The oppressive mid-July heat seared the pavement outside Iris’s apartment as Mr. Salvatore arrived to pick her up the next morning, causing ripples to distort the motionless air. Mr. Salvatore busied himself by adjusting the freshly polished rear-view mirror as an exhausted Iris trudged into view. Despite the heat outside, she wore a pink cowl-neck sweater and long slacks, in anticipation of sitting for hours in an air-conditioned office.
“Good morning, miss.” Salvatore greeted her politely as he turned down the radio. He noticed that she was toting a canvas sack full of food this morning, instead of her usual faux leather bag. “Do you have everything you need, ma’am?”
“Oh, yes, sir.” Iris mumbled with half-closed eyes and a droopy posture. “I’m sorry, Sal. I had a rough night. Do you mind if I take a little rest this morning, please?”
“As you wish, miss.” Salvatore glanced up at Iris’s reflection in the rearview mirror and made a note of the deep, purple bags under her eyes. “I shall alert you once we arrive.”
Within seconds, Iris drifted back to sleep, with her head nestled comfortably in the folds of her cowl. Her dreams took her to a strange cave in an alien world, filled from floor to ceiling with luminescent blue crystals that glittered like the night sky. The cave looked familiar, yet different from the caves on Zhalterra, where she soared with the ivory Paxoram.
All her waking troubles on Earth were left behind, as the black sedan pulled out of the parking lot and narrowly avoided a shrewish woman walking her dog and approaching Iris's apartment stoop. The woman in question tugged at the leash of her growling German shepherd, who resisted setting a single paw near the front door. Debra Rozniak had no choice but to quietly scold Jasmine for disobeying her and extend her arm as far as it would go to shove a folded piece of paper into the crack in Iris’s door frame.
“For goodness sakes, Jazzy.” Debra yanked at the leash and tugged at the tight leather collar until its metal barbs dug into Jasmine’s coarse fur. “Get a grip, you stupid beast.”
The whimpers of the fearful dog reached Khazmine’s ears, and she snapped into wakefulness on her stool. She immediately recognized the strained noises coming from Jasmine and squinted intently before approaching the front door. It wasn’t that she had a particular dislike for animals in general, but Khazmine resented the hateful creature that had threatened to make a meal out of two of her roommates.
An incredibly high-pitched sound fanned out in all directions from the impish Augment, and she delighted in hearing the chaos unfold outside on the stoop. From what she could hear, Jasmine bolted away from the door with a yelp, dragging Debra with her back towards the leasing office. Though it was only eight in the morning, the birds’ chirps were easily drowned out by Debra’s screaming of colorful metaphors at her disobedient dog.
Good riddance. Khazmine smirked.
Khazmine shifted into her “Cassie” configuration and snooped around outside to see what Debra had wanted. She spotted the hastily typed note wedged into the doorway and caught the falling paper as she opened the door. Evidently, Debra was in such a hurry to deliver the letter that she hadn’t bothered to seal it in an envelope, so Khazmine felt no guilt about examining the note inside the apartment.
“Ms. Alcazar,
This message is to inform you that your account is to receive a fine for excessive use of electricity in your apartment. Please visit the leasing office with the full amount due by Friday, or it will be added to your next month’s rent.
Regards,
Debra Rozniak, Property Manager”
Khazmine had to force herself not to impulsively crush the offensive letter. She was certain that the power drain in question occurred after she had given the Paxoram camouflage demonstration to Zayzann last Thursday and had forgotten that the electricity wasn’t “free” to use.
D*mmit. Khazmine stuffed the letter into the interior pocket of her bolero jacket. How stupid of me. How could I forget?
It was bad enough that she had to pay a fine for overusing electricity, but to have this transgression levied against Iris without her knowledge or approval was intolerable to the Augment. There was no arguing with the charge, as it was completely fair, but Khazmine hoped to avoid having Iris stress about money if she could help it.
There’s nothing for it, I’m afraid. Khazmine shifted into her “Iris” camouflage and changed her shirt to one of Iris’s summer blouses. In for a penny, in for a pound…
The charge wasn’t terribly unreasonable, so “Iris” sauntered off to the leasing office to make things right on Iris’s account. With luck, Mrs. Rozniak wouldn’t mention the incident further, especially if the Augment apologized enough to satisfy the miserable harpy. What she hadn’t anticipated was Debra Rozniak’s boundless enthusiasm for kicking a person when they’re down.
“And I trust that you won’t abuse your lease’s generous utility allowance again?” Mrs. Rozniak concluded after fifteen minutes of belittling “Iris” without inviting her to sit down in one of the leasing office chairs. “We expect our tenants to abide by a reasonable usage of all utilities, including electricity, water, and so forth. The fact that you nearly doubled the allotted amount is frankly astounding to me. I’ve never met a more selfish abuser of our—”
Jasmine’s bark resonated throughout the leasing office, rattling the cheap, plastic framed photos on the sparce, spartan walls. “Iris” continued to emit the distressing sound from within her mechanical body, driving the dog to the brink of insanity. Jasmine bit and yelped at the bars of her cage, raised her hackles, and looked more like a rabid wolf than a stately shepherd.
“Shut up, Jazzy!” Debra shuffled to the cramped dog crate and swatted at the metal cage with a rolled-up magazine. “Honestly, she’s usually such an obedient dog. I don’t understand what’s wrong with her today…”
“Thank you for receiving my payment.” The Augment hid her animosity behind the veneer of a smile. Her left eye twitched at the thought of staying even one more minute in this depressing hovel. “Have a good day now.”
“Iris” smiled all the way back to the apartment, until she was out of range of the raving dog. It was fortunate that none of Iris’s neighbors had any animals that would be bothered by her ringing soundwaves, though Khazmine didn’t much care, even if there were any animals. Getting away from Debra was her chief concern, and she approached the apartment with a satisfied grin plastered on her face. No sooner had she entered through the front door than Zayzann looked down at her and squinted.
“Khazmine?” Zayzann’s nose scrunched up as he approached.
“Yes. I had some business to take care of in the leasing office.” Khazmine dropped her camouflage and whipped off the barely used blouse, causing Zayzann to avert his eyes behind one of his curled wings. “It’s all fine now, so you needn’t fret.”
“Geez, Khaz.” Zayzann’s throat pouch flushed, and he padded away from the Augment as she changed clothes. “You could give a guy some warning before—”
“I didn’t realize you were sensitive to such things.” Khazmine teased. Zayzann could hear the smile in her voice, and it forced him to draw his ears back and wince. “Anyway, there’s nothing else to report. No signs of anyone unusual around the complex, as far as I can tell.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Zayzann shifted down to his human form and reached for the familiar faux leather bag that was sitting on the coffee table. “Hey, Khaz? Doesn’t Iris take this to work every day?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“That’s odd.” Zayzann pawed at the bag with his long, blue-black fingers. “I wonder if she left it by mistake.”
“D*mmit!” Warren slammed the receiver down on his sleek black desk phone. “Of all the stupid…”
A gentle knock on his office door prompted Warren to collect himself before Iris poked her head in to investigate the unusual outburst. “Is everything okay, sir?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.” Warren pressed a hand against his forehead, and he leaned an elbow on his desk. “Just… go back to whatever you were doing. I don’t have anything else for you to work on presently.”
Iris delicately ducked out of the doorway and retreated to her workstation, leaving Warren alone in the spacious office, surrounded by artifacts from his many worldly journeys. Warren scowled at a small crystal statue that rested on a cherry wood pedestal and resisted the urge to chuck it out of his office window. He wasn’t entirely sure how to best direct his rage, but each of the objects in his grabbing radius was imminently throwable.
What happened to the shipping crates? Warren paced the accessible area between his desk and the guest chairs. Why didn’t they make it to the auxiliary warehouse? I could have made off with thousands of…
Warren’s cellphone vibrated once more in his pocket, and he jostled his trusty silver lighter out of the way to reach at the demanding device. His screen had a single message from someone named “VW” and Warren checked it immediately upon recognizing the initials.
“7:00 pm at the usual place?”
Yes, that was agreeable. Warren was sure to have more information to give his specialist in the meantime. He set aside his anger for the time being and buckled down on the real task at hand; discovering what had happened to his precious shipments that were supposed to be sent out last week. It didn’t take him long to solve the mystery, as Warren pulled up the change logs for the orders and spotted a repeating pair of irritating initials.
“Edits made last Thursday by IA”
The “IA” initials repeatedly tracked over each diverted order, routing them back to their original destinations. Warren pawed at the empty pocket where his cigarettes used to live, and clenched both fists in frustration. He was positively frantic by the end of the workday and waited impatiently on the rooftop of GC&S for Woggs to arrive. “What do you have for me on Iris Alcazar?”
“Not much more than before.” Woggs narrowed his eyes to appraise his frazzled client. “She’s been living with three roommates to make ends meet, and her sister has something weird going on at their dead mother’s house, but…”
“How is this all you have on her?” Warren bristled. “Are you losing your touch, Woggs?”
“Hey, you got what you wanted at the end of the day anyway, so why do you still need me to tail this woman?” Victor scoffed and kicked at a crumpled-up wad of paper Warren had tossed in his direction.
“She’s a variable I can’t control.” Warren rooted around in his coat pocket to fiddle with his lucky silver lighter and quiet his agitation. “And she keeps getting in my way.”
“Fine.” Woggs growled back at Warren. “I’ll keep digging then.”
The rooftop door slammed behind Woggs as he departed, leaving Warren alone once again to stew in his failures. He flicked the button on his lighter, igniting and extinguishing the tiny flame absentmindedly for a few minutes.
One way or another, Iris…
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