“Transport. Hold still,” she says.
“To where?” I shriek as light envelopes us.
“Office of Earth Resources and Operations,” the wall replies as gravity leaves us.
No, not gravity. There was never a sense of weight pushing down on me but rather a feeling that my feetbelongedon the ground so that’s where they stayed. But now, that’s gone, and the sensation ofbeing sucked up starts in my head. My knuckles ache from how hard I’m grabbing my skirt, as if that’ll save me…
There’s a bright flash and my insides tighten at the sharp, intense vertigo. A blink later, my feet are on the ground again and the queasiness disappears. I open my eyes and we’re in a completely different location. The people moving around us are mostly human, and the nearby plants look much more like Earth plants.
Amyrah starts walking toward the utilitarian building ahead. There’s no open doorway, but as we approach, our magic zips forward and activates a portal for us to pass through. Inside is something like a DMV lobby, except there aren’t any agents sitting behind counters. We walk toward a tablet on a stand about hip height.
“New witch registration, Legate Amyrah presenting,” she says to the device.
It glows red with her magic for a brief second, then flashes “Ready.”
“Place your hand there, then state your full name,” she says.
I do as she says, an electric tickle moving over my palm as I speak.
“New witch recognized,” the screen reads after a moment. “Adjuster Laurence Herst assigned.”
“Adjuster?” I ask with a bit of panic.
“It’s just another word for agent,” she replies cooly as she walks toward a bench.
There are no windows, but the walls have simple pieces of art. Nothing I would write home about, but I guess it’s better than staring at a blank slate. I take a moment to catalogue the different looking seats, some that are clearly not meant for human behinds.
“I thought this was the office of Earth Operations,” I say as I sit beside Amyrah.
She looks at me curiously and I point at the other chairs.
“There are many different species working in the IBMA. The waiting rooms adjust for each species currently occupying the building. Standard practice.”
A room reorganizing itself is standard practice. Protobots being controlled like Syms. Walls opening up because my magic moves through it. Light that beams us to different locations. I’m pretty sure we actually died and went to some science fiction hell where people get registered like naughty animals.
There’s a flash of light and a man in a well-fitted, Earth style suit approaches. “Caitlin?”
I stand. “Yes.”
He extends his hand. “I’m Laurence, your adjuster.”
I accept it, but instead of a shake, we’re enveloped in light once more. The world disappears, and then we’re in an office that could easily be confused for a tax man’s cubicle. Laurence gestures to the chair on one side of the desk, then takes a seat on the other side.
He runs his hand along the flat surface of the desk and a light projection shoots up like a computer screen. “I’m going to ask you some questions. The more honest you are, the easier this will be, got it?”
I take my seat, and immediately notice the trickle of my magic flowing under the desk. That combined with his warning…it might be some kind of magical polygraph. Honesty it is, then.
And honesty it is for the next two hours, or what feels like it. There are no clocks in this place and my phone is dead. On and on he asks me about my powers, when I learned of them, strange happenings in my childhood, what my home life was like, and even some weirdly specific things about my mother—
I should probably call them when I get home, it has been about three weeks.
“Well, that does it,” Laurence finally says and I sigh with relief as I slouch back in the chair.
“You are, without a doubt, the most truthful witch to walk through these doors,” he says as his fingers dance through the magic light.
He slaps at the air and the display flips around for me to see.
“Order, high, Obedience, medium, Threat, none,” I say. “That’s good?”
