Chapter 5: Warm Welcome

Michael watched the man leave and turned back around to see that a few of the other lifetakers had approached him. One of them, a short blonde kid with a flat nose, stepped closest. “Ni hao,” he said with a nod. Michael shook his head. “I don’t speak any Chinese,” he said in English. The words felt very strange in his mouth, and were difficult to form. He hadn’t tried to speak a word in English since he’d arrived. “Do you speak...local?” he asked, realizing he didn’t have a name for the language he’d been learning. The other taker threw up a hand and the others began to close in on him. One of them suddenly tried to grab his bundle, but he yanked back, pushing him away. The others started to grab at it, one of them striking out at Michaels face, so Michael made an awkward fist and hit him right back even as he clutched the package tightly against himself with the other arm. His small fist struck true. The others backed a way a bit, but then started to get closer, forming small fists of their own. A different one approached, this one with brown hair and eyes. “Oi oi oi! Lay the fuck off him,” the boy pushed several of the others away and they stumbled back. While he had the initiative, he grabbed Michael’s arm and started pulling him away. “It’s good that you fought back. Makes them think twice about doing that kind of thing again.” he kept pulling him away and Michael didn’t resist. “Did I hear you speaking English?” he asked, in English. “Yes, you did.” He gave Michael a firm pat on the shoulder. “Nice!” He turned around to look at a small group talking around one of the bunks. “Hey boys, we’ve got another one,” he turned back to look at him. “Don’t worry about those fellas over there, most of the takers are Chinese or Indian and they’ve been awful cliquey since we got here. All they’d have stolen from you was a blanket, but they’re paper thin anyway. Where you from? Tell me you're Australian? Hell, I'd take a Canadian at this point.” “American, I’m afraid.” “Oh well, nevermind then you can fuck right off,” he shook his head, but quickly broke and laughed. “I’m just playing around. Beggars can’t be choosers after all. Come on, meet the boys.” He gestured for Michael to follow and he did, coming to the other three penitents that were gathered around a bunk. Once they were there, the brown haired boy pointed at himself. “I’m Ollie.” He pointed to a darker skinned boy with long dark hair moving a silver coin between his fingers, “That’s Marcus.” He pointed to a boy with wide blue eyes and black hair, “That’s Pyotr.” He pointed at the remaining man, a ginger with a broad jaw for a child, “And that’s “Davi.” He nodded at each of them in turn as they were introduced. “Hey, I’m Michael.” Pyotr looked him up and down. “American?” “Unfortunately for us all,” said Ollie sadly. “There is nothing wrong with Americans, my friend.” He paused and leaned forward a bit. “Except for their smell.” That provoked a chuckle from everyone, even Michael. “I take it I’m the only American.” The redhead, Davi, shrugged. “I’m South American, but it is not the same.” “Where in South America?” asked Michael. “Brazil.” “Close enough for me,” he responded. “And you?” he asked, looking at Marcus. Marcus slid the silver coin through his fingers again. “Doesn’t matter.” “Oh yeah, mister mystery over here. Considering he talks as clear in English as you and me, I’d guess he’s English, Canadian, American, or Australian.” said Ollie. “Or I just learned it better than these two. Our accents have all been diminished, for all you know I’m Japanese.” If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Michael gestured at everyone else aside from them. “So, none of the rest of them are willing to speak local to get along, and we’re stuck together because at least we all speak English?” Pyotr shrugged. “We are in an unfamiliar place. It makes some sense to seek out the familiar here.” “No. They’re stupid. It would make more sense to all talk about our situation and seek advantage,” said Davi. “What advantage?” asked Marcus chuckling. “We’re adults in the bodies of children that have been drafted. Unless one of them popped out of his mother’s pussy with an AK, I don’t think we’re going to have much luck.” “I think the recoil of an AK would be a bit much for us at the moment, no?” asked Pyotr. Davi shook his head. “The more we know about this world, the easier it will be to survive. Awareness is one of the only advantages we can build as we are.” “It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Marcus, flipping his coin. “We already all tried multiple times. I don’t even think they were taught Hume properly. Maybe they had less time to practice it than we did.” Hume was the local language, he remembered that from an early lesson. He also noted that if they were all from countries that existed on his Earth, that meant that all the takers were probably from the same place. Unless they were all from marginally different Earths with slight differences and that didn’t seem worth the energy to figure out right that second. “How long have you been here?” “Three months in this world. Less than a week here.” Michael looked at Ollie. “A year, less than a week here as well.” “Six months,” said Davi before he could be asked. “Eight for me, though I wasn’t keeping the best count,” said Pyotr. Michael scratched his chin, finding it hairless and smooth which bothered him a bit. “So they kept everyone aging at the same rate until they could get here at the same time?” He asked. “Ah, this one is quick,” said Pyotr, nodding. “We just figured this out yesterday. Along with the fact that someone let slip that takers typically arrive in waves. How long those waves are though, we do not know. How long have you been here?” “Five weeks.” Ollie attempted to whistle, finding himself unable to until he made some adjustments. “And you’ve picked up a good amount of the language? “I didn’t have much else to do.” Marcus shook his head. “Just language and the same four goddamn walls every day to stare at.” “A disciplined mind can overcome that stress,” said Davi, though his brow furrowed a bit at imagining being back in his own blank room. “Have you looked in a mirror yet?” asked Ollie, seemingly out of nowhere. “Uh, no. I haven’t actually,” he hadn’t even considered that he had no idea what he looked like now, aside from that he was a child. “It’s a real trip, come on,” Ollie walked off and Michael and the rest followed. At the far end of the room were two long mirrors. Michael stepped in front of one and took a long look at himself. It was disorienting, to look into it expecting to see an aging man bald from chemo and withered away and instead seeing a young child. He had golden blonde hair that was getting just long enough to begin curling, bright blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. Along with the gown he looked like a goddamn cherub from a renaissance painting. He stared for a few more moments, and started to see small motes of golden light in his reflection. Ollie patted him on the back, and the lights disappeared. When he looked back they didn’t return. He realized that the sound of crying he’d heard earlier had continued. It was coming from a solitary bed in a corner. “It’s weird isn’t it?” asked Ollie. “We’re all fucking adorable. You didn’t make out so bad though,” he leaned in conspiratorially pointing a thumb at Davi, “you could’ve been reborn a damned ginger.” He feigned a shudder. Davi simply sighed. “I was actually a redhead back home, as I have told you many times now.” Ollie shook his head. “Twice cursed. Can you imagine?” Michael started laughing. Not at the joke, at least not entirely, but rather at the entire scene. They were a bunch of toddlers cursing like sailors and insulting each other in voices high enough to buoy a church choir. It was absurd. He laughed long and hard until Pyotr was patting his back trying to get him to breathe. “You alright, my friend?” he asked. Michael shook his head. “No, but there’s not much anyone can do about it at this point.” Marcus nodded. “This guy gets it at least. This is the hand we’ve been dealt. Can’t do anything about it one way or the other.” “Maybe we can’t now, but maybe we can in the future,” replied Davi. Michael could hear the cries of his body’s parents for a moment. “Why would we do anything?” Ollie laughed, thinking he was joking, then his smile faded a bit. “They’re going to make us fight a war. Seems like a bad deal to me.” “We took the life of one of their children. A life they were meant to have. All they’re asking is ten years of service.” Michael was still uncomfortable with the idea of being a soldier. He felt no real loyalty to the nation that spared him, but felt it was more likely he could do good for the parents whose child he’d taken if he stayed. Even ignoring the practical reasons to do so. Pyotr nodded. “I agree. During the trip here I heard that all those reborn in Tusinia are enslaved. The slaves' children are slaves as well even though they are born there. This seems a much better deal to me. Not to mention the aging us up. I did not want to have to take my time becoming a man again. I’m far too eager to see how much better drinking will be with my tolerance reset.” “I can’t tell if you’re optimists or defeatists,” said Ollie. “I think it’s bullshit,” said Marcus. “I thought you said there was nothing we could do?” responded Davi with as much venom as a three year old voice could muster. “It can be bullshit and we can just have to deal with it. That’s how life was on Earth, so there’s no surprise it’s the same here.” Davi shook his head. “Well, one point of agreement is better than none.” “I think I can come up with one more thing we’d all agree on,” said Ollie. “Oh?” “We all really hope they’re planning on bringing us dinner.”