‘Well, that’s certainly succinct. It’s always nice when a job is so easy,’ I think with sardonic acceptance.

“Nothing too hard, then,” I say grimly. “Care to elaborate? Like, survive what? About my only survival ability centres on getting successfully through the monthly trip to the supermarket.”

Damn, that actually gets a bit of a laugh from her.

“I can assure you that you are unlikely to face a shopping trolley challenge,” she responds. Becoming once more all business, she continues, “First, you need to make a decision, and that will determine the first part of your assessment trial. Then things can begin. You’ll be sent to a place where it will take place.”

“Hold on,” I interrupt. “What place? If I’m going somewhere, then how long? I have a cat, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Misty, as if knowing she’s become the topic of conversation, stretches languidly and wanders over to her bowl.

“I can’t leave her for more than a couple of hours, or she gets feisty.”

Menolly looks at my cat and then tilts her head toward the ceiling, her eyes rapidly flickering for a few seconds.

“We can accommodate Misty so she can go with you,” she says. “It will only require a small adjustment to the parameters, and she may be of use in aiding your task.”

I look at the cat. Normally, the most help she gives comes in devouring anything she considers edible and shedding ginger fur everywhere.

“So, what’s my task, then?” I ask.

“As I said, Del, you have a choice to make. One of a selection of three possible locations. Depending on the search for other representatives, you may only need to visit one location, or you may need to go to more.” She shrugs—a very human gesture that catches me by surprise.

“At this time, we can’t know. But until the Collective either decides you have proved or failed to prove the suitability of your species, the assessment shall go on.”

‘No pressure, then, Del. Surely someone else is better than me for this shit.’ I can’t shake my feeling of complete and utter unsuitability for all of this.

“Go on,” I say dryly.

“You need to choose one of either past, present, or future.”

“That’s it?” I ask. “A bit more to go on might be nice.” I feel sarcasm rising in my tone, directly competing with irritated confusion.

“I can’t tell you much or what the Overmind will be looking for specifically.” She looks at me with eyes that seem to express compassion.

“We just don’t know. What I can tell you is that you will, from time to time, be notified of a Cuvat.”

‘A what now?’ “Pardon?” I ask. “What the hell is that?”

“Think of it as a path, a direction. Sometimes it may be direct, such as ‘go here and do this.’ Other times, it may be more cryptic or obscure,” she explains.

“Once you begin, you will be able to find and review cuvats in your log.”

“So, a quest,” I respond. “Why not just say that?”

She smiles.

“Similar, yes, but not quite. A cuvat is a direction from the Overmind. You may well find yourself given jobs or tasks to do as you interact with the people around you. These, you may think of as quests. Sometimes one or more quests may be important in completing a cuvat.” She shrugs. “Other times, not.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” I pat my lap to call Misty. Purrs and fur are a good relaxant. Help me keep my head on straight.

“A simple way to think of it is that a cuvat, though it may not be obvious in what way, will directly provide information to the Overmind and further the assessment one way or another. But not all cuvats will necessarily move your case closer to intervention. Some may even have the opposite effect. Their purpose is to allow the Overmind to directly understand the complexity of a species—all of it, good and bad.”

‘As if my life wasn’t getting complicated enough,’ I inwardly grumble.

“So, what’s this past, present, future BS all about?” I ask.

“That is the choice you need to make,” Menolly answers. “I can provide you with some limited information to help, but most will be for you to discover as you go along.”

She flicks her hand, and beside her, an image appears in thin air.

I start.

“What the fuck!”

The image is clear, semi-translucent, and not projected on any screen I can see. It shows a scene of a grassy hill flowing down towards a stream. The image rotates as if a camera is panning, and I see the edge of a wood and what looks remarkably like a herd of deer grazing at its edge.

“Some people of your species have theorised that, before recorded history, another ancient civilisation existed. They were right—sort of,” Menolly emphasises.

“I have told you that your scientists do not yet understand correctly how time works. This, in some way, relates to the period you see depicted.”

With a motion, she causes the image to start to move over the landscape, as if using a drone.

“This is your planet's past, before the Saurons—dinosaurs, you call them—rose. And it will be the time you will have to negotiate and survive in if you choose past.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

What looks like a small village passes by in the distance.

“The people are very similar to your species of what you might think of as the early Saxon period. However, they have existed for over three millennia, so expect some inconsistencies in your own knowledge of history. Myth and legend always have an essence of truth to them—a genetic memory, if you like. Your species has a fount of myth and legend, much of it from this distant past.”

I laugh.

“My knowledge of history is what I had for breakfast yesterday and possibly some addled memories of punk rock and the miners’ strikes. Though, to be fair, I spent much of that time pretty hammered.”

“Then you won’t have any preconceived ideas,” she replies with a smile.

The image changes. I’m now looking at a city. It’s not one I recognise, but I’m not that well-travelled. It looks like any typical combination of urban overcrowding and chaotic sprawl.

“This is your planet now, and yet not,” Menolly explains. “Timelines split and branch, and this is one of those branches. It experiences a lot of the same sorts of controversies and complexities as your own society, but very differently. The path their society has taken leads to many differences that may be disconcerting in their familiarity.”

With a flicker, the screen changes again.

‘What the bejesus—’ I jump, startling Misty, whose claws dig painfully into my leg.

The screen shows a city of tall buildings collapsed into ruins. The sky is an angry reddish-brown with flashes of lightning illuminating the rain falling on the desolation. I can see a few shanty-style tents, ragged and barely holding up, dotted around. The few people I see scurry cautiously among the ruins or sit listlessly, trying to shelter from the rain as best they can.

“Is that really Earth?” I ask, hoping it’s not.

“An alternate timeline, but yes. Your own timeline ends in five years.”

‘Hmph, blunt but, I guess, accurate. OK, decision time, Del.’

“So those are my choices, then,” I sigh. “To be honest, Menolly, the choice makes itself. I’ve had enough of the shit our world is in just now to not want to face another version that might even be worse.”

She smiles.

“I didn’t say worse; I said very different.”

“Yeah, yeah, semantics, lass. And as for that last one—no, just one big ‘fuck off’ nope.”

“Bear in mind, Del,” she reminds me, “you may well end up facing those other two at a later point or even, potentially, other challenges I don’t yet have information on. I can tell you that the decision you make forms the basis of your first cuvat. The Overmind is already assessing you and refining its data on your species.”

“Big Brother is watching me, then. Damn Orwell for poking his nose into things,” I say with a half-smile.

“My only reservation with choosing the past is I have no idea how to survive without a supermarket or freezer.”

Menolly flicks her hand, and the horror show of future Earth 2 disappears.

“Don’t worry, Del,” she says. “In the same way that the Overmind dealt with your injury and health issues on integration, prior to entering a phase, you will be given basic tools you need to make a start. It’s hard to explain without being able to show you, but all will be apparent when you start.”

“What happens here when I’m gone?” I ask. “I don’t have family, but I do have a few friends who might wonder and maybe worry. And my house?”

Menolly’s look is reassuring.

“Social media, Del,” she says. “We will create some posts saying how, feeling bored, you have gone travelling for a while and follow that up with occasional pictures. I am sure you will have a great time touring the world for a bit.”

I chuckle.

“Never did make a bucket list, but there sure are places I wish I’d got to see. I might even get jealous of myself.”

“And we shall secure your home,” Menolly continues, “so you don’t have to worry about anything back here.”

“So that’s it, then?” I ask. “Three years to persuade Big Brother this sorry cesspit is worth saving. I mean, it’s a really messed-up place with some total arseholes making up a large chunk of it. But it’s ours, and I’d rather it not get cracked like an egg.”

I’m nervous—I can feel those irritating stomach tingles, and my pulse is thumping. Yet at the same time, I’m excited. I know I’ll pay for all the adrenaline coursing through me soon enough, but for now…Fear and anticipation.

This is all a new and frightening well of emotions to experience.

A life of dull monotony, and now—this.

‘Tuesdays are never normally this exciting, mate,’ I muse. ‘Maybe it’s Thursday. Thursdays are fun.’

“That’s the final thing to explain to you, Del,” she says as she stands and steps towards my chair. “Time—it works differently for this. Three years here could be far longer in your experience. Certainly, you have a deadline. But I can’t tell you when that deadline is. So be smart and stick to task, whatever that may be.”

Menolly reaches down, picks up Misty from where she’s cleaning herself on the floor, and hands her to me.

Then she touches my forehead.