Free Xen Episode One by Odette C. Bell Page B

follow through with their
orders, no matter how hard they were, and no matter how long the
mission lasted.
    Walking into the kitchen, I glanced at the
reflective, ever clean surface of my stove.
    I saw myself. Saw my aged face, the
wrinkles, the gray hair. I couldn’t identify with any of it, but I
knew academically that it was me.
    I didn’t feel any corresponding
deterioration in my physical abilities or mental acuity to match
the old woman I saw in the surface of my stove.
    Because there was no deterioration. My
appearance had been artificially aged to help me better fit in. The
wrinkles were only skin deep.
    Pressing my fingers into my cheek and
feeling the folds of skin push against my nails, I glanced towards
the clock.
    I had a routine. Though I was
technically classed as a pensioner, every day I took myself to work. In the
morning I would prepare food and eat it. Then I would go for a walk
around the block and into the park. I would spend approximately
half an hour sitting on a bench, staring out at the trees and
roses, and then I would walk back to my house. At about 11:30 I
would head to the store to buy bread, biscuits, and tea;
unimaginative but usual fare for somebody my age. I would head home
around midday, and then I would spend the next several hours on the
Internet. I would not look at knitting sites, and neither would I
peruse local news to find out when the closest bingo hall was
having their next get-together.
    Instead I would gather information on
everything that was going wrong with Earth. Once a Peacekeeper,
always a Peacekeeper.
    I had been born into a life of service. The
creed of my race was a simple one. Protect. All who require
protection – protect them. Shepherd life wherever you find it so
that it can grow in security and safety.
    I was no longer a Peacekeeper, but despite
the fact I’d changed my appearance, I could not alter what was
within.
    I did nothing that would draw attention to
myself. Yet I possessed technical skills far in excess of an
ordinary human being, and understood technology that would not be
developed on Earth for hundreds of years.
    Using my abilities, I collected information.
Gathering together any news of any disputes I could find. From the
most petty disturbances, to the largest of wars. From political
assassinations, to evidence of corruption in far-flung countries. I
logged every single detail. I squirreled the facts away in my mind.
If I could not go out there and clean them up, if I could not go
out there and keep the peace, then the least I could do was keep
myself informed.
    A storm was starting up outside,
intermittent thunder rattling the windows as a sharp wind whistled
under the gap beneath the door.
    I rested back in my chair and closed my
eyes.
     
    …
    Miguel Rodriguez
    Christ it was cold. And Christ this wasn’t
fair. It was summer, right? So what was with all the goddamn
lightning and torrential rain?
    I huddled further into my collar as I got
out of my car.
    My partner snorted at me. “You should stop
being such a good guy.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “No other cop on the beat insists on
checking up on all the geriatrics on the street.”
    “Aren’t we meant to serve and protect?” I
asked as I jabbed a thumb at my badge. “Well this is me serving and
protecting.”
    Jackson snorted. “Whatever.”
    “Jackson, some day you’re going to be old,
and you’re going to want to know there are people out there looking
out for you.” I slammed the door and walked away from the car.
    Jackson snickered at me, but I ignored
him.
    I had a routine. And it worked. Policing
wasn’t just about stopping crimes as they happened – it was about
preventing them from happening in the first place. You did that by
having a presence. By getting out there and showing your uniform
and your face.
    I walked up to the front porch, tsking at
the state of the lawn. Smoothing a smile onto my face, I jumped up
the front step and knocked gingerly on the