Two guards followed him in, visible in the corners of his vision. They made only a hint of noise, as if they weighed almost nothing, despite the weight of their equipment. Either they were using a technique of some kind or the armor was enchanted.
Both were intriguing prospects, though not enough to banish the churning in his gut or the tightness in his throat. It sounded like this testing was the critical point. Pass and he’d be fine, fail, and who knew what would happen?
A nerve-wracking prospect when he didn’t know what they were looking for. He hadn’t exactly been sent here by a normal guy, would that be enough to trigger a warning?
All he could do was stay calm or at least avoid outright panicking.
Inside the tent was a small annex, cut off from the rest of the space by a drawn curtain. A half-dozen lounge chairs were arrayed against one wall, with no sign of how they’d gotten there.
The few minutes since the ship landed didn’t seem like enough time to have unloaded and set them up. Even if they had people outfitting the tent, the comfort of a waiting room that might not be used seemed like the lowest priority.
Could they have been folded up with the tent somehow? On the face of it, the idea was insane, yet almost every cultivation story he’d read had a form of spacial manipulation.
Another thing he’d love to investigate when his future wasn’t on the line.
“You can wait out here, boys,” the woman spoke lightly as if talking to a pair of friends rather than armed guards. “I know the outsider’s half-undressed already, but that’s no reason to invade his privacy further.”
There was a pause, but Kevin couldn’t tell if the soldiers had moved with how quiet they were. “Sorry, Doctor, but protocol says,” one of them objected, only to be cut off.
The woman shook her head, voice firm. “I’m more than capable of handling a single outsider if something happens. If your procedure insists on violating basic medical principles, then it’s wrong.”
“You can wait outside,” she reiterated with a flat stare, locking eyes past Kevin’s head until the guard backed down.
“Understood, Ma’am,” he responded. “Just call us if you need any assistance.”
The doctor snorted, as if the idea of requiring their help was ludicrous, then gestured Kevin to the edge of the curtain. One of her followers held it open, letting them pass into the space beyond.
This room was large enough to fill most of the tent’s area and looked like the hybrid of a high-tech medical facility, an alchemist’s laboratory, and a massage room.
To the left, massive metal machines loomed toward the ceiling, fronts glowing with colored lights. On the right was a long table holding spiraled glass tubing, a staggering assortment of beakers and vials, and a massive cauldron.
Straight ahead was a padded table with a hole near the top, and past it was an oval bathtub. The sheer quantity of equipment was incredible; spatial manipulation had gone from a theory to a near certainty.
“Right then,” the doctor said, drawing his attention back to the left. A moment ago she’d been a step ahead of him, now she was halfway across the room and fussing yellow circle printed on the ground.
“We’ll handle any infectious diseases first, that way we can get rid of all this gear,” she continued, tapping the side of her globe-like helmet. “Please step into the circle and hold still while the nurses prepare the bath.”
The other two flickered across the room at her words. Their movement was slower, within the level Kevin’s eyes would track, but not slow enough that he’d have been able to react. Still beyond human ability, but nowhere near what the doctor had shown.
Seeing no reason to object when she was being so reasonable, Kevin walked over. “Diseases? Is that what you’re looking for, Doctor…? He asked, watching the machines as he grew closer.
While they resembled old-school banks of computers or diagnostic equipment, the more attention he paid, the more confident he was that they worked on different principles. Instead of cables, switches, and buttons, it was all glowing symbols and word patterns.
Were they formations, arrays, or the like? If they were using such enchantments on a wide scale, it would explain the vehicles he’d seen.
“One thing, yes,” the woman responded, flashing that same terrible smile at him. “We also need to check for curses, hidden weapons, and whether you might be a shape-shifter masquerading as a human.”
“As to your leading question,” she continued before the alarming list had sunk in, “I’m afraid I can’t give you my real name. They were quite insistent about that; Doctor or Doctor M will have to do.”
“Right,” Kevin said, not resisting as she grabbed an arm and pulled him into the circle with the force of a gentle but unstoppable avalanche. “Well, I don’t think I have any of those issues if it helps.”
What a world it was where he had to question if he was some cursed shape-shifter pretending to be himself. And was it worse that he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t?
“That’s great to hear,” Doctor M responded, her tone maintaining its cheeriness. “But we still need to be certain. It would be quite possible for some harmless disease from your world to become deadly here, where no one has developed an immunity.”
Kevin nodded, glancing at the machine she was in front of, her hands blurring across circles and symbols. Her explanation made sense and sidestepped the obvious issue of them trusting him at his word.
Moments later, the circle shifted from lines on the ground to bands of yellow light, stretching upward in glowing patterns. With wide eyes, Kevin braced himself, ready for anything.
“Looks like we’re all good here,” the doctor said as the lines returned to plain paint. “You have nothing matching our records, nor are you allergic to the decontamination bath.”
“Oh,” Kevin responded, a little listless at the lack of fantastical phenomenon. “That’s great though,” he hurried to continue, not wanting to sound unhappy with a clear diagnosis.
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“We’ll need to take your… robe,” Doctor M continued, her voice now coming from the end of the room. “Can’t risk it carrying something nasty. We will provide fresh clothing of the local style in compensation, of course.”
Starting, Kevin spun to face her, brain still trying to keep up with her sudden movements. He’d have to get used to that soon if he was going to keep spending time around superhumans.
“That sounds great,” he said once he’d caught up. “Wearing something more practical would be nice.” It was perhaps the understatement of the century, pants alone would be a godsend.
A light haze of steam hovered above the porcelain tub, now filled with green-tinged water. All three of them had turned around to give him the illusion of privacy, so he followed the obvious expectation.
Within moments, he was naked in the bath, getting used to the sting on his skin. While unpleasant, the sensation wasn’t painful; he could wait out the long minutes they left him in.
He found a set of folded clothing by the bath when Doctor M called for him to get out. A T-shirt, pair of paints, and underwear, all in black. They were familiar, yet different at the same time.
No hint of plastic or rubber was visible, and none of them had the clothing tags that were so ubiquitous back home. Given the white robes he'd seen several people wear, he had to wonder at the significance of black clothing.
“One last step then,” the doctor called out as he finished dressing. “This might hurt a little, I’m sorry to say. Please bear with it.”
Her hand, now bare of its previous containment, was on his shoulder before he could respond. Warm energy surged from it, suffusing every inch of his body.
“Qi,” Kevin breathed, eyes widening at the wondrous sensation. This went beyond anything he’d observed so far; he could feel the energy pulsing like a living thing.
Then it ramped up, changing from a pleasant warmth to a roaring flame. A scream burst from Kevin’s lips as it seared through him. For an eternal moment, his world was agony until everything faded to black.
----------------------------------------
Kevin woke with a gasp, flailing to get the vice-like hand off his shoulder.
He met no resistance; no clutching hand or agonizing energy. Instead, he was lying on a soft surface, staring at a tented ceiling.
“You’re awake, I see,” the voice was steady and masculine, coming from somewhere to his right. “The doctor asked me to give you her apology, both for the pain and the misdirection.”
The speaker paused long enough for Kevin to sit up and find them. He was now in a new room, this one containing the backless couch he was lying on and a wooden table with two chairs.
One of which was occupied by the robed man from earlier. Somewhere in his late twenties, his face had a level of beauty that could have made him a model back home, though it lacked the perfection the doctor's had.
The image was juxtaposed by his scruffy black hair and the delicate pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose. This was a man who seemed to give little thought to his appearance despite, or perhaps because of, his inherent good looks.
Then again, they might not be inherent, but the product of cultivation. “Misdirection?” Kevin croaked, eyes skipping past the strange man and locking on to a glass of water by the empty chair.
“Yes,” the man nodded, gesturing toward the seat. “I’m afraid that knocking you out was intended from the beginning, as was the rather… vigorous cleansing procedure.”
We had to be sure, you understand, and experience has shown its best if the subject is unconscious in the event we find something. Again, let me relay her apologies and those of the OIM.
“I see,” Kevin responded, eyes flicking around the room for danger. He wasn’t sure he agreed, but he felt fine now; no sign of lingering pain or damage beyond a deep thirst.
Nor could he refute the man’s argument in its entirety. “I suppose I can understand that,” he continued, picking his words with care. “You wouldn’t want me awake if I turned out to be a demon or something.”
Finding nothing concerning, apart from the man himself, he slid off the couch and padded over. The chair looked hand-carved, its pieces connected without the use of nails or screws.
The craftsmanship was perhaps a clue about how this society functioned, but for now, he ignored it in favor of his thirst. Slipping into the seat, he downed the water in several large gulps.
Once he’d finished, the man spoke again. “I’m glad to tell you the testing all came back green. You have a nasty karmic debt, and evidence of significant temporal manipulation, but nothing we’re worried about.”
“Now that’s over with, we can get down to the details,” he continued, pulling a clipboard from nowhere. Its clip strained to hold in a massive stack of paper, and it made a resounding thunk as he placed it on the table.
Extracting a metal pen from one of his sleeves, he filled out sections of the initial page with rapid movements. “I am Agent Baldwin, the supervising OIM agent for this investigation. And you are?” His pen paused on the sheet as he glanced up at Kevin.
Kevin blinked, thrown by the sudden bureaucratic shift. While matching the man’s studious appearance — did cultivators even need glasses? — it was a significant deviation from the tone so far.
“Sorry, could I get a few details first?” He needed to figure out what was going on here. While preferable to suspicious and painful experiments, there was no guarantee this would have a better outcome.
Bureaucracies could be nasty all on their own.
“You mentioned OIM earlier, could we start with that?”
“Ah,” the man sighed, dropping his pen and sitting upright. “It seems I’ve gotten ahead of myself. You’re right, let me go over the background details first.”
“I am a representative of the Office of Incursion Management, which the country of Caldain has empowered to manage incidents such as this one. Having passed your tests, you are not in trouble, per se, however, we need to get some details down before moving on to the next steps.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Kevin said, letting his taught posture go. “I was a bit worried, given all the armed guards and tests. Caldain is the country then? And you don’t mind that I’ve shown up here?”
That was the real rub, he’d arrived without permission and without going through any of their normal channels. When he thought about it that way, their response had been mild compared to what some countries might have done.”
Agent Baldwin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That is a rather sensitive question and the very reason my agency exists. Holding to the letter of the law, you have acquired neither citizenship nor residency papers, making your presence illegal.”
“However,” he held up a finger. “None of our usual strategies are much good here. You are not a citizen of any nation we can send you back to, nor would imprisoning you here send a message to other such travelers.”
“While some still advocate for doing so, the current council sees no reason to cover the costs of your incarceration. So should we instead do the minimum required to ensure you are safe and then release you without a coin to your name?”
Agent Baldwin shook his nod. “No, the most common outcome in that instance is you falling into a life of crime, whereon we would catch you in short measure. Once more, forcing us to lock you up.”
Pausing, the agent lifted an eye as if confirming he was following.
Kevin winced at the stark description of his chances, made more poignant by his near brush with theft. Perhaps it was for the best they’d caught him so fast, even with everything that had happened since.”
“Well, I’m glad those options are off the table,” he nodded in understanding. “So, where does that leave us?”
“Despite what some might like, all our data shows that the best outcome results from a small, upfront investment. The OIM,” Baldwin pointed to himself, “will provide a loan to cover your initial expenses, along with ongoing supervision by an agent to help you adapt.”
“In addition, we will give you residency, though not citizenship. In return, you will abide by our country’s laws, repay the loan when you are able, and remain quiet about your previous life.”
Kevin tapped his fingers on the table, going over the words in his head. The agent flicked through his impressive stack of papers as he did so, giving him time to think.
“That’s a generous offer,” Kevin said pointing at the clipboard. “Just one thing, I came here with a specific goal in mind. Will I be able to work towards it under this agreement?”
“Don’t you all,” Agent Baldwin snorted, breaking his calm demeanor. “That depends on what it is.”
A wistful smile crossed Kevin’s face as he opened his lips and paused, afraid to say the word. As if speaking it would somehow ruin his chances; yet if not now, when?
“Immortality,” he breathed, so quiet it was almost inaudible.