Years ago, bodies washed up on the red sand of Gutworth. Surprisingly preceding a shipwreck, instead of following it, the bodies all wore life jackets. The irony was lost on a young Devon. She assumed the strangely bulbous rubber clothing they wore was simply the fashion of choice in Luminescia. She didn’t understand the way their bodies had discolored and changed, becoming bloated and an icy blue. Surely that wasn’t in fashion. Her father had snatched her away from the scene only moments after they had arrived. She asked her father why they had ran, why they hadn’t helped the strange beached people.

Her father replied tersely that they were beyond help. Through for the next few nights, her father would go out to the shore and dig graves, only stopping once all were buried.

Staring up at the killer known as Adam, lying on a rock with his eyes closed, he looked so very much like those corpses.

At that moment one of 40’s men had crossed the distance and was heading for them. She ran and he changed his trajectory. Hurdling over the rock Adam basked on like he was beneath his notice. The Number caught her mid-trip, manhandling her but being surprisingly gentle about it. He picked her up like a niece he hadn’t seen in years, but the Remark at her throat kept the embrace from being too comfortable.

Devon was pinned against his chest. Her captor’s rapidfire heartbeat was competing with his Remark to see which would kill her first. The 38 on his neck bulged and writhed faster than his jaw could keep up with.

“Everyone stop!” he yelled. 31 stuck her remark into 32 while 29 held calmly onto the giant's back, adjusting his feet so that he could stand on the pierced through Remark.

“Yeah, what’s up?” 31 said, not concerned that Devon was seconds away from death. She would have been furious if this wasn’t so expected. As dream dust dealers went, she was replaceable. Grand, there were seven other dealers in her apartment complex alone. She knew because they always saw each other on dream dust supply ones, and it was never not awkward.

The hands that held her prisoner were sweaty and getting sweatier. She didn’t trust this guy to keep a good grip on his Remark. The spike wave-like edges of it were strangely malleable. It seemed to strain to get closer to her, distorting and wiggling in ways blades just couldn’t do. The man gulped comically before speaking “Here’s how this goes down.”

Before he could explain, 31 ripped her remark out of 32, killing him outright. She threw it with hatred at the hostage taker’s wide open mouth. His upper face was removed from the rest of him, now an open cavity. Looking up at him, Devon had the misfortune of comprehending this.

Now covered in brain matter, she struggled out of the Numbers cold hands. The image of his topless lower jaw refused to exit her mind.

She fell to the ground shaking.

31 sauntered up to her, far too perky in this field of the dead. She did a twirl and made her bloody dress skirt spin.

”Well well ressie, you weren’t supposed to survive! Guess it does pay to be short.” She held out a hand lazily.

“Fuck you.” Devon checked her face to make sure there weren’t any fresh wounds. Outside of a thick spray of blood on her right side, she was fine. Sliding down from the rock, Adam skirted towards her with the surprising speed of a crawlcow put a hand on her shoe. She panicked and kicked him away.

“Oh come off it, Ressy. You’re alive, and so is our meal ticket.” She hoisted Adam up on her shoulders, carrying him much like one would carry the corpse of an animal. His hands reached out for Devon, but she kept him out of range intentionally, starting triumphantly back for home.

It’s just adrenaline, Devon thought, jealous at 31’s strength. She didn’t know what separated her from 31, but it was a gulf that felt insurmountable. She had tried training before, learning the drills the Legacy did and trying her hand at them, but she became winded after only a few reps, and demotivated when two weeks passed with nothing to show from it but a sore back and zero energy.

“Remember how she thought we couldn’t see her behind that tiny mound?” 31 said, laughing all the way back to Gutworth. Her neck number strangely hadn’t changed.

“She thinks small, so something like that little rock must have seemed ginormous.”

“Agreed!” Devon said, a little too joyously. She tried to seem agreeable until she could go home, scream into her pillow, and have a nice warm bath. She had enough orbits to afford it this week.

From his perch on 31’s back Adam’s head was turned upside down. He made a smile that looked like a frown.

She smiled back. It was a hesitant smile that dropped back down as soon as his tired eyes had turned away.

In her mind, even though it was foolish, she pictured having a remark strong enough to cut, and all the different ways she would slice 31 to pieces.

.

.

.

“What's to be done with a corpse on the cobblestone?” Adam was being moved to and fro, puppeteered by the now very high 29 and 31.

“What's to be done with a cobblestone?” He was barely conscious, at this rate he’d be a corpse himself in minutes. They careened his body to the foot of Devon’s bed, and dropped him on the floor as they scream sang the line “Let the Casket Man dump him in the sea!”

The three had rented a room at a terrible hotel. After indulging in the dream dust (even allowing Devon a sniff. She never got to have a sniff), they had played games with Adam, games that always seemed to end with him getting knocked around or dropped. They seemed very lax about keeping him alive.

The man, despite the skill she had seen him used on 40, seemed content to let them have their fun. She felt pity for him, despite his reputation. But what crime was it really to kill a few Numbers? If she was able to, she would have done the same.

29 lifted Adam’s head up. “Looks like he had one too many to drink,” he said, his nostrils flaring erratically.

31 ruffled his slimy hair. “Nothing a bit of bed rest won’t fix. Let's get him up there.”

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With a heave and a ho, they lifted his body and dumped him sprawled on her bed. She was already curled up at the head of the bed, but she went to lengths to make her body smaller. “Transport…” he said again. 29 and 31 were trying out a drunken jig. They didn’t notice.

He reached a hand out for her and she held her breath, silently pleading with him to put it down. With a sigh It fell limp to the floor and she could breathe again.

31 spoke with surprising conviction. “Devon, you’ve been a really big help.”

“Yeah, a real big help,” 29 said, his toadiness undermining her.

“Since you’ve been such a big help…”

“And since we’ll very soon gain the authority to do so…”

“We want to make you a Number.”

Devon didn’t respond.

”You’ve been a Ressy far too long.”

“You’ll probably start at 1.”

“But that's okay, because you’ll move up super fast once this hold’s been removed.”

“It’s the only reason we haven’t become 40 and 41 yet.”

She didn’t say anything.

They turned to each other and nodded, pleased with this.

“Great! We’ll call Daaz, through you’ll have to get your smart veins inserted to make it official.”

“Yeah, you’ll get power from joining us.” 29 said. “You’ll finally have a Remark worth respecting. What’s it supposed to be, anyway, a fish?”

It was a representation of the last fish her father ever caught. Sometimes it sang to her in his voice.

“Not any fish. A dead one.”

They left the room laughing, and Devon was alone.

Alone with Adam, a man who had killed half a dozen in roughly four hours.

His body smelled like sulfur. They sat in silence for a period too long to enjoy and too short to get used to. Right when it seemed like he had fallen asleep or passed on, his neck turned to her with a crack. Barely there eyes stared at her with a intense passivity, his mouth open slightly. Devon stopped herself from screaming.

“Capacity,” he said, “I request transport.”

Devon could only blink. She moved her eyes to the door. Like all the doors in this hotel had been programmed to do, they had closed automatically when 29 and 31 left.

“What is the matter, Capacity? Do you not recognize me?” He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace., She kept glancing to the door, moving only her eyes. “No, you wouldn’t have, it’s been… three bodies since you’ve last seen me. I’ve been so many people. I see you’ve stayed the same. Not in all ways I hope.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as a dry cough that sounded painful. “A little humor… despite our differences it is good to… no, maybe it’s not.” His mouth drooled slightly. “There’s something wrong here.”

Devon backed up to the edge of the bed, and then propped herself up until she was nearly standing. Adam simply stared, seeming to lack the energy to do anything else.

“What?” she said, her voice came out as a squeak.

“It’s me. Capacity, how can you not-” and he stopped. The expression that moved its way across his face was in the neighborhood of ashamed. “No. You’re not her. Of course, you can’t be.” He sighed, like air leaving an open coffin. “Though you do have her face.” His brow narrowed, considering that. “Why do you have her face?”

The first question she could answer. “I… fell into the shifting waters seven years ago. When I came out I looked like this.” She didn’t mention that it wasn’t an accident, that she jumped in in hopes that she would either die or be reborn as a different person with no memories of her life before. She got half of her wish, changing her gender and physically becoming something she honestly preferred, but her memories were still intact, even if her weakness frustrated her daily. She was still herself. And her father’s death still lived in her skull, no matter how much she tried to forget.

His look in response was inscrutable.

“I… require… transport,” he said.

The door opened again and a hand lazily stuck in an ear attached to a pole. “Devon, say hi!” came the voice of 31.

Devon said hi. The door closed again. She turned back.

Adam was now staring straight at her, his face inches away. This time she didn’t stifle her scream.

“I require transport,” he said again. The request now seemed more like a demand. “Can you help-” His jaw unhinged, he fiddled with it for a few moments before getting it back into place. “Can you help me?”

No, she couldn’t. Devon looked around the room frantically, as if 31 would suddenly appear again and become responsible for this situation. Trying to back away even more she fell off the bed, the pillow she clutched unfortunately not under her. From a vantage point five feet below and upside down, she saw the withered face of Adam come into frame.

“Transport.”

She scrunched her face up, holding the pillow in front of her. “No, please.”

No response. She was too scared to lower it, what if he decided to end her life right here? Even in the strange state he was in, he had that power. Devon squeezed her hands tight, and felt something cold and clammy slip between her fingers and the pillow.

A creaking on the bed, it sounded like he turned away. Opening her eyes confirmed it, that was not surprising. What was was the object that fell out of her hand with a wet thud.

A Remark. Her Remark! She hadn’t summoned it in a month. It looked… rotted. More so than usual. A fly buzzed half heartedly around the still blinking eye, it was unclear whether the fly was an effect of the remark, or had come in from the open window. Maybe it was part of its Trick, but fuck having the time or energy to find out.

“You have a weak… remark.” He said it as a fact. “This does not make you weak, but by the terms of our society.” his jaw fell off. “You are nothing.”

Somehow she still heard his voice. A cold metal flew into her hand. It was his Remark moving on its own. “I am a strong remark, as judged by this world, although I do not wish to be. I require transport.” He, or it, spoke more fluently now. He was communicating to her through his mind, a weak connection, but Devon could feel it in her. A stranger in her brain. It was… not as unpleasant as she would have thought.

And he was a Remark. Somehow.

“I… I don’t know if I’m the right person for this- I don’t know how to fight.” But she always wanted to learn. “I’m not intimidating.” Although she often wished she was. “And I’ve never killed anyone.” Yet she had a list made up in her mind.

“All of that,” Adam said, his body now slumped over the bed, in a similar position to how he had been on the rock. “Makes you perfect.”

His Remark, no, he himself, pulsed with new life and rose up, hovering in front of Devon. A handshake waiting to be reciprocated. She reached out.

*tap* *tap* In unison, Devon and the Remark turned to an oval windows on the far wall. There was a Number there, hands drumming on the glass, the yawning black mouth on the mask a one way trip to a bottomless void.

“Hello there,” he said, and undid the latch on his side. As the glass circle slid up, a smoking ball of cloth was tossed into the room. “I’ll come in through the front door,” he said, voice now muffled, and then the smoke consumed them.