System Upgrade

James stares at himself a bit too long in the mirror. He doesn't know I'm awake, pretending to be asleep, peering at him from under the corner of the blanket. I've been doing this the last few mornings, and every morning it's like this. He gets up earlier than me, like normal, goes to the bathroom to get ready, like normal, and then this. He stares at his face, sometimes touching his skin like it's not his.

He flicks off the bathroom light to come wake me up. I close my eyes and make my breaths deeper.

"Greg," James says, nudging me. "Greg, it is time to revive."

Time to revive? Did he fall asleep with the thesaurus under his pillow?

"Greg," James says again. I moan and stretch under the blanket, catch his arm and caress his neck.

"Hey handsome," I whisper, then cover my mouth quickly. I know how much James hates my morning breath. But he doesn't pull back like he used to; it's like he doesn't even notice.

"I am leaving," James says, straightening up.

"It's early still. You can't help a brother out first?" James' gaze follow mine to my crotch, revealing a bulge that would normally be James' top priority. But his eyes seem distant now, and he rigidly shakes his head.

"No. Perhaps after work."

Without another word, James heads out the door and down the stairs. I wait just a minute to hear him slip on his shoes and head out the door. Then I roll out of bed and race to the closet, pulling on a sweater and Crocs. I know James' route to the metro, but yesterday when I watched out the window, he went a different direction. It shouldn't bother me, but I know James wouldn't lie to me. And he isn't lying, not really. He's just not telling me everything. Things are off, and I want to know why.

It's cold out, and I instantly know the Crocs were the wrong choice. James is already up past the light at Chestnut. The neighbor who runs the floral shop is walking her two dogs; they both start barking the second they see me, like always. I duck behind some garbage cans in case James hears the barking and turns.

"You okay, sweetie?" asks the neighbor. I wish I remembered her name.

"Fine," I mutter, peeking over the garbage can. I didn't need to worry; James hasn't adjusted his long stride at all. He's still heading away from the metro stop. I hurry out from the garbage cans, fighting an urge to kick at the yipping dogs, and hurry passed the "wait" hand signal on the light. It takes me nearly running to close the distance, but short legs are my curse.

Up ahead, James is passing a group of highschoolers waiting for the bus. They point at James and start mockingly catcalling, saying the "queer" should come over and show them a good time. They're laughing, and my blood boils. Any other day over the two years we've been together, James would put these asshats in their place. But today he raises his hand and ... waves?

"What is going on."

I hurry to catch up, and luckily the kids are distracted by the floral shop owner and her dogs to notice me. Running hunched over in my Crocs and basketball shorts, I'm a far easier target this morning.

James rounds the corner into an alley. Now I'm incredibly confused. I knew he wasn't going to the metro, but this alley doesn't have anything of note. I should know, because I nearly got mugged there once.

I'm panting and ease up to catch my breath. I don't even know what I'm going to say to James when I turn the corner, because he should just be standing there or realize he made a wrong turn. I almost wonder if I should just forget the whole thing and head home, but I've come this far.

"James, look, I don't know what's going—"

The alley is empty. James isn't there. Nobody is there. There's a dumpster by the back door of the Chinese restaurant and a fire escape up one wall, but the ladder is ten feet above the ground.

"James?"

I take a step in, then jump back immediately.

"What the hell?"

Where I had stepped, where my hand and foot went into the alley, there was ... nothing. I swallow hard and put my hand forward and gasp. My hand disappeared as soon as it passed over into the alley. I pull it back and wiggle my fingers. Still intact. I slowly extend my leg, and it too disappears the instant it goes into the alley.

I feel faint. I laugh a little too, because I'm nervous and it's my tic. But James went down this way, and something is going on with him, so I need to figure out what it is. I take a deep breath and step into the alley—

—and into what I can only describe as a warehouse from space. There are rows of enormous computers, bigger than our corner bodega. Then there are weird rows of capsules, like the ones I've only seen in time travel movies. Behind me, I see an open door I must have walked through. How it connected to the alley is beyond me.

Scientists in long white cloaks move around the computers, making adjustments and checking things off on their tablet screens. One of them spots me and beelines toward me. I think about diving back through the door, but she's already upon me.

"Welcome. Do you require a full system upgrade today?" Her voice is tinny and looks slightly off with the movement of her mouth, like it's not actually her mouth doing the talking.

"Um, no. What? I'm just following my boyfriend. Sorry. I think he came in here?"

The scientist frowns and checks her tablet. "What is his designation?"

"Well, his name is James. Talbot."

She taps and swipes on the tablet. "Yes. He is in processing for upgrades. He has been having system issues the last few weeks."

"What does that mean?"

The scientist pointed to a door that said PROCESSING. "Through there."

I thank her and hurry off, painfully aware of the attention I'm drawing from other scientists as I run through their whatever lab.

I push open the PROCESSING door in time to see James with another pair of scientists who are connecting something that looks like a charger into the side of his head. My mouth gapes, because I realize the skin of his head near his ear and hairline is pulled forward. The charger is being inserted into a port inside his head. The scientists pause to look at me, then look at each other, as if considering what action to take next.

James sees me too, but doesn't react like he should or like I want him to. Mainly, he doesn't react at all.

"I will be with you in one moment, Greg."