Familiar Nonsense

When Number Three came to, she was tied at the ankles and wrists to a cushy chair. She was sitting in front of an ornate desk, and the elegant woman from the motel sat across from her, nonchalantly reading out of a thick orange folder.

Looking around, Three decided that she was in some sort of office. Shelves packed with books lined the walls, and there was an odd display of weapons behind her. A huge lit fireplace cast a red glow about the room.

Three opened her mouth, not even sure what she needed to say, but found that her mouth was still covered. She grunted with dismay, causing the woman to snap her folder shut and look up. "Well, well, well! Hello, dear." Her green eyes glinted. "I am called the Handler— No, there's no need to thrash about, dear, I'm not going to hurt you! We can help each other, I believe. I work for an organization called the Commission, and hopefully, you soon will, as well!"

Number Three forced herself to stop struggling, though her heart still pounded wildly.

"Put simply," the woman continued, "Sometimes, people make decisions that they shouldn't have, and it affects what happens in the world. When that happens, we… fix the timeline."

What the Handler said made very little sense to Three. What did she mean, fix the timeline? Somehow, it sounded so sinister. And what did she think Number Three could do for this company?

"But that's enough about me. I want to hear all about you." The Handler gave Three an amiable smile. "I understand that you possess a remarkable talent? Well, I'm about to ungag you, but I need you to understand that you mustn't use it on me, because then I would have to kill you. There are two armed guards outside the doors, listening in on our conversation, just in case. Additionally, you are currently under surveillance."

Three couldn't spot any hidden security cameras, but she didn't doubt the Handler's word.

"Oh, and I should also mention that we will kill your entire family if you disobey this simple request," the Handler casually added, sending a chill down Number Three's spine. "Do you understand, dear?" The Handler asked, over-sweetly.

Three didn't know what else to do but nod. In response, The Handler leanied over the desk and removed the gag from Number Three's mouth.

The Handler gave Three a stern look that compelled Three to mutter a thank you, which seemed to satisfy her. The Handler settled back into her chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Let's start simple, my dear. What is your name?"

Stiffly— "Number Three."

The Handler chortled, "Your name is Number Three?"

"Yes," the girl said, almost defensively. This woman was clearly crazy— Who was she to judge?

"We are going to have to pick out a real name for you, right away! Any suggestions, dear?"

"Summer," Number Three said immediately. It slipped right out of her mouth. She was surprised that she'd answered so unflinchingly. Her mom, Grace, had promised to name her and her siblings on their 12th birthday, but that wasn't for another month. Three had been sure to make plenty of suggestions for what Mom ought to name her, however, and Summer was at the top of her list. She'd had 12 years to think about it, after all.

The Handler tilted her head. "Hm. That doesn't seem quite right," she mused. "But you are on to something, with the nature theme, I think." She paused, thinking. "How about… Rose?"

Three's face flushed. She felt partially indignant— This woman was not her mother, and had no right to be naming her. At the same time, no one else had bothered to do so, yet.

"Hm? What do you think, dear?" The Handler pressed.

"I…" Number Three hesitated. She sensed that if she assented, she wasn't just agreeing to this woman calling her by a new name; she was submitting to giving up her old life.

But what choice did Number Three have? This woman was dangerous, and perfectly capable of hurting Three. Until her family came for her, making this woman happy was her only choice.

Three looked the Handler in the eye and said, "I like it."

That night, a cot was set up in the office for Number Three to sleep on. The Handler gave her a chilling smile and warned her that she had better not try to escape before locking her in for the night.

But Three was too exhausted to think straight at this point, and surely, her family would be coming for her in the morning, anyway. She collapsed on the cot and fell asleep almost instantly.

Three awoke to a scraping sound coming from the heavy office doors, followed by a click. She opened her eyes and sat up— Was it one of her brothers, come to rescue her?

But no— A prim young woman in a sky blue blouse and skirt entered, pushing a cart of fragrant-smelling food. Apparently, it was breakfast-time.

The Handler came in next, dressed just as extravagantly as yesterday. "Rose, my dear! How do you like your tea?" She threw her arms out to the girl.

Three stayed where she was and hoped that the Handler wasn't wanting a hug. "With… milk…" She managed to say. She was still quite drowsy.

The Handler put her hands on her hips and turned to the lady with the cart. "Did you hear that, Carla?"

Carla was arranging the food on the Handler's desk. "Yes, ma'am. With milk."

Three noticed that Carla was setting out dishes for three people. "Who-?"

"I'm late, I know." A gangly girl about Three's age strode into the office, wearing a T-shirt and jeans with red high-tops. She stopped short when she noticed Three. "This is who you wanted to introduce me to?" She spoke with a British accent.

"Rose, this is Lila," the Handler said as she made her way towards the desk. "She's my daughter. I adopted her years ago."

Number Three was somewhat surprised. The Handler didn't exactly seem like the maternal type. "Oh," Three said vaguely.

The Handler clicked her tongue. "I just remembered— Carla, will you please bring in that box I sent over earlier?"

As Carla obediently left, Lila regarded Three with skeptical interest. "Pretty young for a recruit," she remarked.

Three looked down at her lap, suddenly feeling shy.

The Handler sunk down into her chair. "She's your age exactly, and you fit in nicely here, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, but—"

"She begins her training tomorrow, and we'll see if she's any good. However, she actually seems quite promising!"

Lila opened her mouth to argue more, but saw the Handler's stern expression and thought better of it. She resignedly slumped down into a chair across from the Handler and squinted at Three again.

Three was certain that Lila felt threatened by her, which made her feel a bit braver. She managed to meet Lila's gaze, and even smiled at her.

Lila did not return the smile. "So, you say she and I are the same age?" She asked, turning back to the Handler.

"Yes, you two share a birthday. Isn't that a coincidence?" The Handler said as she dug into her food. "...Rose, please. Sit down and join us, already!"

Three reluctantly got out of her cot and went to sit down next to the hostile girl, Lila.

Her spirits rose immediately when she saw that breakfast was chocolate chip pancakes. If she'd been at the Academy, she'd have been given oatmeal.

The Academy. Three had been starving a moment ago, but now she felt nauseous. Why hadn't her family come for her yet? It occurred to Three that she didn't even know where she was— How could she expect her father and siblings to find her?

Three was discreetly peering out the windows, trying to decide where this place was, when Carla re-entered the room, now carrying a sleek box tied with ribbon.

"Thank you, Carla." the Handler set down her knife and fork to receive the package. With nimble fingers, she undid the ribbon and took off the lid, revealing a beautiful dress of a rich dark blue. She smirked, noticing Three's blatant interest in it. "Do you like it, dear?"

"...That's for me?" Three had never even owned a dress before.

"Well, it won't fit me, and Lila's in her tomboy phase right now…"

Lila rolled her eyes.

"I…" Three didn't know what to say. The dress was clearly the Handler's way of trying to win Three over, but it was such a lovely dress, with its puffed sleeves and nice, swishy skirt. "I mean, it's really pretty."

"You seemed to be the kind of girl who appreciates real fashion," the Handler remarked approvingly. "Well, it's yours. You can put it on in a minute. But, now for business: I am giving you a tour of the Commission after breakfast, so eat up— Not you, though, Lila, dear; you've got to do your schoolwork."

"Didn't want to come, anyway," Lila muttered as she delivered a vicious stab to her pancakes.

Three imagined how her father would have reacted to being spoken to like this— Not kindly, she guessed.

But the Handler wasn't bothered by Lila's impertinence . She merely laughed as though Lila were an adorable puppy and said, "Well, someone's in a mood." Then: "Rose, dear, are you about ready to go?"

The Commission was a large and disorienting place, but Three barely concentrated as the Handler showed her around and explained its inner workings. Three had other things on her mind.

"So, where is this place?" She eventually dared to inquire.

"The real question, my dear, isn't where, but when." The Handler was smiling like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. (Did she ever stop smiling? Three wondered.) "For the ordinary person, time only goes in one direction: Forward. But, here at the Commission, time doesn't define us. We define time."

Great, now she was speaking in Cheshire Cat riddles, too, Three thought grimly. But... It was familiar nonsense. The Handler was speaking along the lines of a subject that Number Five had been passionately investigating lately. "Are you... talking about time-travel?" Three asked.

"That's one phrase for it," The Handler agreed. "But, to answer your question, we are currently in the year 1955."

"What?" Tears pricked at the corners of Three's eyes as her hopes of being rescued by her family were crushed.

Five had been considering the logistics of time-travel for months, sure that he'd be able to pull it off within a couple of years. Three had always thought that her brother's hypothesis was crazy, yet it had suddenly become her only hope for being saved from this place.

God, Three would have given anything for Five, or any of her siblings, to be here with her. In spite of their many differences, she did love them all. Yet now, she might never see any of them again.

The Handler, who had been prattling on about case managers and temporal assassins— whatever those were— suddenly took notice of Number Three's dismay. She halted and produced a handkerchief from the breast pocket of her dress.

"Now, now," she said, patting Three's tear-stained face dry. "It is a lot to take in, darling, but trust me: You'll come to be very happy here. And, if not— Well, once you're 18, you can simply leave!"

Well, I am not waiting that long, Three silently vowed.