Page 31 of Butterfly Effects

Several seconds ticked by. When they didn’t move or sound up any alarms, I started sawing downward with my key again, opening the gash in the wall wider and wider, until I was able to grip the sides and pull them far enough apart to let me step out into the hall.

Something about the room where I’d been left was clearly responsible for the telepathic dampening, because as soon as I was in the hall, it was like the world acquired another dimension that had been quietly suppressed before. I could see the two people in front of me properly, and identify them as individuals who looked nothing alike. They were both female Johrlac, close friends if not lovers, and members of the same creche group, whatever that meant. Their names were—

They didn’t have any names. I stopped, blinking at them in bemusement. The one on the left took pity on me.

“Names are meant to be shared aloud,” she said. “Not like castes or gender or anything else innate. We know you’re not from here, so we’re not going to take offense, but if you want to know our names, you need to ask us.”

Oh. That made sense. “I’m Sarah,” I said. “Who are you?”

They flashed amusement at each other, eyes still on me. “My name is Fetch,” said one.

“My name is Carry,” said the other.

“We’re assistants,” they said in unison.

I blinked again, more slowly this time, trying to put my thoughts into some semblance of a coherent order. Finally, I said, “Those are your … names?”

“And our tasks,” said Fetch. “I’m most frequently sent to retrieve things that have been put in other places.”

“And once she finds them, I carry them back to where they’re intended. I’m one of the best we have at my job,” said Carry, proudly.

“That sounds very … I’m sorry, did you change names when you got these jobs?”

They radiated bewilderment at me. “What do you mean?” asked Carry. “We were born to these positions, and we’ll hold them until we’re too old to continue any longer. Once that happens, we’ll be renamed and released from service.”

“I … What?”

“You’re a cuckoo, aren’t you?” asked Fetch. Unlike the others, she didn’t sneer when she said the word “cuckoo”: it was just a question on her lips, an innocent inquiry that needed to be answered.

I nodded.

“That explains everything,” she said sagely. “You can’t possibly be expected to understand.”

“Now,” said Carry. “We waited as long as we could to see if you’d figure out a way out of the room. It’s a primitive solution, but it makes sense and you’re loose now. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Not here,” said Fetch. “We can’t stay here. The authorities will be back soon. We can explain everything once we’re someplace safe.”

I hesitated. I didn’t know these people, and they were trying to get me to go someplace unfamiliar with them. Normally, that would have been a big-enough red flag that I would have declined the offer and gone looking for my own way out. Normally, I wouldn’t have just been abducted by members of my species who didn’t want to talk to me or answer any of my questions. If Fetch and Carry were willing to explain things elsewhere, then I was willing to let them.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

The first place we went was a large closet of some sort, filled with shelves of cleaning products that were unfamiliar and utterly comprehensible at the same time. Instead of plastic jugs, they had large gourds and hollowed-out sections of some kind of bamboo that just happened to be bright purple and as wide around as a dinner plate. The air smelled of citrus and herbs, sharper and subtly spicier than the bleach and Lysol I was accustomed to at home.

Fetch grabbed a woven bag from one of the shelves, tossing it at me. It hit me squarely in the chest, and I grabbed hold of it without thinking. “Remove what you’re wearing and put that on,” she said.

I blinked at her in dismay. Carry looked over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We’ve all got the same configuration—quite literally. I’d guess that your ancestors came from the same hive structure as ours. You have nothing to show that we haven’t seen.”

Johrlac don’t process visual stimuli in the same exact way as humans, but we can see. My cheeks heated with embarrassment, although my clear blood meant I wouldn’t have to deal with the secondary mortification of visibly flushing. I turned my back on the pair of them, opening the bag and taking a look inside.

Inside the bag was a black-and-yellow jumpsuit like the ones the two of them were wearing. I took it out, giving it a good shake to remove the wrinkles, then pulled my sweater off over my head.

The jumpsuit was ribbed and looked tight enough that I wasn’t sure I could get it on over my bra. I glanced over my shoulder. “What do I do about—?” I asked, gesturing vaguely at my breasts.

“Remove the chest cover,” said Fetch. “The suit will lift your breasts sufficient for modesty and comfort, and it isn’t made to accommodate such a garment.”