Gemini [WIP]

Chapter V (This is from an early draft and neeeds revised.)

Rowan Chaudhari wheeled above the busy courtyard, watching the milling groups of citizens below. The sun, directly overhead, only provided a dim light through the smoky haze of fire season. The onboard sensors couldn't punch through the particulate effectively at normal patrol altitude, forcing xer to hang only a few meters over the heads of the people below. A few looked up, squinting through their facemasks, clearly annoyed by the wash and sound of xer fans as xe passed. Xe could taste the fouling in xer drone's air filters as a rusty tang in the back of xer throat.

Officially, it was recommended that citizens stay inside when the air quality was this bad. The people out here enjoying the trickle of sunlight that filtered through the clouds were a mix of political radicals, nature enthusiasts, and, over in their own corner, a group of sun worshippers doing their daily rituals. In short, potential dissidents. Rowan's role as a Drone Corp Peacekeeper was officially to monitor the safety of the group's mental and physical health, interceding in any microaggressions that occurred between the continually shifting political fault lines of the masses.

However, the Drone Corps true role was as mobile reconnaissance for Central, tracking dissidents through areas it was otherwise difficult to monitor, i.e. outdoors. Cameras and microphones abounded throughout The City, as well as millimeter wave scanners and other, more esoteric systems embedded in the invisible digital strata of the world. But there was always a need for boots on the ground, or in this case, rotors in the air.

A voice, computer processed into perfect androgyny, spoke through xer headset.

"Unit 3154B, report."

"Unit 3145B, here, commander. All quiet. Nothing to report."

"You've been called in by Central, park and return to base."

A sinking feeling in xer gut, Rowan replied.

"Affirmative, commander. Returning now."

Xe rotated the drone towards the hangar on top of the nearby residence tower and spooled the engines up, generating several rude gestures as the downdraft disturbed the blankets of the sunbathers below, nude except for their facemasks. Xe shot off with tremendous speed, gaining altitude as the drone climbed the sheer glass face of the tower. As xe rose, a large clock display flashed by - 5.2. Lunch break was over.

Rowan navigated the drone through a narrow slot in the tower face and settled it into a charging cradle. The connection shut down when the drone locked into the cradle, and Rowan passed through a momentary disorientation as xer sensorium adjusted to being human again. Xe lifted the halo off xer head and stood up from the reclining lounger, stretching xer arms overhead. A call from Central was unusual and more than a little frightening. Best to face it with an empty bladder.

...

Refreshed, Rowan returned from the floor's bathroom and sat back in the lounger, which molded itself around xer body as xe settled in. The halo, mounted above the headrest of the chair, settled itself onto xer head again. A wave of acute nausea passed through xer as the VR rig took over. Xe found xerself standing in the middle of the large virtual atrium that served as the virtual Central Peacekeeping Agency's front office, dressed in a bright safety yellow officer's uniform. A mix of people milled around the space: other officers in fluorescent yellow, civilians dressed and embodied in a riot of colors and shapes, AI-run daemons and butlers, and a flock of tesseracts and other mind-bending shapes swarming overhead, queuing in the "extradimensional affairs" line.

"Morning, Rowan, what are you doing here?" An anthropomorphic blue fox sat behind the broad reception desk, the electric blue of its fur clashing horribly with its officer's uniform.

"Hey Fang. How's the litter?"

"Oh, rambunctious as ever, but so cute it's totally worth it. Here, let me show you a video, it's soooo cute!" Fang curled up his lips, baring his teeth in what would be a terrifying gesture were his avatar not so garishly cartoonish. Little pink hearts appeared and popped like bubbles around his head.

"I'll have to watch it later, I'm here because I'm getting called up on the carpet."

"You? For what? Did you miss filing your self-crit again?"

"No, you only make that mistake once. The smell from the mines still haunts me and I was only there for a week. I actually don't know why I'm getting called in, I was on patrol and Dispatch just told me to park and come in."

"Huh, that is strange, there's nothing on the ticket here either. I really hope you're not in trouble, I'd have to find a new babysitter!" Fang smiled at his joke, but Rowan could see the worry in his eyes, despite his cartoonishly happy features.

"I'm sure it's nothing, maybe they're changing my assignment."

"Yeah, maybe..." The concern on Fang's face wasn't giving Rowan a lot of hope. "Let's see where you're supposed to go." He looked down at the desk and typed on a charmingly retro console of dun-colored plastic, the current fashion trend for interfaces. "Ah, here you are." His face fell further, and a black aura shimmered behind his head. "All the way up top, it looks like. Here, I'll give you a link. An old-fashioned "ring for service" bell appeared on the counter in front of Rowan. "I wouldn't keep them waiting. Good luck up there, and I hope I see you soon."

"Yeah, me too Fang, thanks." The pit in xer stomach growing deeper, xe reached out and rang the bell, and the world went dark.

After a moment, the rectangular outline of a door appeared before xer in the darkness and opened inwards of its own accord. Rowan stepped through into an airy office that was open to the sky, lacking walls or ceiling. Below, Rowan could see the skyline of The City, surrounded by white fluffy clouds that only existed here and in the memories of Citizens of Age. Of course, in a virtual environment, this office could have been anywhere, but the sense of power, of overlooking society such a view gave was not wasted on xer. A young-looking person sat behind the desk, wearing a dark suit. They had no visible hair, but their skull was high and elongated, looking simultaneously alien and somehow aristocratic.

"Peacekeeper Rowan Chaudhari?" Rowan nodded. "Right through here, please, Commissioner Grant is waiting for you."

The receptionist rose, standing a surprising height of nearly three meters. Their suit was full length and draped to the floor, where it touched the white floor, but didn't bunch. Indeed, when they moved towards the door behind their desk, they did so without visibly moving their legs at all, giving an impression of floating just over the ground. Rowan wouldn't have admitted it out loud, but xe found the effect very unsettling. The receptionist opened the door and gestured xer through. Rowan barely had time to mumble "thank you" as xe passed through before it snapped soundlessly shut behind xer.

A very conservatively dressed, male-presenting figure sat behind an imposing desk. Behind him, the limitless blue sky was framed by pillars of classically-dressed white marble. His appearance was notable and strange. His hair was a natural brown, greying at the temples, brushed back from the forehead. He had a neatly trimmed moustache, no facial piercings or visible jewelry, no make-up, and wore a simple, conservatively cut dark grey suit.

"Welcome, Peacekeeper, have a seat." He gestured an unadorned hand and a large wingback chair appeared before his desk, trimmed in tufted white leather. "May I ask your pronouns?" He knew them already, of course, but it was a polite formality to ask.

"Xe/xer, Commissioner."

"Thank you. Mine are he/him, but I'm sure you probably guessed that. I'm a fairly conservative guy."

Rowan blushed and glanced around nervously. Saying the word conservative, much less calling yourself one, was liable to get you brought in for refresher class on hate speech, some past ideological hangup. He noticed xer discomfort and laughed good-naturedly.

"Ah, don't worry about that, Rowan. May I call you Rowan? We're above those kind of petty language constraints here. Literally!" He laughed at his joke. "In our line of work, we need to have a little more nuance and... room to move. Oh, but you must be nervous, getting called in suddenly like this. Don't worry, it's not bad news. In fact, I brought you in to offer you a promotion. We have need for new agents in the Foreign Ideological Extremist Tracking group. You were identified because of your childhood history."

"My childhood? I don't remember much before I was rescued. I was pretty young, everything is hazy."

"We're aware of that. We have methods to bring old memories to the surface, even ones you're not aware of having."

"Will those be useful? The Jehovah's Witnesses are all but gone, aren't they? Surely there's nothing in my memories that would be relevant today."

"Hmm, right and wrong. You're right about the Witnesses not being around anymore. You were rescued as part of an engagement with one of their main strongholds in Nevada back in year 3. We liberated that site and restored equality to the oppressed people there, but there were a lot of losses on both sides. A few managed to escape to outlying encampments, but we broke their back in that battle and they never recovered."

"So what do you need my memories for if they're all dead?"

Grant tented his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "All religious right-wing groups operate in similar ways, even if their beliefs aren't exactly the same. Over the years since the Schism, our societies have diverged to the point that we don't understand our enemy's motivations anymore. And if we don't understand the why, we can't predict the what, the when, or the how of their moves. So, we're looking for people with histories like yours to undergo memory restoration so that we can gain that insight. We want you to be an oracle, Rowan."

Rowan's mouth had run dry. The memories xe had of xer childhood were confused, cloudy, dark. There were flashes of detail here and there - xer parent's faces, a sermon, riding in the back of a truck at night through the woods, but they were all shot through with fear and panic. Xe'd spent a lot of time with therapists when xe'd first arrived in the City working through that trauma. It had taken years to stop the nightmares and panic attacks, and now xe was being asked to reopen that wound?

"I'm really not sure, Commissioner. There's a lot of painful stuff in there that I'm not sure I'm ready to unearth. Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Absolutely. I'll let your unit leader know I'm giving you the rest of the decad off. Let's talk again on Primday." He pushed back his chair and stood. "Regardless of your decision, thank you for coming in. It was a pleasure to talk with you."

"Y-you too. I'll be in touch." Rowan made a small bow, as was polite before dropping out of VR, and logged off.

...

Time off was rare for the Peacekeeper corps, as many viewed it more as a calling than a career. Rowan had visited the Commissioner on a Triday, so having the rest of the decad off gave xer a full seven days to ruminate on the offer. After sleeping in and spending Quartiday online catching up on some games and neglected friends, xe felt restless. When xe woke up the following morning, it felt like the walls of xer quarters were closing in on xer. Xe decided to get up, take a shower, and go explore the City - the real one - and think things over. Rowan rolled out of xer bed's wall niche and stretched, which turned on the window and the room lights in "sunrise" mode. Normally, xe kept the window set to a tranquil forest scene, but today xe wanted something more energizing. Touching the screen to bring up the menu, xe scrolled through the options.

"Tropical island, desert sunrise, Grand Canyon, Pyramids of Giza, no... City skyline? Not quite... hm. Ooh, City center live... Real or virch though?" Xe selected the VR option and shut it off again almost immediately. There was, apparently, a protest, or a riot, or an orgy happening online in the City center today. Sometimes it was hard to make a distinction between the three in Central culture. Rowan tapped at the window again and selected the feed from City center in the real. In sharp contrast, this feed could have been a still picture. There was no motion other than the slow trickle of water down the Diversity Fountain's various brown granite spheres. Still, the immense spires of the buildings and grandeur of the plaza gave xer a sense of civic pride. Satisfied, xe left the scene on and went to xer closet to get xer shower kit. Stepping out into the hallway, xe heard the whine of an overworked electric motor behind xer and flattened against the wall out of reflex.

"Good morning, Rowan! Don't usually see you around this late in the morning. Did you take a mental health day?"

Rowan turned around to see xer neighbor, Trungus (lol change), rolling towards xer in their electric mobility scooter. Trungus was afflicted with a crippling case of morbid obesity and took up about 90% of the width of the hallway. Rowan had suffered a few bruised toes when xe'd first moved to the floor before learning to quickly make way for the gargantuan bulk of xer neighbor.

"Morning Trungus, how are you? I, uh, yeah. Call it a mental health day. I took the rest of the decad off, actually. I'm going to go shower and then take a walk around the City, if you'd like to join."

Trungus grimaced. "Oh, no, my blood sugar's low. I had my morning snack, but if I don't go get breakfast in me, I'm liable to faint!" Rowan smiled internally. Xe found Trungus irritating, as they were one of the types to have a never-ending litany of personal issues to tell you about, and, being on permanent disability, had a lot of time to find new ones. "Hey, while you're here, could you help me into the elevator?"

"Uh, sure, I guess." Rowan took off at a quick pace to stay ahead of Trungus' wheels, toward the elevator door at the end of the hall, then pressed xerself into the corner as they rolled past. A lobe of their body dragged over xer midsection and xe struggled to repress a shudder. Thankfully xe was going to the shower next. Trungus nosed into the open door of the elevator but quickly became stuck as their hallway-width body was wider than the door on both sides.

"I've been putting in a maintenance request to widen these fatphobic elevators, but nothing ever gets done! When I called the maintenance supervisor, that bigot told me they'd have to install an entirely new elevator shaft in order to make the door wider. I said- oof" Rowan began pushing against Trungus' vast back. "-that sounds like a you problem, and it wouldn't be an issue if you had just put in elevators that could fit normal people in the first place!" Trungus was now red-faced and sweaty after getting themselves worked up, which slicked them up enough to slide through the doors. The elevator bobbed a little as it took their full weight, and Rowan wondered fleetingly if it would hold.

Trungus deftly wheeled their scooter around, executing a multi-point turn in the elevator to face Rowan. While they were otherwise occupied, Rowan reached in and touched the ground floor button. They opened their mouth to talk again but were interrupted by the ding of the door closing.

"Bye Trungus! Enjoy your breakfast!" Rowan sighed and rolled xer eyes before collecting xer basket of toiletries and making xer way to the bathroom. The large bathroom for the floor, tiled and gleaming under bright LED lights, was split into three sections - sinks, toilet stalls, and shower stalls. The whole thing was unisex of course, as everything had been since the chuds were driven out after the Schism, but it had been discovered that citizens whose neuroatypicality included provisions about hygiene found the word "bath" triggering. So Central had taken a leaf from the Europeans and gone with the term 'Water Closet' until it was discovered that citizens with hydrophobia took umbrage with having to see the word water each day.

For a while, all bathroom doors had been simply unmarked, but when this led to increased urination and defecation in the streets, an emergency committee had been formed to come to a solution. The livestreamed debates were the big thing for almost three weeks in the public consciousness, generating vicious debate on Twitter and a not a few suicide attempts in protest over the insecurity it caused. Rowan had been present at one of the local attempts in xer stead as a Peacekeeper, and the memory of that young person sawing wildly at their wrist with a plastic knife still haunted xer. The issue was still being debated six months later, but the zeitgeist had moved on, so for now the bathroom was simply marked with adhesive scars from the previous placards that had been removed.

After splurging on a double water ration for xer shower, Rowan returned to xer room and opened the closet niche. Xe couldn't wear xer Commissar yellows, as xe was off-duty, nor did xe want to bring that kind of attention to xerself. Today was a day for quiet introspection. Rowan selected a dark blue tunic and pair of black leggings and pulled on a pair of rubber-soled socks.

Rowan took a crowded rush-hour elevator down to the cafeteria. Xe would have taken the stairs, but after an appeal by a transabled citizen who wasn't able to get their preferred flavor of mealshake (chawklit, the neovegan chocolate substitute and the most popular flavor) because their leg-privileged cohort was able to get down the stairs faster, Central had announced that using the stairs was a flagrant display of privilege and declared them emergency only. Overnight, the doors had locked themselves at Central's command.

The lift continued to trundle down through the dozens of floors of Rowan's building, stopping at nearly every floor to let people on and off. As a Peacekeeper, xe got the perk of being assigned quarters on a high floor. This used to come with a good view of the City, but quarters true windows were now reserved for high-ranking members of Central. Now the main benefit of a high floor was that the higher you went, the fewer people were on the elevator. Except for days like today. Someone passed gas in the enclosed space of the car, and someone else groaned.

"Obama's sake, couldn't you hold it?" moaned a citizen wearing a tracksuit made of Day-Glo patches.

"Excuse me, I have IBS and a gluten allergy, and I ate cake for dinner last night! It's a disability!" came the indignant reply. Rowan couldn't see the perpetrator but heard the fluorescent-garbed citizen's phone go off with the low ominous gong of a microagression warning.

"Yeah, me too dude, I have sensory issue with smells!" They scowled at their phone incredulously, until the same tone came from the phone of the citizen with the fart disability. A Cheshire cat grin spread across their portly face, weirdly underlit by the hypercolor hues of their clothing. "Serves you right, stinky!"

At this point Rowan had to step in before things escalated into spoken violence. "Hey y'all, cool it with the slurs. I'm a Peacekeeper and I don't want to have to file paperwork on you two on my day off. Can we be cool?" Xe still couldn't see the perpetrator of the olfactory malfeasance, but the fluorescent citizen in front of xer looked cowed enough for two. "Okay then, let's just all be quiet for the rest of the ride." The elevator car was silent for the rest of the ride, except for a small fart right before the doors opened.