Link to article: This is Not a Metaphor.
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[[include theme:broken-masquerade]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Julian Daley lay in bed. He knew he needed to get up soon. But while he was in bed, he didn’t yet have to face the day. It wasn’t as though there was anything particularly bad about the day awaiting him. He would go in to work to the small, windowless office he shared with several other people, and he would spend eight hours answering e-mails before going home. It wasn’t a terribly interesting job, but it was easy enough, and he was, theoretically, secure in his position. He didn’t particularly dislike his co-workers. At least, that’s what he told himself. They were very kind to him. They’d helped him immensely when he’d first gotten his position, and while he didn’t spend much time with them outside of work, they’d always made sure he knew he was welcome. It was just, there were some things they didn’t quite understand. He finally rose. He showered, and then shaved. And then, for a moment, he paused, looking into the mirror. He concentrated, and suddenly, his face began to change. His features became just a little less angular. His eyes became green instead of blue. His hair grew. He wasn’t sure how he was able to do this. He thought perhaps he’d always been able to, and just hadn’t realized it until recently. But now that he knew about it, he wasn’t sure he could stop. Whenever he saw his old face, it just looked wrong. He knew there was a better face inside. But as he did every morning, he sighed, and willed it back to how he had always looked. The same sad blue eyes, the same angular jaw and short, neatly-cropped hair. His drive was uneventful. He entered an unremarkable parking garage, and then used a hidden scanner in the elevator on his badge. It beeped twice, and then lowered itself down to a hidden level. These days, the fact that Site 49 existed wasn’t a secret. But you weren’t supposed to be able to get in if you didn’t work there. He’d been twenty-two when he’d been recruited by the SCP Foundation. Not as one of their brilliant researchers, nor as one of their brave and capable agents. But as a finance clerk. He processed travel requests and budgets for containment. The resources of the Foundation were immense, but they still needed to be guided, audited, and carefully guarded. Especially now in the days of public oversight. Aaron, one of the senior clerks, turned to see him as he walked in. “Jules. Top of the morning to ye,” he said in a badly faked Irish accent. It was a running joke between the two of them, though Julian had never been sure how it had been meant to be funny. Still, Aaron had shown him the ropes, and was his boss, though he rarely did more than the barest supervision. “Good morning,” he replied as he sank into his chair. For his part, he’d tried to avoid giving Aaron any reason to be more hands-on than necessary. “Fair warning, we’ve got a lot of e-mails from Site 19 coming in later. They’re getting audited soon, so they’re scurrying to get everything taken squared away.” “Thanks for the heads-up.” He began clearing out everything already in his inbox. The key was to keep on top of it. Head down, just deal with what you could as you could. Never let it snowball. “Did you hear about that kid they found in Kentucky?” asked Darlene. She was a former agent who’d been injured, and took the office job to earn out her retirement. “I heard she was taken in for a medical screening. Was she okay?” asked Aaaron. “Turns out, it was a skip. I don’t think it was even related to the mess they were dealing with. Just a happy accident.” “Well, there you go. A nice two-for-one.” Julian kept his face neutral. They weren’t supposed to call skips ‘it’ anymore. But he was worried that if he said anything, they’d wonder why he cared so much. Besides, the Site 19 e-mails were now coming fast and free. He didn’t have time to deal with anything else, he told himself. He did, though, force himself to stop for lunch. He’d cleared out a good chunk, and he knew if he tried working through lunch, he’d be struggling to do anything useful by three. The cafeteria wasn’t terribly busy when he entered. Now that secrecy wasn’t quite as severe, a lot of people went off-site for lunch. But Julian didn’t like losing more of his lunch time to travel than he had to. As he sat down, he saw Dr. Middleton. She wore a special orange coat that served several purposes. One, it was helpful for controlling her… condition. It also helped mark that condition. She was anomalous. Visibly so, in fact, with currents of energy that moved through her hair. It wasn’t dangerous, at least not unless she chose for it to be. She should have been an SCP, a lot of people said. But she was useful. Even before Korea, the Foundation had had a pragmatic view of certain anomalous individuals. If they could serve the Foundation’s mission, they could be given some considerations. A little more freedom. And now, they were even afforded rights. She noticed him looking at her. “What, do I have something on my face?” she asked, arching one eyebrow. He blushed. “No, no. I just…” “It’s okay. I’m pretty good-looking. I’d stare too.” She gave a crooked smile, then sat down across from him. “Dr. Middleton. And you are?” “Julian. Julian Daley. Accounting.” He was awkward, he knew. “Nice to meet you.” They made some small talk about the latest happenings. Nothing too… sensitive. Nothing on the Anomalous Persons Act or the campaign promises being made in the latest presidential election. Just some talk on the incoming site director, Dr. Wilkins’s birthday the next week, and whatever the hell was happening with Site 19 these days. Julian felt far more at ease by the time she stood up to go back to work. He almost blurted out his own ability, but decided it wasn’t quite the right time. But as he was headed back from lunch, he felt it was more the right time than it had ever been. After all, if she could do it, and be recognized and appreciated, so could he. He spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up the last of the flood from Site 19. He even had a few moments to pull up some policy documents. There was a procedure for registering one’s abilities with the Foundation. It would put some restrictions on what he could do, but none of them seemed relevant to his current job. “Hey Jules, what’re you working on now?” asked Aaron. “Nothing too much,” he said, minimizing the tab. “Got a couple travel vouchers that need review, but nothing terribly time-consuming.” “I’ve got a project that’s come down all the way from the O5 council. It’s just a cost-analysis, but it’s going to be pretty high visibility. I’d like you to handle it.” Julian straightened up slightly. This could be a big deal. Most of their day-to-day work only went up to the regional director over at Site 19. A project for the council meant that they would know his name. That could open some doors down the line. “Think you’ve got it?” asked Aaron. “Absolutely,” he said. “When can I see the details?” “I’ll send everything over in the morning. I knew I could count on you.” Aaron clapped him companionably on the shoulder. At home, he spent a full hour in front of the mirror, bringing out his best face, his real face. It felt so liberating. So freeing. He could have this, he told himself. He could let himself finally have this. It would work. He had to force himself to finally go to bed and sleep. ------ In the morning, he settled his features down to what was expected. He practiced a speech in his head. He knew exactly what he was going to say. He nearly skipped from the elevator to the office, where the others were trailing in, coffee cups in their hands. “Jules, top of the morning to you!” Aaron said. “And to you as well,” Julian said. “You’re in a good mood. Ready to get to it?” “Yes, absolutely.” He took a deep breath. “But first, there’s something I’d like to say to everyone…” “Hey, did you guys hear about Dr. Middleton?” asked Darlene. “I-what?” he asked. “It’s locked up,” she said. “It happened last night.” Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s surprising. Espionage?” “No, it was the new site director.” Darlene’s face had a look of glee, like she’d just found out she was getting an extra day of vacation. “He said it was our job to contain anomalies, not employ them. He rescinded Middleton’s free status. It’s now an SCP, number pending.” “Well,” Aaron said, “It’s a bit sad, but not unexpected. She seemed nice enough, but there’s a reason we keep anomalies locked up.” “Absolutely. We have to keep the public safe. No matter what the ACLU or the Serpent’s Hand says, they could hurt someone. You know she volunteered at the library on the weekends? There are kids there.” Aaron shrugged. “Well, anyway, it’s done. Oh, Jules, you had something you wanted to say?” Julian’s jaw snapped shut. Then, as naturally as he could manage, he said, “It’s Dr. Wilkins’s birthday next week. I… I thought maybe we could get him a card.” “Oh, lovely idea, Jules. If you can pick one up, I’ll make sure everyone signs it. Anyway, it’s already ten after. Let’s get to work. The site won’t take care of itself.” Julian sat down and stared at the screen. The new e-mail from Aaron stared back at him. But all he could think was, “Blue eyes, short hair, angular jaw. Blue eyes, short hair, angular jaw. Blue eyes, short hair, angular jaw…”