4

I looked around the sunlight districts of the city. Because of tracking or annoying phone calls, I threw my phone in a river. I also extracted more than enough cash from the credit card my Dad gave me and burnt it with a lighter I purchased. Although I did keep my identification card that told anyone, and was proof, I was a higher official of the City of Birds. After destroying everything traceable, I bought a cheap phone, a deadly-looking army-grade knife, and the most crucial thing for any activity; chocolate.

For three days, I asked around for information and looked for any clues. The only thing I found was a concert flyer. While this might seem useless. It had something only the higherup officials of the City of Birds would know. A little symbol of a bird sitting on an arrow.

Looks like I know where I'm heading at seven o'clock… I thought to myself with a bit of smirk on my face. After spending three nights on the street, I finally found something. And really needed to visit a bathhouse.

I let out a sigh, "well, no backing out." I said, like I was making a promise to myself.

The concert smelled like sweat, alcohol, illegal substances, and other things I do not wish to know the origin of. The only concern now was trying to make the most out of this opportunity as I could. For some reason, to get the ball rolling, you usually need to go to a bartender or security guard. That's just how this universe worked.

Shoving my way through the ever-moving, jumping, and screaming crowd, I started to think of a snotty, high confidence charade I could make up to act into. Then I realized I didn't need to change anything, that it was already me.

Collapsing into a high-rise chair in front of the bar, I said, "middle class, so loud. What do they have to be so proud about."

"Do you care for a drink?" the bartender turned around and asked.

His sleeve slipped a little to reveal a deep, shimmery purple tattoo with the same bird sitting lazily on an arrow tattoo.

I looked him in the eyes. Caramelized onion eyes trying to make me transparent and see what I want.

"You know exactly what I want," I said, leaning a little over the table between us.

My eyes wandered and stared intensely at the tattoo, "so how about we cut the chitter-chatter. Such things do not induce merriment or satisfaction for me."

After a second of sizing me up, from head to toe, he said, "may I indulge you in our VIP room?"

"Please do," well, that's when I signed my fate of ending up in a disaster and way over my head.

He took me to a light bluish-grey room with fancy decorations such as original beautiful paintings of the city. The room was only as big as a bedroom. Red couch cushions cradled the room in a square. The center was a glass coffee table. The glass, thick enough to stop a bullet, was faced with interweaving strands of gold. The hover device at the bottom of it let out an eerie modern blue glow. I poked the table; it didn't wobble. Even though it was at least one meter off the ground, the hovering device made it as sturdy as a table with legs. The rest of the light illuminating the room came from dangling luminescent beads. It felt empty. And the room's design looked rushed.

A woman well into her twenties came in after a few minutes of me waiting.

"Sorry for making you wait," she said, a polite smile; the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

The room's white and powdery blue lighting reflecting off of her dark skin and her dress. The cerulean blue light on her stark white dress created an ocean floor texture.

She reached out her hand, "may I just say what an honor it is to meet you. To rise to the top at such a young age! And to have a promotion just last month!" I confidently shook her hand, "quite admirable."

She sat down at the other end of the glass coffee table.

"You see," she continued, her eyes turned grave, "we are in quite the predicament. We have a new shipment of birds, but none of the handlers are available at the moment. That, and we can't find them."

She pulled out a tiny briefcase. Her hair of coils shifted in front of her shoulders. She opened it hesitantly as if the contents would break upon impact with the air. A glass vile with an eyedropper attached to its lid and a small laminated paper was displayed in a cushioned casing.

"We know how much you have been looking forward to a new masking substance. This cutie right here uses nanotechnology to make even the frame of your face and body appear differently. We will give you the only vile in the world of it and the program and instructions to make it. All we ask in return is that you help us with the birds we have in the back."

I tilted my head forward and recrossed my legs in another direction, "may I ask who the creator of this fine invention is?"

She stood the vile up, light reflecting off of its clear insides. "Only if I can ask why you're wearing normal clothes. With all due respect, I know that you're a politician of great power. So I can't see a reason for you to be wearing commoner's clothes," her eyes shifted, "unless you're not who you say you are."

She was suspicious. Rightfully so too.

"Are you questioning me? If you hadn't known, City of Birds officials never show their faces. So I'm sorry if I don't match your expectations," a disapproving sneer sneaked its way onto my face.

"If you want to see my credentials, then show me the inventor. I will not have their delivery boy question my entire being!" She looked smug.

I continued, "of course, a dog's behavior can not be reflected onto itself. It is the owner to blame. So I will see this," I pointed to her, trying to antagonize her, "dog's owner, and discuss her vile behavior. No business will be discussed until I see the owner of this poor, misguided, rabid, and manipulated dog," I stood up and moved towards the door.

Right then, three things were most likely going through her mind. One, if she loses me, she's out of luck for the birds. Two, I'm an imposter. And three, she doesn't need me and can find another replacement. By now, this plan had a one in three thirds chance of survival. In other words, I would rather her not think about the third and second option.

"I will introduce you to," she paused for a moment to swallow her pride, "my owner. Only if you tell me who you are."

She already has slipped up multiple times. She's not used to this kind of work. And probably was not trained in it. I want to exploit that to the best of my ability. I already was pretty confident I knew the name she wanted to come out of my mouth.

This was when my train of thought went to a little place I liked to call Prediction Land. Overthinking is welcome, and gets a discount on all of the rides. There is a daycare center for all of your logic and reasoning. I lived in this land most of the time. It has helped me a great deal of times. By now, I knew who I was supposed to be.

"I am Ammialia Crature. I have been in office for the last three years. Climbing the ladder of the City of Birds government. And have been appointed to a close-knit group of governors called 'the House of Cards' by the common folk. But referred to each other as 'the House of Primaries'. Do I need to say anything else? Or do you need more proof to show on your little tape?" Only one politician was power-hungry, young, crazy, and climbed the latter fast enough to qualify for her previous descriptions. And only a few who were crazed enough to have the gull to attempt an overthrow of a city such as the City of Trees.

She looked irritated alright. And was finally ready to reveal her hand.

"You say that the dog's behavior has nothing to do with the dog itself but with the master. Well, I guess that you're right. I am the master of myself, after all. And this take over can, and will, benefit all of us."

She paused. The real Ammialia Creture will be here any minute. She doesn't know me. No one knows my family. If she came here in the middle of this, it would be mayhem and very awkward. I wanted to hurry her up.

"Get to the point of this monologue. I am a very busy woman after all." I said.

Her black eyes glinted with false victory. She wanted to see the surprise on my face. She cockily said, "I am the owner of this dog. And the owner of this invention I have here. You see, I am the inventor,"

The more she talked, the more I expected it.

"You seem so proud of your invention," I pointed to the vial on the table, "how about you show me the effects in real-time?"

Reaching for the vile, I noticed a gold pendant of two fish circling each other placed on her waist to pull the fabric around her torso. Emphasizing her curves. At first, I thought it was an illusion. The fish were moving. Every fin and scale moved with extensive detail. In a way, the pendant reminded me of her deep and dark burnt honey eyes. How they were ever analyzing and unstable. Constantly drifting. Needless to say, I wanted the pendant badly.

She placed a drop of milky silver mystery substance on the top of her hand. The droplet stayed for a second, bounced around, and flattened. At first, it seemed like it didn't work. Then the spot glowed. It glowed a soft sunset orange.

She snapped her fingers. The spot turned into a tanned skin tone. The tone took over her entire hand. It keeps rapidly spreading. Masking everything. In just a few seconds, she looked like a completely different person. Her dark honey-come eyes turned to a tropical ocean blue. Her hair uncoiled and swiftly turned a strawberry blond, bone straight, mass of sleek ribbon-like hair.

My jaw started to drop, then I realized I needed to keep my composure. Even her body changed from a lengthy runner's frame to a slim baile frame.

"As you can see, this nanotechnology uses illusions and the coloring of the little tiny bots to make me into someone completely different from myself," she pulled out some hand sanitizer from her little hand purse. "And it's as easy to get off as using some hand sanitizer. Very useful in quick situations."

She dropped some on her hand. It sent a chain reaction to the rest of the bots to deactivate and retreat. They all fled away from her body and gathered in a tiny dot on the palm of her hand.

She somehow figured out a way to bend the limitations of nano screening technology to the absolute limit. Our engineers in the City of Birds have been trying to find an answer to this riddle of how far we can push small bots to make us look different. She did it and is using it for as little as a bargaining chip. I wasn't going to tell her how much it was actually worth.

"I'll do it," I said, looking in her eyes daringly. Her eyes felt like they were going to swallow me up. Any ambition she was poorly masking showed, like a bonfire in a dark, cloudy night.

"Well then," she stood up, dusting off her dress, "please follow me."