“The tinkering,” she says, as if James is the idiot. She takes a sip as he watches her intently. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Clearly, I was drugged, considering I don’t know how I got here.”
She rolls her eyes. “No one drugged you.” As if to make her point, she reaches forward—never mind the view itgives him—and takes his glass. She takes a demonstrative sip, swallowing the liquid before placing the glass back before him. When she leans back, her shoulders hunch. It is clear she’s just as exasperated as he is.
It’s his turn to frown as he picks up his probably-not-drugged Vine. Like her, he could use a drink. Just a little something to take the edge off. The thick red liquid goes down with a burn. James has to unscrew his face from the pinch the tart drink creates. “Please elaborate on the tinkering.”
“You think someone’s abducted you. You think you have a name already. There’s something wrong with your nose. And you have wrinkles. And you’re talking back. And you don’t want to touch my breasts. Shall I go on?” She lets out something between a gasp and a sob as if this is all her bad luck.
“I broke my nose boxing when I was seventeen. As far as the wrinkles go, that’s what happens when you’re in your mid-thirties, sweetheart.” She scoffs at this, but he continues. “I’m talking back because that’s my prerogative, and my parents gave me the only name I’ve ever had. I already addressed the abduction. ShallIgo on?”
A sheepish grin lights up her pretty features. “You didn’t address my breasts.”
“While your breasts look very touchable, I’m not going to because this is insane. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you would go put on some appropriate clothing.”
Kate’s eyes narrow as if she’s picked up something from their exchange that she can use for leverage. James almost releases an audible groan as she says, “No. I don’t think I will.”
He sighs, refusing to take another glance at them, no matter how tempting. “Very well.”
She takes another sip, emptying her glass. “I have a hypothesis.”
“Enlighten me.” He shakes his head, wondering if he’d be better off running for the door now that she’s relaxed than listening to whatever her hypothesis is.
“See, I’m a scientist.”
He almost chokes on his Vine. An air control officer is a scientist? So not a flight attendant. It’s enough to convince him he’s in an alternate reality. Or a dream. No, this feels too real. He eyes the door, inching forward in his seat. Hoping she won’t notice. Being a scientist means she’s probably smart and calculating. Unless she’s lying about being a scientist.
Kate continues. “To prove theories, scientists ask questions. So, if you’ll allow, I’m going to ask you a series of questions.”
James takes a deep breath, nodding. Okay, this is a path forward, and he doesn’t feel like he is in immediate danger. Sure, he can try to flee from this apartment, but how far will he get? Will anyone outside speak English or come to his aid? That can be Plan B if the next thing that comes out of her mouth is utter nonsense.
“Go on,” he instructs her.
“What year is it?”
He blinks. “Twenty thirty-five.”
She nods. “Where do you live?”
“New York City.” She’s hitting him with straightforward questions to test his sanity. Good so far. He takes a sip of the red liquid that is growing on him with each taste.
“How did you die?”
He spits the Vine across the room. “What did you say?”
Kate repeats the question as if it’s innocuous. “How did you die?”
6 – A Disturbing Turn of Events
James
The question is so startling, it cuts short all thoughts of running out the door. James holds out his arms, showing her his living, breathing flesh. “I guess I don’t understand the question.”
A pitying expression weighs down Kate’s bright features. “James, the year is twenty-three ninety. New York City is underwater. You’re not the James Alexander Fletcher you used to be.” She pauses, jumping up mid-thought, rushing to the room he awoke in. When she comes back, she has an empty box in her hands.
James recognizes the logo from the website she visited earlier. And there’s that word again: manupartner.
“A week ago, you were nothing more than a DNA sample attached to a GROW Pad,” she says.
