"A little," I answered honestly. "I heard you all help the Enforcers sometimes? Detective work or something?"
A puff of smoke wafted upward as he released a long drag. "Yeah."
"Sorry, I never really had… a Harbinger phase. Had more important things to be interested in." The bartender placed the drink in front of me with a forced smile before turning away again, meaninglessly organizing already organized cabinets. The glass hovered just below my lips as I took a tentative sniff of it, the pungent aroma wafting into my nostrils. A tiny amount of liquid seeped into my mouth, and I guzzled a bit more, leaving only a fraction. Coughs burst forth as my throat was lit ablaze. "That's not what I was expecting."
The man in gray smiled faintly and took a swig of his drink. "What's your name kid?"
"Donovan." I set the glass down, glaring at it as I steeled my will to take another sip.
He paused for a second, and just as I realized he was waiting for me to ask his name, he sighed and offered it. "I'm Johnny."
My cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment, but I did my best to shove it down… down with my worries, my fears… anything related to my mom… and down with another drink! I raised the glass and drank the rest of it in one go. In an instant, I thoroughly regretted it. "Nice to meet you," I choked out between coughs.
He studied me for a moment, his eyes taking on an unnatural luster as his gaze flickered up and down. "What happened to you, Donovan?"
I stared at the back of the bartender's head, hoping my gaze would alert him to give me another, but unfortunately no such thing happened. "Can I get another?" He jumped at the sound of my voice, then nodded, and quickly retrieved the glass.
"I…" I frowned, staring at my own shadow on the counter. An overwhelming tide of emotions felt as if they were jostling me to my very core, compelling me to share. "It's… just me and my mom at home. My mom worked two jobs, struggling to find any way to support me, and to prepare for my sibling on the way. My father," I spit that word, anger welling up as the wind whispered again, "left us after he got her pregnant again."
I lifted the fresh glass and took a sip. It was awful, but I took another. "I offered to help her with work, to help us gather money… but she refused. Just said I should study, so I could get a real job…" Tears welled in my eyes. "And tonight… tonight I learned she went missing after her shift. I don't know what I'll do without her… where I'll go."
The whispers grew louder, more fervent. And you won't. Go home. Give up like always. It was my own voice, and my own thoughts which I wished desperately to not be thinking.
"Shut up!" I muttered angrily.
Johnny took another long drag. "Any strange bouts of strength tonight?"
I nodded.
"Voices?"
I nodded again.
"Visual hallucinations?"
I shook my head.
"Any strange desires?"
I paused, thinking. "Alcohol?"
"Never had it before?"
"It always helped my mom when she was struggling."
He sighed, took another drag, then stood up and flicked a golden coin over his shoulder at the bartender. "C'mon, Donovan."
I stared at the last little remnants in my glass, decided I never wanted to put anything like it in my body again, and followed. We exited onto the mostly empty dead-end street and Johnny began to lead me forward.
"Where are we going?"
"The Polaroid headquarters. Then, maybe, to find your mother." He walked a few paces ahead so I couldn't read his face.
Something blossomed from deep down, something I thought I wouldn't find again: hope. I paused for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "What is that dependent on?"
Smoke roiled out from either side of him, blowing into the wind. "What the boss says."
"The Herald is here?"
"I thought you said you didn't have a Harbinger phase."
"Everyone knows what Heralds are."
He clicked his tongue. "True."
We took a turn, moving closer to the heart of the district. "Polaroid's Herald is… um…" It was on the tip of my tongue.
"The Detective of Whencewas."
After a few more turns, the headquarters of the Polaroid Office came into view. It clearly stood out on the street of brown and white buildings, as it shared the same architectural style, but like Johnny, it was completely grayscale. Other than that very glaring detail, there were no special details. It was a large building, yet still slightly less than I expected from a Herald's headquarters.
We stepped up to the odd building and hiked up the wide staircase up to a large double wooden door. On either side stood two monochromatic people —a man and a woman—, clad in similar attire to Johnny and wreathed in clouds of smoke, the white embers at the end of their cigarettes glowing through.
"Jenna. Sam."
"Johnny." They both replied as we walked past and through the large wooden doors. As soon as we entered the building, I watched as the color slowly drained from my body. In a matter of seconds, I was a mixture of grays, like everything else.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up rigid as I stared down at my hands in horror, moving in every which way, examining every part in excruciating detail. "I-Is this…?"
"It'll wear off when you leave." He didn't even turn back, knowing what I was talking about without having to ask.
A common concern?
The lobby was a wide, open area with white tile flooring, a dangling crystal chandelier of countless glass fractals, and several pieces of leather furniture accompanied by coffee tables. Against the far wall was a large wooden front desk with a woman and two men behind it. On the wall behind them was the large, well-lit logo of the Polaroid Office. The symbol was a circular, subdivided ring on the outside— akin to an open camera shutter— surrounding a silhouette of a city skyline constructed out of film strips.
The receptionist in the middle, a woman with her hair tied in a ponytail and a few locks loose hanging on either side to frame her face— smiled at Johnny. "Welcome back Johnny, I thought you'd gone home for the night."
He removed his hat and held it at his side, revealing slicked back hair that was a color that… in truth didn't really matter. "Oh, you know, trouble always has a way of finding its way to me."
She glanced at me. "Should I call the Enforcers?"
"Nah, going to take him up to see the boss. He's still in, I assume?"
The woman let out a soft sigh, her smile drooping to a soft frown. "You know him. Only out when he's on the hunt."
Johnny nodded softly, placed his hat back on his head and tipped it. "Thank you."
"Of course!"
To the right of the reception desk, there was a bank of lifts. Johnny rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a matte black card with the symbol of his office printed in reflective white. He tapped it against a palm-sized card reader on the wall, and with a beep and a ding, the metallic doors to our right peeled open, revealing a small wood-paneled room with a row of buttons.
He clicked the button labeled five, scanned his keycard, then waited a moment. A woman's voice came through a small speaker on the wall as the door shut. "Yes Mr. Marlowe?"
"Need to see the boss. I found a kid starting to dissonate. Signs of the Id."
The speaker went quiet.
Id? What is an Id?
A moment later, it clicked back on. "He'll see you."
"Thank you," Johnny replied.
Then, with the clank of gears shifting and the whir of cable, the box began to ascend the floors. As the little light by each number slowly moved, I turned to Johnny, the reality of my situation suddenly dawning on me. My heart tightened in my chest, and my skin felt clammy and cold. "Anything I should keep in mind? First time meeting a Herald." I chuckled weakly.
"Hm." He scratched his bare chin. "Do not ask about what he's working on. If he brings up his own mother, don't comment, same if he brings up his wife, oh and…" After a few seconds, he added, "Actually, maybe don't ask him any questions about himself at all. Better rule of thumb."
I nodded, and with a ding, the doors opened wide.