The Universe's Mixer

River stood in the wings, waiting.

A red dress flowed almost to her ankles, and her dark hair was pulled back, a red flower sitting behind one ear. Her eyes looked even larger than normal-- one of the corps de ballet girls had lined them with kohl and dark shadow. Her lips were red.

She was not River right now. This was the last night she was going to get to be Kitri.

( The ballet was in the second scene. It was time for her to enter. )

I know this is not how they felt when they woke up from their artificial slumbers. They would not feel disoriented, or unsettled, or fundamentally wrong. They wouldn't notice the difference, and would just csrry on with a life they only remembered because I made them remember it. I was good at my job.

For that matter, I should be used to cities that change themselves constantly, but I have a feeling this is not just another shift. I stand at the window, knowing full well it is a different window, looking at a skyline that looks like a cardiac arrhythmia. It is as if the City has been purged and re-formed. When the Strangers did this, it was because people were rejecting the experiment.

My job is more important than ever.

I have placed an ad in the paper:

"Feeling lost and confused? Need someone to talk to?

Dr. Daniel Schreber, Ph. D.

Counselling, psychotherapy and regression therapy."

This should draw in anyone with paranoia - anyone who is likely to cause trouble.

I was never one to promote myself, or at least I wasn't when I worked for the Strangers. I only treated those who the Strangers wished me to watch, and in order to get a patient, I had only to inject a new subject with the memory of having seen me before. I have both more freedom and less control. It is a dizzying combination.

I wish I knew what happened.