THE WATCHERS
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He glanced at the clock that hung just right in the workspace so everyone could get a good look at the time, regardless of what cubicle they were in. It was a golden clock, with a small golden owl on it–a clock of his own design, and at the moment it was thirty minutes to five. Thirty minutes until the end of his shift, but those thirty minutes felt like an eternity. He needed to get out of there, he needed to be somewhere else. He’d tried to leave early but had been on the receiving end of a rather scathing telling off by his boss, Kenji Clarke.
“It’s four,” Kenji had said, a look of confusion on his face. “What reason could you possibly have for wanting to leave so early and for what, this is the fourth time this week? I excused the first three times because you’re one of the best I’ve got, but you can’t keep blowing off work, especially not during crunch time like this. If you really have to leave, sure, by all means, feel free to do so…but you best start sending in your applications to other jobs as soon as you do that.”
Kenji had said it calmly. He never yelled. But even when his tone was calm, it still sent an odd chill down your spine, carrying a threatening edge to it. Of course, the truth was that the job wasn’t really something he needed so he could have stepped out and let Kenji fire him. But without a job like this, it would get a lot harder for him to explain to his wife and son his late nights out.
It sucked that he had to lie to them, but he was certain that the truth about what kept him out so late at night was the sort of thing that would end his marriage and quite possibly end his relationships with everyone he knew. He carried with him the sort of secrets people with absolute power would sacrifice all that power for. He carried with him knowledge that if shared, might have led to an entire religion being built in his name.
Simon Lockhart came to his cubicle and made himself comfortable by his desk. “Dude, you pissed off Kenji? I went to hand him some folders and he looked royally pissed, and considering you were the last person in his office…”
“Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh. “I asked for an early leave.”
“Really?” Simon arched one eyebrow over the other. “Wouldn’t that have been the fourth time this week? You sure you’re okay? Are things great back home?”
He wanted to say no. After all, that would have been the right answer. But if he’d said that then he would have to explain why that was. He would have to explain to Simon Lockhart that things weren’t great back home because, in fact, his real home had been conquered exactly a year ago by a being who traveled between universes and did as he desired. He would have to explain that he’d arrived on this world and done the unspeakable, that he’d replaced someone else, someone who’d had a wife and son and for an entire year, he’d pretended to be that person. Of course, Simon wouldn’t have believed him. He was far too whimsical to buy into something like that; he would have thought it a good joke.
But there was proof that would make Simon believe, albeit with the particularly nasty caveat that it might also drive him insane. It’d driven most others insane–in fact, the only people it hadn’t driven insane were those like him, those who’d wound up on this universe after an displacement event, those who knew what was happening and had committed themselves to trying to stop it.
The Cosmic watchters, they’d chosen to call themselves. He’d thought it rather obnoxious but the others had rather liked it, they’d thought the name mystifying. Of course, in a year, it had grown on him. He liked the name, but he didn’t exactly like the responsibility that came with it. He didn’t like the things they’d had to do, the civilizations they’d had to watch get destroyed. But it was all they could do.
For now, at least.
“Oi, J, you hear me?” Simon waved a hand in front of J’s face to get his attention.
J glanced at his coworker and smiled. “Uh, it’s nothing, I suppose I’ve just been getting tired really quickly recently. And my son has been feeling a little down recently, caught the flu, so I’ve had to get home earlier.”
“Yeah, I understand that,” Simon sighed. He looked around cautiously then returned his gaze to J. “Tell you what, you head on home, I’ll cover for you…how about that?”
“Nah, Kenji’s smart, he’d know,” J sighed. “But thanks for offering though. It’s only twenty-nine minutes left, I’ll just wait it out.”
“Ah, the wait,” Simon shook his head and made a tch-tch sound. “That’s always the hardest part. Feels like forever when you’re waiting for time to just run on by, it’s annoying. I should know, I spend my weekends counting down until the missus has to leave the house for the restaurant she runs.”
J frowned at Simon. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” Simon snorted. “So I can have Sasha over,” he gave J a wink then. “Speaking of, I should probably go check on her, ask if she wants to grab a bite to eat after work. If I don’t catch up with you later, guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Yeah,” J answered, nodding slowly. “Of course.”
Simon exited the cubicle and strutted over to Sasha Freeman’s cubicle, whistling loudly as he went, exchanging pleasantries with everyone he passed on the way. Simon really was a spark of life, and he made Cayden & Co a lot less depressing. Now that J had gotten to know him a little, he felt a little bad about how things had turned out with the two of them back home. Although, in his defense, his version of Simon Lockhart had been a right prick who deserved far more than six bullets to the head.
J sighed and went back to working on his computer, glancing up every few minutes to see what the clock said. Finally, the clock hit five and he turned his computer off at once, rose to his feet, grabbed his suitcase and made for the exit. As he went, he bid his co-workers good night. On his way out, he greeted those who were arriving for their evening shifts. Whenever he saw the evening workers, he felt rather grateful that he was on the daytime shift.
The evening shifts would get in the way of his mission far too much. And he wasn’t at all interested in the hassle of having to attend job interviews for a new place–he needed to keep things the way they were as much as possible since it made made things easier for him.
Once he was outside of the tall brick building that he worked in, he stood by the curb for a while, glancing left and right, waiting for the vehicle. Finally, a black sedan slowed to a stop just in front of him. The sedan had tinted windows and a plate number that, if looked up, would lead to a John Doe, a person who did not really exist.
He climbed in the back seat and as always, his driver had a mask on. It was an owl mask today.
“Great weather today, isn’t it?” J asked, but there was no politeness or pleasantness in the way he spoke, he kept it very formal.
The car only started to move after he asked that. After five minutes, the owl-masked driver looked back at him and spoke. “You might want to go a little light on the meal this evening, best to be on a strict diet after hours, don’t you think?”
J nodded at the driver and provided no response. He understood all that needed to be understood.
The car stopped after twenty minutes on the open road. J opened up the door and stepped out. Immediately he shut the door and the car sped off.
A minute hadn’t passed before a different car pulled to a stop right in front of J. J climbed in.
This time, he and the driver exchanged no words–in fact, there was tinted, soundproof–and bulletproof– glass between the two of them to ensure that no words or anything else for that matter could have been exchanged. These were protocols that might have seemed ludicrous to a regular person, but they were absolutely necessary.
This car drove for another twenty minutes and came to a stop in an alley behind a large restaurant. J stepped out again and shut the door gently. The car sped off.
J took the rear entrance into the restaurant, and made his way to a VIP section in the back, walking slowly, examining his surroundings. The person who stood behind the velvet line that admitted people into the section eyed him suspiciously.
“What do you want?” the woman demanded. “Hoping to have a taste of the fancier menu?”
“Au contraire,” J answered in a smooth, charming manner. “Deciding to go a little light this evening, best to be on a strict diet after hours, don’t you think?”
The woman eyed him from head to toe, gave him a nod and gestured for him to accompany her. As she led him to a silvery door that he knew all too well, the cameras in the place seemed to divert away from them, focusing on everyone else.
That was also protocol. He didn’t need his face on footage.
Behind the silver door were spiral stairs that led downward and on the walls were old, 19th-century style brackets that held torches in them, illuminating the stairwell rather ambiently.
“The others are waiting for you,” the woman said. “For the Cosmic Good.”
“For the Cosmic Good,” J repeated and he started down the stairs, the woman shutting the door behind him.
As he progressed further down the stairs, he opened up his suitcase and pulled the mask stashed within it. It was the mask of an eagle. He slid it on, adjusted it so it fit properly and then continued
The stairs led to a long corridor. At the end of the corridor was a golden door that was swung wide open. Behind the door, he could hear voices, whispers, bits of an ongoing conversation.
He continued down the corridor, the torches that flickered on either side of him caused his shadows to dance. He stepped through the door into the small circular room with a dome-shaped ceiling, and noticed four others who were currently seated around a circular table. There was an empty chair that was waiting for him.
Other than the table the room contained powerful computers and other advanced machinery. Nothing in it was quite as advanced as the item that floated over the table, spinning around gently, pentagonal in shape. It was thick, large, the size of a soccer ball…and the power it contained, the power it granted…it was almost maddening.
J sat with the others at the table and cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Apologies for my lateness,” he said. “It’s happened, hasn’t it?” He stared at the pentagon that floated above them.
“Yes,” replied a feminine voice that came from someone in a raven’s mask. Ravenmask leaned forward, her fingers intertwined. “He’s arrived on CD–1357, and has made that world his too.”
“And I take it the results were the same yet again?” J asked, sounding a little disappointed. “The supposed special one failed in his mission?”
“No, actually,” answered a man in a penguin mask. His voice a wiry whisper. “The cyborg made it off the world just in time. He jumped to a different world.”
J’s heart skipped a couple beats, then out of excitement: "What?!"
“It is true,” Ravenmask confirmed, nodding gently. “He made it off CD–1357 just in time. But something was off about his jump, we haven’t been able to pinpoint what world he jumped to.”
“And the pentagon can’t tell?”
“For some reason, it won’t,” a man in a cat’s mask sighed, the only one of them who hadn’t worn the mask of a bird. Catmask stared up at the pentagon. “But it’s a good sign, isn’t it? Fate is finally being woven in our favor. If one was able to survive the incursion, then the tides might be about to change. There might be more.”
“Well, if there are more then we must find them,” J said firmly. “Before he finds us. All For the Cosmic Good.”
“All For the Cosmic Good,” the others echoed.