The car slid backwards and into a tight turn as soon as I was clear, reversed and headed down the street the way we had come. I watched it go with a heaviness in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I had forgotten something, and quickly realized it was because most of my pockets were empty. My phone and car keys had been confiscated and destroyed within minutes of my being picked up by the agency. My wallet had been given back to me after being stripped of any ID and credit cards.
Hefting one suitcase and a canvas bag, I walked slowly up the driveway, past a yard filled with lava rocks bordered by beds of multicolored gravel. The door opened before I reached it, and a blonde-haired woman peered out at me. She was slightly overweight, but carried it well. Mentally, I guessed her age at forty, maybe forty-five years of age. "Good evening, come on inside," she said. She spoke perfect English, but her voice was heavily shaded with a Russian accent. She stepped back to give me room. The interior of the house was as well-kept as the outside, right down to the spotless, nearly white carpeting. "I am Sasha Gray," the woman said, putting out a hand.
I put down my suitcase and took her hand to shake. "Norm. Nice to meet you." I had been drilled on this point for over two hours at the agency's processing center to ensure that the lie would come quickly and naturally. My old name, by now, would have been entered into national and international watch list databases. My new name was really a descriptor of who and what I was, a kind of code to distance me from my old identity.
Sasha smiled in response. The effect on her appearance was immediate and dramatic. She looked ten years younger, forcing me to reassess my first impression. She picked up my suitcase before I could reach for it. "A good answer, my friend. Come with me, I'll introduce you to the others."
Seeing a pair of shoes sitting on the tile at the entryway, I removed my own. "No. Take them with you, please," Sasha said. I felt like kicking myself for the slip. A pair of large men's shoes lying in her entryway would almost certainly attract unwanted questions from visitors.
"My mother lives here with me," she said, as though responding to my thoughts. She led me through the living room and into the kitchen. "She's in the early stages of Alzheimer's, but she's coherent most of the time. She knows about the agency and the guests I have here, but she can get confused now and then. If that happens when she is with you, stay calm and keep talking to her. She's sleeping now, but I'll bring her to meet you soon."
Sasha had stopped next to a door just off the kitchen. It opened to reveal a walk-in pantry. She rapped her knuckles against the bare wall at the back before pulling her phone from a pocket. "The lock is electronic and keyed via bluetooth," she said, tapping the phone's screen. After a moment, she pushed on the wall, and it swung back, creating an opening that exactly filled the space between the shelves to either side. I could see how the seams had been carefully concealed by the shelf supports. A narrow stairway sloped down to the right. "The lock can be manually opened from the other side," she said, showing me the mechanism. "I have a low-light pinhole camera here." She pointed to a tiny camera mounted high up and pointing in through the wall of the pantry. "And a touchscreen monitor there." The screen was mounted high up and angled down, where it could be seen from the stairs.
"Is this the only way in or out?" I asked.
Sasha shrugged. "I asked the agency about putting in another exit, but they assured me that it would be pointless. If the feds ever discover this place, they'll lock down the whole subdivision before moving in. This is here to keep you safe from casual inspection. Can you close the door and follow me down?"
Still carrying my shoes, I made my way down the creaking stairs, illuminated by a single hanging light. Long lengthwise cracks were clearly visible on many of the steps. "These stairs are original to the house," Sasha explained, her voice apologetic. "I would have them replaced, but as you might imagine, getting a carpenter in here to do the work is a bit problematic, under the circumstances."
I could hear voices speaking quietly from below as we descended. At the bottom of the stairs was a small wooden landing and below that, concrete floor. Looking over my new home, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The basement, while large and clean, was sparsely-furnished and lit by lifeless florescent lights. A desk with a monitor and terminal client took up one corner of the room, and a man sat in front of it. Next to that was a large table and folding chairs with a flower arrangement at the center.
An old-style flat screen television hung on another wall, with a large rug and a sofa in front of it. A girl sat watching it with a black and white cat curled in her lap, and a women sat in the recliner, both oblivious to us as we entered. The sound on the TV was off, but subtitles flashed along the bottom. Other parts of the basement had been cordoned off with hanging cords and bed sheets. The toilet and shower, both surrounded by bed-sheets, had been obviously jury-rigged into the plumbing, and the sink was a large, plastic tub under a faucet that was spliced into the pipes. The room smelled faintly of stale sweat and antiseptic. The little touches of decoration meant to liven things up, in my mind, served only to highlight how dismal it was.
"Everyone," Sasha said loudly, "can I get your attention?" The man at the terminal stood and moved around the desk to come closer. I recognized the female in the chair as an elf at once. The high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, tall, lean frame, and prominent taper to her ears all matched the Tolkienesque ideal. Her red-gold hair fell nearly to her waist. Two others, a man and a woman, emerged from the partitioned area a moment later.
"This is the new addition I told you all about," Sasha said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You may call him Norm. This is Nissi," she pointed to the elf woman. "That is Nock." The man who had been on the terminal nodded, and a pale green glinted from behind his pupils. "That is Wendy," she continued, pointing to the girl on the sofa. "Stan," she pointed to a young black man of athletic build and a ruggedly handsome face. "And Stansy." She had a similarly attractive, athletic figure, but with feminine features and fair skin.
"Hello," I said, more cheerfully than I felt. "It's great to meet you all." I had heard of most of their gene lines growing up, and my agency briefing filled in the rest. The proper term for my new roommates was "genetically modified humans", genemods for short. The term could also stand interchangeably for "genetic model", referring to the particular model of genetic modification made to the person's DNA. Some used the more general "genetically modifed organism" or geemo, but that was usually reserved for plants and animals and was deemed an insult when applied to a person.
Nissi came from the Tolkien word for female elves. Nock was short for Nocturnal. His gene line had been engineered with a minimal need for sleep, with eyes that contained slit pupils and a tapetum lucidum to increase vision in low-light conditions. Wendy and Peter mods were engineered to stop aging before reaching adult development. Stan and Stansy, short for standard upgrade, represented genetic engineering for human ideals of strength and beauty. Standard upgrade was one of the more popular genetic models, right up until designer babies had been outlawed in the 90s.
"Tilly, honey?" Sasha called. "Can you come out and meet Norm, please?"
Silence greeted her, and Stansy rolled her eyes. I searched my memory, but I was pretty sure I didn't know what model a Tilly was.
"Well, maybe she is sleeping," Sasha said, giving Stansy a slight shake of her head. "You'll find an empty bed with clean linen, and I'll bring dinner down within the hour. Go ahead and get comfortable. I will see you again in a bit."
She retreated back up the stairs, leaving me to chat with my new housemates. "So you're human normal, huh?" Stansy asked. "Must have done something pretty outrageious to get put here with us, huh?"
I ignored Stansy's uncomfortable question and set my bag against the wall where Sasha had left the suitcase. "Mind if I sit down? What are we watching?"
"National news," Wendy said. She made room for me on the sofa.
"I'm going to lie down and read for a while," Stansy said. She sounded irritated. I made a mental note to work on that. I didn't like having people dislike me, especially people I had to live with.
