Her feet drag. Her pace is almost equal to everyone else’s, but not quite. She doesn't make eye contact. Bagel in her right hand; coffee in her left. She shivers in her worn, second-hand coat. She stares at the icy ground, shoulders slumped.
She is on her way to a class— where she will listen but not speak. Then home again— where she will speak but not listen. She has been here for almost five months now, and she is not happy.
A hand reaches out of a shadow. It grabs her left hand. The shadow doesn’t seem to have a source. The hand is gnarled, but strong. She stops and looks into the shadow.
A woman sits in the shadow. She is old. The shadow-woman has seized the hand with the coffee in it. She smells the hand and the coffee.
“You smell of future.” the shadow-woman says.
“Oh, yeah?” she asks. She is skeptical. She pulls her hand back from the shadow-woman and the coffee sloshes. It splashes the front of her coat, leaving a brown stain. She curses.
“You will become an orthodontist.” the shadow-woman hisses.
“I’m a law student.” she says. She takes a bite of her bagel. She knows she should keep walking.
“You will drop out of law school.” the shadow woman whispers.
“No.” she says. She is trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “I won’t.” She has been working hard ever since she came here, she knows. She will not let it go to waste, she believes.
“You will drop out of law school and become an orthodontist.” the shadow-woman hisses.
She pauses. “Why?”
The shadow-woman gives her a toothy grin. “Because,” she begins “someday you will be walking to work with a coffee in your right hand and a bagel in your left. You will enter the building and say hello to the receptionist. His name is Antonio. He will tell you that you need to see a girl with a wire poke before your other patients.” the shadow-woman says, all her words rushing out at once.
“And?” she asks, and then wonders why she asked that. She needs to go to class. She doesn’t have time.
“I will tell you more in exchange for that bagel.” the shadow-woman says.
She looks from the bagel, to the shadow-woman, to the bagel again. The bagel is still warm and she is hungry. She looks at the building she was walking to. She is probably late now. She hands over the bagel.
“The girl will have strange skin and black eyes. At first, you will be scared of her. Then she will smile at you and you will be terrified. ‘What seems to be the problem,’ you will croak. She will not speak. She will only open her mouth. So wide. You will stare into her mouth. There will a black eye that stares out at you from within her mouth. You will blink and look away. ‘Have a seat,’ you will say, gesturing her to your chair. You will be glad you installed wrist clamps on your station. You will lock down the girl’s tentacles before looking in her mouth again. Embedded in the green flesh of her cheek, there will be a wire. You will look at it in confusion. The girl does not have braces. ‘Andy,’ you will shout over the sound of drilling, ‘what’s her name?’”
“Who’s Andy?” she asks.
“The receptionist.” the shadow woman replies.
“Isn’t that Antonio?”
“No. His name is Adrian. He will tell you the girl’s name is Emeline Johnson. You will search the records, and the hidden records, and the secret records. There is no one named Emeline Johnson. Your computer will begin to sizzle and you will know you have gone too deep. Still, you check the records from parallel universes. Like all orthodontist offices, your office will have access to records from parallel universes. Your computer will set itself on fire and Alan will take it away.”
“Who’s Alan?”
“The receptionist. Keep up. By then, Emeline Johnson will be becoming restless. She will tell you this by waving her tentacles about and shrieking. The window near you will crack and turn black. You will turn on your light and put a pair of sunglasses on Emeline Johnson’s face. She will writhe and spray acid out of her nose. The acid will burn the ceiling and you will jam the sunglasses over her eyes. You will reposition your light and stare into the abyss that is her mouth. You will take a small pair of pliers and grip the wire. Emeline will gurgle quietly. You will ignore her and pull on the wire. It will come out easily.”
She starts to wish she hadn’t stopped to talk to the shadow-woman. Of course, since she gave the shadow-woman her bagel she should stay and listen. She sits down beside the woman on the ground.
“You will pull and pull and the wire will come. The wire will be charred and covered in green blood. You will thread the wire through the pulley above your work station and continue pulling. You will call Aaron and ask him for help. He will stare because he doesn’t know what to do. The tangle of wire will fill your workstation and then spill out into other people’s. You won’t care. You will feel a surge of adrenaline as you reach the end of the wire. Abdal will begin screaming. Emeline Johnson will fall out of her seat with a strange sloshing noise. The police will arrive and take Emeline into custody. You will demand answers from them. You will want to know what you should do with all that wire. You will want to know what happened to Emeline Johnson. You will think it is your right. You will never find out. You will wind the wire around your arm and go home. You will not see any more patients that day or any other day. You will sit in your apartment and stare at the wire and think of Emeline Johnson. You will waste away until you are only the husk of what you once were. The husk of a law student.”
“Thank you,” she says, and stands up. “Thank you.” she says again. The shadow, and the woman, are gone, and her bagel is still in her hand. She looks around the deserted campus and blinks twice. Once because her eyes hurt, and once because she can’t remember why she isn’t in class.
Not that she wants to go to class, she thinks. She doesn’t want to be a lawyer, she decides.
“I want to be something else.” she says out loud. The pigeons look at her sympathetically. They know about the shadow-woman. They know about the shadow-woman’s advice.
She will become an orthodontist, she decides.
She is on her way to a class— where she will listen but not speak. Then home again— where she will speak but not listen. She has been here for almost five months now, and she is not happy.
A hand reaches out of a shadow. It grabs her left hand. The shadow doesn’t seem to have a source. The hand is gnarled, but strong. She stops and looks into the shadow.
A woman sits in the shadow. She is old. The shadow-woman has seized the hand with the coffee in it. She smells the hand and the coffee.
“You smell of future.” the shadow-woman says.
“Oh, yeah?” she asks. She is skeptical. She pulls her hand back from the shadow-woman and the coffee sloshes. It splashes the front of her coat, leaving a brown stain. She curses.
“You will become an orthodontist.” the shadow-woman hisses.
“I’m a law student.” she says. She takes a bite of her bagel. She knows she should keep walking.
“You will drop out of law school.” the shadow woman whispers.
“No.” she says. She is trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “I won’t.” She has been working hard ever since she came here, she knows. She will not let it go to waste, she believes.
“You will drop out of law school and become an orthodontist.” the shadow-woman hisses.
She pauses. “Why?”
The shadow-woman gives her a toothy grin. “Because,” she begins “someday you will be walking to work with a coffee in your right hand and a bagel in your left. You will enter the building and say hello to the receptionist. His name is Antonio. He will tell you that you need to see a girl with a wire poke before your other patients.” the shadow-woman says, all her words rushing out at once.
“And?” she asks, and then wonders why she asked that. She needs to go to class. She doesn’t have time.
“I will tell you more in exchange for that bagel.” the shadow-woman says.
She looks from the bagel, to the shadow-woman, to the bagel again. The bagel is still warm and she is hungry. She looks at the building she was walking to. She is probably late now. She hands over the bagel.
“The girl will have strange skin and black eyes. At first, you will be scared of her. Then she will smile at you and you will be terrified. ‘What seems to be the problem,’ you will croak. She will not speak. She will only open her mouth. So wide. You will stare into her mouth. There will a black eye that stares out at you from within her mouth. You will blink and look away. ‘Have a seat,’ you will say, gesturing her to your chair. You will be glad you installed wrist clamps on your station. You will lock down the girl’s tentacles before looking in her mouth again. Embedded in the green flesh of her cheek, there will be a wire. You will look at it in confusion. The girl does not have braces. ‘Andy,’ you will shout over the sound of drilling, ‘what’s her name?’”
“Who’s Andy?” she asks.
“The receptionist.” the shadow woman replies.
“Isn’t that Antonio?”
“No. His name is Adrian. He will tell you the girl’s name is Emeline Johnson. You will search the records, and the hidden records, and the secret records. There is no one named Emeline Johnson. Your computer will begin to sizzle and you will know you have gone too deep. Still, you check the records from parallel universes. Like all orthodontist offices, your office will have access to records from parallel universes. Your computer will set itself on fire and Alan will take it away.”
“Who’s Alan?”
“The receptionist. Keep up. By then, Emeline Johnson will be becoming restless. She will tell you this by waving her tentacles about and shrieking. The window near you will crack and turn black. You will turn on your light and put a pair of sunglasses on Emeline Johnson’s face. She will writhe and spray acid out of her nose. The acid will burn the ceiling and you will jam the sunglasses over her eyes. You will reposition your light and stare into the abyss that is her mouth. You will take a small pair of pliers and grip the wire. Emeline will gurgle quietly. You will ignore her and pull on the wire. It will come out easily.”
She starts to wish she hadn’t stopped to talk to the shadow-woman. Of course, since she gave the shadow-woman her bagel she should stay and listen. She sits down beside the woman on the ground.
“You will pull and pull and the wire will come. The wire will be charred and covered in green blood. You will thread the wire through the pulley above your work station and continue pulling. You will call Aaron and ask him for help. He will stare because he doesn’t know what to do. The tangle of wire will fill your workstation and then spill out into other people’s. You won’t care. You will feel a surge of adrenaline as you reach the end of the wire. Abdal will begin screaming. Emeline Johnson will fall out of her seat with a strange sloshing noise. The police will arrive and take Emeline into custody. You will demand answers from them. You will want to know what you should do with all that wire. You will want to know what happened to Emeline Johnson. You will think it is your right. You will never find out. You will wind the wire around your arm and go home. You will not see any more patients that day or any other day. You will sit in your apartment and stare at the wire and think of Emeline Johnson. You will waste away until you are only the husk of what you once were. The husk of a law student.”
“Thank you,” she says, and stands up. “Thank you.” she says again. The shadow, and the woman, are gone, and her bagel is still in her hand. She looks around the deserted campus and blinks twice. Once because her eyes hurt, and once because she can’t remember why she isn’t in class.
Not that she wants to go to class, she thinks. She doesn’t want to be a lawyer, she decides.
“I want to be something else.” she says out loud. The pigeons look at her sympathetically. They know about the shadow-woman. They know about the shadow-woman’s advice.
She will become an orthodontist, she decides.