Peter Prellwitz - Shards Book One

Dr. Barrett finished his entry with a flourish, then leaned back in his chair. He addressed me to answer Susie's question.

"You're in fine shape! You are well within the norms of a young woman entering the middle stages of puberty. Perhaps a bit underweight. And your muscles need toning. But that will all take care of itself with time and Corporal Lendler's guidance. She's a borderline obsessive when it comes to fitness. Probably frustration from being locked up in that cave they call a research facility."

"Doctor Barrett!? Susie protested.

He ignored her.? If you survive her attentions in the gym, you should survive anything. And if you have any questions concerning your body's changes, please, see me at your convenience. Your health and comfort take precedence over all my other duties except emergencies. You're also welcome to just come by and talk.? He leaned forward and entered a few more items.? In the meantime, I'm declaring you fit for duty. And since I'm also duty officer, I'll place you right away."

He looked over a holographic screen that projected itself above the keyboard, but I couldn't make out any details. It was either a limitation of the projection system or, more likely, an extension of his privacy screening. I hoped he was looking for duty in the research wing, with Susan. Not for her company, though it would be a bonus, but so I could get my hands on a terminal and begin catching up. He apparently found what he was looking for.

"Ah, good! I see there's an opening in the laundry detail. Yes, that will do perfectly. Report to Private William Jackson in the Laundry, at 0400, the day after tomorrow."

"Laundry? And four o'clock!? I didn't hide my disappointment and groaned, more out of old habit of pulling bad detail than for any other reason. I wouldn't have minded a few nights' sleep. A few nights' real sleep, for a change.

"Yep. Four AM. And laundry. What did you expect? Vehicle repair? You haven't the strength or stamina. Nor the training. Or maybe one of the cushy jobs in research? Admittedly, it doesn't take much strength to sleep all day…? he paused, probably to listen to the steam come out of Susie's ears.? But in the rare times when they actually take a stab at doing work, again, you don't have the training. Besides, the accessing would wear you down too quickly.? Another odd comment.? So it's the laundry. Must have those uniforms clean and ready to go. Shouldn't be too hard, though. The techniques for cleaning have improved over the centuries, but we still use ordinary water to conserve energy. There is some heavy lifting, but you could stand a little work. And Jackson will probably keep your shifts short for the first day or two.? He stood up.? So! I officially welcome you, whatever-your-name-is-going-to-be. I'm looking forward to your naming tomorrow. I'll see you at the Lieutenant's table. For the next few months at least, welcome to the Third!? I half expected-and half wanted-him to call me a dog, but he didn't.

We left his office and headed toward the mess. This completed our circle tour except for the research center. I reflected on the doctor's comments about using a computer. What did he call it? The puterverse? It seemed a trifle odd.

There were a number of things that were striking me as odd. One could point out that being brought forward 600 years, changing sex, getting younger, all after having been an unknown number of whatevers were all odd. And one would be right; they were very odd. But some other things were beginning to nag at me, not the least of which was how relatively easily I was grasping the technology of the era.

Lt. Sanchez had been correct: my past employers hadn't hired me for my looks. NATech's standards were nothing of the kind; they looked only for exceptions. Even the rookies at NATech could hold intelligent debate with Albert Einstein or Carl Woldheim, two of our early and more well known people.

And I had worked there for over eight years. So I had a significant edge in experience and ability when extrapolating known facts and adapting with the unknown needed to be done. Even still, I should have been completely out of touch with a society six centuries removed from my own. And not just from a technical standpoint. I was amazed at how little language had changed. There were other feelings, too.

Definitely not ideas, and certainly not suspicions. But faint, vague stirrings, and a small yet growing conviction that things were not as they should have been.

"So, how about some lunch?? Susie broke my thought. We had reached the end of the corridor and were standing at the top of the ramp leading down to the mess. My first thought was that I'd been so full from breakfast that I wouldn't need to eat for three days. Right on the heels of that thought was the growling of my stomach, telling me I was hungry. I nodded vigorously, and we walked down the ramp, hand in hand.

The mess was comfortably full, much less so than this morning, telling me that the unit did indeed eat in shifts. The line was short, only six people, but they let us go first again. I set my tray down on the counter.

"Uh, Susie? Maybe you better help me out this time.? She laughed.

"You learn quickly! Sure. But you eat everything I give you, okay?? It sounded like a setup, but figuring she couldn't do worse to me than I would, I nodded. We went down the line, but instead of filling the tray, she gave me almost nothing. She must have thought I was still full from breakfast. We picked up our milk and coffee, smiled at Hill, the cook, and seated ourselves. Like this morning, we were left our own table.

Lunch went much better than breakfast. Susie had picked out enough for me. I finished up lunch just as I was getting full. We sat and chatted over a cup of coffee. I took a sip of the hot, black fluid. It tasted like battery acid. I almost choked on it. I shook my head and tried another swig. This time I did choke on it.

Susie grabbed my wrist gently and helped me lower the cup while I coughed and grimaced.

"Slow down! Your taste buds are new, too. That poison's bad enough with milk and sugar, let alone straight like that. Here.? She poured copious amounts of both into my swill, until it was brimming.

"Aaa! You've polluted it! I've been drinking it black since I was in college!? I whined.

"Oh, yeah? When was that?? she countered.

"You mean I have to retrain my taste buds, too?? I looked with sadness into the depths of my ruined nectar.

"Uh-huh. Maybe not even then. People have different tastes, you know."

I moved my cup away from me and thumped my head on the table.? Oh. Getting turned into a shrimp, having to wear all this… stuff, and pulling laundry duty all in one day is bad enough. But NOW! No more coffee!? I tried another sip, but it was just too sickening. I pushed it away, saying farewell to a fond friend. I looked at Susie.

"I suppose I'm going to hate beer, too?? I lamented.

"Beer? Probably. But it doesn't matter. You not old enough to drink alcohol."

Since my head was already on the table, it seemed like a good idea to bang it a couple more times, so I did. I hadn't thought of that. Of course I couldn't drink. Or vote, if they still voted. I had no idea what it was, but I was undoubtedly well under legal age, too. When I got out on my own in a few months…

A chilling thought touched me. I wanted to think about it for awhile and work it out, but on the surface, it was frightening. It seemed highly improbable that they were going to turn a child, which is what I now was, into a foreign and potentially hostile society. Yet they had told me they released Cues after-what?-two to four months. I filed that information under the growing folder marked? ODD", and put a priority on it.

Susan got up and went to the beverage table, returning with a steaming mug which she set down beside me.