Phil and Mary take me out for drinks. An initiation ritual, according to Mary, for my first day in the office. It’s like they forget that I’ve been working here as long as they have. Longer than Mary, actually. The walk over to the bar was rough, I’ll admit, but the learned combination of walking intentionally slowly and breathing deeply does let the pair of coworkers keep up with me. If I’m entirely honest, I’m not positive why I’m doing this. Phil freaked me out a bit. He seemed to know something about me. About the people Ally said were after me. And then he started shoving random bits of several different devices together until he had what looked almost like a large beetle or a tiny drone. I’d tried to ask him about what he was doing and what was going on, but according to Mary, he zones out when he gets inspired. But once Mary decided to come along, I assented. She seems a good influence on the more abrasive elements of Phil, and a chill enough person to be a good hang.
“Phil,” she slowly starts to state. I know by now, this is not her talking slowly but me perceiving a distorted version of events. “Are we going to get picked up by your van? You could show Emmy here where the little doodad you shoved together is and what it does.”
“Unfortunately, no,” Phil replies, slightly slower. My heartbeat isn’t any faster, so he’s talking slowly as well. Trying to think of the right words maybe? He doesn’t seem like a naturally slow talker. “Haven’t quite perfected autonomous driving most, don’t want to try the new version while impaired.”
“No fun,” Mary says.
I try my best to talk at the same pace as they are. “What. Van? You. Are. Perfecting. What?”
“We all have our hobbies,” Phil states, faster than before, though still slowed by my distortion. This is a well practiced answer. “At least mine is practical.”
I don’t see why it’s a well practiced answer until after that. “Hey,” interjects Mary, “Studies have shown having a regular gaming group helps with empathy, teamwork, and problem solving skills, all while having a good fucking time.”
I sigh. So his default answer to his van is deflecting the focus onto Mary. Makes sense, I suppose, he doesn’t seem to like talking about himself much. The final couple blocks to the bar, they bicker uninterestingly on how relatively cheap and or expensive each of their hobbies are. Evidently the answer is kind of it depends on the month and how they decide to go about getting the necessary materials. The only thing out of the ordinary is Phil seems to talk about sitting alone with a toolbox and his van as a social experience. Probably just to keep the comparison with Mary going.
At the bar, we get drinks. I find something quite interesting. As long as I continue to drink, time passes almost at normal speed. Not quite, but pretty close. We grab a table and talk work for a while, drinking our rough day away. Or, a relatively normal day for the pair of them, I’m guessing. It was rough for me, Mike still hasn’t left the apartment. It’s gotten to the point that Will and I have been pushing for him to see a therapist about it. Eventually, Mary ducks away for a trip to the restroom. This causes Phil to chuckle as she leaves, some kind of shared joke that I don’t understand. But it gives me the opportunity. I lean in. “You seem really chill about the whole I can slow down time thing.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he posits, “Makes sense with your work speed, and your constant deep breathing exercises that you think people don’t notice. Bet you most people think you’ve got some kind of anger problem.”
“But most people probably wouldn’t believe me if I told them I could slow time, too,” I counter, “So why do you?”
“Mary is probably one of the most technically skilled pianists you’ll ever meet, I can see and understand technology really well, and one of my oldest friends can alter her body’s appearance at will. Everyone has things.”
I barely catch that third person he mentions. Alter body appearance? What does that actually mean? “Can we go back to that last one?”
“No,” Phil replies slower. My heart rate must be going up, makes sense after learning shapeshifters are around us. “Some of our things are just more, let’s say, unique, than others.”
I furrow my brow. “Are you saying your tech thing is like my time thing?”
He smiles. “Maybe, but no one cares enough to chase me. Not anymore at least.”
I press, “So you know who the weird guys Ally said were looking for me are?”
“No,” he replies, shaking his head as his brow furrows, “I don’t. They weren’t who they should have been.”
“What’s that mean? What’s going on? Who were they? I have so many questions.”
Phil shrugs. “And I don’t have that many answers. Not that I can share, in any case.”
“What am I?” I ask.
“An server systems analyst,” Phil replies with a smirk. “And some time in your life, you had a traumatic, probably near-death experience. After which, everything changed. At least that’s what they told me.”
“Your shapeshifting friend?” I ask.
“No,” he says without really answering. “In any case, that event caused an instinctive, immediate adaptation based on an indeterminate number of factors, to aid in survival. Some, like you, get incredibly powerful adaptations; others, like myself, less so. Though my working theory is the more powerful an ability is, the more problems it brings along with it. Like my friend Norman nearly starving himself to death, or you likely struggling to live a normal life with time being all wonky around you.”
“Can you fix it? Can anyone?” I ask. His head cocks to the side at that question. No, in the middle of the question. It wasn’t related to me at all.
“Nope,” he replies, his eyes going over my shoulder, scanning for something, “You either need to learn how to turn it off, or get good at managing and hiding it. Like how I no longer feel the need to steal your phone and delete half of it so it stops complaining.”
“When you talk like that,” a voice over my shoulder says, “People think you’re a monster.” I look over my shoulder, trying to stay slow and smooth. A relatively attractive woman with dirty blonde hair walks right up to the table and sits down.
“Maybe I am a monster,” Phil counters.
“What would that make me then?” she asks, talking like she knows him. Maybe an old flame.
“The reason I’m going to get killed someday. Why are you here?”
“Officially? A conference,” she answers. The look in Phil’s eyes tells me that he knows this woman, and does not believe her. “Fine, that friend I mentioned last time whispered words of concern and asked for a favor. Unnecessarily, evidently, but then I recognized a van and figured I should head to the nearest bar.”
I smile. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Phil?” I ask slowly, making sure to enunciate each word because there is no telling what my heart is doing right now, as drunk, as weirded out, and as stressed as I am.
“Not planning on it,” Phil replies.
The woman shakes her head at Phil, expecting this response. She definitely knows him. “Ignore him. I’m Cecilia, Phil and I used to work together.” That’s not right, there’s only one Cecilia who we’ve employed in the many years Phil has worked here, and she’s a fifty year old exec.”
“Nice to meet you Cecilia, I’m Emmy,” I say. “And I may not be in the office much, but I don’t recognize you.”
Mary shows up, clearly curious about this new member of the table. “Hello, random person who’s interrupting coworker drinks,” she says, feigning offense to mask her curiosity.
“Sorry,” she says to Mary, “Used to work with Phil at his last job, figured I’d catch up. Clearly I stepped into a sitch I shouldn’t have.”
“You worked with Phil before he came to the city? So you know all his dirty little secrets,” Mary muses aloud.
She smiles. No, more like smirks. “Not all, but a lot of them,” she says. I wonder if she knows the secret he’d just told me. Phil shoots her a blank look. She just continues to smirk.
“Do tell,” I say with a smile of my own.
She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, while I may know many of his secrets, he always seems to know all of mine.”
Phil’s face remains blank. “Not all, just enough of the important ones,” he says calmly. The voice of someone who knows his secrets aren’t going to be revealed. Then he adds, “And is your new friend going to have an issue with how things played out?”
She shakes her head. “I doubt it,” Cecilia tells Phil, “But I really should be getting back to the conference. Don’t want to monopolize him away from you ladies.”
“It’s not like that,” I insist, while Mary adds a chuckle.
Cecilia nods at Phil. “See you soon,” she says.
Phil smiles. “Hopefully not.” Once the woman left, Mary looked at Phil, curiously. “Ignore her, she’s a terrible person.”
“So did you two used to,” Mary begins before making a clicking noise with her mouth. I can’t quite tell whether she’s more curious about Phil’s sex life or the woman’s. Perhaps both.
Phil shakes his head. “No, she was just someone from my last job who I could count on to make any time an interesting one.”
“In a good way, or a bad one?” I ask.
He smirks. “Yes,” he answers. “I’m heading back to my van to sober up and drive home.” The then looks directly at me. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
“I have gone out drinking before,” I insist instinctively, before realizing he was talking about the mysterious forces he had noted were after me. And he left. I also don’t see Cecilia in the bar anymore.
I look over at Mary, “Are you alright?” I ask, “Is this normally how these nights end?”
“I’m fine,” she says, “Almost sober enough to walk home. And kind of. He normally crashes on my couch until he’s sober enough, but I’m betting he doesn’t want you to think anything untoward about him and me.”
I nod. Okay, makes some sense. He doesn’t seem like the sort to mix work and his love life, but he and Mary were also definitely close and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t heard any rumors. Mostly from Todd, as Todd was one of the few people at the job I had regular contact with, who I would guess asked Mary out at a holiday party, was rejected, and assumed it was because she was sleeping with someone else at the office. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t freak him out.”
“Nah, he seems chill with you. That Cecilia chick freaked him out a bit, though,” Mary replies, “You think he was lying and they used to get freaky?”
“Don’t think so. He doesn’t seem the sort to date in the workplace. Maybe she has some real dirt that she was threatening him with in code?”
“Maybe,” Mary says, “If I was more sober I might be able to remember. Either way, I’m done for the night. You good on your own, or do you want company?”
“Go on, don’t worry about me. I’ll probably see you in another few years.”
Mary laughs as we close out our tabs and walk outside. She heads to the crossing in one direction, I head the other. I start hyperventilating to get my heartrate up. I want to be home at a reasonable hour, and preferably be mostly sober once I’m there. Time begins to slow. And I work up quite the sweat by the time I’m back at my front door. At the door I stop and take a moment to breathe, to slow my heart rate back down somewhere close enough to calm that I can communicate normally. Only then do I head inside. “Welcome back,” Ally says as the door opens, wheeling herself over, “How was your night on the town?”
“Terrible,” I joke, “Did those people come back?”
“Nah, they said they’d find you at work. Did they?”
I shake my head. “Nope, didn’t see any weirdly dressed guys. Other than my coworkers.”
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