This choice: Move to another mask--and keep your distance • Go Back...Chapter #42The Two Pattersons by: Seuzz   "You say I don't have to be inside Jessica while you're fucking her?" you ask. Frank shakes his head. "Then why do I have to be inside Jessica at all?"
"Well, you don't," he replies, sounding a little uncomfortable.
"So how about you keep Jessica as your girlfriend, and I go be someone else?"
"I was hoping we could make this a real partnership, Prescott." He sounds peevish.
"Then how about you be Jessica, and I be Frank or Joe?"
"That's not going to happen." Now he's snapping at you. "I told you, these are my guys—"
"I don't want to take them away from you," you retort. "I'm just making a point. We're teammates, and I'm fine with that. It's peachy," you add, though you wince little at how insincere you sound (for you are). "This partnership idea, though— I'll be honest with you, I'm not real thrilled by it."
He looks at you steadily, but you're not daunted. You only look away when you catch a movement from the corner of your eye, and spot Joe peering around the corner. "Hst," he says to Frank, and after a moment's hesitation your "team captain" rises and joins him in the dining room. Their low voices mutter indistinctly.
"Alright, I respect your wishes," Frank says when he returns, though his eyes combine the Patterson frost with the Durras steel. "We'll keep things cool with Jessica until Sunday. Think about who you'll want to swap with."
You're not inclined to soften your rejection of him, so you don't, and he shows you out.
* * * * *
Evening and the next day pass without incident. You ponder who you might take in trade for Jessica. Patterson—in whichever Durras guise he's adopted—avoids you, until five o'clock, when he calls and asks over to the house.
"I've got a new toy for us," he says as he closes the front door behind you. He's dressed as Joe now, and for a moment you have the impression he's going to drape an arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the cheek; you freeze and stare hard at him. He seems to read your thought, and grins slyly. "I've been going through the book, and I've been finding some pretty neat shit."
"I'm not surprised," you say. "You've had it for a couple of weeks now."
"Yeah, but there were some problems. The spells are getting tricky. I—" He catches himself. "It's been taking a while to figure them you." You snort, and he gives you an exasperated look. "You think you're so smart, Prescott?"
You've no reply to that. "So what's this new toy?"
"Telepathy," he says, drawing you over to the dining room table, off of which he picks up a metal band. "A new kind of band, like cell phones. If you're wearing these, you can talk to your team mates thought-to-thought. Pretty useful if you need to coordinate people without actually talking to them."
You take the band from him. It is a metal strip, very much like the mind bands. The great difference is that the lettering is a flaming red, not a cool blue: STEVEN PERCEVAL PATTERSON. "Why's it got your name?" you ask.
"Because at the moment I'm the only one it's tuned to. Yeah, see, what you do is make up two of them, and set them on people's heads. If they have the same names in them, then those people can all talk to each other. So, we put this one on you, and your name will go in it. Then we seal it. Then we make another one, put it on my head and then on yours, and seal it. Then you wear one, and I wear the other, and we can talk to each other. If we put Gordon's name in them before we seal them, we can have a three-way conversation."
"Huh," you say. "I guess that is pretty neat—"
"Yeah, so how about you take Jessica off, and we get these things finished up." He gestures at another band—this one blank—sitting on the table.
You reach for your face, then pause, and eye him. "I should take these clothes off first," you say, and a grin explodes across his face. "But I'll do it in the bedroom," you add, and he groans.
* * * * *
You jerk awake with the feeling that something is trying to explode out of your chest. Your head throbs, and you clutch it with a groan. A tremble passes through your limbs.
And then all the pain and discomfort passes, leaving you with only the feeling that—
You groan again and gingerly touch your chest. Leaving you with only the feeling that you're stuck in a shit body.
You sit up with a sigh, to find Joe Durras perched on the side of the bed, looking at you with gleaming eyes. You grab a pillow and hurl it at him—a bad, weak throw that he wholly dodges by merely jerking his head to the side.
"Alright, I'm here," you grumble. "And we both know what's going on."
"Really?" he says softly. "What's your name?"
"William Martin Prescott," you reply with all the sarcasm you can muster. "I should fuck you up for sticking me here. Except that was the plan, wasn't it?" You fall back onto the bed. "How come I wound up here, and you got to stay there?" You point at Joe.
He smirks.
"You're an idiot. That or you don't remember," he says. "The band doesn't transfer anything, it just makes copies." His eyes narrow. "You really think you're Prescott?"
"No, I know who I am. I'm Steve Patterson." It sounds very odd having to lay claim to your own name. And then the uneasiness grows. "Except," you have to add slowly. "It doesn't really work that way, does it?"
Joe shakes his head.
"No, I'm Steve Patterson," he says—and he sounds almost as discomfited as you at having to claim the name. "Under this mask, of course," he adds, pointing to his face. "And that really is Prescott's body." He points to you.
"Don't remind me." You look around for some clothes, but there are only Jessica's discarded things. You feel very awkward, much more awkward than you'd felt when wearing Prescott's mask. I remember that, you think. How weird.
"And because this is really Prescott's body," you sigh, "that means I'm really Prescott."
He nods. "But you really do think you're me?"
"Totally convinced of it." You glare at him, and lick your lips. "In fact, I'd really like it if you took that thing off and let me see ... who is under ..." You flinch.
"No, never mind," you hurriedly say as he cocks an eyebrow. "It would be too weird for you to take it off, and I saw that it really was—" Again, you lick your lips. "That it really is me under there." You shiver.
"Well, I guess we'll call this a success," Joe says in a way that is horribly cheerful. "You know, I wasn't totally sure Dumbass Durras had that spell figured out right. But I guess it really does work the way he said it would." He grins. "It makes Prescott think and act just like me. So ... Bro!" He holds out his hand.
You sit up with a grimace, and clasp it, and he draws you off the bed. "Can you get me some clothes?" you ask. "You gotta find this as horrible as I do."
"No shit. You got my sympathies. But before we get you dressed, we need to figure out where you're gonna go. Not back to being Jessica, I bet. Unless you're as curious as I am to know what it feels like having the Patterson penis up in—"
"You're curious, I'm disgusted," you exclaim, pulling away from him. "You would be too, in my place. How about you put on Jessica, and I give you a feel for—"
"Okay, you made your point." He laughs, then turns grave. "Seriously, I think I want you taking over for Frank. It makes sense, us being 'twins' now and everything."
"Also, you wouldn't feel like you have to lock your door at night," you retort. "Not that it could keep him out if he came knocking."
"Well, that too," Joe says, and he looks a little uncomfortable. It occurs to you that he hadn't realized just how familiar with his thinking his new partner would be.
"Maybe I should go back to Westside," you counter. "You've had that idea too, right? Keep an eye on those guys? Run things for you while you're over here? Or, same difference," you can't resist adding, "you run things over at Eastman for me while I'm over there."
His lips briefly disappear. "Yeah, I thought of that. But it would be kinda hard for you to run things while being Prescott."
"So I put on my— our—" You sigh. "Your mask and be Steve Patterson. Gordon's just up there fucking golems. I'll pretend I'm doing the same thing."
He's silent for a bit. So are you, for despite your objections, you're not strongly drawn to one possibility over the other. "Okay, I'll admit I'm of two minds on what I want you to do," Joe starts.
"Yeah, we're literally of two minds now."
His glance is sharp and impatient; he's fully realizing now that you're not a golem, that you are him. He sucks on his cheek, then makes a face and shrugs. "You wanna be the tie-breaker? Fine, be the tie-breaker. Where do you wanna go?"  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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