by Sarah Noffke
I shake my head and click my tongue. “No, I didn’t run Yen Tang off. I’m not the one precariously hanging over the side of a building to spy.”
“I can’t get any closer,” Nona said between breaths in a whispered voice. “Every time I do, Yen senses me somehow and flees. I figured this was the best way.”
I look out at the city growing bright with night lights. “Yes, I suspect he’s far from here by now.”
Still struggling, Nona sighs loudly. “Can I please get some help here?”
I pull out my trusty pocket knife. The blade opens with a sharp sound. “Sure, I’ll cut you down.”
“No!” Nona says too loudly, holding tightly to the ropes. “I meant will you offer me a hand?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Oh, that’s ever so boring. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take the way down? It’s faster.”
“Ren,” she says, kicking her feet.
“Oh, fine. You’re always so boring.” I reach over the side of the balcony, nearly scuffing my suit jacket as I offer the girl a hand. With an ungrateful expression she takes it and in one swift movement I haul her up and over the side of the railing.
Nona drops my hand when she’s secured herself on the rail, climbing easily over to safety. She jumps to a standing position and I realize immediately that she’s blending into her environment in case anyone caught her dangling over the side. I step back into the shadow, not eager to draw attention to myself either.
A moment later, Nona joins me, her rope and climbing gear in tow. “So what are you doing here, Uncle Ren?”
I grimace. “Don’t ever call me that.”
“I thought that Ren was your name,” she dares to joke. “Are you going my Mr. Lewis now?”
“You know I meant the Uncle part. I almost vomited when you said it.”
I narrow my eyes at my niece. She has a much better sense of humor than my repugnant sister who is currently turning her pointy nose up at the rice pudding they serve her at the state mental hospital. I’m certain she believes that her reality is a dream and soon she’ll wake up to find herself at the Ritz Carlton with room service and a closet of designer clothes. I laugh to myself. Karma is a bitch and the closest my criminal sister, Lyza, will ever find herself to an Armani suit is if I ever let her grovel at my feet, which I never plan to do. However, her children…well, they are measurably better people than my trader sister. They must have gotten it from my mum and pops. Their goodness definitely skipped Lyza.
“What are you doing here, Nona?” I ask.
“I’m spying,” she says simply because she wants to test my patience.
I blow out a long breath. “No shit. But why?”
“Because I know that Yen is up to something,” she states. “Middling Corporation has a ton of sketchy business surrounding it. I know that Dream Travelers have been going missing all over the world and I’ve been tracking the disappearances to Yen’s company.”
She definitely didn’t get her brains from Lyza. I hide my surprise. “How’d you figure this out?”
She shrugs. “I’ve been watching. They’ve been releasing all that weird technology and supporting legislature that indirectly effects Dream Travelers. It only made sense that they were behind something. But I haven’t been able to find anything concrete.”
Even though it’s dark, I’m easily able to study the microexpressions on the girl before me. She isn’t lying. And what’s more impressive is that she was able to piece together something that most skilled agents for the Lucidites have missed. Even some of the Head Officials have dismissed my concerns when I stated them. Middlings, those who don’t have the skill of dream travel and psychic powers, aren’t supposed to know about us, the Dream Travelers. They aren’t supposed to know that we can travel anywhere using our subconsciousness or that the Lucidites are a secret organization that oversees most of the world affairs.
And yet, Yen Tang’s manufactured technology that picks up on Dream Travelers when in the dreamscape, not something that is easy or even conceivable for Middlings. And even the name is suspect. Middlings don’t know we call them that. They just think they are humans. They believe they are the only humans on this planet, not realizing there is a superior species that’s been overseeing them since the beginning. But Yen…he has a different world view and it has been my goal to know how he got it and what his ultimate plan is.
And then there are the missing Dream Travelers. Nona is right. They have been tracked to Middling Corp…but no further.
“Why are you here?” she asks, almost like sensing my current thoughts.
I yawn. “I was bored and out for a cuppa.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, you know something. Did the News Reporters find something on Yen?”
I wished they would have, I think. The psychics who usually report on events in the future that concern global security have been blinded to Middling Corp, another point that worries me. Most at the Lucidite’s Institute have dismissed any concerns. They say I’m over reacting. It’s because I took that bloody demotion. It was supposed to be for my fucking sanity, but that won’t work if every goddamn person doesn’t do what I say.
I take a deep breath.
I’m used to being in charge. This agent business is taking some getting used to. But still, I think it’s best for me. At least it’s getting me out into the field.
I suck in a breath of smog mixed with pollen and cough. Hurr-fucking-yah for fresh air.
“The News Reporters aren’t seeing a damn thing about Yen or Middling Corp,” I disclose.
“Then why are you here?” Nona asks.
“Because,” I say plainly enough. I could just dose her with mind control and teleport away, but I don’t.
Nona is smart. She’s agile. She didn’t give up when we were locked in that freezer and left for dead by her own mother…my sister. Nona is better than most.
“You know, have you considered becoming an agent for the Lucidites?” I ask her.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “I prefer to work alone.”
I indicate to the rope she’s gathered up and slung around her shoulder. “That can get you tangled up real fast. Wouldn’t you rather have resources? Back up, maybe?”
“Where is your back up?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I prefer to work alone.”
Nona steps back, into a darker shadow. “Me too.” Then she springs off the building, disappearing into the night.
I shake my head. My fucking relatives are all a pain in the ass.
Chapter Two
The Lucidite Institute is a five-story facility buried at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. It is full of mind-blowing technology, mindless eccentrics who blab too much and possibly the best human to have ever live.
Although I’ve never been the type to need to be around “my tribe” I still consider the Institute, exclusively occupied by Dream Travelers, to be my home. Over two decades ago I entered this facility to seek refuge from a deadly threat. I stayed because it’s the best goddamn place in the world. What the Lucidites do, most will never know. That’s because they don’t seek praise for saving the planet time and time again with their premonitions of the future or agents who risks their lives for the greater good. They do it because they fucking care.
I totally don’t get it. But hey, I like having a purpose in life and the Lucidites definitely gave me that. A way to put a use of my godly powers.
Trey Underwood doesn’t jump when I teleport into his office at the Lucidites Institute. Most would have startled, offered me a rude expression and told me to knock next time and give them privacy. The Head Official of the Institute simply raises his chin from the report he’s studying and gives me a calm smile. He’s sitting behind his overly ornately carved desk that’s not only a monstrosity based on its size, but also looks out of place surrounded by the cold stainless-steel walls of the room. It’s the same throughout the Institute. Steel walls. Blue carpet. And
zero windows.
“You look like shit,” I say, noting the bags under his blue eyes and disheveled appearance of his normally slicked back silver hair.
“It’s good to see you, Ren,” he says, tugging on the medallion around his neck. It’s a nervous habit he does when there’s a problem he can’t solve. I’ve rare seen him do it.
“What happened?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“It’s nothing,” he say, motioning to the chair across from his desk. “Tell me how you are? How’s Dahlia? Does Adelaide like training?”
“No. Fine. And who cares,” I answer. “Tell me what’s going on.”
His eyes fall on the report he was reading when I teleported. “It’s nothing. It’s literally nothing. A total lack of information from the News Reporters.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, actually taking a seat, although I almost always prefer to stand.
“The amount of reports has been drying up for a while,” he explains. “But now there’s hardly anything that they are reporting.”
I comb my hand over my clean-shaven chin. This happened before when a powerful Dream Traveler was blocking our clairvoyants from seeing events of interests in the future. It is those catastrophes that the Lucidite agents intervene in, stopping crisis after crisis before it happens. However, the person responsible for jamming those reports is dead. I know that for a fact because I killed her with my bare hands.
“Someone is behind this,” I finally say.
“I’m certain that you’re right,” Trey says. “I’ve reached out to multiple Dream Traveler organizations and they can’t offer anything different. It’s like there’s a universal block.”
I stand abruptly. “I’m going to go and talk with Shuman. Without reports from her department, we’re useless.”
“That really should be Trent’s job,” Trey says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. For twenty years I ran the Strategic department, assigning cases to agents. Only recently I took a demotion, stepping into a role as an agent. I figured it would keep me young or finish me off. Can’t say which one I prefer.
I lower my chin and regard Trey from hooded eyes. “Do you want to stop me old man from doing what needs to be done?”
He cracks a smile. We’re the same age, but a lifetime of social responsibly towards a planet of people who are obsessed with self-destruction has taken its toll on Trey. He definitely wound up on Earth by accident and became my friend for reasons I can’t even fathom. “You know that Shuman doesn’t like it when you poke your nose in her business.”
I tap the button beside the door and it slides back into the recesses. I flash a toothy grin. “Yes, I know. That’s mostly why I’m going to do it. Getting a rise out of that stone-faced woman gives my life meaning.”
Chapter Three
I’m not considered a warm person with a cheerful disposition. However, Shuman, the Head of the News Reporting department, makes me look like a fucking Labrador retriever. She’s about as cuddly as a hacksaw.
When I was in charge of the Strategic department, she used to get all bent out of shape because I’d harass her news reporters and pressure them to do their bloody jobs better, seeing cases with more precision and giving my agents more time to intervene. Some people don’t like to be micro managed though. I always told Shuman that she should be happy that I didn’t use mind control on her to get what I wanted but she didn’t see that as a charitable action. Some people…
I breeze into the Panther room, also known as the News Reporting department. It’s dark and smells of people who wear too much patchouli. I fucking loathe hippies. They are always flipping tarot cards and pointing to asinine reasons for things science explained long ago. You, Jerimiah or Sunshine or whatever your dumb name is, didn’t get into a fender bender because Mercury is in retrograde. It’s because you’re a fucking idiot who didn’t look where you were going before merging lanes. This or that isn’t a sign that you’re destined to do whatever. There are no signs. Just life. Go cut your hair, wash your face and shut your bloody mouth.
Shuman has her arms crossed in front of her chest and is standing squarely in the hallway when I approach. She’s wearing her usual leather vest and sour expression. Her long black hair is braided down her back and the bohemian warrior has her amethyst eyes narrowed at me.
I point to her forearm. “Remember I offered to pay to have that tattoo of that rattlesnake removed from her arm? That offer still stands if you want to take me up on it. No one is going to take you seriously with a serpent printed on your body, not to mention that getting a date will be impossible, but that’s probably also due to your sullen nature. Boys like a gal who smiles every once and while.”
“The rattlesnake is my spirit animal,” she says in her usual breathy voice.
“Oh, how cute. My spirit animal is the devil. That’s where I get my relentless charm and red hair.”
“You’re here because of the lack of reports and you are going to try and tell me how to do my job,” she states with confidence.
“You know, your clairvoyance takes all the fun out of things. How am I ever supposed to throw you a surprise party if you keep this up?”
Her thin lips form a hard line. “The News Reporters are being blocked.”
“No shit,” I say. “I’m here to unblock them. Where’s Roya?”
Roya Stark is the best news reporter the Lucidites have. She’s also Trey Underwood’s daughter. She doesn’t like special treatment which is why I verbally abuse her at every turn. Oh, and also because she’s a royal pain in the ass.
“She recently saw an event that needs intervention,” Shuman reports.
“Good. I’ll take it.” I snap at the woman before me.
“I sent her directly to the Strategic department with the report.”
I blink dully at her. “Why would you do that when you would have known I’d be coming after the report?”
“Because it’s better if you take it directly from Trent.”
“Oh, you love to play this fucking game, don’t you?” I pretend to ask. “You’re manipulating the situation. You see some future event where I need to do something and so you’re bloody orchestrating this whole thing. Why don’t you save us all the time and trouble and just tell me what I need to do so that I avoid whatever or do whatever or make whatever happen.”
Shuman remains impassive.
After a moment, I sigh loudly. “Fine. So you want me to work this case related to this report, don’t you?”
She nods.
“But like a fucking puppy you want me to go and fetch the report from my supposed boss, is that right?”
“Trent is your boss. You appointed him,” she corrects.
“That’s not really how bosses work, but I get that you’re still struggling with the English language so no biggie. I won’t rub it in your face by mentioning it.”
Most would have given me a good sneer after that jab. Shuman merely turns around and marches off.
I sigh again. “Fine! Fine!” I say too loudly, knowing how Shuman loves her quiet, peaceful atmosphere. “So I guess we’re not addressing why your reporters aren’t seeing a damn thing lately?”
She turns and looks at me, a cold expression in her wise eyes. “I’m aware of the problem and it’s being handled.”
I study her. The woman before me isn’t dumb. She’s knows something. I can see it. But she also thinks there’s a fabric of time that needs to be preserved and not altered too much. “Certain events need to happen,” she’s said many times when I’ve caught her withholding news reports. For every disaster she’s allowed me to stop, she’s kept me from another one.
I stalk over to her, trying to look down at her, but she’s pretty much my same height, which is impressive. “What do you know? What are you not saying?”
Shuman lifts her chin. “All I can say is that there is no way to stop what is coming. I’ve tried.”
I want to
grab her by the forearm and haul her into the air, but I stop myself. “What does that mean?”
“It means, that you need to take the case I gave to Trent.” Shuman draws in a deep breath. “That’s the best way to minimize damage. Avoiding a catastrophe will only draw it to us faster.”
Chapter Four
Shuman might be an annoying bitch, but she’s probably right. I wanted to argue with her about her cryptic words, but it would do us no good. I like to control things. That’s why I’m a fucking brilliant agent. I can change bad men into good ones with my mind. I can make people see things that aren’t real. I have changed the past, the present and the future. However, Shuman has a different ability which burdens her in different ways. I’m certain if she sees something bad coming and knows we can’t avoid it, that she’s right. It’s fucking annoying. But she’s right. All I can do is follow the path that she’s laid out for me.
I walk straight into Scapes Escapes, the department space I designed years ago. There’s a meeting going on in the main room. Trent, my predecessor, is at the front of the room, talking to a dozen agents around the table. I stride straight into the space and extend a hand to him.
He buttons his mouth shut, confusion written on his face as he looks between me and my outstretched hand.
“Ren, what are you—”
“Report,” I say at once to the guy half my age who hasn’t aged as gracefully as me. His dark brown eyes are full of life, but the responsibilities of the job are too much for him, at least for now. “Give it to me now.”
“But I was just about—”
“To give me the report,” I say, wondering why Shuman wanted me to get this directly from Trent. She had some lame ass reason that I won’t figure out until later and it will make my head cramp.
“There’s only one report and I figured that—”
“Did you figure that you’d give it to one of the many agents in this room who have a tenth of my experience?” I pretend to ask, sweeping my hand at the curious agents all staring wide-eyed at the exchange.
