the archivists, part ii - K

When Geoffrey awoke, Clarice was not in the immediate vicinity. With the startlingly crooked image of his cat out of sight, Geoffrey was quick to dismiss the whole thing as a dream. He had fallen asleep without realizing it. He was working strange hours on this website and staying up late and drinking coffee in the middle of the day, and it was having adverse effects. That was all. He would happily have splashed a little water on his face, pointedly not looked for Clarice, and returned to his work, but he was aware of someone standing on the other side of his desk. Cautiously, because he was quite certain the front door was locked, he craned his neck to look over the top of his monitor.

The someone, who stood very straight and waited patiently to be addressed, was as nondescript as Geoffrey thought a person--or an animal, or an inanimate object--could possibly be. Not tall and not short. Not skinny, but not fat. The facial features, all quite regular and plain, looked neither masculine nor feminine, and Geoffrey found the only descriptor he could apply fairly to this someone was "human-ish."

He was probably still dreaming, he reasoned, but his hand crept surreptitiously toward the cell phone that rested beside his keyboard.

The someone--he, Geoffrey decided, for the seeming lack of breasts--raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, and Geoffrey could not tell whether the resulting expression was of interest or alarm.

"Stop," he said. "Please," and the word sounded unnatural, as though the mouth had very little experience shaping it. Despite such a word, it was not spoken as a plea, nor as a command. It simply was. "Your law enforcement officials will not respond."

Geoffrey's hand stopped. In this context, those words should have been threatening; but imagine as he might the various terrible ways in which this encounter could end, he simply couldn't perceive any malicious intent. He wasn't even intimidated, he realized. He leaned back in his chair, and he thought he saw pleasure in the stranger's lowering of brows.

"Gratitude," he said, and handed Geoffrey a sheet of paper. Geoffrey took it, but for the moment kept his eyes up. "We regret to inform you that your quadrupedal animal companion was found unsalvageable. Data corrupt. Based on your files, we have provided you with what we perceive to be a suitable replacement."

Geoffrey could scarcely make out the words for the complete lack of life in the voice that carried them. Monotone didn't quite hit it. It was a drone, but not unpleasant. Placid and entirely devoid of inflection.

"Who's 'we'?" Geoffrey managed, and then sat straighter in his chair. "Wait a second, you took my cat?"

"We have provided you with a suitable replacement." Geoffrey hazarded a glance around his office, but, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, quickly fixated on the stranger once more. "We are the Archivists."

"What's that? Did Gary send you here? Like, as a joke? Because this is getting kind of we--"

"Please see our memo for a detailed warning against your recent conduct."

"Warning?" Geoffrey echoed. Ah, there it was--a stirring of that far off emotion, fear. It was only a trickle, but there it was. Somehow, this didn't feel like a joke. It felt like even less of one when the stranger vanished soundlessly, not disturbing a single mote of dust.