by Beth Goobie
Nellie’s mother had taken her meaning, paling noticeably.
“Best just to walk around and look for signs in the windows,” the woman had said, handing over their bag of groceries.
“But I haven’t seen any For Rent signs,” Nellie’s mother had said wearily. “We’ve looked everywhere.”
The woman had given a slight grin, then glanced around the store to see if anyone was within earshot. “What you’re looking for,” she’d said quietly, “is a susurra. A small blue flower. If a house has rooms for rent, you’ll see a potted susurra in the front window.”
They’d located rooms within half an hour. Several months later, when they’d moved to Dorniver, they’d found much the same system in place, the local inhabitants presenting an impassive, almost stupid, face to city bureaucrats and outsiders, all the while entertaining a complex level of insider communication through coded phrases, gestures, and objects placed casually in a window. No one who knew anything volunteered contact with city officials. More business was done through barter than the common currency, and only the naive used credit cards. Technology was viewed as a means of surveillance and avoided wherever possible. This applied even to the hospital, whose connections to the Interior were well known, and most utilized the services of neighborhood witches and healers. School attendance was erratic at the best of times—colleges and universities existed only in the Interior—and the majority of students dropped out in favor of part-time jobs long before they’d reached the legal age. Mail was delivered only to those who purchased post-office boxes, as street signs were constantly disappearing, and many of Dorniver’s residents refused to display numbers on their houses. Census takers faced an impossible task. Inhabitants pressed for information were likely to grow hostile, send a child for the carving knife, and stand silently stroking the blade until the census taker backed off in the interests of his or her own throat.
It was an atmosphere that suited Nellie—wary, silent, and sharp-edged. Arriving at the city’s outskirts she headed into the Waktuk district, Dorniver’s oldest suburb. Experience had taught her that flux was strongest here. Even on the days no stars sang in her dreams, she could spot turbulence bubbling to the surface through sudden gusts of light from windows or doorways that had nothing to do with the city’s unreliable electrical system, or in the face of a passerby that momentarily blurred and took an entirely different form before regaining its usual features. Fearful Outbackers called this a ‘doubling’ and wore the root of a nevva bush on a chain around the throat to ward off those moments of flux that allowed curious entities from other levels of reality to temporarily merge consciousness with someone in this one. Others raved about the visions the experience brought them, claiming they found themselves flying with angels or fused with the energy of stars.
Slipping carefully through the mid-morning throng, Nellie watched for signs of flux—a display of oranges rolling off a table, a cat bolting from a doorway, a curtain in an open window to her right that rose on a gust of wind while its partner hung flat. Gleefully she noted the window’s location at the side of a house, set back from the street and partially obscured by a doogden tree. Ducking behind the tree she waited and soon felt the ripple of flux leave the curtain and enter her body. With a delighted giggle she rode a rush of changing sensations as her body began to shift rapidly through an astonishing array of forms—demon, gargoyle, two-footed reptilian, strange-singing bird, star, and angel—culminating in a figure of light that seemed to be made entirely of small crystals.
Finally the surge of energy left her and Nellie found herself once again in the body of a twelve-year-old girl, standing beneath a limp set of window curtains. To her left, the street scene progressed as usual. No one seemed to have noticed her rapid-fire shapeshifting experience, but most Outbackers preferred to put on blinkers when flux entered their lives, grabbing at the hunk of nevva root around their throats and muttering incantations to the Goddess. This was both sad and stupid, Nellie had decided. Sometimes, as she passed from one shape to another, she could have sworn she felt Ivana’s delighted laughter rippling through her body. The Goddess didn’t mind Her children exploring flux, Nellie was certain of it, though the idea of being doubled left her less keen. Imagine something from another level sticking its snout through yours so it can take a casual look around, she thought, shuddering, and reminded herself to dig up a hunk of nevva root as soon as possible.
About to head back onto the street, she glanced to her right and froze. Just on the other side of a small hedge stood a corner store, and there on its sunlit wall a shadow was shifting in and out of itself, unattached to anything solid. Peering through the hedge, Nellie gasped softly as the shadow stepped free of the wall and solidified into a casually dressed man who carried signs of the Interior in the heavy-lidded watching of his eyes and the trained nonchalance of his shoulders. Everything about him said Interior Police, violence waiting for release. Nellie had never seen an agent of the Interior step out of a moment of flux, hadn’t realized they knew anything about manipulating the molecular field or traveling the levels. Spinning on her heel she darted into the crowded street, giving the fluttering hand signal as she went: Interior Police. Beware, Interior Police.
Everywhere hands took up the signal, a silent nervous system rippling outward: Interior Police in the area. Red alert, red alert. Halfway down the block, Nellie ducked behind a parked car and peeked over the hood. From her position she could see the Interior agent stroll casually past the store’s front steps and out into the street, oblivious to the hands that fluttered and gesticulated on all sides. From this point onward, wherever he went Outbackers would be tuned to his presence, watching him from the back of their heads. Everywhere the rippling hand signals would precede him, without a word he would be identified: Interior Police, beware, beware.
When she was certain the agent had passed on in search of other prey, Nellie returned to the corner store from which he’d emerged. It was obviously a building in flux, which made it worthy of a second glance. On top of this, it was a building that could supply her with everything she needed for several days. Entering the store she picked up a basket and moved along the aisles, selecting packages of candy, nuts, cold cuts, some bread rolls and fruit. Two women had followed her in and she waited them out, dawdling and scratching at fresh bug bites until they’d completed their purchases. As the clutch of bells tied over the door signaled their departure, she grabbed a large bottle of nevva juice and approached the till.
Everything seemed quiet and she could see no sign of the flux the building had displayed when the Interior agent had emerged from its east wall. Briefly Nellie considered hanging around in the hopes of another shapeshifting rush, but she had more than one goal to accomplish today and needed to act quickly. Besides, she and the clerk were alone in the store, and that simplified her next task greatly. Nellie had never seen anyone else do what she was about to do. No one had taught her this skill. It had come to her, startlingly, after her mother’s disappearance, born out of necessity, out of flux. Setting her basket of purchases on the checkout counter, she smiled at the clerk.
“Hi there.” The girl behind the counter looked young, perhaps fourteen, her left wrist unblemished and free of scars. Heavy green makeup accented her eyelids, tapering into long wings that scooped across each temple, and silver rings swung from her nose and lips as she punched the first price carelessly into the till. She hadn’t given Nellie more than a cursory glance.
Here we go, thought Nellie, letting her own eyelids sink heavily over her eyes. Slow it all down, turn it inside-out.
“Inside-out”was her term for it, knowing no other way to describe the sensation of flipping backward into the darkness of her head, where she dissolved into a deep throbbing hum. At the same time she remained conscious of her position in front of the till, staring at the oblivious clerk through the narrow slits of her eyes. It was a little like being in two places at once. Anchored inside her physical body, Nellie also floated within
the deep hum of her mind, sending herself beyond her own skin like an electrical field that permeated everything in its path and converted it into a vast pattern of shimmering bits of energy. As she did, solid objects lost their outlines and the molecules within each box and can of food, the counter before her, even the clerk’s body, came into focus, humming and throbbing like a massive swarm of bees.
Or souls, thought Nellie, vibrating at the center of the vast pattern that surrounded her. Rocks and water and walls and tin cans all have souls. Most people just can’t see them.
Tuning into the molecular plane of existence was a little like being shifted into high gear, and her thoughts raced as she scanned the throbbing pattern. As far as she’d been able to figure out, the molecular field served as a buffer—a kind of intermediate stage you had to tune into in order to be able to see the exit points leading to the next level of reality. If you didn’t know how to locate these gates you were stuck in your home level, the one into which you’d been born. Probing the shimmering bits of energy that lay before her, Nellie quickly found what she was seeking—three, no four tiny seams that ran spiderlike through the quivering mass that surrounded them. Four gates. This corner store had obviously been used for inter-level traveling before.
Slowing her thoughts, Nellie tuned partway back into her normal view of reality. As she did, the shelves of tin cans and baked goods swam into focus, overlapped with her view of the molecular field so each object hummed and shifted within its outline. Across the counter the clerk now radiated such a mass of energy that it drifted, free-form, from her arms and back. Nellie grinned, thinking of angels she’d seen pictured in children’s books. Superimposing realities made them much more interesting. It also meant she could now figure out how the four gates aligned with solid reality. A quick scan of the overlapped realities located one seam snaking horizontally along the wall beside the store entrance, another laid across the floor, and two that hovered vertically midair—the closest at body height and a mere two steps to her right.
Perfect, Nellie thought with a burst of satisfaction. The Goddess was definitely looking out for her today. Traveling between the levels was much easier if a ready-made gate stood waiting in a convenient position. All she had to do now was stop time in this level, open the gate and step through. But first she had to position herself so she was standing directly against the gate. A foot too far to the right or left and she would miss her chance.
Taking two steps to the right, Nellie positioned herself so the vertical midair seam ran directly through her body. Then she fixed on the hum at the base of her brain and moved deep into its vibrations. Slow, she thought. Slow it all down, take it toward sleep. Sleep, sleep, everything sleep. Obedient to her thoughts, the hum deepened. As it did, the room’s molecular field began to lose its intensity, a swarm of bees settling for a long winter nap. Dream, Nellie whispered into the quieting pattern. Dream a snake sunning itself, dream a drowsy stone.
On the other side of the counter, the clerk sagged against the till and yawned. Through the molecular field that connected them, Nellie could feel the other girl’s heartbeat thicken and her mouth take on the taste of sleep. Falling, falling, she whispered into the clerk’s mind. The air is growing heavy and you are falling down a long dark tunnel toward sleep.
Drowsily, the clerk glanced at the clock above her head, watching the arrow-tipped hands that dragged between seconds. “Geeeeeeez, I’m sleeeeeepeeee,” she slurred, her index finger drifting over the till.
Let her add everything up first, Nellie told herself. Wait until she’s opened the till.
The hum at the base of her brain deepened yet again, slowing the room’s molecular field further. A fly buzzed sluggishly past the clerk’s nose, but the girl barely lifted her eyes. About her head dust motes were slowing, and the second hand on the clock was barely moving. Her heavy-lidded eyes skimmed lethargically over Nellie’s pile of purchases, checking one last time, and her index finger settled onto the ‘Total’ key.
“Okaaaaaaaay,” she yawned. The till gave a long drawn-out click, the money drawer inched outward, and Nellie sent one last message into the room’s molecular field. Stoooooooop, she whispered, and the clerk’s mouth froze, mid-yawn. Dust motes stopped moving about her head, the fly droned to a halt above her nose, and the clock on the wall came to a standstill—every molecule in the room caught and fixed in a pattern, the pattern of one specific moment.
Carefully Nellie focused on the seam that ran midway through her body. What she had to do now was tricky because she couldn’t afford to confuse the gate’s molecules with her own. Fortunately the pulse rate of a gate was so unusual, it could immediately be distinguished from any surrounding molecular field, even one that had been locked in time. A gate felt like dead space, a scar of solid nothingness. Sending her mind into the thin line of nothingness that dissected her body, Nellie began to push outward.
The seam divided cleanly, creating a human-sized doorway that stretched several inches beyond her arms. Immediately Nellie sent her mind into the blur that could be seen through the gap, assessing its vibratory rate and bringing her body into sync with it. The process took less than a second. When it was competed, the blur had disappeared and she was stepping into a reality that existed one level beyond the one she’d just left, a virtual copy: same grocery store, same clerk with the same green-winged eyeshadow, and, two steps to Nellie’s left, a duplicate of herself, standing with her eyes riveted to the till’s money drawer. The only noticeable difference between the two levels was the slightly quicker rate at which this one vibrated, but that was normal. As far as Nellie could tell, the different vibratory rates were what kept the levels separate.
Deeply involved in a heated argument over the price of the bottle of nevva juice, neither the clerk nor Nellie’s double appeared to have noticed her. Moving swiftly toward a pyramid of tinned fruit that had been stacked at the front of the baked goods aisle, Nellie yanked a corner can out of position. Instantly cans began toppling onto the shelves of baked goods and cascading to the floor. Without a backward glance she took off for the aisle’s other end, then turned and ran up the next one, just in time to see the clerk dart from behind the till, intent on saving the doughnuts. Unguarded, the till loomed wide-open. Perfect, Nellie exulted as she slipped behind the counter. There was enough money here to keep her fed for weeks. Ditching her excitement, she reached for the nearest wad of bills.
But another hand beat her to it. Oblivious to Nellie, her double was sprawled across the counter, fumbling and snatching at anything within reach. With a hiss, Nellie raked her fingernails across the back of her double’s hand. As it withdrew, she began ramming bills and coins into her pockets. The fact that her double had seen her was of little concern. This often happened when she traveled the levels, but her doubles were usually so stunned by the experience that they did little more than gawk. This double was more active than most, but the person Nellie figured she had to keep an eye on was the clerk, who was moaning loudly and plucking cans out of the dengleberry tarts. If she turned around, the molecular field would really start jumping. Lifting the cash drawer, Nellie scrabbled for coins that might have slipped underneath.
“Hand it over, all of it,” hissed a voice, and suddenly a knife appeared beneath Nellie’s nose. Startled, she glanced up to see her double leaned toward her, reaching for the money she hadn’t yet shoved into a pocket. As usual they were mirror images, dressed in the same T-shirt and jeans, their blond hair pulled back into the same short ponytail and glaring at each other with the same unusually slanted gray eyes. But the knife dancing beneath Nellie’s nose was definitely out of sync with the mirror image. Just as she’d thought, this store was in flux. That was the intriguing thing about flux—you could never predict the way it would reveal itself.
And then before Nellie’s eyes, her double began to shapeshift. Openmouthed, Nellie stood fixed in her human form, watching her double rotate rapid-fire through a variety of threatening forms— ghoul, vampire
, gargoyle, demon. But how was that possible? Nellie could feel no flux in the air, no quirk in the molecular field. Her double seemed to be manipulating her own physical reality entirely at will.
Returning to human form, the double glowered at Nellie. “I don’t know who you are or where you come from,” she said grimly, “but this is my store. Everything in it’s mine.”
There was no need to panic—shapeshifting and a knife were mere technicalities against a gate to another level. Jabbing a finger in the direction of the clerk, Nellie shouted, “Look out!” Then, as her double whirled to see what was behind her, Nellie darted around the counter toward the gate. Stepping into the gap, she drew the two halves of the gate together and sealed them, then synchronized her vibratory rate with her home level’s. Gradually she brought the surrounding molecular field back into time. Dust motes began to drift and the fly buzzed away from the clerk’s nose. On the wall the clock dragged itself through one second, then another. Slowly the clerk took a deep shuddering breath.
“I need a coffee break,” she muttered, one hand pressed to her heart as if to make sure it was still beating. “That’ll be fifteen dollars and ninety-four cents.”
Pulling a crumpled bill from her pocket, Nellie handed it over. Without hesitation the clerk gave her the change and packed her purchases into a bag.
“Thanks.” Untroubled by guilt, Nellie headed for the exit. Perception created reality and as far as her home level was concerned, she’d left everyone well-paid and satisfied. If this clerk remembered anything out of the ordinary, she would dismiss it as a wild dream, and if a fourteen-year-old girl in the next level was fired due to money that had gone missing on her shift, it was none of Nellie’s concern. Flux upended everyone’s life, whether or not you clued into its existence. This time it had left her with the task of figuring out how her double had been able to shapeshift when there was no sign of flux in the vicinity. Once she’d solved that question, Nellie would also be able to shapeshift whenever she wanted.