Jake and I had always talked about travelling to other countries, but without making any real plans for it, it had never happened. Now, as my eyes took in the scene of the hundreds of people milling about the market wearing every shade and pattern of color imaginable, I couldn’t help but wish Jake were there to share the moment with me. My eyes lingered on a group of children playing soccer off to one side of the street, where an intersection left the area free of booths. I smiled as one of the smallest boys in the group kicked the ball through the backpacks that served as impromptu goalposts, earning the cheers of his friends.
I slept for most of the flight from Johannesburg to Switzerland, where I had a six-hour layover before the flight that would take us to Washington, D.C. From a phone call I had gotten from a senator the day before, it sounded like a few senators and officials from NASA wanted to give me some ceremonial medal for the rescue mission, along with some of the bigger things Gravita had done over the past few years. Half-way through the senator’s list of Gravita’s accomplishments—about when she mentioned the attack Jake had thwarted at the Navy Pier by Orthoptera and her mechanized swarms of locusts the past summer—I decided it might be better for me to skip the awards ceremony entirely, though I didn’t tell the senator that right away. It felt wrong to take credit for things I hadn’t done, and unquestionably most of the award would be for things Jake had done, not me. Later, when I brought up the award to Jake and my reasoning for not accepting it, though, he less suggested than told me I would be attending the awards ceremony. As he put it, receiving recognition was just a part of arbiter life. I would have to get used to receiving awards eventually, no matter what I did. The murder in his tone when I had first mentioned my thoughts on skipping out on the award ceremony didn’t hurt to get his point across either. I understood his vehemence that I attend. He had worked hard over the previous twenty years to build up Gravita’s image. He had received awards before, of course, but that only made him all the more loathe to let me reject one now. Apart from all that, there was an extensive grant and scholarship program built up for the children of arbiters, as the actual compensation for the job was shockingly low. The more decorations I could accumulate throughout my career would translate into better benefits and sponsors for our children later on. That was how I found myself flying back to the Capital with the two astronauts from the Space Station a day later.
When we landed in Washington, I was relieved to find our arrival hadn’t been turned into a news reel. Instead, we got a rental car and drove to the hotel they were putting us up at while we were in town for the ceremony the next day.
A small suitcase was waiting for me in my hotel room, filled with a few personal items and, more importantly, my arbiter suit. The one condition I had given to attending the award ceremony was that I had requested I wear it. Jake had spent almost two decades carefully separating his private life from his arbiter persona, and I wasn’t about to destroy that effort because of some silly awards ceremony. Luckily, there were already laws in place that allowed me to attend any public event, even an awards ceremony, as my arbiter alter-ego, an obvious and necessary provision for anonymous arbiters.
The next morning as I met the two astronauts in the hotel lobby, I was somewhat surprised to find a black limousine with government tags already waiting outside for us. I slipped my helmet down over my head as I followed the two others out of the hotel lobby.
I shook the hands of the two men and woman waiting for us by the limo, unsurprised when one of the men revealed himself to be Administrator Morris. I recognized the other two. The woman was a senator from my home state of Illinois, and had been the one to explain the award to me over the phone. And, even being entirely ignorant of national politics, I still recognized the other man as the Senate Majority leader. After finding myself in the privacy of the limousine, I pulled my helmet off with a sigh and balanced it in my lap.
“Are you going to wear that to the ceremony?” Morris’ eyes were on my helmet. If the tone of his voice didn’t convey his disapproval, the scowl across his face would have done the trick just as well.
I shrugged. “I was planning on it. Kinda defeats the purpose of having an anonymous public image if my face is going to be plastered all over the local newspaper.”
“Local newspaper?” The Senate Majority leader chuckled and raised an eyebrow at Morris, who only scowled some more and looked out the window. “Didn’t you tell her what award she was getting?”
“Wait.” I frowned and looked between the two men. “What award am I getting?”
“I’ll just say.” The senator smiled as the limousine came to a stop. “No one has ever worn one of those silly arbiter masks of yours while receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom before.”
I followed his gaze out the window, and while my mouth didn’t drop, it did hang open an inch or so as I looked out at the White House.
I could barely feel my feet as I scooted across the seat to follow both Morris and the two senators out of the limousine, accompanied by the two astronauts I had rescued. Before we left the car, though, I still secured my helmet down over my head. Precedent or not, I could see dozens of news reporters with cameras, microphones, and shoulder-mounted camcorders lining either side of the path from our car to the White House. The cacophony of their shouts and questions bombarded us as we made our way up to the double doors, passing the impressive white marble pillars of the building as we made our way inside.
Moved by an undeniable reverence, I pulled my helmet off as I crossed the threshold into the White House. I knew I was effectively destroying the division between my public and private life, a suspicion confirmed by the sound of camera shutters snapping frantically behind me as the door swung shut, but it just seemed wrong to be where I was while wearing a helmet. I lifted an arm and looked down at my skintight suit as I walked with a sheepish expression. As my gaze returned to the ornate decorations all around the rooms we passed, I was painfully aware of how out of place I was in my arbiter suit. If I had known, I almost certainly would have worn something else.
After ascending a staircase and being led to wait outside one of the many rooms on the second floor, I took a quick second to set my helmet down on a nearby table and try to do something with my hair. Thankfully, I had taken Jake’s advice to heart to always carry a hair tie on me, and I had enough experience by then to know to pull most of my hair into a hasty ponytail. I left a few locks free to hang down either side of my face that I hoped would be an improvement to the helmet hair I knew I always got after taking my helmet off. As I went to tuck my helmet back under my arm, I caught sight of myself in a mirror nearby. By some stroke of dumb luck, I had taken a few extra minutes before leaving my room that morning to apply some makeup. It wasn’t much, since even for big events, I didn’t feel very comfortable wearing it, but I had put some lipstick and mascara on. Now, seeing myself in my arbiter gear, I was amazed at how much of a difference the makeup made. Even without wearing any, I knew I cut a presentable figure in my suit. But now, looking at myself with makeup, I started to get why women would put up with the obnoxious routine of putting it on each day.
I ran a hand over my face to pull some of the hair out of my eyes as I took a closer look at myself. I knew it was vain, but I couldn’t help it. I felt something I hadn’t felt in months—not since I had swapped bodies with my wife. Finally, I could remember the exact feeling that had come over me when I caught sight of my wife for the first time, because I was experiencing it all over again. She was beautiful. Everything about her. I could see it again. The eyes. Oh, how could I have forgotten her eyes? My stomach fluttered, even as a warmth crept up my neck and across my cheeks.
Wait, what? Was I... was I actually in love with myself? Was that even possible? No, that was wrong. I was in love with Jake. And this was Jake’s body. What else was I supposed to feel? But that wasn’t right either. This was my body. Or, it was now. What?
“Gravita?” Morris’ voice broke through my thoughts, ca
using me to look over at him. A second too late, I realized I still had my face screwed up in a grimace with my tongue hanging out of the side of my mouth.
“Yes?” I dropped the expression and forced my muddled thoughts aside. I could worry about my troubling pseudo-narcissism later.
“They’re ready for you.” He sighed, a pained expression flitting across his face. He nodded back toward the door he had just passed through.
“Thank you.” I smiled, then took only a moment to compose myself before turning the knob and going through the door.
It wasn’t as though I was the first arbiter to receive the Medal of Freedom. In fact, since the founding of the arbiter program, it had become something of an open wager to guess which arbiter would receive the award each year. I guess it was easier to be recognized for heroism in a world where city-destroying disasters had to be prevented every few months. And as far as arbiters went, Gravita—well, I—was one of the few that could single-handedly stop such catastrophes. Since Jake had done just that quite a few times even in just the past year, I was sure I was likely already near the top of the pool for the next arbiter to receive the award even before I had gone on the rescue mission to the Space Station. I should have seen it coming.
Still, I could do little more than smile and try to blink through the bright lights and sea of cameras that were fixed on me as I entered the East Room. I tried not to think too much about how I was likely on live national news. Even in the brief time it took me to cross the room to shake hands with the President, I could hear startled whispers spreading through the crowd as the world caught a glimpse of my face for the first time. Dozens of flashes blinded me as I met the President’s gaze and managed a faint smile.
I got through the awards ceremony well enough, though I was certain my knees were shaking as I stood to let the President put the medal around my neck. I saw his eyes sweep over me as we shook hands, and I forced myself to bite my tongue and keep a professional air about me as his gaze came back to mine. I tried as best I could to keep an even smile on my face as I settled back in my seat, even as the President commented on how lovely I looked in my suit. I stopped myself from crossing my arms in front of my chest as he smiled at me one more time, trying to remind myself that he was just trying to be complementary. At least, I hoped that was all it was. I didn’t know much, but I knew enough to understand it would be a very bad idea to show any amount of insecurity in that moment. Especially given I was being watched by thousands, if not millions, of people, and that I was being recorded with footage that would almost certainly be played many, many more times in the future. I just had to look confident. In a skintight white suit with seductive pink lines drawn all over it designed to attract attention to the most feminine parts of me, and which was so thin that it left very, very little to the imagination. Easy.
All told, I was grateful a few hours later once the entirety of the award ceremony was over and I was permitted to escape back to my hotel room. To my dread, I was pulled into an off-side conversation with the President before I could manage to duck away. However, away from the cameras and all the press, I actually found the President to be... not terrible? He struck me as someone I wouldn’t mind having a beer and catching a game with, as crazy as it seemed. But then, I’d probably have to stop him from trying to feel me up during each commercial break, so... I’d maybe pass on that after all.
I flew into O’Hare the next morning. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since my face had appeared on national news, and I wasn’t sure if it was just paranoia or an actual change, but it seemed some people were already giving me double-takes in the airport as I passed.
As a rule, reporters and news agencies had come to a consensus decades before to avoid digging into the personal identities of arbiters out of a courtesy to them. Arbiters who chose anonymity didn’t do so out of any notion they were keeping their families or friends safe from rogues. A determined criminal would figure out who an arbiter was with a little bit of forethought and investigation, no matter how careful the arbiter was. Arbiter retribution for rogues that went after family, though, was severe enough that most of them, even when desperate, never even considered seeking revenge on arbiters through their families. No, the real reason arbiters hid their identities was so they could go to the store without being accosted by a mob.
My problem was that, with or without reporters revealing who I was, my picture was now in the public sphere. With all the track boards, vlogs, and internet subcultures out there surrounding arbiters, I knew it wouldn’t be long before more and more people began recognizing me out in public.
I was met by a surprise as I got off the plane.
“Mom!” Sam barreled into me as soon as she saw me emerge from the gate, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
“Good to see you too.” I gasped. “Why aren’t you two in school?”
“Teacher’s conference.” Nicole shrugged. “Apparently after that attack last month, our school decided to run drills today. Nice outfit, by the way.”
“Oh.” I looked down, remembering that I was wearing my newly acquired rugby jersey. “Thank you.”
Jake gave me a hug after Sam had finally let go of me. “How was... everything?”
I smiled. “Good. I met a nice Russian, and a not-so-nice Russian, and I want to be an astronaut now, if that counts for anything.”
“I think your ship might have sailed on that one.” Nicole rolled her eyes.
I lowered my voice as we made our way back from the terminal toward the parking garage, my small carry-on suitcase in hand. “Any chance you guys didn’t watch the news yesterday?”
Sam laughed. “Oh, we saw the press conference. Gravita’s pretty much Chicago’s arbiter. My U.S. history teacher stopped class to put on CNN to watch the awards ceremony.”
“Oh dear.” I winced. “I’m really, really sorry. I bet that was probably kind of rough to sit through for you. The official I spoke with just made it sound like this routine thing. If I had known what I was getting into—”
“Mom, you were just doing your job. I thought it was awesome. Plus, I don’t really think any of my friends recognized you.”
“One of mine did,” Nicole said, a note of pride tinting her voice.
Jake sighed. “I think a few of the guys at work were giving me weird looks yesterday as I left.”
“I’m so sorry.” My stomach shriveled up. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jake laughed. “I was the one who wanted you to go to that awards ceremony in the first place, and I’m glad you did. Seeing you getting that award was amazing. It felt good to see Gravita get recognition for everything...”
“That you’ve done?” I cocked an eyebrow at him as he trailed away into silence. I laughed at his discomfort, then pulled him close and gave him a kiss. “Don’t worry. I’m proud of you, Jake. You were an amazing Gravita. The only notable thing I’ve done so far is go to space. That doesn’t even crack the top twenty things you’ve done. I doubt I’ll ever top the time you stopped Psyclone from turning the Aon Center into a giant mind-control antenna that would have wiped out the Midwest.”
“You remember that?” He looked down at me with a curious expression. “I didn’t think you kept up with arbiters that much.”
“It would be hard not to, wouldn’t it?” I laughed in an attempt at hiding my discomfort.
Truth was, I had tried very hard to ignore every headline involving arbiters for the past twenty-four years, with one obvious exception. Primes with gravity-based powers were just so rare. Even after it became apparent within the first weeks of her working in Chicago that Gravita couldn’t have been the girl I had known from so many years before, I couldn’t help but follow her career path. I wasn’t sure why.
“You know?” Nicole stretched as we emerged from the terminal and waited in the sunlight outside for the tram that would take us to our car. “Just a few months ago, I was worrying about whether or not our family was too boring
. All that changed when we figured out mom was an arbiter. The joys of family secrets, huh?”
“Yeah, where would we be without our secrets?” Jake’s voice took on a sickly-sweet tone, the way it always did whenever he was especially annoyed. That tone coming from my old body, though, was so strange and out of place that it made us all stop and turn to him. “What?”
Sam laughed once again as she turned back to the tram that had just pulled up. “I think we’re going to be lucky if we make it through all this without needing therapy.”
13
KIARA AND I SETTLED into a good rhythm working together over the next few weeks despite the chaotic nature of the work. Even with the uptick in activity, I found it harder and harder to keep to the graveyard shift we were on, though I knew we would be out of that rotation in another week, in time for Thanksgiving.
“No way,” I said.
“Really!” She laughed and slapped the dashboard. “So, when we got back to my place, of course he wanted to come in.”
“This was a first date, right?”
“First and last. He would have been pressing his luck to get a hug after all that.”
“Man.” I laughed. “I thought I’d heard them all, but wow.”
“Ugh.” She laughed too. “Why are men such creeps?”
“Hey!” I frowned, my laughter cut short.
“He asked me what my bra size was.”
“Okay, this guy was a creeper. But that doesn’t mean all of us are.”
“Amber, we’ve been over this.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not a guy anymore. You’ve been a woman for almost two months. You have bigger boobs than I do.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, aware of just how on-display I was in my suit. “I’m not that big.”
“No, that’s fair.” She looked me over, an appraising look in her eye, and I shifted again in discomfort. “But, given your height and your athletic build, you’re pretty big.”
Prime Identity Page 16
