iDENTITY Page 4

  The robot left the room to contact JD. After five long minutes, it said, “GO DOWN THE HALLWAY TO JD44,” and pointed to a long hallway past rows of desks that led directly into a large spacious office. A woman in a suede suit immediately put down her phone and gestured for Lena to have a seat on the spacious couch. She looked intently at her computer and raised her eyebrows.

  “Hmm, very good background, but we only hire people with impeccable reputations. But you look so familiar to me. Where have I met you before?”

  Her marble blue eyes pierced through Lena.

  Looking her straight in the eye and not wavering, Lena remembered who she was before she became homeless. Always a workaholic, Lena rose to the top of the class at Stanford, earning her MBA while working nights at Ernie’s Pub as a waitress. Her parents bragged to their friends, but her mother always wished for grandchildren. Impatient to get ahead with not much tolerance for slackers, Lena spent her youth gaining clients for Infinity, putting love life aside for ambition and ultimately money. Being homeless was not part of her plan. That day JD saw her she was at her lowest.

  “Please, need change for the bus. God bless!” she had said to pedestrians, throwing their dollar bills and change into her cup, except for one woman who practically stepped on her.

  “You people disgust me. I work for a living. Catch my pennies, you dirty witch,” JD said, as she opened her large suede bag and cast the pennies in her face.

  Lena cringed inwardly at the memory and bit her lip. Better to keep her mouth shut, get the job, then begin the secret revenge. She pushed those thoughts aside and smiled confidently.

  “I guess I have a familiar face. Someone even said I look like the movie star Sandra Ballast.” She laughed along with JD, knowing that she was probably laughing at her. “You’ll find out that I have a strong work ethic and promise to be the last one to leave.”

  JD matched her gaze.

  “We need more than a hard worker; we need someone who is up to date on all the trends and technical tools of the trade. And someone who can charm the customer and keep them coming back. How are you at recruiting and retaining customers?”

  Such arrogance, and to think I trained her. She’s turned into a monster. Just got to get past this and score the job. Then the real fun begins. Lena thought about her customers and how her hacking skills would come in handy.

  “My commercial clients included.... with portfolios of…I recommended this type of plan for this customer…” Lena elaborated on her track record, giving many examples of her successes. The interview continued for a couple of hours as JD hounded her with questions.

  “Excuse me, but the office is closing. Are you going to be much longer?” said a young man.

  JD glanced at her watch.

  “Uhh, it’s 6 p.m. Got to meet my client at La Fleur. Thanks, Tim. Will wrap it up now.”

  Lena never forgot JD’s disdainful sneer, which made her feel small and inadequate. Her eyes still cut through Lena, sizing her up and scrutinizing her every movement and plain suit.

  “You’re in luck— I’m desperate to hire someone and you’re the hundredth person I’ve interviewed. You present well and your background looks good, but I’m still leery. Don’t make me regret my decision, but my instinct tells me to hire you. Here’s your cubicle; if you prove yourself, you can have a private office. It took me two years to get this one. Be here promptly at 8 a.m.”

  JD showed her an empty cubicle with a small desk, phone, and straight-back chair. Anyone else would have complained about the sparseness, but Lena thought it looked luxurious.

  “Thank you,” Lena said.

  They rode down the transporter in silence. Lena watched JD walk across the street to La Fleur and greet her client with a passionate kiss.

  “That’s how she keeps her clients. I’ll catch her in some crazy scheme. She’ll be destroyed and I’ll finally win, Lena thought. She smiled inwardly. One step at a time.

  Sydney

  Sydney settled into bed after her meeting at Optimal. Her head ached and her eyes shut tightly. She dreamed of being rich. Brought up poor, moving from town to town, and her dad losing more jobs than she could count, she relished the idea of living the good life. Because she grew up in Nevada, Sydney frequented many casinos and always wanted to visit the Star Casino atop the Meridian building. Her dad was a gambler, eager to make a quick buck and escape the routine of family life. He squandered the money he earned as a security guard, gambling before starting his graveyard shift. Sydney followed him one evening and tried her hand at the slot machines when they still took coins. She slipped change into a machine and almost cashed out, but got carded as a minor. Her father saw the whole scene unfold and reprimanded her.

  “You know you’re not old enough to gamble. Besides, what are you doing out so late? Your momma’s going to scold me for being such a bad influence. But here, let me show you how it’s done. Just don’t tell her that I showed you,” said her dad as he pulled her away from the slot machines and headed for the card tables. She was just seventeen years old then. To Sydney, that was the way to score big with little effort.

  She woke up around noon, swallowed her first pill, and decided to use her cash at the Star Casino. Never having been on the top floor of the 500-story Meridian Building, she set off for her new adventure. Stepping in the transporter an hour later and advancing to the top both exhilarated and terrified her. Her stomach dropped as she stared at the blurred view and the transporter climbed to the top in a matter of seconds. Sydney gasped and almost threw up from the sensation of the climb. The other riders never shared her reaction, appearing blasé or bored, except for the skinny blonde next to her who closed her eyes and clutched her purse tightly.

  The minute the transporter door opened, she knew today was special. After all, it was 2/20/40— her 25th birthday. Sydney scanned the dark, immense room with only ceiling lights that twinkled like stars, poker machines, vending machine bars stacked with every type of liquor and people from every walk of life. Here everyone was equal; anyone could be a winner. Hundreds of flashing slot machines beckoned her and she found one in the back section of the casino, far from the crowds.

  She pulled a coffee from a nearby vending machine, lit a cigarette, blinked her eye at the machine, and voiced a bet. Nothing happened at first, then it spoke to her: Hello Sydney, you’re a new winner. Lights started flashing. She cashed out after the first win, but continued to play the Marvelous Magician machine as it accumulated her constant winnings; the sounds and sights of the of the matching rows exhilarated her. Sydney felt like it was her lucky day, so absorbed she didn’t realize it was five hours later.

  Hungry, thirsty, and sore from sitting so long, she got up from his seat. Sydney never noticed the lady sitting next to her,

  “Hey, are you leaving? Can I take your seat?” asked an elderly woman in a large floppy hat, with rings on every finger.

  Sydney checked her winnings, now up to $500. All she had to do was present her imprint. Her instincts told her to stay awhile longer. She signaled a waitress to grab her food from the vending machine and eased back into her chair. Her dad always told her if she doubled her initial bet that she was doing well. Sydney started with $100 from the Optimal gift certificate which had more than quadrupled her money. It seemed easy to get the three jacks, kings, or fruit to keep winning, but she needed that royal flush to hit it big.

  “Umm, not now, I’m on a roll,” she said to the senior. She presented her imprint again in the machine, crossed her fingers and waited. Same bet as before? it asked. “Yes, Marvelous Magician,” Sydney replied.

  The Marvelous Magician shook, its green eyes flashing, the sound of fake coins dropping and winnings multiplying into the thousands. Then the king, queen, jack, ten, and nine appeared. The lady in the floppy hat screamed and clapped. Curious people from other areas of the casino rushed over to the area and gathered in a small circle around Sydney. The room buzzed with excitement and a manager and two security guards hurri
ed to check out the latest winner.

  Sydney sat in awe as she ran her hand through her spikey hair and watched the numbers double then triple. Almost embarrassed to turn around and face the crowd, she waited patiently for the machine to stop. She closed her eyes and grasped the meaning of this moment.

  “Please clear the area. Miss, are you alright? Let me see what you’ve won,” said the manager as the machine stopped and he firmly took charge of the situation. “It looks like you’ve won the jackpot today-- $100,000. Set up account or play it back in?”

  Sydney took a deep breath and realized she had never made that much money before. Even her father never made that kind of money or probably just pissed it away. Her parents’ nightly fights escalated when the twins were born. Dad stayed away to avoid the responsibility and her mom picked up the pieces until Sydney got old enough to help out. But the family never really appreciated her efforts. Now the words jumbled in her mind, she was unable to answer.

  “Ahh, account,” she said.

  “Your dinner, drinks, and a room are covered tonight, miss. Escort the lady to the bank machine and she can set up her account and pull out cash whenever she wants. Please, folks, give her some room,” said the manager in a booming voice. He gave her the code for the covered items. The screaming, laughing, and awe-struck crowd was almost out of control as they pushed to see the winner and try out the new, hot machine.

  Wearing faded jeans, a baseball cap, and dark glasses Charlie watched nearby as a red-faced Sydney headed to the bank machine, flanked by three robotic security guards. After collecting her winnings, she headed for a discreet little bar in the corner of the casino. A few customers congratulated Sydney and the lady in the floppy hat shook her hand, hoping that Sydney’s luck would rub off on her. When the crowd died down, Charlie approached her carefully.

  “Quite a day for you. Can I buy you a drink?” he said as he pulled up a bar stool next to her.

  Sydney looked at him from the corner of her eye. She adored this unexpected attention from this handsome stranger who seemed familiar. Then she grinned and wondered how he found her.

  “Is he bothering you?” asked the bartender.

  “Not at all,” said Sydney and offered Charlie the chair next to her.

  Randall

  Randall’s luminous cat eyes adjusted to the dark, which allowed him to maneuver his way in the basement. No one bothered him while he was in his animal state; his powerful body and immense incisors kept the creatures away, at least for a short period of time--until Randall shifted back into his human body. His only escape was through the small basement window or convincing Charlie to free him. He felt if he spent another day in this torture chamber he would lose his sanity— better yet, his humanity.

  Being part of a breakthrough scientific experiment at first made him feel important. Excited by Optimal’s vision, Randall thought he could make a difference. Improving his life, having friends, and being respected were the only things he craved. Throughout his twenty years on earth, people made fun of him. Being short and stocky with thick black glasses, usually prevented him from getting any dates or having any real friends.

  Dyslexia plagued him and Randall struggled in school, finally dropping out at seventeen. “You’ll never go anywhere, your SAT scores are mediocre, and your grades are poor,” his counselor had said. Then he turned to sports and tried out for the wrestling team. “Hey four eyes, you wanted to be on the team, so go get us some water,” one of the jocks taunted him. At lunch the girls teased him unmercifully: “Get away, water boy, don’t sit at our table.”

  “Get a job son or move out,” said his dad, once he realized that Randall was no longer in school. Coming from a family of eight, nobody would miss him. Just one less mouth to feed. He moved to escape the small-town life where everybody knew everyone and his identity was already determined. With his lack of education and skills, he worked as a security guard until he got the call from Optimal. Surprised at getting an immediate answer and a simple thirty-minute interview, Randall felt he made a big impression with very little effort.

  Nine months ago Optimal contacted him.

  “We decided to hire you for the lab assistant position, but could involve other duties as necessary,” Dr. Arno informed him. For the first time in his life, he felt special, being the only lab assistant at Optimal. But the job turned into a clinical trial and he was forced to drink twelve glasses of that magic green liquid daily, which made him feel different.

  As the weeks progressed, Randall felt more confident, his memory improved; his senses heightened, but sleep was interrupted. He dreamed of being powerful, running through dense forests, capturing his prey with speed and ease. Everything feared him; nothing challenged him. Usually he awoke in a pool of sweat, his hands clawing the bed sheets, satisfied from the hunt.

  One week earlier

  His watch vibrated, shocking his arm. The wall monitor indicated that he had overslept again— “Overslept, overslept, get up now.” Frustrated and exhausted, he ignored his cell phone. It was probably Dr. Arno threatening to cut him from the program for being late again. Skipping the shower, he pulled on his rumpled clothes from the day before and headed to the Z-train.

  People rushed to take their seats on the crowded Z-train. A teen pushed an elderly woman and took her seat as the train started to move forward. The woman stumbled, still holding onto her cane and purse tightly. The other passengers looked away; no one offered to help her. Randall stood behind her, catching her as she fell.

  “Give up your space to this woman now!” snarled Randall. He addressed the insolent teen, who was engrossed in an animated conversation on his phone. The young man ignored him.

  “NOW, buddy,” Randall repeated, his voice louder and his teeth bared.

  “Got here first. I don’t think so,” the teen replied.

  Angered, Randall felt a sudden transformation and strength as he pushed the student from his seat and dropped him on the ground. He gently ushered the lady to the newly vacant place, guarding her. Surprised and terrified, she clutched her cane in protection. Several of the passengers shrieked in fear and others pushed toward the doors.

  The teen jumped up, ready to punch Randall in the face, but now backed away in terror. When the doors opened, passengers rushed out, ramming and shoving their way to the exit. He didn’t understand the commotion, wondering why the once-packed train was completely empty, except for the elderly woman. He stared out the window at a reflection of a lion’s head in the glass, then realized the dilemma and quickly changed back to his human self again.

  “What the hell?” he mumbled to himself, then noticed his fists had claws that were slowly retracting. His shifting had happened before in his apartment, but never in public.

  “Fate sent you to help me today. I can’t explain it, but I won’t question it,” said the woman, not looking in his direction.

  At his stop, he waved to the grateful woman and then zipped up the fake grass trail on his motorized shoes to Optimal’s entrance. Invigorated and empowered by his actions, Randall marched into the lab to tackle his day’s work, but was met with disgust. He was no longer treated like the stellar employee.

  “Finally made it. Four days this week you’ve been late. No call, no explanation. I’m very disappointed in your performance lately,” said Dr. Arno. Her violet eyes burned through him.

  “Here, drink this, man. No excuses. We’re behind schedule and we must perfect this formula so we can make it into a pill-like form for our new recruits. Hurry, I don’t have all day,” said Dr. Neilson. He gave him a glass of the shimmering green liquid, while staring at his computer.

  It had been like this for months: the harassment, bullying, and rushing to meet deadlines. This last comment, coupled with the train episode, put him over the edge. Randall puffed out his chest, his eyes blazing, claws forming, and teeth sharpening. His senses were on fire, his hunger for meat intensified. Angered, he tore at Dr. Neilson’s arm, biting into his flesh and crunching on
bone. The glass fell, liquid spilling on the keyboard and shattering on the polished floor. With Dr. Neilson’s flesh hanging from his mouth and blood dripping from his teeth, he leaped away and headed for the entrance, feeling completely satisfied and now free. He paused to see the damage he’d inflicted.

  Dr. Neilson screamed, fainted, and dropped to the floor in the middle of the glass and his own blood. The gaping hole in his arm and sight of blood everywhere sickened Dr. Arno, who ordered guards to trap Randall and for Charlie to attend to Dr. Neilson before he bled out. Charlie rushed to Dr. Neilson, wrapped his arm in a pressurized medicated bandage, and hit the paramedics window on the wall monitor.

  “Cancel that. We don’t want any attention. I’ll give Dr. Neilson a sedative for his pain,” said Dr. Arno.

  “He needs a doctor. All I can do is make sure he doesn’t bleed out,” said Charlie.

  “Do whatever you have to do. I have to deal with that creature outside before he kills someone!” said Dr. Arno.

  Randall bounded through the front door, past the terrified guard. His lion tendencies exhilarated him and he raced around the grounds as the guards cornered him. He leapt on the roof, holding his ground. For the first time, he felt strong and fierce, unlike his miserable childhood. Randall let out a roar, and the guards pointed their guns.

  But then he started feeling foolish as he stared at his naked body. He wondered how he was going to get down after discovering he was now on the roof. His body twisted, shortened and then Randall became upright. He got up from his knees; his claws had retracted.

  “Don’t shoot. I won’t hurt anyone. Just let me get down,” he said, jumping from the building and landing in front of Dr. Arno. He found his glasses on the ground and quickly put them on.

  “Lock him up-- he’s dangerous! But first, get him some clothes,” said Dr. Arno. She flinched at the sight of her newly created monster.

  The guards stunned Randall when he landed and handcuffed him. Hours later, he found himself in lab garb, in the dark, cold basement next to the trough of green liquid. After his eyes adjusted, he realized there were other strange creatures scurrying around him.