The following month passed by flying. I trained a bit with each of my professors, , including sharing some classes with Revvie and her instructor where I got some experience as a mop to put on my resume. To my fortune, I got the hang of enhancement magic quickly, and managed to outrun a few responsibilities thanks to it. Manifestation was a mess, and the teacher resulted to be the same one who taught summoners, so I coincided with Valenan on Wednesdays. He got the hang of summoning a small white, ethereal puppy pretty soon. This, in turn, seeded an idea in the fertile grounds of my mind, and it sprouted into me keeping a constant, illusory crow perched on my shoulder, like I was the bastard son of a grave robber and a pirate.

  That day, when I arrived at the office I found him. Tall and unblemished, of shoulders wide and a chin strong, with thin lips framed by with a dense goatee. Officer Jagu perspired authority through every pore. He was muscles, short black dreads, and a tanned skin that betrayed his activities outside of the dome, as being under it is like wearing good quality sunscreen—factor fifty or so, if what I have read about the subject is correct.

  His jaw seemed locked like Sweetpea’s, local pitbull that never harmed a fly, around the throat of the family’s toddlermost creature. He was holding a clipboard and looking intently at one o the pages on it. Valenan sat to my right, ankle resting on the knee, foot unable to find pace as on his hands a pen became the envy of circus performers everywhere. Revekka sat to my left, back straight and stare fixed on the clipboard. I hummed a happy song.

  “Stop that, Ladius,” the rough voice of Jagu boomed with unmatched authority.

  “It’s a ballad I am composing about beating up the righteous,” I said, immune to authority as always.

  “You will get yourself killed by that sort of comments one day. Not every Retriever out there is stable enough to understand you mean the organization no harm,” he said drily, merely informing me. “Yes, the abilities of you guys could be put to use, but I will need to split the team.”

  “Okay, but I am talking the left side of Revvie with me. The right half hits like a truck, Val can have it.”

  “… Was that a joke about sawing me in half?” she let out a pfft and smiled briefly. “At least I didn’t get insulted this time.”

  “What do you mean, sir, by splitting the team?” Valenan asked, ignoring both of us. How dared him.

  “Your friend Revekka here developed a sacromotor excellent for close quarter combat, a shock unit if there ever was one. You are not well suited for the frontline and could provide support on the back with a summon or two. Carrying things, helping relocate hurt officers. And Saon is fuel for the fire.”

  A grimace settled on my face. “Instigator? I expected nothing more, but it’s… can’t I get it reconsidered?”

  “It’s a fact that you are not reneging of this role out of moral or emotional concerns, Ladius. Why is it that you are reluctant to be an instigator?”

  “Getting killed would ruin my plans for the weekend.” I steepled my fingers it was time for negotiations. “And be a sorry loss for the association, after all the resources that went into training me.

  “Instigators rarely get killed,” he informed with a straight, stone face.

  “The difference between rarely getting killed and commonly getting killed is not relevant if I end up a hundred percent mulched in any case, sir. Almost never getting killed is the least I’d be comfortable with.”

  “Revekka has the highest chances of getting injured or worse out of you all, and I don’t see her complaining.”

  “If Revekka dies that doesn’t affect me so I am willing to accept it.” I turned towards my teammate “Offense Revekka.”

  “None taken.” She grinned.

  “Fuck.” There were more pressing matters, however, so my coprolalia had to be nipped at the bud, poor thing. “Instigator is dishonest work. Dishonest work should come with added benefits.”

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  “No. You won’t get a higher wage.”

  “Nothing about that: repair the coffee machine.”

  Valenan facepalmed. “It’s always like this, sir. Please, do repair the machine so he shuts up about it.”

  Valenan was right: I was always like this, regardless of the status of the machine. The machine was a means to an end, and the end was to have something to complain about.

  The sergeant swallowed audibly and scratched his ear a bit. “That is to the benefit of everyone who may fancy a hot drink during their shift, so I will see how we may expedite the process. You are going to come with me for a crash course, Saon Ladius.”

  “I prefer to have a crush course, Jagu.” I stared at him in the eyes, some beautiful eyes. Eyes I’d like to lick. I commanded the triplets to lend me the energy of their souls once more, and passing through my illusion modules, it turned to a simile of sound. A song, a slow, romantic ballad.

  “The question is not if I will write you up for this, Saon. The question is if I can even do that without new rules being passed!”

  “You cannot write up passion.” I started unbuttoning my uniform, revealing my birthday suit underneath.

  “You wear another uniform under your usual uniform?” Revvie asked, horrimused.

  “Yeah, I self-gifted it to myself in the last anniversary of my birth.” And under it, of course, I wore my sequined outfit of doom, always ready and raring to go.

  Jagu kicked the floor with the ball of his foot thrice in quick succession. “Order! Ladius. Meet me in my office, ask the receptionist if you don’t know where that is. I am not entertaining your current antics no more. You two, report with Amaldia.”

  My comps intoned a pathetic “Yes Sir” in unison.

  He stormed out the room and banged the door close.

  Once the dust settled, so to speak, Revvie raised her voice and threw a question at me. “Saon, do you… jog on the opposite sidewalk?”

  “Be blunt about it, because in a literal sense, I use the most convenient sidewalk for joggin.”

  “I meant…” her hand described circles in the air as she thought how to phrase her statement. “Are you a snake enchanter?”

  “I will be able to enchant many things, but I wouldn’t try with ophidians of the venomous persuasion, no.”

  “Saon, she’s asking if you are gay,” Valenan offered helpfully and RUINED MY FUN. I need to cap that. Yes. He fucking did.

  “I am gay just for you, Revvie.” I fluttered my perfect eyelashes at her, sending messages more mixed than the curs living in the dumpster.

  “Murdered Gods, stop it!”

  “You asked for it this time, Rev. It’s obvious Saon’s sexuality is whatever bothers his interlocutor the most.”

  “And defaults to heterosexual when I am alone, yes.” I offered him a fist to bump. He declined. “Such engorged pride shalt be thine downfall, Valenan of the Puppersoul.”

  Valenan put up a poker face before hissing through his teeth. “You are a lost cause, my friend. See you in the field?”

  I stood from my chair and stretched my lower back. “I think we both would prefer you don’t see me, Val.” I said as I walked out with the gravitas warranted by the situation. My boots felt heavier than usual while the idea of being an Instigator. I’d have to go undercover, mingle with the masses and attack the police, or even another Retriever, depending on circumstances beyond my control. As I had told the sergeant, it was a dishonest job, and I would derive no pleasure from doing it.

  Furthermore, the rebels had a point. Several points. Many points, considering their love for cutting and stabbing officers. But beyond physicality, they had the conviction of being in the right side of story. So long as the governor remained on the top of the pecking order, we Retrievers would be alright. But the thought of him ever falling from grace, of dying before a traitor, a hero or a criminal was enough to stir my gut. Because then we followed. And I couldn’t extricate myself from that nebulous “we”. I wore the uniform, I appeared on the databases, I carried the badge and the stigma, and I would pretend to be one of them, a full-fledged traitor. And I enjoyed an expensive dental health plan that made up for that tiny risk. If you are gonna die, die with your fillings on.

  On the way to his office my hands remained behind my back. I didn’t like to imagine the halls of central mirrored my future walk to the hallows after being captured by rebel leaders or a criminal gang, but I couldn’t help it. Many Retrievers failed to die old, and while I planned on doing so, so did most of the ones who found themselves on the wrong end of an execution.

  I arrived at Jagu’s office, and it couldn’t contrast more with Aconessi’s. The plastered walls remained blank except for the occasional stain that marked the grave of some brave mosquito. There were shelves with folders, too, a couple of stainless steel archivers, and a cup filled with different writing utensils. It felt like a plane where everything felt into place under the stern gaze of a metrosexual demiurge.

  “You should have knocked.”

  “The door was open,” I blurted out, reluctant to take a seat until I had received explicit orders to do so.

  “So are coffins until they get filled.” He stated, peeking at my file. Then he met my stare. “This is what you will do, Ladius, so pay attention, because I am not going to repeat myself more than necessary.”

  “What?” I asked as naturally as it came to me

  “That I am not…ugh. You almost get me. Sit on the floor, please.”

  The game was on. He was asking me to sit on the floor so I would take a seat. Me using the little bench in front of his desk would please him, and me sitting on the floor would result in obeying his order. Tricky bastard.

  I opened my arms in a T pose and looked straight at him. “I am comfortable like this, go on.”

  First, he groaned. Then, he explained.