Prologue
Dream/Vision (3 December 1963, Moscow)
“Son', idi syuda i sadis'.” (Sonya, you should come in and eat.)
Sergey's voice brought Jennifer out of her thoughts, but did not startle her. I guess I have run out of time to look at the ids. I have what I can get from them anyway. I need to get information from this man. She put down what she was looking at and made her way to the kitchen.
The kitchen was small, but did include a table on which to eat. She sat down next to the dishes which were clearly lain out for her. Eggs and porridge. He knows what I eat. I am not sure what I expected, or what is normal, though. She tried the food in front of her. It was not identical to what she was used to, but it was still good.
They ate together in silence. While this prevented her from revealing who she was, it made it difficult for her to determine with whom she was sitting. This did, however, give Jennifer time to think about her situation. She wondered if she should tell this man she was not who he thought she was. Every time she thought of opening her mouth to talk about it, however, she found she didn't know what to say.
It is strange. Everything about this world seems to fit me. Or rather, everything about me seems to fit this world. I am clearly not who I was.
Prologue
Dream/Vision (3 December 1963, Moscow)
She continued to look at the ids. She would have been … 25 when she got this. My age. In Yakutsk, wherever that is. Siberia. Not here. Did her life start after my memories end? Based on the dates, that was 7 years ago. She put her hand to her head in frustration. I need to get as much information as I can. She continued to look through the booklet. Marriage status matches this guy, as well as address. I guess that makes sense considering the consistency here.
She didn't know what to think. Everything seemed to fit together, but it was wrong, impossible. The life she was put into – this was wrong, she couldn't do this for many reasons. It was not that she didn't understand what this meant, it was that she did, and she couldn't be a part of it. She looked at her passport and id again, trying to take it in.
This is ridiculous, why would they even want me. I am not the same type of socialist they are. It would make more sense for them to imprison me, force me to work. This is not a labor camp. Besides, the uniform was an officer uniform. It was like they said, “I think she needs to be in charge of people – it would help with her self-confidence.” … Eto nelepo. There is no way this could be me.
There is no way I am getting through the day; this entire thing is crazy.
Besides, it would be irresponsible of me to do this. I would have access to classified information I should not and power over others not intended for me. Maybe I can tell him. If I still speak as this woman, but as if I lost my memory, he may be able to get me out of this situation without harm to me, or anyone else.
Prologue
Dream/Vision (3 December 1963, Moscow)
In the hallway, Jen looked at her reflection. The thought would be that a Quantum Leap type body switching would be recognizable. Her face, however, looked like her own. Older, perhaps, and clear of acne, but still her own. Maybe I just recognize it as my own face. There are apparently other things which I have not noticed as unusual. Well, my eye color is correct – light brown. My hair is brown, short and easy to maintain. … Besides, nothing seems to indicate that I can't detect the oddities when looking for them. And this doesn't feel unusual, unlike the other aspects where my instincts seem to be split.
She
took out her passport from the purse. She turned to the page with her
picture. It did look like her. She compared that image to the one on her
id. They matched. She then compared the image to her reflection. They
also matched. She looked back at her KGB id. The feeling of dread
returned. I can't be this person.
Okay. I need to calm down. She breathed in slowly and breathed out even slower. There is other information here. I need to know who this woman is. She looked through the passport. My birthday is incorrect, although that would be understandable considering the circumstance. My place of birth, however, is close to my real one. Perhaps they couldn't hide my accent and mannerisms. … Although this would only make sense if this person is me, not if I were put into another's life. … I guess similar principles may still apply. Something like a “Life on Mars” type circumstance would require the other individual to still be me.
