Perception Changes (Chapter 1)

I rush down the crowded street, everyone's faces reflecting the same look. An average nose, average eyes, average mouth. All completely identical. To them, I look the same.

I need to get to the library. I've only got nine minutes until it closes. I need to return the scrolls. I can't afford any more late fees.

Where the people differ is in their clothing. And, of course, by gender. There are two generic faces. One male and the other female, like mine. This caused some complaint, but it's too late to change it now. Personally, I'm happy with the choice.

I round another corner and slam into someone else. All my scrolls tumble out of my arms and roll in different directions across the sidewalk. The young man I ran into stutters an apology.

I suppose faces (and height) also differ slightly by age. You can always tell precisely how old a stranger is, just by looking at his face and stature. There are some people who are tall or short for their age too. The perception changes can't eliminate that difference completely.

"I'm so sorry," The stranger says. "Are you alright? I shouldn't have cut the corner so close."

He starts picking up scrolls from under the crowd's trampling feet. As he does his face changes. This process always intrigues me. I've only just started seeing the change.

For most people, the perception changes start occurring around age thirteen, sometimes even as early as eight. For me it didn't start until a week ago. I'm seventeen now. My mom always did say I have an open mind. I suppose that could have influenced my late changes, but my friends always said it was a glitch in the system. That I was a glitch.

As the stranger places scrolls in my arms his short, mousy brown hair lengthens and curls slightly. His cheekbones become more defined. His chin comes to a point, and his eyebrows soften. His eyes. Oh, his eyes.

Like always, his face transforms into a devastatingly handsome angel. It's supposed to be less drastic later on. But I'm rather enjoying it as it is for now.

"It was my fault really. I was rushing. Thank you." I say as he places the last scroll in my hands. "I really have to go. The library's closing. Thanks again."

I rush off. It's always sad leaving such a pretty face. But his face will stick out like a sore thumb in this crowd if I ever see him again.

With about two minutes to spare I rush into the library. I slow my pace the second I get through the door. It's not a good idea to run in the library. Your face will be forever recognized by the librarians as a disturber of the peace.

"Hello. I'd like to return these scrolls." I say as I walk up to the librarian at the counter. I think she's new. But it's hard to say since I haven't been here since the perception changes started.

She gives me a disproving look. I dump the armful of scrolls on the counter. They roll to both ends, but we catch them before they can roll off. I'm sure I appear hideous to her.

A few of the scrolls have been soiled from the tumble in the streets.

"We might have to charge you if we can't get the stains out."

"I understand. I'm terribly sorry."

"I just need your chip now." She says. I hold out my left wrist and she waves the scanner wand over it. My name, Katja Nattelle, flashes on the wand. "The library is now closed."

Her face, which had a few wrinkles to begin with, sags a little more than when I came in. Her nose is just a bit larger as well.

I exit out the large double doors of the library into the crowded streets once again. As I walk by the strangers, this time I walk slower. I pick out faces, one at a time, and focus on them.

The first face my eyes settle on is a woman's face. She's fairly young. Younger than me. Probably fifteen or sixteen. A hand raises to her face with a cigarette. It's so sad to see people so young smoking. Her face stretches until it is long and gaunt.

This feature was added by some health organization or other to try to deter people from smoking. From what I've heard it helped a bit, but it didn't eliminate the habit completely.

My eyes fall next on an older woman. Maybe thirty years old. She's wearing a very skimpy outfit. Her face stretches and widens until it takes on a completely disgusted look. She looks ready to kill someone, but I think that's her normal expression. What an unfortunate change. I guess that shows what I think of her outfit choice.

It's amazing how much the perception changes can show you about yourself. I always thought I'd learn many new things about the people around me. Instead I've learned much more about myself.

I look for a new face to focus on. I find it simply fascinating to see someone's facial features morph into something new.

Through the crowd I see a face slightly different from the rest. I must have encountered him before. He's middle aged. He has a nicer look to him than the other men around him. Kinder, almost. I think he's the man who helped me with my ticket at the train station.

It's funny how much easier it is to recognize people now. Strangers, that is.

When I first saw my dad after the perception changes kicked in, I didn't recognize him at all. He started out with the generic, male face.

I remember I walked down the stairs to the dining room. It was a normal day. A weekend. Dad was home from work and I had no school that day. When Dad turned around I stopped.

The figure cooking eggs had my dad's pajamas on, but not his face. "Hey, Kat." He said with a smile.

For the first time, I watched the transformation. His features became, somehow, more fatherly. "Everything all right?" His voice sounded the same.

"Dad?" I asked hesitantly, afraid of what might happen if I was wrong.

"Are you sure you're fully awake?"

"Sorry." I said as I watched his face change once again. The features all at once got both softer and harder. He got sharper angles but softer eyes. "Um. How can you tell if you've started the perception changes?"

His face lit up. The more he said and did, the more familiar his face got. "You didn't recognize me, did you? Did I look like this?" As he spoke he lifted the newspaper. On it was a picture of a crowd of faces, all the same male and female faces.

I nodded.

"Kat. This is wonderful." He said. He had worried about me a lot before last week. We had been to various doctors. A few seemed concerned, as I was the oldest patient they'd had who still hadn't experienced the changes. Others said there was nothing to worry about, that I wasn't behind developmentally in any other way.

"Why don't I remember what you looked like before?" I asked him. It scared me, it still does, that I couldn't recall what his face looked like before the perception changes determined his face.

"That's normal. You won't remember anyone's faces. It's all a part of the perception changes. You'll still recognize people. By their clothes, the way they act, the way they talk and sound. And then, once you form a new face, it'll stick with you." Dad went back to stirring his eggs.

"And the way people look is determined by what I think of them, right?" Without having any sort of real example, I had never understood when I was taught what changes are to be experienced. And that was forever ago. There's usually no need for someone my age to need a refresher on the perception changes.

"Not exactly. It's like a first impression. It is what you think of someone, but it's something more. Yes, if someone is downright rude, they'll appear uglier. If someone is really nice, she might get a prettier face. But the other changes are something you can't really think solidly, but more feel with the back of your mind. If someone's witty, for example, the corners of their eyes might turn up. That's not really a negative or a positive thought on your part. You'll see as you meet new people. It's hard to explain."

And that's how it all started. Dad was right. As I saw my friends, I did recognize them, and I formed new faces for them much quicker than I do strangers. Unless they're nice guys. It's rather annoying sometimes. If a guy so much as holds open the door for me, he instantly transforms into a charming prince.

Someone bumps my shoulder as he walks past and I instantly check for all my belongings. In a city like this you really have to be careful of pickpockets. Everything is still precisely where it should be.

I take the final turn to my usual bus stop. I had to take the train earlier because I was coming from out of town. The buses only go around in the city. Pretty much everyone in the city has a bus pass.

I walk forward to wait under the awning with a couple other people. Neither of their faces change as I walk up, or as I sit on the bench between them.

I tap the underside of my left wrist. My chip flashes the time through my skin. The bus should be here any minute. A groaning of air brakes and a click of metal immediately follows my thought.

I look up to see the bus floating on the magnetic suspension road in front of me.

A few people disembark then we board, swiping our wrists over the scanner as we enter. I pick a seat in the back and close my eyes for the long ride home.