“I as born at Sandia Pueblo, near Albuquerque, New Mexico. My mother died giving birth to me. So, my father moved back home and raised me near Gowanda, New York, in the western part of the state, on the Cattaraugus Reservation, part of the Seneca Nation. I worked at McDonald’s through high school, and I saved my money to move to New York City at eighteen, I told my dad I wanted to go to college to take some programming classes, but the real reason was to go to Police Academy. Becoming an NYPD officer was a dream I’d had since I was just a little kid. I rose through the ranks very quickly by taking on tougher patrol areas, and when I went into detective work I took on the toughest cases. I quit university, and soon enough, I ended up getting on the NYPD Emergency Service Unit.” The young woman finally paused, “Both of my parents were Native Americans. My dad was Senaca, and my mom was Tiwa. And, now, I too am a proud descendant of those peoples… I’m twenty-two… and that’s it.”

In a winded voice, The Doc finally spoke, “Wow, goal oriented… your family and friends must be worried sick about you.”

“My father was murdered about a week before I moved out to the big city.” The girl stopped for a second, “I ended up catching his murderer by coincidence during a meth raid in Queens.”

The man interrupted, “Friends…”

The woman laughed, “Sarai will probably miss me, she was my friend back in Gowanda. But, we hadn’t seen each other for about a year. And, my other friends were fellow cops and they’re all older than me, and had families. I wonder if they’ll worry about me? I mean, to them, I just went missing during a fire at a bank.”

The Doc attempted to rise to his feet, “You seem so passive. Aren’t you worried ab…” The young woman jolted to her feet, “THE BOY! What about the little boy!” The Doc fell back down into the cushion , “What boy?”

The young woman apologized for scaring The Doc, but the old man just had a somber look on his face, “What boy?”

She looked him in the eye, “The boy I met, just before I blacked out and woke up here. He was asking for my help from the fire, I grabbed his hand, and that’s it.”

The Doc’s eyes were wide, “Caesar had a similar story about a boy. What did he look like? According to Caesar, he was cloaked in smoke.”

“That’s about right, I couldn’t see ‘exactly’ what he looked like.” The young woman grabbed her canteen and drank some water.

The old man explained, in a wheezing voice, “Every time someone, from a social-tech age, comes around they always talk about a boy that ‘grabs their hand’ before they appear here, anyone else that arrives here does so randomly. I was just carving a piece of rock near a nitrogen deposit I grew, I blinked and here I was.” The Doc grabbed a small pearl looking object from his pocket, he pinched it, it popped, and he breathed in the smoke that came out of it. He stopped wheezing as he continued talking. “He enslaves people from high-tech civilizations, gives citizenship in his empire to those from low-tech societies, and publicly executes those from the social-tech era. Caesar wants your type dead. He kills anyone from any social-tech period. That’s why his soldiers were after you.”

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