07-21-2013, 04:04 PM
Tehya watched Moscow pass in a slow crawl beyond the taxi window, tempted to place her forehead against the cool glass and close her eyes. She’d hardly slept on the plane, just drifted in and out of vagueness once her thoughts and worries had run dry, then zoned out listening to the music piping through her earphones until the captain had called the descent. Now, so far from her homeland, she was tired. Her long legs were cramped from all the inactivity, and her shoulders ached dully; she was desperate to stretch out. It should have pleased her to finally be so close, but her thoughts were numbly focussed on the actually getting there, slipping off her shoes, taking a shower, and getting some sleep.
Outside it was early evening. Dusk deepened what little she could see of the sky, a striation of red and pink and orange that bounced blinding amber fingers of light from windows and windshields; the last throes of sun’s death. Before long shadows would pool the sidewalks and the streetlamps would start their vigil, and she dearly hoped that by then she wouldn’t still be stuck in this damn car. The roads had been swift from the airport, but commuter traffic had thickened once they reached the city; she’d grown used to the low grumble of the idling engine, but its gentle lullaby wasn’t helping her stay awake.
A knock at the window jolted her from reverie. She frowned up at the man beyond the glass. Tall and whipcord thin, with well-groomed dark hair and a manicured beard shadowing the line of his jaw. He looked like any number of businessmen on the street, but she did not have to see his arm to know what he was. Tey wasn’t surprised they had found her, even amidst the traffic; either the taxi was marked, or she was. A briefly sobering thought. She was still looking for the button to unwind the window when the guy opened the door.
“Ms. Alisdelisgi.” He gestured that she exit, offering a crooked smile. His suit was tailored, but he wore it slightly dishevelled, and the tie was pulled loose. “A pleasure to finally meet you. Traffic’s a nightmare this time of day; it’ll be quicker to walk.”
She offered him a sedate nod in return as she climbed out of the car, reaching into her jeans pocket to find some cash for the cab driver – who, realising Tehya was getting out early, had nudged open his door in order to retrieve her bags from the boot. “You’re Marcus?” She might have been living out in the sticks, but the net made a small detail of distance. Someone like Tehya, who specialised in studying the creatures the Atharim hunted, made great use of their secured networks for theory and discussion. She’d known Marcus years through those channels, though they’d never met. He was younger than she’d suspected; but then, probably so was she.
“Well guessed. The bill is covered, by the way.” The hand he offered in greeting was warm and strong; it made her feel limp and tired by contrast. She didn’t return his welcoming grin – too weary to bother with the niceties – and gave the driver a tip in exchange for her bags anyway; crumpled U.S bills she had no further need of, and maybe neither did he since the exchange rates were so ridiculously poor, but the guy tucked them in his pocket with a quick smile all the same.
“Do we have far to go?” She waved off Marcus’ offer of help – she only had a rucksack and a laptop bag, hardly beyond her means – and waited for him to set off down the sidewalk. He didn’t, not right away; he seemed to be taking the moment to study the solemnity of her features, and perhaps differentiate the years of faceless correspondence with the physicality of her. When her expression did not flicker, he laughed.
“Couple of blocks. You’re in a good building, great metro links. But, uh, seriously, Tehya, you’ll make me look like a prick if you carry all the stuff.”
“I’m tired, Marcus. It was a long flight. You really want to have a discussion about the retardedness of gender politics now?” Either the crassness of her language or the sheer monotone dryness in her tone made him blink in surprise. Her lips hitched up at one corner as she slipped off the rucksack and held it out. “For the record, I don’t care if you look like a prick, and neither should you. Can we go?”
He filled her in on the way; where she would be working and where she would be staying, the Wallet that would now form her primary contact, and a little on the people she would be working with. It was Friday; she had a weekend reprieve to acclimatise herself to the city and the new time zone. That was good, at least. So was the fact that Marcus was happy to divulge with little input on her part, since she was too exhausted to provide much in the way of conversation beyond the odd nod of acknowledgement. She paid attention, though her head was groggy. It felt good to stretch her legs at least.
-*-
The apartment turned out to be small but comfortable, its furnishings finer than those she had been accustom to back home - which wasn’t necessarily saying much. Some sparse adornments marked an attempt to make it feel homely – some ornaments, a few framed pictures – but it still felt spiritless as a hotel room. And it was very empty now that Marcus had gone; echoey. Lonely. Tehya enjoyed her privacy, but had never lived alone. She felt the singular beat of her heart acutely in the silence, and the sound of her breathing was conspicuously loud. It was strange, and not in a pleasant way.
There wasn’t much to unpack. Afterwards she showered, pulled on shorts and a vest that approximated pyjamas, and then curled on the couch with her beat-up laptop, the palm-sized Wallet plugged into the side. That sparky little bit of tech was going to take some getting used to, and it wasn’t a battle she felt like starting tonight, when the newness of her surroundings had her aching for the comfort of the familiar. She fought a yawn, sliding damp hair over one shoulder as she checked her mail. Most Atharim correspondence came that way, albeit safeguarded and encrypted. Heck, almost all communication came that way. She already had a schedule waiting for Monday, sent from a secure Atharim anon account - the sort favoured by the higher echelons of their society, whose identities were even protected from others within the organisation. Marcus had also mailed her the Wallet’s user manual. He must have seen the look she gave him when he handed it over.
Both messages she left unread for now. Instead she sent a brief note to her father - Here now, safe. Will call when I figure the time zone differences. T - then closed the laptop’s lid; it had already grown hot in her lap, hot enough to burn uncomfortably, though she supposed it didn’t matter now if the thing was on its way out. Its laborious whirr died slowly, then settled into silence as Tey got up and flicked out the light. A few minutes later, she was in bed, asleep.
Outside it was early evening. Dusk deepened what little she could see of the sky, a striation of red and pink and orange that bounced blinding amber fingers of light from windows and windshields; the last throes of sun’s death. Before long shadows would pool the sidewalks and the streetlamps would start their vigil, and she dearly hoped that by then she wouldn’t still be stuck in this damn car. The roads had been swift from the airport, but commuter traffic had thickened once they reached the city; she’d grown used to the low grumble of the idling engine, but its gentle lullaby wasn’t helping her stay awake.
A knock at the window jolted her from reverie. She frowned up at the man beyond the glass. Tall and whipcord thin, with well-groomed dark hair and a manicured beard shadowing the line of his jaw. He looked like any number of businessmen on the street, but she did not have to see his arm to know what he was. Tey wasn’t surprised they had found her, even amidst the traffic; either the taxi was marked, or she was. A briefly sobering thought. She was still looking for the button to unwind the window when the guy opened the door.
“Ms. Alisdelisgi.” He gestured that she exit, offering a crooked smile. His suit was tailored, but he wore it slightly dishevelled, and the tie was pulled loose. “A pleasure to finally meet you. Traffic’s a nightmare this time of day; it’ll be quicker to walk.”
She offered him a sedate nod in return as she climbed out of the car, reaching into her jeans pocket to find some cash for the cab driver – who, realising Tehya was getting out early, had nudged open his door in order to retrieve her bags from the boot. “You’re Marcus?” She might have been living out in the sticks, but the net made a small detail of distance. Someone like Tehya, who specialised in studying the creatures the Atharim hunted, made great use of their secured networks for theory and discussion. She’d known Marcus years through those channels, though they’d never met. He was younger than she’d suspected; but then, probably so was she.
“Well guessed. The bill is covered, by the way.” The hand he offered in greeting was warm and strong; it made her feel limp and tired by contrast. She didn’t return his welcoming grin – too weary to bother with the niceties – and gave the driver a tip in exchange for her bags anyway; crumpled U.S bills she had no further need of, and maybe neither did he since the exchange rates were so ridiculously poor, but the guy tucked them in his pocket with a quick smile all the same.
“Do we have far to go?” She waved off Marcus’ offer of help – she only had a rucksack and a laptop bag, hardly beyond her means – and waited for him to set off down the sidewalk. He didn’t, not right away; he seemed to be taking the moment to study the solemnity of her features, and perhaps differentiate the years of faceless correspondence with the physicality of her. When her expression did not flicker, he laughed.
“Couple of blocks. You’re in a good building, great metro links. But, uh, seriously, Tehya, you’ll make me look like a prick if you carry all the stuff.”
“I’m tired, Marcus. It was a long flight. You really want to have a discussion about the retardedness of gender politics now?” Either the crassness of her language or the sheer monotone dryness in her tone made him blink in surprise. Her lips hitched up at one corner as she slipped off the rucksack and held it out. “For the record, I don’t care if you look like a prick, and neither should you. Can we go?”
He filled her in on the way; where she would be working and where she would be staying, the Wallet that would now form her primary contact, and a little on the people she would be working with. It was Friday; she had a weekend reprieve to acclimatise herself to the city and the new time zone. That was good, at least. So was the fact that Marcus was happy to divulge with little input on her part, since she was too exhausted to provide much in the way of conversation beyond the odd nod of acknowledgement. She paid attention, though her head was groggy. It felt good to stretch her legs at least.
-*-
The apartment turned out to be small but comfortable, its furnishings finer than those she had been accustom to back home - which wasn’t necessarily saying much. Some sparse adornments marked an attempt to make it feel homely – some ornaments, a few framed pictures – but it still felt spiritless as a hotel room. And it was very empty now that Marcus had gone; echoey. Lonely. Tehya enjoyed her privacy, but had never lived alone. She felt the singular beat of her heart acutely in the silence, and the sound of her breathing was conspicuously loud. It was strange, and not in a pleasant way.
There wasn’t much to unpack. Afterwards she showered, pulled on shorts and a vest that approximated pyjamas, and then curled on the couch with her beat-up laptop, the palm-sized Wallet plugged into the side. That sparky little bit of tech was going to take some getting used to, and it wasn’t a battle she felt like starting tonight, when the newness of her surroundings had her aching for the comfort of the familiar. She fought a yawn, sliding damp hair over one shoulder as she checked her mail. Most Atharim correspondence came that way, albeit safeguarded and encrypted. Heck, almost all communication came that way. She already had a schedule waiting for Monday, sent from a secure Atharim anon account - the sort favoured by the higher echelons of their society, whose identities were even protected from others within the organisation. Marcus had also mailed her the Wallet’s user manual. He must have seen the look she gave him when he handed it over.
Both messages she left unread for now. Instead she sent a brief note to her father - Here now, safe. Will call when I figure the time zone differences. T - then closed the laptop’s lid; it had already grown hot in her lap, hot enough to burn uncomfortably, though she supposed it didn’t matter now if the thing was on its way out. Its laborious whirr died slowly, then settled into silence as Tey got up and flicked out the light. A few minutes later, she was in bed, asleep.