Perspective Flip Read online

You end up looking nervously aside, scratching your ear. "Yeah."

  "'s all right, ma'am." He turns to the director and calls out, "Hey, are we set for lunch yet?"

  The director's been badgering everyone in sight about lighting and noise, but he stops and droops his ears when the other actor talks to him. "Sorry, Wylan. Our caterer is having trouble."

  The actor gives that same cowboy smile. "No loss. Say, Bragho and my co-star have some things to discuss with me. We're gonna grab a bite off-set, okay?"

  "Of course, sir," the director says.

  Wylan waves Bragho over. They get you to walk a bit away from the set, and then the two of them fall silent and look at you.

  You're not used to seeing foxes that are also people. Or even used to anything about this life you've been forced into. But you could do worse, and there's the promise of escape in a few weeks, maybe even to get you back home. Something's bothering you though. If Lenara is an actress, did her persona get created from nothing when you got here? Or did you replace someone?

  He and Bragho walk with you to a restaurant outside the studio. The decor isn't any style you recognize, but there're benches and cushions around a big central firepit. Lots of roast meat spins on spits, and suddenly you realize just how sensitive your nose is to the sizzling roasts and faint charcoal smoke. You're about to start drooling by the time you get a bench and waiters come out with portable tables.

  "So," says Wylan, with a strange expression. He glances at Bragho, who's staring at the food and sniffing. "There's something you'd best be telling our new guest."

  Bragho says, "You've taken Lenara's place. You found a costume of our species, right?"

  You relate what you thought was a dream, about the glowing door and the maze of stairs and species.

  Bragho whistles. "It's been a while. But yes, that sounds like something that happened to me. As for you, you look like the talented young Lenara Vale, and the real one has vanished."

  You shudder. "Does that mean someone's wearing my skin?"

  "Maybe — a costume of whatever you used to be. Close enough that they might pass for you at first glance. We're not sure whether the wizard takes people only through this species-shuffle, or what." He lets this news sink in while he attacks a plate full of cornbread and sizzling meat. "When I showed up here with my sixty-eighth costume, a year ago, I took the place of a stagehand at the studio. And the stagehand suddenly vanished."

  You tell yourself you're not hungry, but lunch smells and tastes amazing. Maybe it's your new nose helping. "So I'm Lenara?"

  Wylan cuts in. "No, ma'am. A fine vix she is, wherever she's gone to."

  "She'll be fine," Bragho says, though his ears hang low. "Off on her own adventure, right?"

  Wylan just nods, picking at his cornbread.

  Bragho says, "You're a substitute. You're stuck here for a few weeks before you go back to trying on bodies. In the meantime, it looks like you have a house standing where Lenara's was yesterday, and we need someone with her figure on the set. We'll call you by her name. There's a movie to finish."

  "The show must go on," mutters Wylan.

  "I don't know about all this," you say, looking back and forth between them and your lunch. "I didn't ask to get into this world, or to kick Lenara out of it. I'm not even female." A waiter happens by while you blurt that out, and ends up giving you a long appraising look. You try to ignore it.

  Bragho snorts and hides a grin. But Wylan says, "We didn't ask to have our rising starlet, our friend, hauled tail-first out of the universe for some wizard's fun." The cold stare he gives you is one you hope never to see again, especially if he's armed.

  Bragho intervenes, waving a greasy black paw between you. "It's not her fault."

  Wylan says, "It's not. I just want her to know where things stand, see?"

  Wylan's ears droop and his tail curls between his legs. So do yours, another feeling you're not used to. You find yourself starting to reach out a hand toward his shoulder, but you pull it back. What're you doing, touching people like that? "I'm sorry," you say.

  "There's a movie to finish," Wylan repeats. "Shouldn't take more than a couple weeks. It'd be good of you to stick around for that, before you run off to be somebody else."

  The three of you eat together and get back to the studio to work. Wylan perks up the moment he's back on set. You're not sure how to feel, but Bragho and the other stagehands assault you with new lines to learn. From what you gather, the movie's about a gang stealing cattle-like animals from Wylan's ranch and him going out to kick some tail with a crossbow. Fortunately you don't have a big role.

  Oh, and he's your husband. Not real-life, someone hastens to tell you, so that your heart can start beating again. It's just that viewers love seeing you — uh, Lenara — and Wylan together. You've got "chemistry". It doesn't feel that way to you, though. Wylan looks sad and angry beyond what having his cattle stolen would justify. But you get through a few scenes where he's telling you everything will be okay.

  You leave the studio at sunset, find your house, and use the key you found on a chain that tickled your chest. The place looks blank. No art on the plaster walls, no family photos or junk lying on the furniture, nothing in the kitchen, a few never-worn outfits in the closet. There's an envelope of fancy papers that you assume are money on the kitchen counter. Everything's set up for you to do as you please, replacing Lenara or not.

  You sit blankly on the couch, not knowing what to do with the endless possibilities before you. And then there's a knock on the door. "Who is it?" you say.

  "Bragho," you hear. You open the door and see him in his black vest and shorts. "I was thinking you might want company."

  "How do you mean that?"

  He waves a paw. "Not a date. You don't know this world though."

  You've spent almost the whole day with him, stuck in a movie studio and pretending to be someone you're not while everyone else resents you for being there. "Then I'd better start figuring it out for myself!" you say. You're still not used to your higher voice and the weird echoes of it through your muzzle. The local language comes naturally to you, probably the wizard's doing.

  "All right," he says. "But be careful, okay?"

  You wait in your house until he goes away. A few minutes later you've got your hair fixed up and are out the door.

  * * *

  You can see in the dim light. The town's narrow streets are paved, and the buildings are made of wooden boards but with an unfamiliar curved shiplike look. A few foxes stroll along or ride bicycles. Electric streetlights stand in a few spots where there're shops still open. You find something that could be a convenience store and peek in.

  Three foxes are playing a board game. One notices you and smiles. "Hi, miss! Haven't seen you here before. Interested in a game of skulk?"

  "Sure," you say, looking around at the shelves of merchandise. Games and books and magazines, mostly. "Mind if I look around first?"

  "We'll be a few minutes finishing this round anyway."

  You paw through the reading material. Every article of the fox news is a puzzle. "Gorzam Trade Treaty a Success." "CP Solar Wins Contract." "Carmelita Leads McCloud 5-3." Nothing in it is totally alien, not even the photos of dignified foxes giving speeches, but none of it makes much sense without context.

  "Ready!" say the game-playing foxes, distracting you from another headline. You head back to their table and get into a game they teach you, something about monster hunting. It's fun, but after a few rounds of that you're looking to do something else.

  "Say, has anyone got a map?" Maybe you can do some traveling over the next few nights, and see a little more of the world.

  Someone fishes out a map and you spread it on a table. A road stretches out from the valley to a city and from there to a shoreline. It's too small-scale though for you to know whether this is Earth geography with different names, or a totally different place. That's something to ask Bragho. You sigh; there's work tomorrow and there's only so far you can g
o. You thank the foxes for the game and head on out.

  You wander through the streets. It's quiet enough that you wonder why, and realize what's missing: cars. There're a few bicycles and a motorized scooter or two, but that's it. Maybe they don't have gasoline engines? There's a fortune to be made if you can "invent" them here. There's a big difference between knowing the basic concept and actually being able to build a prototype, though.

  You find a glittering electric storefront and deduce that it's a movie theater, with a wonderfully-scented coffee stand. Inside, it's cozier than the megaplex theaters you're used to, maybe because this is a small town. The ticket booth guy smiles at you, saying, "Hey, Lenara! You look a little different tonight. New hair?"

  You're not sure how to answer that. You've been told to keep posing as her, and you're not eager to explain that you're actually a visitor from another world who's accidentally booted Lenara into a convoluted magical trap. So you just dodge the question. "Hi. What's playing tonight?" But at some point you're going to have to explain, right?

  "The bodysuit equipment's got a flea in the software, so we have to wait for an authorized technician. The regular theaters are up though. 'Legend of the Chalice: Guardians of Glory' isn't as awful as it sounds."

  "Oh, the suits? I could take a look at them if you'd like."

  "I don't want to get you arrested, ma'am! You get your usual ticket discount though."

  You fish money out of your pockets. "Sure. The fantasy one, please."

  Yes, it is terrible. Awful script-writing seems to carry over between worlds. There are these big-eared ape monsters, see, and they go around ripping the pelts off foxes, and then this one fox gets turned into a were-ape and his girlfriend hates him but then he brings peace to the land. It's not clear where the chalice comes in, but there'll be a sequel.

  You stretch your cramped tail and leave the theater, feeling vaguely superior for being part of making a better movie than that. It's pretty dark now, so you'd better get some sleep. What a long, strange day!

  It occurs to you that you're lost, when you turn down a dim empty street and hear footsteps behind you.

  * 2. Casting *

  "Looking for something?" says a deep voice behind you. There's a metallic click.

  You freeze; there's a figure in the shadows. And then, you run and shout.

  A dart whizzes past your ear and you stumble on a box. He's chasing you. You crash muzzle-first onto dirty pavement and the mugger is right there. With a yelp you flip around, trying to hit him, afraid of what he'll do to you. Your hands are outstretched...

  A roaring blast of flame lights up the alley and flings you back with your fur on fire. You hit your head and spend the next minute frantically swatting out the flame. Then you're crouching in the alley, clutching your skull while the scent of your own scorched fur hits you. Your attacker is on fire and he's not moving. The smell is terrible. You grab a filthy towel from the alley and beat the thing against him until he's not burning. Then you run away, hardly able to see through the tears in your eyes, until you find what you think is a policeman.

  A little while later, you're sitting in an underground room. There's a medic lady fussing over you and draping a blanket over your shoulders. A man brings you a hot drink and says, "Tell us again. What happened, ma'am?"

  You can hardly think straight. It was awful — and you shudder, knowing it could've been a lot worse. You tell the cops everything that happened since you left the theater.

  The two of them exchange a look. "It would explain the burns," the man says.

  The woman curses. She covers her muzzle and goes back to reassuring you. "Let's keep the fire part between us, okay?"

  "Can't hide it," says the man. "Ma'am, I think I know the answer, but I take it you're not already a known magic user?"

  You look up at him. "Magic?"

  "Didn't think so. People who've got the talent tend not to find it until they're under a lot of stress. So you hear sometimes about a suspicious fire, or someone getting melted out of an avalanche."

  "And then the Fens come," the woman adds.

  You shake your head. "I don't know anything about magic!" But then it occurs to you that you've had intimate experience with it, back in the costume place. You're not sure whether to add that detail.

  The male cop says, "That puts us in a bind. We're required to report sightings of magical talent so that these people can get trained and employed for the good of society. Supposedly. I take it you've heard of the Fens' mage corps." He sees your blank expression. "No? Let's just say you'd get to help spread the Teachings by force."

  What happened to the happy fun harmless world of fox people?

  The cop turns to his partner. "Are you with me on this?" She nods and he looks relieved. To you he says, "There was some grease and a fuel can in that alley, and we're going to say we found that idiot robber with a lighter. It's better than having one of our people drafted. For your part, you need to keep quiet about what you did."

  You feel dizzy just sitting there. "Did I kill him?" you say. It's a stupid sappy thing to worry about, but still. And you'd like to stop weeping.

  "He'll live. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll go with our story."

  You nod and let the two of them comfort you for a while. The woman says, "If you'd like, I can send Officer Ren to patrol past your house for the next few nights."

  "Me?" says the guy. "I think she'd be more comfortable with you than with some strange man prowling by."

  You say, "It's okay. I just want to lock myself in my house for the night and forget about this." Not that you're likely to sleep.

  "Okay. We'll take you home then. Oh, wait, my boss has the keys..."

  The female officer tosses a keychain at him. "Just charge it up when you're done."

  The police have something like a motorcycle. Officer Ren gets you into the sidecar, then speeds off from the underground police station through the quiet streets. It's the closest thing you've seen yet to a car. From the purr of the motor and the subsonic rumble you can feel at the intersections, you don't blame him for taking the scenic route. You end up back at your house with windblown fur and a grin on your muzzle.

  "Good night, ma'am," he says. "Think I could get an autograph sometime?"

  You thank him and head inside alone, but you don't manage to sleep much.

  * * *

  The next morning, the alarm clock startles you awake. There's a bad moment when you flash back to being attacked in the alley and somehow creating a burst of magic fire. Your fur's standing on end... which is your first reminder of where and what you are. Nearly three weeks of being a fox, and female, left before you can escape. Sort of.

  You open the curtains to a sunny, peaceful morning. The valley town feels different today. You sense that there's more going on than your tourist visit. You don't want to wear your burned clothes to work, and your leg-fur is still singed, so you end up in the long skirt you had earlier.

  At the studio, there's still a movie to shoot. You're not on duty for a few hours, so Bragho and one of the extras (in bandit getup) take you aside for an acting lesson in a vacant studio.

  They're walking along with you when the lights shut off, leaving you in the empty room in darkness. With your foxy eyes you make out the dim shapes of the actors. Just then, Bragho points behind you and shouts, "Look out!"

  You turn and see... nothing. The extra laughs. Bragho pats you on the back, saying, "Nice startle pose. Hey, out there, get the lights!"

  The lights come back. "That's one lesson," says Bragho. "You've got to feel the role."

  Your heart pounds. "Don't do that!" you snap. "You're lucky I didn't..."

  "Didn't what?"

  "Nothing, nothing." You glance at the extra. "Say, Bragho, who exactly knows about my — tourism?"

  The extra says, "Him, me, half the studio. We're pretty close-knit."

  Bragho adds, "When I showed up, nobody much cared about the guy I replaced. But if you tell the wor
ld you're a dimension-hopper, I bet there'd be an unpleasant investigation, or at least some embarrassment when people call you crazy. There's no need for that, though. You've got Lenara's body."

  "But not her mind."

  Brago sighs. "Not many people knew her personally. If you act a little strange, people will assume you're just an eccentric actress."

  Maybe the real Lenara's isolation had something to do with why she chose, or got chosen, to get pulled into another world.

  "Anyway," says Bragho, "we need to work on your emoting for the next few scenes. You're supposed to be skilled. No offense, since you're not really experienced at acting, but you're not up to her level so far."

  You hold up a hand. "No offense taken. But please don't startle me like that again. And before you train me more, there's something I want to know. Who are the 'Fens'?"

  "Why do you care?" says Bragho. The extra's tail flicks nervously.

  "I've heard muttering about them."

  Bragho says, "They're... in charge. The country got taken over about twenty years back, so we're part of their empire. Let's see. Do you know what a... math machine is? Runs on electricity?"

  "You mean a computer?" You cover your muzzle. The word that you just spoke isn't the one you'd have used in English; it's an unfamiliar rasping thing in the natives' language. It hasn't been spoken in your presence so far. "The movie equipment uses them, right?"

  "Yeah. Only the Fens are allowed to own computers, or even fix the things without a permit. Same with paper-copying machines and some other things."

  "Why?"

  The extra mutters, "To keep control." Bragho nods.

  This situation doesn't sound like something you want to get involved in, not after the incident last night. "Maybe we should get back to the acting."

  They have you strutting around the empty set and saying ridiculous things, pretending to argue and carouse with Bragho and the extra. It helps take your mind off the trouble and makes you feel like you might even have some acting talent.

  Bragho's decently satisfied with you — "for a first lesson" — by the time you break for lunch. You get back to the main set a little later, feeling relaxed.