should have known. How could you keep this from us?”
Karma shrugged. “We micromanage, I suppose.”
Twelve suddenly stood up and fought the urge to speak her mind. Her boss sat calmly in the chair, watching her. “I don’t believe this,” was all she could muster.
“That’s neither here nor there,” Karma said. “What you do need to know is that you are connected to this Salem person in a way only humans can connect. Hence, choice.”
Twelve threw her hands up in anger. “What choice?” she almost screamed at him. “You can’t throw this at me and suddenly tell me that I have free will and choices! I don’t even know what they mean anymore!”
“Listen, Twelve,” Karma said calmly, standing up to face her. “You are bound by contract to live this life alone and forever. This is your only chance out, if you should choose it to be. I’ll give you all the time you need to think it through. I’ll even reassign your work to the others. Just remember that there’s always going to be a balance, whether you’re a part of making that happen or not.”
Twelve watched him walk back to his side of the desk, sit down, and pick up his pen. “Now, get out. I’m busy.”
***
Twelve watched Ayman Salem from the rooftop of the adjacent building. He was sitting in his balcony, cigarette between his lips, fingers dancing across the laptop keyboard on the table in front of him. His hair was in complete disarray, begging to be cut, his feet propped up on another chair as he worked. She wondered what possible connection she could have to a man she had never met before, but she knew better than to question Karma.
The Secretary had filled her in on what she had to do once her choice was made, describing the process as a sort of crossroads that was all too metaphorical for her liking. Twelve had thanked him, not sure whether that mattered or not, and returned. She had called out for Ten several times, and had dismissed trying again when her friend had failed to answer. She assumed Karma had given instructions for everyone to steer clear of her, not sure whether it was because she knew something he didn’t want to share with the rest, or if it was just basic policy when Knights were given time to choose.
She was still furious at the man for hiding information like that from her, from them all. She had thought of sending out a message to the others, a brief thought that conveyed everything, then decided against it. She didn’t want the wrath of Karma and his Knights on her. No, she was alone. She had to do this on her own.
The next time she met Ayman was at the same café, waiting for him to appear amongst the crowd, bumping into him as if by mistake. Although the man was shy, he was quick on his feet, and his wit kept conversation interesting enough when he clearly had nothing else to say. She found him amusing, if not a bit aloof. He surrounded himself with a positive atmosphere, quite out of the ordinary for the everyday Egyptian, and when he picked up the check, wished her a good night and left. She jumped to the same rooftop and watched.
The idea that she wasn’t invisible around him also amused her. For the first time in forever, she could interact with the people around her, something she only realized she missed when she could do it again. Other feelings hit her hard at first, bombarding her with the realization that she had been missing out on so much. She relished the feeling of hunger and thirst, and the satisfaction that came with quenching them. The feeling of heat on her skin when she stood in the sun elated her. There was so much she had grown accustomed to not having, not feeling, that having them all back was something she believed she could get used to.
Every
now and then she would try to fall back into the habit of nudging, but it never worked. Although she still had the ability to stay invisible and jump, she was apparently on leave for however long it took her to make up her mind. She welcomed the vacation. Her mind had always been crammed with one assignment after the other, but now it was blessedly empty. Her smiles now came with the actual feeling of happiness, instead of the satisfaction of a job well done.
Ayman probed minimally into her life, content with simple answers that gave away nothing. Nevertheless, she developed a convincing backstory that kept him satisfied. She told him she had no family, that her parents had died when she was younger, and that her grandparents had passed a few years back after raising her into the successful journalist she was. With the internet at her hands, she was able to build a portfolio that could have fooled the best.
Within a year, the show became more and more of a reality. Slowly, she realized she didn’t need to be around Ayman in order to be visible, and she fell into life’s routine. She found work as a freelance writer online, rented an apartment near his, and made acquaintances around the globe. She met his sister during a birthday party, and it was a surprise to her when they kicked it off so well. What little time she wasn’t spending with him, Twelve worked hard to meet deadlines and keep up with his sister’s lavish lifestyle. She stopped jumping, and soon forgot about the choice she had been asked to make.
Ayman proposed to her in the same café where they had first met. His friends cheered and his sister squealed. Twelve cried and said yes. She made her choice.
Remembering the Secretary’s instructions, Twelve jumped that night for the first time in almost a year, this time turning left instead of right, and waking up as a mortal in her bed.