_1_

I lift myself from the clumps of forlorn newspapers and cigarette ash blanketing the shadowy alley. My knees roast on the cracked asphalt as I jump into the still air. My nose wrinkles at an all-out assault from gunfire and smoke. Holes flanked by treacherous refuse pockmark the streets, ideal for lowlifes. I shake off the nausea from the Shift and start walking. But I’m sure I can’t trust this alley.

I scoff. Trust? Since when is that word even in my vocabulary? It’s not like I have any friends here. Well, save one. I take Buck out of my bag. I squeeze the stuffed dog’s nose, and glance at his nameplate. But his single glass eye offers no comfort.

My pleasure is fighting. My job is death. Anyone I get to know, chances are I stab them in the chest. I have no friends, no community, no knowledge, no memories. Hell, I don’t even know my own name.

I tiptoe out into the street. I blend with the shadows and crawl along the walls, just like Calvin taught me. But I don’t even get five feet out before a swarthy man with a tattooed snake on his face notices me. “Hey, you lost?”

“Aren’t we all?”

The man chuckles. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. You’re on Mr. Blumenthal’s turf. And Mr. Blumenthal don’t like intruders.”

I sigh. “Well, apologize to Mr. Blumenthal for me. I really don’t have time for this shit. What are you all? Gangsters?”

Two other men appear at his side. “Nah, man. We ain’t illegal. Licensed mercenaries. Kyle Blumenthal gives us a pretty damn sweet salary. And that armor—looks like a raise.” The man punches me in the face.

I wince, still expecting inevitable pain. But I only feel a dull throb that might as well come from another man’s body. “Was that supposed to hurt or something?” I pull two sabers from their sheathes.

The man backs away. “H-hey, I uh, didn’t mean nothing by it.”

I am not putting up with this today. I raise a saber, and ready a strike. The man pulls out a walkie-talkie. “There’s like, a ninja here! Gimme back-up.”

The words have just left the mercenary’s mouth when I thrust my sword forward and stab it into his chest. His blood soaks his white shirt as he falls to the ground. I roundhouse kick the gangster to his left. He falls to the ground. With a clean stroke of my sword, I cut off his head.

The third mercenary runs away. I run after him. But it’s a trap.

About thirty gangsters stand at the end of the alley. All of them grasp AK-47s. Upon seeing me, they all click their triggers. The mercenaries fire a hail of bullets at me. For a second, the world is nothing but silver streaks. I close my eyes and extend my arms. The bullets pepper me, light and gentle. God, I love this alloy.

I savor the slack-jawed expressions on the men’s faces for a few seconds. “So, do you all wanna keep firing at me until your magazines run out, or do you wanna live?” I crack a fake innocent smile.

The mercenaries fire another wave of bullets. I shrug. “Well, looks like you made your choice.”

I run through the bullets at the mercenaries. Soon, they click their magazines, empty. I raise my saber and cut through mercenary after mercenary. Flesh tears. Limbs snap from their sockets. Even for a man like me, it’s enough to turn the stomach.

Soon, I am done. I finger the Shifter’s necklace, and dematerialize the bodies.

Something stirs. The mercenary who ran cowers on the ground. “Listen, man. I’m just following orders. I don’t wanna hurt you. You seem like a damn sweet fighter. Lemme go buy you a drink somewhere. We can talk business.” A family photo falls from his pocket.

I nod. I won’t ally with him, but I figure I can spare his life. I don’t remember my own family. If it wasn’t for Calvin…I don’t know what I’d do. I’m a virtual orphan. I won’t make another orphan.

The Shifter buzzes. “Carver, don’t—” I extend a hand to help him up.The man smiles.

And he stabs a syringe into my hand.

I scream. My hand bleeds, not clotting. I squeeze his windpipe. His neck snaps in two. Another enemy, dead by my hand. But will he take me with him?

I take a look at the cut. Okay, it’s small.

But it could still be serious if I don’t treat it in time. I cover the wound, trying to get gone before it turns out genetics do define who I am. Wait. Genetics don’t define who you are… I wait for a vision, but it doesn’t come. The memory hides in a cave. Who told me that crap? Hemophilia is stronger than any stupid inspirational slogan.

After a short run, I am at the end of another alley. I open the white bottle of coagulant and drip it on the wound, careful to only take a correct dosage. Soon, a scab forms over the puncture. A sigh forces its way out of my mouth.

Calvin vibrates the smooth silver surface of the Shifter. I can feel his gaze from the future, somehow. “Is something wrong, Carver? Your vitals are all fine. Don’t be worried about the cut. You got the coagulant.”

I’m glad Calvin was listening. I could use a chat right now. “Yeah, no. It’s not that. It’s just…” I rub my arm, searching for words.

“Are you feeling some regret over killing that one mercenary?”

I start to walk again. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s not right to think about these things, but the man had a family! How could killing him possibly be the right thing to do?”

“Oh, Carver. That man was abusing your trust. He was gonna kill you.”

“Well…I know he was my enemy. But he had a family.”

“Are we really going to do this again? You need to consider the greater good. And to do that, not everyone really is… a person, as such.”

I shake my head. “I…I don’t know, Calvin.”

Calvin chuckles. “Okay, what’s this really about, Carver? I know you don’t care about killing. There must be something else going on.”

I take a deep breath. What I’m about to ask Calvin is dangerous question, forbidden and wrong. “Calvin, it would be easier for me to do this if I knew what I was really doing. It’s been five years. I want to know who I am, and what my real purpose is.”

“Heh, this again? Your lack of identity is good for the other people on this world. It means you have no connection. No petty attachments. You’re nothing in this world.”

“That’s a cheerful thought.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. That was way too harsh. And I see why you feel that way. Hey, you know what’ll make you feel better? Reminding yourself what you’re for. Say the oath.”

I repeat Calvin’s mantra. Buck lies next to me, Calvin’s gift. A light in the caves of my own mind. Proof I can trust the man from the future. Proof I must obey him without question.

“I renounce my emotions, for the good of this world. I relinquish my attachments. And I become pure power. I am your weapon. I am no man. I am The Carver. ” The identity is no good for me. But it’s all I have.

“Alright, fine. So, walk down a few blocks to the west.” Soon, I reach an abandoned mattress. “Try to get some sleep. There are probably plenty of enemies out here. You’ll need to be alert.”

Calvin told me soon my memories would come back in my sleep. But now I’ve had a few of these dreams, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

No matter. I fall onto the ragged mattress. As I drift into the night, into the caves, I clutch Buck. The only way to tell if my nightmares are real.

Sleep brings me no comfort, no sweet darkness. Only blood. Blood and pain.

_2_

I am back in Paris. Calvin’s voice booms in my ear. “Hello, Carver! Well, you probably don’t remember me. This has got to be confusing for you, so just try and calm down.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Calvin. I’m…your boss, I guess.”

“What’s my job?” I want to shout to my dream self. Tell him the truth, as if that could change what I am.

“Well…let’s get into that later. You don’t need to worry now. If you’re feeling upset, there’s a little stuffed toy in your bag. I got it for you, before you came here.”

I take out Buck for the first time. “Cute. But how is a toy cyclops dog supposed to help me?”

“Okay, that might not be enough. Just remember, you have a purpose, alright? You’re gonna be scared, but if you remember that, if you listen to me, you should be fine. Remember, you have a purpose. Okay?”

“Sure, fine. I’ve got a purpose.”

“For now, just get some rest.”

His real voice fades, echoing in a cave. Days later, I can hear him. “I need you to kill him.” The screams drown out the other sounds.

Faces now. All of my victims. A couple of professors in Hawaii, so eager to teach their next class. A wealthy couple who’d just donated billions to charity. So many more. All dead. I could drown in the blood I spilled for Calvin. Is this real?

No. No. Buck has two eyes. This is a dream. It will be over soon. In fact, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this dream.

I’m on the edge of a dock in Glasgow. A man in a red suit presses a gun to my head. “Any last words?”

I don’t answer, but jump into the water. I would have died if Calvin hadn’t made me practice underwater combat. He knew what was going to happen, weeks before, and it saved my life.

A whisper, now. From a female voice. “The tower lies in your old city, miles beneath the water, beneath the rocks. At the end of the land.” Calvin stands, narrow back to me. I won’t remember this one, when I wake up. Buck wasn’t there.

It is almost done. But there is always one more. Just one more terror for Carver.

The thing glistens in the cold light of the laboratory. Steel bugs, forming the shape of a horned man.

The hands click and twist into blades. Atoms are cut, my microscopic structure shorn away.

I scream. The monster disintegrates, pieces caught in the wind, blotting away the sun. But it whispers in my ear. Always just four words. Four to make my world crumble.

“Today is Black Spring.”

I leap up from my paper bed. “No! Get away from me!”

Calvin buzzes the Shifter. “Hey, Carver, calm down! Don’t worry, it’s not real. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

I gasp and clutch onto Buck. “I—I know. It felt so real, though!” I hang my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I shouldn’t be so weak.”

Calvin’s voice is even and gentle. “Listen, Carver. Don’t worry about it. This kinda thing happens. I can’t expect you to control yourself while you’re sleeping, can I? And you’ll get over these dreams eventually. Just don’t dwell on them, and it’ll be fine. The less you think about it, the better you’ll feel.”

I nod. “I—ok. But…It was disturbing.”

“Heh, I can imagine. You wanna tell me about it? Maybe that’ll help.”

“Yeah.” I gulp. “So…I remembered the first day I met you. And then…there were some of my old victims. I felt…guilty.”

“You don’t need to, you know. Everyone you’ve killed deserved it, or rather will. You’re saving people.”

“Yeah…That’s not all, though. I heard a… prophecy…I can’t remember. Something about the end of the land?”

“Prophecy? Good thing you can’t remember, then. I wouldn’t want you to mess something up. Don’t dwell on it. You’ll just get more upset. Please, ignore anything you her, even if it sounds significant. It’s probably just a trick.”

Some of the tension loosens from my limbs. But I still haven’t gotten to the worst part yet. “And…There’s one more thing. There was…a monster. Tall and silver…with swords on its hands. And horns. It slashed at me. And then…It whispered about Black Spring.”

Calvin is silent for a second. “Well…That’s weird. Sounds real ominous, I know, but don’t think about it. All in all, I just wouldn’t worry. Leave that to me. Just do what I say, and it will keep the timeline safe. I can promise you that. ”

I nod. The tension is all gone. I’m ready to fight now.

“Alright, Carver. So, there’s a mission later today, in a tower. But there are a bunch of mercenaries coming after you. Try and clear a few up.”

I hear a few loud voices to the right. I turn the alley’s corner.

A group of gangsters—mercenaries?—stand around a small child. She couldn’t be older than eight. Brown curls blanket her pudgy brown face, reaching down to her torn, pink t-shirt. She has an athletic physique, for her age. Her hands grasp a stuffed animal of some sort. The kid doesn’t even look scared. She stands in a mockery of a fighting stance, shaking her hands in the ghost of a jab.

“H-hey, I’ll-I’ll punch ya.” One of the gangsters moves to lift her up. I notice, somehow, she has a Southern accent.

I know I shouldn’t reveal myself. It’s not a mission to kill them. We may be in a secluded area, but it’s still broad daylight.

The Shifter buzzes. “Don’t try it, Carver. I’m looking through the camera, and if they attack…it won’t end well for you.” I know it’s not a good idea. Calvin’s right. He’s always right.

And yet, I can’t just leave this child. I’ve killed 167 people, and I’ve seen many more die, but all of them were adults. All of them deserved it, according to Calvin. She can’t deserve it.

I unsheathe a saber and charge the gangsters. This time, more of them are sensible and run away. One tries to kick me. I cut off his leg. He bleeds out in seconds. In the chaos, the girl slips out.

She’s almost gone now. I know I shouldn’t try to make her stay. She’s just a child. She’ll get hurt. But there’s something in her face. Something familiar.

“Wait!” She stops, for just a second. “I won’t hurt you. I can’t remember anything. I just need to talk to someone. And you look a little familiar to me.”

Calvin buzzes the Shifter. “You are making a mistake, Carver…”

The girl walks a little closer. “Ya know, I see it, too. Ya got some familiar eyes and a familiar nose. I feel like I could’ve seen ya before. Ya can’t remember anything? Well, maybe ya met me before.”

It’s interesting, to say the least. But suddenly, the sheer absurdity of this exchange pulls my jaw down. “Why am I even talking to you? My line of work is very dangerous, not suitable for children or the faint of heart. And kid, sorry, but you seem like both.”

Her face gets puffy. “Hey! I don’t like it when you grown-ups think I can’t do anything because I’m little! And by the way, my name’s Jackie. Not ‘kid’, or ‘twerp’ or anything else ya can think of.”

She’s got spunk, I’ll admit that. “Well, I still know you’re gonna end up dead if you keep poking around. I mean, you were about to get shot! You really shouldn’t be talking to strange men in the street. Why don’t you head back home?”

“Ain’t got one. I live on the street.” She sighs and rolls her eyes. I get the feeling she’s tired of explaining her personal tragedy. “My parents died a long time ago. Got put in a home. Ran away.”

A memory appears, sudden and uncalled for. Climbing out of a cave. I am in a dingy orphanage. Pressed together with too many other boys and staff. “I don’t remember too much of my past, but I kind of feel like I know what you mean.” Indeed, there is some tiny tinge in my stomach telling me, somehow, we are the same.

“Well, then why are ya being so mean? You’re the only guy I seen who could handle Blumenthal’s crazies!”

“I’m a goddamn assassin! I don’t have the time or energy for brats like you!”

Suddenly, I hear a crash in the distance. “Now see what you’ve done! They’ll be all of over us in a few seconds.”

I sigh, and ready my saber to face whatever second-rate thug this city has to offer. But it’s not that.

It’s the monster from my dream.

_3_

I stare at the thing for what seems like decades, not quite trusting my eyes. It’s not quite the same. This monster has smaller horns and beady mechanical lenses instead of the towering crests and sunken eyes of my nightmare. But it still shambles toward me, little metal beads leaking off its silver hide.

Jackie waves a hand in my face. “Uh, hello? What, ya never saw a BlumenBot before?”

“BlumenBot... Got anything to do with this Blumenthal?”

Jackie shakes her head. “Ya really aren’t from ‘round here.”

“Clearly. So how do I kill this thing?”

Calvin crackles in from my Shifter. “I meant to tell you. Slipped my mind. Well, they call it Blumenthal Combat Robot Mark Two, or BlumenBot for short. These things are deadly, private military. It’s made of a bunch of little bugs surrounding a carbon fiber skeleton. You need to crush the blade. You can kill it if you destroy most of the bugs. You don’t need to get all of them. If you get a majority, the rest of the bugs will be too weak to do anything. They’ll just fly away. And if it’s getting weak, it will get slow and woozy. They have a chemical weakness, but for now, you probably should get a bullet-cutter.”

“Will do.”

I get out one of my longer, thinner sabers, one of the Shift Blades. I’m glad Calvin can Shift me things from the future. I’d be out of swords at this rate otherwise.

The BlumenBot growls at me. I smirk. “Yeah, don’t like it, huh?”

The robot leaps, splintering into its tiny bugs and reforming a few feet ahead. I raise my sword.

I parry the BlumenBot’s strikes blow for blow. I can’t even see the blades, just a silver blur. Each cut rips the tiny bug parts off the hulking machine. It paws at my jacket, but it is weak. I grin and raise my blade for the killing blow.

But as the sword is only an inch away from the BlumenBot, my hands press a tiny blue button. All at once, my blade is gone. “What the…”

Calvin gulps. “Oh, no. You triggered a Shift, didn’t you?”

The blade appears in Jackie’s hands. She struggles with it for a few seconds, before the excess mass Shifts off. “Cool!”

Shit. The little Shifter is nice, sometimes. It gives me course correction, helps the sword stop bullets, and keeps me from dropping it.

But now, it Shifted away. And of all the coordinates it could have chosen, it went to her hands. “Oh, no. Jackie… don’t…”

But I’m far too late to do anything about it. Jackie runs at my assailant, hacking at its armor with my blade.

And it actually works. She gracefully dodges each of its blows, a twirling hurricane of kicks and blades. Chuckling, I grab another saber and join her.[a]

The robot is slowing as we cut it apart. Finally, with a mighty roar, the BlumenBot’s mechanical skeleton crumples.

I look over our handiwork. “Good job, Jackie.”

“Thanks, I used to be on my school gymnastics team. Where did you learn to fight?”

“No idea. I have amnesia.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Mr.…Uh…I never got your name.”

Oh no. I don’t have a name. Well... “I am no man. The Carver.” That’s as close as I can get.

“Norman Carver, huh?”

“What…no, that’s not…whatever.” Come to think of it, that’s not that bad. I’ve spent enough time with no real identity. “Fine, call me Norman Carver.”

“Well, thanks, Norman. Can I call ya Norm?”

Okay, if this is gonna be my first identity, it can’t be that lame. “No! Absolutely not!”

“Alright, Normie it is, then.”

I sigh. “Goddamn it.”

Suddenly, my spine tingles. I turn back to the remains of the BlumenBot. A man cries out as he wrestles out of the wreckage, pushing aside pieces of endoskeleton and tiny metal bugs. I rush over to him.

The man has a prominent weasel nose. “Were you piloting this thing?!”

“Uh… well…”

“Answer me, you son of a bitch!” I grab Weasel Man and shake him back and forth.

“Y-yes.” The Weasel Man’s lip is quivering.

“Do you work for Blumenthal?”

“W-well, most people do these days. Kyle’s company, BlumenCorp, owns a lot of stuff.” He gives a weak, mirthless chuckle, his nose twitching.

“Why’d he send a robot after me?”

“Was a regular patrol. I was told to look for any stolen tech around this city. Everything’s got a radiation signature to identify it. That body armor you’re wearing, it’s our tech.”

“How can we find Kyle Blumenthal?”

“I dunno. The boss keeps his location confidential. Won’t let me see the tower.”

Where is the tower? I feel like that’s important somehow. I might remember something. The end of the land? Beneath the rocks? Nothing coherent, though.

Well, Calvin can probably help me figure it out. I turn back to the Shifter. “Calvin, can you tell me why do I have BlumenCorp armor on me?”

“Honestly don’t know. BlumenCorp apparently went bankrupt in 2025 and its leaders seem to have disappeared around the same time, but it looks like it had quite the presence around this time. Some of the tech from them could’ve been recycled for your enhancements. Hold still for a second. I can cloak the radiation.” My armor whirs. I hope Calvin has charged up the neutrino banks. He won’t be able to physically interact with this time unless he has enough neutrinos.

“Should I get the pilot?”

“Leave him. He’s not worth your time. I think he’s just a minor military advisor. Killing him would draw more attention, even if he squeals.” The Weasel Man runs off.

Jackie grabs the Shifter by the chain. “What? Why’d ya wanna let him go?”

I snatch back the Shifter. “Carver? What’s going on?”

“Oh, yeah. This is Jackie. I think she could help me out.”

“She may be athletic, but with your lifestyle, she’s gonna die. There’s no way this comes out well for you.”

I know Calvin wants me to keep safe, but Jackie can help me. “I don’t understand why you’re so uptight about this. Jackie will be helpful for me.”

Calvin sighs. “Fine. You can learn this lesson on your own.”

“Geez, this Calvin reminds me of the orphanage lady.”

“What?” Fake sympathy is just that; fake. It’s not appealing, even coming from a kid.

Jackie raises her hands. “Well, y’know. Coming up with stupid rules ‘n’ restrictions on where you can do, what you can do there, and who with. Say, is Calvin your dad?”

I grimace. Jackie won’t believe this explanation. “No, he’s from the future! I met him in the future, and then I got sent back here.”

Jackie stares at me, wide-eyed. “Time travel? Wow, ya mean it? Huh. Well, one of the orphanage ladies believed it.” She thinks for a second. “So, if he’s younger, why’s he got the right to treat you like a kid? Ya got superpowers. I betcha could kick his butt and have plenty of energy to spare.”

I shift my footing. “You—you don’t understand. I was no one when I came here. I had no friends, no one to help, no idea how to live here. And Calvin understood me, where the explosions in the caves came from. He gave me a purpose. He lit lights inside my head. He watches through the Shifter, keeps me safe, and Shifts things in when I need them. He knows everything that will happen. He’s the only won who can keep the future safe. I trust him, with my life. How could I not?”

Jackie furrows her eyebrows and nods, reminding me of a psychologist somehow. When have I ever seen a psychologist? And for what? “I think you have that mail disease.”

“Mail disease?”

“Yeah. Post-dramatic stress disorder. Where you go all post office. I heard ‘bout it at school.”

“Post-dramatic… Aughhh! Stop it! Why am I still talking to you? You ought to head back to wherever you came from.”

“C’mon, I can’t just letcha say put here! It’ll probably start to rain or something, and ya can’t get caught in San Fran rain. That bed ya got is no good. Lemme take ya to my little shack village, and I can getcha a better bed.”

Calvin joins in. “I hate to admit it, but the brat’s probably right on this count. I’m watching the clouds, and a storm’s coming. First in a while, and you don’t wanna be caught in it. I suggest you take her up.”

Jackie stares at me with doe eyes.

I sigh. “Fine, I’ll stay in your shack village.”

Jackie looks really happy. Her smile is cautious, as if she only now remembered I could be dangerous. But there’s still a lot of sheer, childish joy. “Great! My shack isn’t far. C’mon, follow me!”

As she runs off, Calvin pipes up again. “You know, that girl is gonna die. And it will be your fault. Because you didn’t listen to me. If you care about her, you need to leave her. It’s for her own good.”

I shake my head. “I’ll protect her.”

“Then she’ll be the death of you, someday. Now say the oath, again.”

“I renounce my emotions, for the good of this world. I relinquish my attachments. And I become pure power. I am your weapon. I am no man. I am The Carver.”

As I run off to follow Jackie, I can imagine Calvin’s spindly fingers, stroking my face. What? The memory is back in the caves, as soon as it came out.