The lady at the desk of the hospital, it turned out, was the first one. She stood and shook my hand. "I'm so glad to finally meet you," she said.

Middle aged white lady, gray hair, no smile lines. That smile did in fact seem difficult for her, but I smiled back, because we poker-faces gotta stick together.

What I didn't say: Do I have you to thank for my tattoo I didn't want? Do I thank you for chaining me to a hospital bed? Are you the one who charged the stunner to the proper medical usage to conk me out while I was trying to keep my freedom?

None of that. I told her my name was Owen, but I preferred Mateo. She was Dr. Michelle. Both she and Todd Trenchcoat Messiah agreed that was a fine name, a fine name indeed.

"Mateo is learning about what we're doing here," said Todd. He was a Todd, trenchcoat or not. He radiated Toddality. "I was wondering if you'd mind sharing your story."

"Of course," she said. "I was a successful surgeon for decades. I worked to help people all over the world. When the change came, I couldn't do it. There was no place for me, not any more."

"You couldn't be a surgeon," I said. "Were there laws stopping you?"

"No, nothing like that. But I went from someone with a place in her community to just another refugee. My family was shaken up, I got divorced. Unofficially; he just took off. A lot of stories like that around here."

They were both watching me; she with her perceptive medical gaze, Todd with his bird-of-prey unblinking stare.

"That must have been very difficult," I said dutifully.

She nodded. I could tell she wanted more from me, but she and Todd exchanged a quick glance. He thanked her and led me away.

I was introduced to more cases just like hers. An architect. A programmer. Several military officers. A banker. Police, a lot of those.

"All of these people?" Todd said, gesturing to the room of poker-playing former police. "All of them lost everything. Their jobs, to start. And then they lost their families, because like it or not, we're all our jobs. Traumatic for families when that changes."

"Did they lose their homes?" I asked.

"Socially. It was a kind of social death. They had homes, but there was no more money to pay the mortgage. And the banks fell apart when people stopped using money."

"So they were kicked out?"

"No, but they lost everything. Man stagnates with no work, Owen. Mateo, sorry. Work is what makes us men. And now we're surrounded by animals and monsters. Expected to treat them as equals."

"We are?" It hadn't occurred to me that this would be a problem. Animals and monsters are awesome. "I haven't been around much, but I didn't see anything like that. Are there laws in place for it?"

"Laws." He scoffed. "No. Just social pressure. If I feel that my community should be Humans-only, I'm not allowed to say it. Well, I can say it, but behind my back?" He shook his head. "The unclean monsters get their way."

"What about…" I stopped. This guy was a zealot, after all.

"No please, go ahead. It's nice to discuss this in person instead of yelling at someone online."

"The world has changed. It's…bigger. Why not just go elsewhere, start a Humans-only country?"

"Because we were here first."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Like the Inuit, I didn't say. Like my friend Josh, who'd beat your ass if you called his dad an eskimo. Like the Luiseño, who'd had the best surf spots in California until Cortez and his looters popped in.

But I kept my mouth shut. To be fair, I might have been worse than Todd the Messiah; I'd known about the Luiseño surf spots since I was a boy, and I hadn't exactly been a wild-eyed activist about it or anything.

He smiled ruefully. "I know what you're thinking. A white guy getting his due. All of us are just displaced natives now, right?"

"Maybe. And that includes me."

He rotated like an animatronic, fast and scary, right up close. "But you don't have to take it. You don't have to just lay there. None of us are doing that."

"Okay," I said, stepping away, startled by his theatrical intensity. "What are you doing about it?"

He inhaled, about to tell me. Then I could see him rein it in. He'd been about to give me the skinny. His evil plan. One, I'm sure, that would have included phases. All evil plans need phases.

"Not yet," he said. "But I appreciate that you're interested. It's giving me hope."

Really? I'd thought I was just being a snarky jerk. I'd have to turn that dial up a little. "Hope for what? Why does it matter if I'm involved? I'm just some dumbass with an unwanted tattoo. Thanks for that, by the way. Thanks a lot."

He waved my complaint away. Pacing now, ranting. "There are a lot of people who follow what the President says. He speaks in code, you know? They used to call it dog-whistling, because only the right kind of people hear it."

"Who is the President? They ever get rid of that one guy?"

"Doctor Jeffrey Harrigan. He's overrated, if you don't mind my saying. But he does have things he says that makes sense. He's just a man, just a guy trying to keep Humans together as a society. As a culture. And he lets things drop now and then. You've seen the Feast of Fools, right?"

"Sure, that floating city with the bees and the old-timey music."

"They're the ones who did it. All of it, the change. The slicing of the world. They're terrorists, and they won a war nobody even knew they were fighting."

I shrugged. "Good for them?"

"Not good for them," he snarled. He was so upset he almost changed expressions. "Good for you." He poked me in the chest. "It was you at the heart of all of it. You, Owen. The President used to magic up people in his original plan, and you were one of them. That version of you rebelled."

"Mateo," I said. But I was thinking. The bees. The prison.

"Like Lucifer in Paradise Lost! He rebelled and now he rules in Hell, rather than serving in Heaven. But here you are again. Ready to redeem yourself."

"This is Hell to you?"

"Magic," Todd was shouting now. It echoed through the hospital corridor. "Magic, everyone can do that, even if they don't deserve it. Magic. You were magicked up by the President, Owen, because he wanted to try again with you. He wanted to give us a symbol of the resistance. And you've lost everything. You can get it back. Join us."

He was red of face, sweating a little.

"Sorry," he said. "I get a little excited. Here…I…I need to go to another meeting." He did something with his clunky, boxy phone. "Oh, she's right here, hold on. Stick around, I gotta go. Don't forget what we talked about, okay?"

"Okay," I said, which is what one says to a crazy person. Good talk, crazy person. Glad we worked it out.

And I watched him sweep down the hall in that trenchcoat, looking for all the world like a freedom fighter, one with the crazy name of Preston Covenant.

"Did he give you a speech?" it was a woman, behind me.

The hottest one in the world.

"Yeah," I said. "How often does that happen?"

"Hourly. Want some coffee?"

I hate coffee. "Yes, absolutely."

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