Camouflage

receptionist, retired to have her baby. It knew that Michelle’s husband was a pleasant but unemployed beach bum, and she wanted to work as long as she could waddle down to the bank with her paycheck, which was okay with Poseidon.
    Some time in the next six weeks they would advertise for a replacement. The ad wouldn’t ask for a pretty young woman with a degree in business and minor in oceanography, but that was what they’d get.
    The changeling rented an apartment on Beach Street, a few blocks from the project site, and began a routine that included jogging at dawn and dusk, which was when Russell was out riding his bike. He said he used the time to think, but he probably wouldn’t be thinking so hard that he would ignore a pretty blonde in a tight silver jogging outfit with PROPERTY OF NOBODY stenciled on the back.
    Its bank job was not difficult, and was moderately interesting when they actually needed Sharon as a translator. The rest of the time they had it out front, being pretty and a teller, both of which the changeling could do without thinking about anything but ones and zeros.
    Three of the men at the bank asked Sharon out, and she dated them in strict rotation, without becoming “involved.” It had been a woman often enough to know that men would accept a lack of sexual activity for a long time, if you were attractive and kept them talking about themselves. They were British, American, and Samoan; reserved, brash, and shy, respectively. The Samoan was the most interesting, taking his palagi woman to native places where no one else was Caucasian, and doing physical things like sailing and swimming. More traditional physical behavior, she was reserving for Russell.
    Russell pedaled by her almost every morning, either approaching with a conventionalI’m-not-looking-at-your-breasts smile and nod, or slowing down and coasting as he closed on her from behind.
    The changeling contrived an incident the second week. Hearing the familiar bicycle about a block away, it stumbled and fell, skinning a knee.
    Russell raced up and dropped his bike with a clatter. Sharon was looking at the minor wound and tentatively picking gravel out of it. The changeling manufactured enough histamine to make itself on the verge of tears.
    “Are you all right?” He was a little out of breath.
    “It’s nothing,” the changeling said. “I’m such a klutz.”
    “Wait.” Russell stepped back to his bicycle and got the water bottle. He unscrewed the top and, steadying her with a light touch to the calf, poured cool water on the abrasion.
    “Ooh.” There was no pain, actually, but the changeling made itself flinch. “No, it’s all right.”
    It was more than all right, actually. His familiar touch and the smell of his sweat. If the changeling had been slightly more human, she would have grabbed him and held him tight.
    “We have a first-aid kit back at the office,” he said, nodding in the direction of the project, about a block ahead. “We ought to clean that and wrap it up. Wounds get infected so fast here.”
    “Thank you, I . . . I don’t want to be any trouble. . . .”
    “Nonsense.” He gave her an arm and helped her up. The changeling shivered slightly at his touch on its waist.
    It limped a little, hand on his shoulder for support. “Your bike?”
    “Nobody’ll take it. It’s a junker; I don’t even carry a lock.”
    “People are different here, aren’t they? Back home, someone would steal it whether it was worth anything or not.”
    “Where’s home?”
    “Honolulu; Maui originally.”
    He nodded. “You’re not a tourist, are you? I’ve seen you around.”
    “Work at a bank downtown, translator.”
    “You speak Samoan?”
    “No.” She shook her head and brushed away her hair in a graceful gesture that was not Rae’s. “French and German, some Japanese. I’m studying Samoan, but it’s hard.”
    “Don’t I know. I’ve been here two years and can’t even say ‘pass the disgusting vegetables.’ ”
    “Aumai sau fuala’au fai mea’ai ma,” the changeling said. “I haven’t learned ‘disgusting’ yet.” It hadn’t given Samoan a thought since starting on the ones and zeros, actually, but remembered some from the first few days of that incarnation.
    “Pretty impressive, actually. Languages come easy to you?”
    Job interview? “They did when I was younger. I learned Japanese and some Mandarin.”
    “Hawaiian, of course?”
    “No,” it said quickly, remembering that