Evie lay in her bed, dwelling on the events of the previous day. The alarm tone had just gone off, but she hadn’t moved. She felt, just a little, like she had been punched in the gut. Being here had briefly felt like the beginning of something new, maybe even something good. Somehow, she had become so caught up in the excitement that she had forgotten what she was here to do: risk her life for their entertainment.

This “Job” had felt doable before. Dangerous, sure, but possible, well matched to her skill sets. Now, with this added element of being watched, she wasn’t so sure. It felt like a betrayal, like the Skonarians had deliberately held back information until it was too late for her to change her mind. But that couldn’t be true. The Skonarians were a good, generous people. They had healed her, taken away years of pain she hadn’t even realized she was suffering from. Even now, forced to face the reality of her situation, she was finding it difficult to feel anything negative towards them.

If Azur had been more upfront, would it have made a difference? Would she have refused to come if she knew how complex this game would be? No. This, ultimately, changed nothing, and she needed to pull herself together. She had to do well here. For her sister. And, for the Skonarians.

Evie glanced at the clock, groaned, and rolled out of bed. She chugged the protein shake that Mijra had left on her bedside table, brushed her teeth, and pulled on a uniform. Her aching muscles protested every slight movement.

She was running late and had to run to make it to the training room on time. Haruto and Lubanzi were already there. Dark circles under Lubanzi’s eyes hinted that the previous day’s revelation had also affected him. He was more subdued than the day before, acknowledging Evie only with a tired nod.

“Good morning!” Claro greeted her as she entered, her enthusiasm grating on the somber atmosphere. “Before we get started, Azur told me to let you three know that they finalized producer selections yesterday! So, after this morning’s session, you will go meet them back in your rooms.”

The idea of returning to her room to find a stranger, a Honrad stranger, waiting there made Evie uncomfortable. She reminded herself that the Skonarians didn’t understand the concept of ‘personal space’, so they probably didn’t mean for it to feel intrusive. Despite her apprehension about meeting one of the unsettling creatures, she was curious about her producer.

The morning passed much like the day before. As the time passed, Evie felt herself growing increasingly more distracted.

“I’m sorry.” Evie said, after messing up what should have been a simple form for the third consecutive time. She rubbed her temples in frustration, trying to focus back on the present.

“What’s on your mind?” Claro asked, looking bemused.

“It’s… everything, I think. Now that I know the details, I’m nervous about the Sim. I know I have the physical skills for it, but this added complexity of knowing that my target can watch me plan… that scares me. And now we’re meeting our producers. I guess I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Claro sighed and relaxed her stance. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re miles ahead of where many assassins start. Between that and your weapon, you’re going in with an advantage. The rest is just strategy, which you will spend a lot of time studying. And you don’t need to worry about the producers. It’s not what you think. I’m personally well acquainted with the individual assigned to you. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s a gem. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. You’ll be fine.”

Evie took a deep breath and nodded. She needed to trust the process, though Claro’s description of the Producer didn’t help to ease her curiosity.

A shout echoed around the training center, interrupting their conversation. Evie looked towards the source to see Haruto, turned in Lubanzi’s direction, standing rigid and looking pissed. At his feet were the weight he had been lifting and one of the softball sized balls Lubanzi had been throwing.

“I’m so sorry Haruto!” said Lubanzi. “It ricocheted. I swear I wasn’t trying to hit you-”

Before Lubanzi could finish, Haruto scooped the ball off the floor, swung his arm back and lobbed it at Lubanzi. Lubanzi ducked just in time to prevent the ball from smashing him in the face. It hit a piece of equipment behind them with a loud bang.

“Haruto!” Claro yelled. “Were you paying attention yesterday? No head shots. Don’t let me see you do that again.”

Haruto didn’t respond, turning away to go back to his weights. Lubanzi, guided by Formad, his trainer, moved to another open space farther away from the weights. Evie stood, shocked. If that ball had hit home, it would have done serious damage.

“Come on, Evie,” said Claro, pulling her attention back to what they had been doing. “Let’s see that form again. Try to suck a little less this time.” Claro didn’t look overly concerned at the interaction between Haruto and Lubanzi, so Evie left it for now. For the rest of the session, she redoubled her efforts, determined to take Claro’s advice.

“Alright Everyone!” Claro called as the clock struck 10:30. “Come on over. I need to walk everyone through what’s going to happen next.”

The three humans assembled, Haruto placing himself a few steps away from the other two. Lubanzi caught Evie’s eye and forced a smile, looking as nervous as she felt.

He leaned down and whispered to her, “We have to be meeting them remotely, right? Azur said they don’t like to leave their home planet, so there’s no way they can actually be here.” His eyes pleaded for her to reassure him.

“I don’t know.” Evie whispered back. “I don’t think we can make any assumptions.” Lubanzi’s face visibly paled. She had felt the same way, until Claro’s comments, but now she didn’t know what to expect.

“Alright.” Claro continued. “This is a big day for you three. The relationship between each of you and the producer selected to work with you is extremely important. They are all waiting to meet you in your personal chambers. Azur expects everyone at hour twelve in the information room for a quick briefing on some related matters, but other than that, your schedules are cleared.” When no one spoke for several seconds, Claro waved them along.

The three humans filed back along the hallway in an anxious, silent line. It was the first time that they had returned as a group. Lubanzi’s room was about twenty feet down the hall from Evie’s, Haruto’s was the same distance after his. Haruto got to his door first. He didn’t pause, walking stoically up to the curtain and entering. Lubanzi threw Evie one last, nervous glance, before he too disappeared. Evie, taking a deep breath, entered her room.

For a confused moment, the room seemed empty. Then a flicker of movement caught her eye. Sitting atop her bed was a pigeon. A large pigeon. The kind found in every city, anywhere on Earth. Its feathers were a mottled gray, except for the iridescent green-blue ones that covered its neck. Its light brown eyes stared directly at her.

“Are you just going to stand there like an idiot?” asked the Pigeon.

Evie felt her jaw drop. It spoke Common, with a loud male voice and an accent straight out of the Bronx. It wasn’t like the Skonarians’ accent, which hinted at southern but wasn’t quite right. This bird was clearly from New York.

“Jesus, lady. I’m not going to bite. Honestly, you’ve already been basically abducted by aliens. You think you’d be used to weird shit by now.” The pigeon gestured with a wing, indicating a spot on her bed. “Come in and sit down.”

Evie slowly walked forward and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Um, how…” she said, trailing off, unsure how to finish the sentence. The bird executed a truly impressive eye roll, the gesture comically accentuated by his small, bulging eyes.

“Do you, uh, have a name?” Evie asked, tentatively.

“No,” responded the bird. “We don’t have names. You’re going to have to call me ‘hay bird’ for the entirety of our time together. Of course I have a fucking name. My name is Hat, and despite how painfully awkward you’re making this, it’s nice to meet you, Evie.”

The name was the last straw. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She bent forward, put her head in her hands, and started to laugh. Hat, remained quiet while she giggled, though he shifted his feathers around uncomfortably. Finally, Evie gasped out, “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Well, I guess maybe a little, but only because this is just so absurd. I was expecting a Honrad. I was all braced because Azur can’t shut up about how bad they smell and I come in here and…” She waved her hand, gesturing at the bird, hoping he would understand and not take offense.

Hat grunted. “I know. It’s not your fault. All of us, me and the other two producers who, yes, are also pigeons, tried to talk Azur into warning you. She said she didn’t have time, but honestly, I think she thought it was funny.” The bird shifted from foot to foot, and suddenly Evie realized he was just as nervous as she had been a second ago. “It really is nice to meet you Evie,” he continued, sheepishly. “I have been waiting to be selected as a producer for a really long time. You’ve probably heard this, but there’s a lot of hype around you, especially if the rumors surrounding your weapon are true.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Evie smiled down at the bird, finding his forthright personality endearing. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Does this mean someone is finally going to explain to me why everyone is so excited about my umbrella?”

Hat shook his tiny head. “Uh-uh, no way. Azur would literally cook me. You’re going to have to wait for the Weapons Ceremony. You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.”

Evie considered asking about the Weapons Ceremony, not having heard of it before, but opted to address the obvious question first. “So, uh, Mr. Hat. You’re a pigeon.”

The bird gave her a look. “It’s just Hat. Mr. Hat is my father. And yes, I am. That’s very observant of you.”

Evie returned his look with interest. “I mean, why are you a pigeon?”

“I’m a pigeon because someone inconspicuous needs to follow you around and direct the cameras.” Hat replied. “Pigeons are everywhere. No one notices us.”

Evie squinted at Hat, trying to decide if he was joking or not. “Pigeons are everywhere. On Earth. We’re not going to Earth.”

Hat laughed. “When I say pigeons are everywhere, I mean everywhere, sweetie. Any planet with intelligent life has pigeons. We are originally native to one of the first planets the Sniffers ever found. They wanted a way to observe without making their presence known, so they took a few specimens, implanted some hardware and turned us into a living observation system. Using us worked so well that they introduced us pretty much everywhere. On planets outside of the Understanding, we observe and record. On planets inside the understanding, we make sure that everyone is following the rules. It’s a great system, and it’s worked for literally thousands of years.”

Evie stared at the bird. “The conspiracy theorists who say that birds are just drones working for the government were right? You’re, like, an android?”

“Absolutely not!” Hat sucked in his feathers and stood up straighter, looking insulted. “Not all birds, just pigeons. Those other food stealing fucks don’t do anything other than shit and breed. Self-centered assholes, every one of them.” Hat shook himself indignantly. “Anyway, technically, I’m a cyborg, though these days all the computer bits are biological.”

Out of all the new information Evie had been presented with over the last few days, this was some of the hardest to believe. She liked pigeons, would often feed them on her lunch break outside of the hotel in Singapore City. She enjoyed watching the derpy little birds go about their business. The realization that they were there to keep track of her, and the rest of humanity, was going to take a while to sink in. “Okay,” she said, after a moment. “So, you’re my producer. What does that mean exactly? You follow me around and film me?”

“That’s part of it, yes,” responded Hat. He shifted his feathers, and a few dozen barely noticeable specks flew out. They were about the size of fruit flies and flew about silently for a few seconds before nestling back into his plumage.

“These are my camera’s. Each has a crappy AI built in, which I instruct and control with my internal interface. I have to be in the area, but they’ve got a pretty good range, so I don’t need to be that close. You probably won’t notice them, and if you do, just ignore them. All pigeons have a lot of experience filming. It’s pretty much all we do.

“But if that was all I did, they would call me a god damned camera man, wouldn’t they? I’m your producer. From this moment on, we’re partners.” The pigeon strutted back and forth on Evie’s bed, waving his wings expressively as he talked. “I’ll be working with you on pretty much everything. From now until we get to Honrad, I will help you learn about the Sim. We should get access to the current season soon, and will begin studying the strategies used by your associates. That way you’re prepared when we get to Honrad. Once there, you will consult me as you plan your assassinations. We want to come up with strategies that are interesting and exciting, and hopefully won’t get you killed. I have access to knowledge and resources you don’t, so I will be a valuable addition to your team.” He stopped in front of her, puffed up, looking incredibly self-important. The effect was ridiculous, and Evie had to try hard not to smile.

The implications of his explanation were actually great, way better than she had been expecting. The idea of being filmed still made her nervous, but having someone experienced to guide her would make an enormous difference. She should have realized the Skonarians wouldn’t leave her high and dry. They realized what they were throwing her into, and were making sure she was prepared. Relief rushed through her.

“That sounds amazing.” She rose and knelt until her eyes were at Hat’s level. “I’ll take any help you can offer! How long have you been a producer? Have you done any work on Honrad before?”

Hat deflated a little. “Uh, no,” he responded. “You’re actually my first assassin. As I’m sure you have guessed, I’m an Earth pigeon, from the great City of New York. This is my first-time off planet, same as you. Don’t worry though, I have been in training for many years, and feel very confident in my abilities. I think you and I are going to make a great team!”

The bird looked nervously at her, gauging her reaction. Evie was unsure what to think. He sounded so confident that she assumed he was a seasoned professional. However, she decided it didn’t matter. She liked Hat, and since they would spend a lot of time together, that was important. Everyone had to start somewhere, and he sounded like he knew what he was doing. She smiled at the pigeon, who visibly relaxed.

“Welcome to the team, Hat!” she said, holding out her hand to shake without thinking. She immediately realized her mistake, but before she could pull her hand back, Hat jumped up onto it, waddled up her arm, and came to rest on her shoulder. He was lighter than he looked, though he still had a comfortable weight about him, and his soft feathers brushed her cheek as she turned to look at him. He looked back at her, looking content for a moment, then suddenly his eyes went wide.

“Holey shit,” he proclaimed, promptly jumping off her shoulder and fluttering back down to the bed, where he rapidly backed away from her. “Way to ruin the moment. You stink worse than a god damned Honrad. Go shower. Then we need to go meet Azur.”

With surprise, Evie looked at the clock. Hat was right. She would barely have time to wash before they needed to head out. She laughed at the bird’s disgusted expression, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom.

Evie, showered and clean, with Hat now happily perched on her shoulder, entered the presentation space. Lubanzi and Haruto were already seated around the large central table. Lubanzi grinned widely at her when she entered, his nerves from before completely gone. A smaller, mottled brown pigeon perched on the arm he had rested on the table.

“You were right!” he said to Evie. “This definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I should stop trying to figure things out in advance.” He gestured at the bird. “This is Amiya. What’s your friend’s name?”

“My name is Hat, and I can speak for myself,” huffed Hat, eying the young man up and down. “You must be Lubanzi. You lucked out, kid. Amiya is the closest thing to an angel that you are ever likely to meet. If I hear you’ve been giving her trouble, we’re going to have problems.”

Amiya puffed up, preening herself delicately, looking coyly over at Hat. Lubanzi’s big, expressive eyebrows rose about an inch. “Hat? Why is your name Hat?” he asked, ignoring the bird’s other comment. Evie had been wondering the same thing. He was an Earth pigeon and had to know the literal meaning of his name. She was grateful that Lubanzi had asked so that she wouldn’t have to.

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” Hat responded, puffing his chest out indignantly. “I like hats. They are god-damned fabulous. I recommend you focus your two overworked brain cells on your own fucking business.” The bird jumped down onto the table, taking a few steps forward. Evie thought he was trying to look intimidating. He wasn’t succeeding.

Lubanzi blinked at the bird. His mouth twitched. He looked back up at Evie, and said, straight-faced, “Man, that bird of yours sure uses some fowl language.” The edges of his mouth twitched wildly.

It took Evie a moment to realize that he had spoken in English. It took another few seconds for the terrible pun to register. When it did, she brought a hand up to her forehead.

To the surprise of both of them, Hat burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that he flopped over on his side, his tiny feet waving helplessly in the air. “Jesus, that was a good one. Fowl language, you’re fucking right I use fowl language.”

Amiya sat silently, watching. She covered her face with a dainty wing, shaking her small, delicate head. Haruto and his producer didn’t react. They either hadn’t understood the joke, or weren’t amused. Haruto’s producer was the largest of the three birds, with a darker coloring, and red, serious eyes.

Azur bustled into the room. Hat was still chuckling, but he pulled himself together and jumped back to his feet at the sight of the Skonarian.

“Looks like you six have already started on the introductions.” Azur said. “Evie, Lubanzi, Haruto, meet Amiya, Korgon, and Hat. Amiya and Hat are both from Earth. Korgon is a Honrad native.”

Evie felt a brief stab of jealousy for Haruto. Having a Honrad native as a producer sounded like it could be incredibly useful. However, as she looked between the brooding Korgon and Hat, she decided she was grateful to have been paired with the pigeon she had been.

“This is going to be quick,” Azur continued. “I have to get to a meeting. You’re going to get the rest of the day to work with your producers. To do this effectively, we need to give you tablets.”

Azur reached into a pocket and came out with three small devices. They could have passed for large cell phones on Earth. Evie remembered seeing a few Skonarians using them. Azur passed them out, giving one to each human. As Evie touched hers, it lit up, revealing a familiar screen.

“We designed the interfaces to be like those of human cell phones, so they should be easy for you all to use.” Azur continued. “These will give you access to an immense library of information on the Honrad, and the Sim. Also, you will now be able to view our teams’ episodes, and follow along with the current season.”

Evie poked at one icon, and a small search window popped up. She typed in “Honrad native languages”, curious, and an instant later had a list of results that took up the entire screen.

“Does The Understanding have anything like the internet?” asked Lubanzi, looking up from his tablet.

“Of course we do,” Azur responded. “But before you ask, you three will not get access. We used to give Assassins internet access, but we found it to be mostly a distraction. Plus, humans always find the pornography, and then there’s no way to get them to focus.”

Azur stood from the table. “Are there any other questions before I release everyone?” she asked, looking around. No one spoke. Everyone fiddled with their devices. Azur flicked her tongue in the Skonarian eye roll equivalent. “You humans and your phones,” she said. “Use this time wisely. You will get a few hours a day with your producers, but today we’re giving extra time. Don’t waste it. We will see you all tomorrow at the normal time for training!”

With that, Azur, followed by the three humans and their producers, stood and headed for the door. Evie made a beeline back to her room. She and Hat had a lot to talk about.