Hybrid Zone Recognition (8 page)

“NOLA activated,” said a creepy female computer voice from the control panel.

“What the...” I spun back around to face the control panel. I hurriedly searched for a button controlling the door, but I found none. There were just numbers and unfamiliar symbols.

“Open the door, NOLA,” I demanded. Nothing happened. “NOLA, open the door,” I tried again. Why wasn’t there an exit button or an off switch? “Don’t make me count to ten,” I threatened under my breath.

“Cycle ten engaged.”

Oh,
that
she could hear.

My eyes widened as various attachments began whirring and spinning. I backed up giving them plenty of room as they gained speed. When they started moving towards me, I whipped around and began to pound on the glass while yelling, “Let me out!”

Water began shooting at me from every direction. Who puts shower jets in the floor! And it was HOT! “Hot, Hot!” I sputtered through the water hitting my face.

“Temperature increased.”

No, no, no. “Temperature decrease, temperature decrease!” I yelled.

“Temperature returned to normal level.”

I turned around to face her. Maybe if I could grab one of the attachments moving towards me, I could use it to break the glass. I lunged for the nearest nozzle and pulled. It slid free of the wall, and I turned to slam it against the door.

Before I could, my head suddenly yanked to one side, almost pulling me off my feet. In the effort to stay upright, I dropped the captured nozzle.

Did she just grab my hair? My head snapped back in the opposite direction. Oh, no she didn’t!

“Let go of my hair!” I shouted while trying to wrestle my hair out of her little metal hand thingies. “Bad NOLA!”

I strained with the effort against her, but she was too strong and too quick. I had managed to free only a single clump of hair when white foam began to cascade down my body.

Oh goodie, soap. I’d been worrying this was a rinse only cycle. I hoped I could get out before the hot wax started.

Along with my head being jerked from side to side by NOLA, I now had the added pleasure of being covered entirely in bubbles. I gasped and spit as the cascade of soap seemed to have no end. “No more soap,” I moaned.

“More soap,” NOLA repeated.

NOLA was E-vil.

I could barely breathe through all the flowery smelling soap. This was like a car wash but for people. I wondered if this was how they’d find me in the morning. Drowned while standing up in the shower and still fully clothed.

Having abandoned my attempt to free my hair, I just tried to remain standing, which was harder than it should have been for some reason. It didn’t take long to figure out that certain parts of the floor were moving. Of course they were. What else could I expect from a bubble bath fun house?

NOLA’s hands were now moving so fast that it felt like my head was going to vibrate off my shoulders. I reached up to steady it and something ripped. I thought it was my shirt. And what the heck was hitting my legs!

I couldn’t see anything past the curtain of bubbles I wore, which explained why I didn’t see whatever it was that slammed me against the glass.

“Oww! Bad NOLA, Bad NOLA! Stop. The. Shower!”

“Voice command not recognized.”

Not recognized! “Cancel. Deactivate. Abort!” I shrieked desperately.

“Cycle ten aborted. NOLA deactivated.”

The same glass panel that had sealed me in, the one I was also currently plastered against, abruptly disappeared. I fell out.

I never knew marble was so slippery when wet.

I skidded across the floor on my side and then crashed into the tub which spun me completely around. My three-sixty left me seated on my bottom with my legs stuck straight out in front of me. The first thing I noticed was my right shoe was missing. NOLA ate my shoe.

I sincerely hoped she choked on it.

I sat there in stunned silence. Had that really just happened? I was beat up by a shower? As the shock wore off, I tried to assess the extent of the damage. I didn’t think I was hurt too bad, except for maybe my head and my eyes that were burning something fierce.

I swiped at the foamy lather attacking my eyes and slowly stood to my feet. Stepping over the Macy shaped outline of bubbles on the floor, I cautiously approached the sink. Eyeing it as best I could, I searched for any enemy controls. It looked like only the normal levers I would associate with a sink. I didn’t see any gadgets or control panels, but I was not going to be fooled again.

Very gently, I pulled the nearest faucet lever towards me. “Just give Mama a little cold water,” I pleaded.

Not coming any closer, I watched as the water flowed down the sink. When I was certain that it was just a normal sink with a normal faucet, I began getting the soap off my face and out of my eyes.

Grabbing a hand towel, I went to stand in front of the full length mirror next to the tub. I looked like I had been through a hurricane. My hair was sticking out every which way. There was also a big red spot on my forehead where a knot was rapidly forming. I moved the hair aside and leaned forward to inspect it a little closer. I wasn’t sure my bangs would be sufficient cover.

Letting my hair drop back in place, I moved on to inspect my clothes. The shirt I had been wearing was barely recognizable. It had been a button up long sleeve. Now, one sleeve was ripped off entirely and pooled around my wrist. The other had a long gash in it. The top half of the buttons had been ripped off and it was split up the back. Amazingly though, it was still tucked into my jeans.

The right half of the belt loops on my jeans stuck straight out and they were stiff, like they’d been starched or something. Various rips and tears decorated the rest of my jeans until I reached the knees. Then, they were just shredded.

I took a deep breath, nearly gagging on the smell of roses coming from the soap. I seriously needed to rinse the rest of the soap off. Cutting my eyes in the direction of the monstrous tub, I regarded another potential foe. After a moment, I decided I just couldn’t do it. I was not up to any more fights with plumbing tonight.

Instead, I opted for the known quantity, the nice normal sink. The sink was safe. The sink was my friend. Good thing the sink was deep. I had a lot of hair.

Having rinsed off the majority of the soap, I stood wrapped in a towel, staring at myself in the mirror again. Should I get ice for my head? Unless the goose egg shrank a lot, my bangs were not going to hide this.

Finding my eyes in the mirror again, I smiled at my reflection. “Well, Mace,” I said to myself, “you survived the shower from hell. If that’s the worst they throw at you, you’ll be fine.”

I briefly wondered how in the world I was going to frame this episode to Miranda. I was the one that went through it, and I hardly believed it.

My encounter with NOLA did have one positive side effect. I was now wide awake. I would have no trouble focusing on my question list.

I stepped away from the mirror and walked to the light switch. Suddenly, it occurred to me why Catman had that smirk on his face when he suggested that I enjoy my shower.

Someone was going to pay. Where was that notepad!

Chapter 6

I
could sleep just about anywhere,
so I was not surprised that I slept well in my new accommodations, especially given the comfiness of the bed. What was surprising was my unexpected wake up call.

I sat bolt upright in bed with arms and legs askew, gripping the covers like a lifeline. It took me more than a minute to be conscience of the fact that one, I was awake, and two, why.

Filling the room, playing ridiculously loud, was the familiar refrain of Reveille.

It sounded like it was coming from the bed itself. I had a moment of panic where I feared this could be another automated monstrosity. It had looked like a normal bed when I crawled in last night, but I was now regretting my decision to forego the inspection.

I glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. It said it was five thirty in the morning. It was my normal wake up time, but it didn’t feel like it. I just wanted to go back to sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen with a bugler on the loose in my room.

I chuckled a little. Bugler on the loose. That was kind of funny.

Pushing my matted hair behind my ears, I slowly edged along the top of the bed in the direction of the music. When I didn’t see anything, I slid from the bed and inched closer to the footboard. I used my knuckle to tap against what I thought had been wrought iron work on the leg. It was actually cloth. I was looking at a speaker.

Moving over to the other leg of the bed, I verified my conclusion. Yep, there was a speaker embedded there too.

This left me with one simple question. What the heck was wrong with these people? Couldn’t a bed just be a bed and a shower a shower? What was next? Was I going to have to fight the toaster for breakfast?

I forced myself to a stand with a renewed sense of determination. I knew hands down who’d win that fight. No one and no altered device was going to come between me and my breakfast. With Reveille still blaring, I marched into the kitchen.

As I went, it occurred to me that the wake-up call was probably Olivia’s doing, retribution for her embarrassment last night. That was okay. Let cheese face have her laugh. I’d plot my revenge later, after breakfast and any potential battles awaiting me there.

Saying a silent prayer for normalcy, I opened the fridge. Much to my relief, it offered no resistance. The contents were not too bad either. Fruit and bagels would do for starters. Then I spotted the half-n-half. Where there was cream, there had to be coffee. Hallelujah.

I begin opening cabinet doors and quickly found the coffee. And it was normal non-fufu flavored, yet another small victory. I got the coffee going and put the bagel in the toaster. The rest I put on the table and then went to see what they had placed in my closet.

I wasn’t even the slightest bit hopeful in regards to finding anything comfortable. Neither did I think Olivia’s definition of suit meant the throw blanket I was currently wearing. Though, it might be fun to see the expression on her face, if I let her believe this was what I intended to wear to the meeting with the Director.

Inside the closet, I stood in front of the rack, sliding the depressing garments past me one by one. “Let’s see, there’s black, off black, dark as night black. Ooh, pin striped black.”

I slid the jacket off the hanger and laid it over my arm. On the opposing rack, I found the matching pin striped slacks. I paired them with a cream camisole that I found in a nearby drawer, and God bless them, the coolest pair of black boots I’d ever seen. They had silver studs, buckles and fur. They should have been gaudy and yet, they weren’t.

I didn’t think Olivia would approve of these. Someone else must have snuck them in. All the more reason to wear them.

I laid everything on the bed, which I noted had quit making noise. It wasn’t my doing. It probably had a pressure trigger or a timer. Or video feed to one sadistic supposed assistant. I turned in a full circle, waving just in case.

I was returning to the kitchen, where breakfast awaited, when the importance of the day hit me. Today was the day that I’d meet this mysterious Director, find out why I was here, and hopefully, approve of what they wanted me to do. I didn’t know what recourse I had if I didn’t.

Sure, I could keep secrets. I’d been doing that for a while now. But these people didn’t strike me as the kind that liked other people, who were not on their team, walking around with their secrets. Perhaps they’d perform a mind wipe, if that existed. I really hoped that didn’t exist. I liked my brain just how it was. My livelihood depended on it.

I realized I was incessantly drumming my fingernails on the table and decided that getting myself all riled up was not going to help. Downing the last of my coffee, I set the cup aside and plopped the last piece of melon in my mouth. It was time to get ready for the meeting.

Everything fit perfectly. Thank goodness. I wasn’t going to be wearing the clothes I arrived in. They were currently occupying the bathroom garbage can. All except for the one shoe. NOLA still had possession of that one, and I was not going back for it. It didn’t take a genius to see where that might lead.

It was disturbing, however, to know that someone had put in enough effort to know my exact size, including my underclothing. Even more disturbing to think what that task might have entailed, but there was nothing I could do about that either.

Standing in front of the mirror, I inspected myself one last time. The knot had shrunk marginally, more like settled into place. But now it bore the distinction of being reamed in a purple-black color, like I’d highlighted it on purpose. I thought the bangs did a fair job of covering it as long as no one looked too closely. I just had to make sure I didn’t brush them out of my eyes, like I sometimes did when I was frustrated.

I’d only applied a minimal amount of makeup. Trust me, no amount was going to conceal this knot.

I’d also managed to brush my hair out. Thanks to NOLA, that was no small task. It hadn’t helped that I’d not bothered to brush it out last night or that I’d gone to bed with it still wet. At one point, I was so mad I thought it would be best to cut it all off and just wait till it grew out again. But I couldn’t find anything sharper than a butter knife in the suite. So instead, it was pinned up in a bun. It wasn’t my best look, but all in all, not too bad.

I frowned at my reflection. Aw, who was I kidding? The knot was like a blaring beacon on my forehead. I probably should have iced it.

Still shaking my head in dismay over my appearance, I retrieved the notepad from the office desk and headed for the receiving room to wait for Olivia. I’d managed to come up with three pages of questions and or comments in some instances. I now set to work prioritizing them in order of importance.

I really could have used a spreadsheet to organize them, but no computer was provided in the office. They seemed intent on cutting me off from technology. Well, technology that was normal and non combative. That left me with the old school method of sorting, which equaled flipping back and forth between pages and continual renumbering. It was tedious and irritating work.

A brief knock at the door interrupted my concentration, and I looked up with a frown. My new watch revealed it was seven a.m. on the dot. I made one last notation on the pad, finishing my thought, when there was another knock on the door.

“Dr. Greer?”

It was Olivia. Didn’t she have a key? “It’s open,” I grumbled loudly. “As if you didn’t already know that,” I said just as loudly.

I waited for the door to open, but it remained closed. Perplexed, I got up and opened it myself.

Olivia stood there engrossed in the tablet she held in her hands. I thought she said that she didn’t own a tablet. She must have upgraded this morning, which would explain the sounds of frustration she was making at the thing.

“Sleep well?” I asked her.

Totally oblivious to my question, she looked me up and down, pausing when she saw the tips of my silver studded boots poking out from underneath my pants. The right corner of her mouth pulled down, and she looked quickly up at me before nodding to herself.

That was very rude and dismissive. It made me wish I’d chosen the blanket route. I sniffed disdainfully and asked, “Do I pass?”

“You’ll do,” she said, looking up briefly from the device she carried.

I leaned against the door frame with arms and legs crossed, watching her in amusement. Today she was dressed in a navy blue suit. I’d yet to see her in black. I was beginning to wonder if apparel color was tied to seniority.

She looked up, finally realizing I was a witness to her frustration, and hurriedly turned the device off. Well, she tried to, but it seemed she couldn’t remember how.

I let her struggle for a few moments before I held out my hand for the tablet. Reluctantly, she gave it to me, and I pushed the necessary button then held it out to her again. Without a word, she took it back, glaring at me with her lips pursed in either anger or embarrassment or maybe both.

That made the score two to one in my favor. I didn’t try to hide the smile that suddenly appeared on my lips.

She regarded me silently, probably updating her appraisal of me. I could see the wheels turning in her head. She might not know how to work a tablet yet, but she was definitely smart. It wouldn’t be wise to underestimate her. I knew from personal experience that great things came in little packages.

I withstood her scrutiny and waggled my eyebrows at her for no other reason than to irritate her. I didn’t know why, but she brought out the competitive side of me. I normally didn’t care about such petty things, but she irked me. The fact that she knew what was going on and I didn’t was a big minus against her.

“We should get going, shouldn’t we?” I said, tapping my watch.

The shake of her head was almost imperceptible. Without looking back to make sure I was following, she began walking down the hall.

I thought it strange how she and Catman both assumed I would follow them and therefore had no qualms about presenting me with their unprotected backs. One day, I might surprise them. But not today. Today, I wanted answers.

I shoved off the doorframe I’d been leaning against and followed her down the hall. I didn’t bother to shut the door. What would have been the point in that? They could get in anytime they wanted.

Olivia led the way down one hallway after another, each looking exactly the same to me. But she was unfazed by the similarity and made every turn with confidence. We walked for about fifteen minutes generally in a downward direction. That explained the morphing size of the building when compared to the outside.

At one point, we cut across a cafeteria. My mood brightened immediately. I slowed down, but she was having none of it and quickly pulled me through and out the other side.

It was a disgraceful display of respect for nutrition.

I did however manage to scoop up one of those pancake and sausage combos posted on a stick like a corndog. Much to my delight and Olivia’s dismay, it came equipped with the syrup built in. I offered her a bite, but she sneered at me. Who sneered at pancakes and sausage? It was one more indictment to add to the growing list against them.

We finally emerged into what appeared to be an office building. At the end of the hall was a large conference room ensconced in glass. Catman and several others I didn’t recognize were milling around the room.

Catman looked different this morning. He was minus the black suit, dressed instead in slacks and a long sleeve button up shirt. The tie he’d paired it with had a green pattern that highlighted his eyes, causing them to almost glow. They were striking and nice in an unnerving sort of way.

The office we were passing had the door open, and I tossed my pancake stick into the trashcan that I spotted just inside the door. The occupant, who was on the phone, looked up at my intrusion, and I waved my thanks for the use of his trash can.

“What did you do?” Olivia demanded as I almost walked into her.

“I threw my stick away,” I said defensively.

She tightly closed her eyes and sighed.

“What?” I asked, bewildered by her reaction. It was just a stick in the garbage.

“That was the Director’s office,” she hissed.

I smiled at her embarrassment. I’d thrown away some trash in the Director’s office. Big whoop. She was acting like I’d peed in his plants.

“You need to loosen up,” I chided.

Her blue eyes were like flint as she fumed at me.

“Shouldn’t we be in the room before him?” I urged, anxious to put her lid back on.

“Please do not screw this up,” she begged. “We need you on this project.”

She had spoken with all earnestness. I looked away from the pleading in her eyes and found Catman staring at me. I wasn’t trying to “screw up” anything for them. I didn’t even know what there was to screw up. I was so tired of not knowing what was going on.

“I’m not trying to screw up anything,” I told her.

“Just try to be on your best behavior?”

She’d stated it as a request, like she was dealing with an unruly child about to be presented to the public. She wasn’t too far off with the unruly bit. I was definitely feeling the urge to act wild and rowdy, to mess up their agenda like they’d messed up mine. Maybe she wasn’t too far off on the childish part either.

“Sure,” I sighed. I could behave in a professional manner, swallow the part of me that wanted to rebel against their control—for a little longer. But I was making no guarantees beyond this meeting.

With Olivia in the lead, we walked into the conference room. She promptly left me and began talking with the men assembled in the room.

During my survey of the room, I happened to look down and spotted the tips of cowboy boots protruding from Catman’s slacks. It made me smile a little. It could be that he wasn’t as stiff as he appeared.

I looked up from his boots to find him staring at me again. His head was cocked sideways and his eyes were focused on my forehead. Uh oh, he had spotted the knot. I pretended ignorance at the question in his eyes.

Before he could verbally ask, there was a commotion at the door, and the Director walked in followed by two other men. It was actually more like a stride, like a man on a mission or a limited time frame. That probably meant that he wasn’t going to want to spend a lot of time answering questions. I’d have to dispel him of that notion pretty quick.

I’d say he was mid-forties. His dark brown hair had just a hint of graying around the temples. He still looked muscular under the suit, which was black, but it was not standard issue. I didn’t even think it was off the rack. It fit him like a glove, allowing me to know that he still had muscles.