Checking my phone tells me that an hour and thirty minutes have passed. If I'm talking about the average, that's faster than usual to find our answers through research. By cross-referencing all these historical books, we were able to piece together a story about the organization that has been keeping the Animatrix a secret from the world. Most likely, their name is Key.
"That was exhausting. You're from the future, you couldn't have just come here with answers already?" I ask.
"I won't blame you for being ignorant about how time travel works, but you're an idiot."
"So what do we do about Key? I'm thinking we fake our way inside and impersonate a high rank."
"That's the same thing I was thinking. If our credentials are high enough, they should just let us walk in without a fight. Now we just need to make contact with them and learn who could be our ticket inside."
"We're just going to expose a secret society that has been in hiding for a recorded five hundred years?"
"Dude, you're literally in one of those societies. It's totally possible. They wouldn't be a superpower if they didn't have the ability to hide in plain sight. That means they're accessible to the public in some way."
"Like how Ispio owns a postal service in town? People talk to agents all the time thinking they're just mailmen."
"Exactly. Was there anything you found that could be a possible lead?"
"Hard to say, they've had a lot of time to change up their occupations or agendas. It could be a whole new group by now."
I scoot my chair out and head for the fridge to fetch a water bottle. "Hey, you got any soda?" my future self asks.
"Soda? We don't drink sugary drinks. Gotta keep the body trim. Are you saying I drink soda in the future?"
"A lot of things change, Troy. That's just the sad reality."
"Hey, is Clyde still hot thirty-seven years from now?"
"Let's try to focus on the task at hand, please. I'm not going to spoil anything for you."
"Is that one of those time travel rules?"
"No, it's because I don't want to. Get me water."
I bring back two water bottles, setting them down on a coaster for him and sliding it closer. I sit down and lean back, thinking about everything I've just read so far. Key. What a strange name, if it's even the right one. There were no mentions of locksmiths in the research, but maybe that's on purpose; trying to stay hidden.
If they've got any inclination of modern cleverness, maybe they are locksmiths just to mess with anyone trying to uncover them. It makes so little sense that it has to be the answer. Imagine that, being exposed because you couldn't resist a good pun. I think that's happened to me before.
"Locksmiths?" I ask.
He looks at me, his lips puckering as a finger goes under his chin and his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling. "Hmm. That actually makes sense. Well, it doesn't, but that's why it's a good answer. Maybe you're onto something. I knew I was as quick as a whip."
"There's a couple of companies in town, I think only two, at least. A quick internet search will tell us. I've got my phone."
He waves a hand at me and shakes his head. "Don't bother, I've got this."
His eyes, his realistically green eyes begin to shift shape inside the iris. Tiny blue lines glow, mixing in with the green and creating a beautiful sight of sci-fi aesthetics. They look robotic, but tasteful in style as well. Certainly a new augmentation in the future, I wonder what they do.
"We've got 'Master Key' and 'Made By Thieves'. Yikes, what are those names? This time period tried so hard to stand out."
"What was that?"
"Internal-Database-Eyes. I can hook up to the internet with these babies, and that's not all they can do. I'm looking at your naked body right now under those baby-blue booty shorts."
My arms cross over my crotch. "Hey!"
"Joking! Jeez, joking. I mean, they can, I'm just not."
"Whatever. So now what? Which one are we going for?"
"We're not going after just one at a time, there isn't enough time in the day for that. We're splitting up the work, I'll go after Master Lock, and you take Made By Thieves."
"Split up, what? I don't even know what to do. How am I supposed to unveil something that doesn't want to be found? Who do I talk to? What questions should I ask?"
He stands up, drinking half his bottle of water in one gulp. "If I know me, you'll figure something out. I've got the same problem ahead of me too. Both of us failing is unlikely, but in the event that it happens, you won't be looking at a bright future. Just saying, no pressure."
"Fine," I stand up too and walk towards my bedroom. "Are you going to want a disguise? I've got plenty of outfits if you're still the same size," I say. His hips are a little wider than mine. I guess I can't be perfect forever. "Maybe I can expand the waistline a little to compensate for your love of soda."
He looks down at his body, his stomach, and his hips, then he crosses his arms and sighs deeply. "No, that's fine. I'll approach my infiltration differently, you go ahead and get dressed."
I leave him in my living room and start getting ready. The hair is fixed, the face is sculpted, and the outfit is cute. It takes me about thirty minutes in total, a new record. I notice him still standing in the living room when I'm about to leave.
"Still here? I thought you'd gone already," I ask.
"I just wanted to see what you were wearing. That's cute, I like the skirt. Do you know where to go?"
"Got the address on my phone. Good luck."
"You too."
"How are you going to get there? I don't see a car.."
"I'm not going to lie, the way I get around is super awesome. I'm not showing you though, that's a secret for the future."
"You know, you're too much of a buzzkill to be me. I would be excited to boggle the minds of primitive people with crazy gadgets if I had the chance."
Leaving him behind, I get in my car and start the GPS route for the office building of Made By Thieves. The quiet drive lets me reflect on this past morning. A future me is difficult to wrap my head around, but I've spent a little over two hours with the guy and he genuinely seems like me, but with more maturity and more focus on sounding regal instead of playful.
That power he has could easily be the most devastating thing on the planet, and funny enough, I don't trust him handling it. It would be better off in my hands where I know it'll never be used for foul play. What is it called when you don't even trust yourself? Paranoia?
As for the relic, it's not unusual in my line of work to hear about a stupid rock that can control and change the rules of the universe—happens all the time. So what if Ispio doesn't have a bead on them right now, we would've eventually found out about it later. Reporting it should be a top priority for me, we don't want a sudden enemy to blindside us with power that fierce.
The Made By Thieves parking lot is nearly empty, and it's an incredibly small building. I count two cars, they could only belong to employees, I bet. I get down and straighten my clothing, batting the wrinkles out of my skirt. Now what? Somehow worm my way into the back and find anything linking to the society? Good luck, indeed.
Entering the front door lets me see the sparse furniture decorating their lobby. A single desk sits in the middle, loaded with clutter and a bell. Indoor plants take up both corners of the wall, and a single, uncomfortable-looking bench rests along the left to serve as a waiting area. There's nobody in here.
Don't jump the gun, there are still two cars sitting in the lot. Maybe there was a third car and they all carpooled to a location? No, too risky to snoop. I ring the bell and listen for any rustling in the back. Nothing. Ring twice, wait, nothing. Must be safe to snoop. I circle around the desk and enter the back room with its door wide open, but not without glancing at the camera fixed at the corner of the ceiling.
Another desk, L-shaped, with a computer sitting on it, and a black chair with a few rips in the leather. This must be the office. It's so small, even smaller than the lobby. It'll take me a second to search this room, but who knows how long it'll take to go through the computer's files.
One side of the desk is littered with papers, none of them are orderly, just thrown about carelessly. I slip around the desk's corner and sit in the chair, it squeaks as I lean back. I move the mouse and wake the computer up, the screen is already showing a program and spreadsheet.
"Let's just see what's hiding in the personal folders."
Clicking the file explorer gives me close to nothing. Expenses noted, third-party marketing, client history assorted by months. From here it looks like a normal company doing normal things, but that's exactly how a secret organization hides.
There must be something in the filing cabinets. I start with the bottom drawer, but it's locked. A quick pick from me opens up that puppy in under a minute. I'm getting a little rusty. Fingering through the files gives me nothing again. Middle drawer, pick the lock, nothing. Top drawer, pick the lock, break a pick, slam a fist into metal, bite at the handle, find a spare pick, open the lock, and still find nothing.
"I'm thinking too obviously. Records and codewords either don't exist or will take forever to find. How does Ispio hide?"
I tour the building in search of the bathroom, and when I find it, I position myself in front of the sink. The mirror houses a fantastic-looking fox, I have no choice but to wink at him. My mouth sits idle, generating a fair amount of saliva and letting it glob into the drain. I turn the water on and let my spit wash down the drain. Nothing happens.
"That's right, it only works because the company has my DNA. It'll take Key DNA to activate the secret passage."
Too bad nobody here brushes their teeth at work, that would've made things easy. I root around in the nearby garbage to find a discarded bottle or anything else someone would put their mouth on.
"Ma'am?"
I nearly jump out of my fur at the sound of a voice behind me. How did I not hear any car doors slam or footsteps in the building? I stand up and face my ambusher; an older gentleman with gray on his mustache.
"Oh there you are, I was hoping to get some service," I lie.
"Why are you going through the bathroom trash?"
Things are out of my favor here. Nothing I say will explain my behavior. "Is there someone else that I can speak to?"
"There's nobody else here. Should I call somebody to let them know you're here? Like a psyche ward or something?"
Nobody here? Perfect. My first target is shutting the door to the bathroom, and dodging passed this aging man is too easy. I kick it shut and lock us both in. As expected, he's hollering about how crazy I am and what is it that I'm doing. I hate having to scuffle in a skirt, but I have to grab his arm and twist it behind his back.
He fights me hard, threatening to call the cops or attack me. Once I get his arm I gain full control. I twist it and wrap my other arm under his chin. He's not going anywhere.
"Spit in the sink!" I order.
"Let go of me!"
I walk him to the sink and ask again, "Go on, make it slimy! You're not as well hidden as you thought you were, Key!"
"What are you talking about, you crazy fox!? How the hell is someone your size this strong!?"
"Listen here, buster, either saliva or blood is going down that drain in the next five seconds. You choose, or I choose for you. I'll put a whole tooth down there if it gets to that point!"
Through the mirror, I see him chewing inside his mouth. He hocks a glob of spit into the sink. "Turn on the water," I tell him. He does, and the spit spirals down. Nothing happens. My phone vibrates, maybe it's me contacting me.
I throw him away with a spin to force him off balance. He falls into the wall and slides down. I check my phone quickly before he gets up. A text from an unknown number. "Found them, you can leave your locksmiths alone. It's you, btw. ;)"
"I'm calling the cops," he says while taking out his phone.
I snatch it away from him. "In three days you'll find $20,000 deposited into your bank account. We know who you are, and we know where you live. Your silence will be bought, or there will be trouble in the near future." I drop the phone on the floor and stomp it to pieces.
"Hey!"
"Buy a new one with the money coming in. Oh, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot you."
He swings to his knees and starts crying. "What!? No, please, don't kill me! I've got employees to look after!"
I raise my gun to show him what it is. "Relax, it's a dart gun. I'm putting you to sleep, now turn around so I can shoot your ass. It'll be just like a doctor's visit. Hmm, can you pull your pants down slightly? No, that's okay, over the pants will do. I hope I don't hit your wallet."