There is suddenly a person standing in the alleyway, where there previously wasn't.

"Uhh... what?" they mumble to themselves before being knocked over by the huge orangey lizard.  They fall to the ground.

The lizard resists!

Well, more like "growls". This is not a happy lizard. It sticks its unhappy face in the new guy's face and growls. There's some embers of fire in the growl.

"AHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!!!!"

The new guy flails wildly at the lizard, scrambling backwards, trying to get some distance.

The lizard cooperates with this. Being treated with fear is the correct response for the squishy pink food people to have to it.

It breathes some fire to make sure, though. Maybe it can stick the squishy thing in a corner and roast it. It is hungry.

The new guy stumbles to his feet, grabs his backpack, screams at the terrifying lizard, and swings his backpack at the lizard's head.

This doesn't have much impact. It makes it angrier and more determined to roast the fleshy thing.

Fortunately something else drops on top of it with a thump. At approximately 9.8 m/s^2.

The something is a guy, who is snarling and has fangs.

Fuck.  What the fuck is going on.  Get out.

The new guy turns and sprints away while the flaming orange lizard is distracted.

"Please stop there!", the falling man shouts. However he is mostly concerned with drawing a big knife and applying it to the lizard's neck.

He freezes in place for a moment, then turns to watch the violence and puts his backpack back on.

His mind is racing.  Where am I?  How did I get here?  I can't remember what was just happening, more missing time?  Where is the fire coming from?  Flamethrower robot, like in the recent Boston Dynamics releases?

A woman comes running up the alley from the other end. She sees the falling man slicing through the lizard's neck and relaxes.

"Animal control officers, sir, please stay here so we can take a statement."

The new guy's eyes go even wider at seeing the blood.  That is definitely not a robot.  Too much blood to be a robot.

"Uh.  Okay.  I'll stay here so you can take a statement.  Thank you for controlling the animal."

"That's our job. Was the lizard chasing you when you entered the alley?"

"That seems plausible? I do not remember entering the alley.  I had some missing time, then found myself here right before it ran into me."

"I didn't hear running before he screamed," says the man with the knife, who is now removing his heavy leather jacket to wrap it around the body.

"Huh. Well, okay. Did you see anything unusual?"

(It may bear mentioning that neither of these people are in any kind of uniform.)

"The terrifying orange lizard is unusual.  There was a lot of fire, which is unusual.  Someone falling from the sky to kill a terrifying orange lizard is unusual.  Having this much missing time is unusual for me, but not unheard of.  I don't recognize this place."

"...Right. He was chasing it on the roof. We try to keep normal people out of this."

She pauses.

"The simplest response is you pretend this never happened and swear not to speak of it. I can give you a card to call if something comes up later."

Uh.  Concerning phrases include "normal people" and "pretend this never happened" and "swear not to speak of it".  This is not a comforting turn of events.

"That's worrying. Am I in danger if I talk about this? Who do I need to keep this secret from, and why? By 'something', do you mean more terrifying orange lizards, or more unprecedented anomalous events?"

"Yes, everyone, and either but mostly the first thing. Further answers fall under the complicated response, which involves much of your life becoming classified."

... ... ...

"Uh, sorry, let me just make sure I've got this straight.  I'm in unspecified levels of danger if I share this information with anyone under an unspecified threat model, and you can't tell me more without most of my life becoming classified? What do you mean by classified here?  Is there anywhere I can go to get more information to orient myself here, or do I just add this to the pile of terrifying confusing things I can't talk to anyone about, and add another vague threat to my paranoia?"

"It is unsafe to explain more to you without us taking significantly more intrusive measures over a much longer time period to ensure nothing leaks. Your life will be simpler not knowing, though at this point maybe not more restful."

"We're not the ones you're in danger from. Personally I say you should join the Conspiracy of Silence."

"Okay, thank you for explaining.  Can you tell me more-precisely which information is the infohazard?  Existence of terrifying orange lizards on fire?  People hunting them on rooftops?"

He pauses for a moment.

"Can you tell me anything more about the Conspiracy of Silence?  Is that related to the more-intrusive-measures, or something separate?"

"Yes, both of those. Mostly the first. Their existence and ours is classified."

"The Conspiracy is everyone who is cleared to know. This involves much more detail, including why it's all classified. If you assume that the measures are the same as what the CIA would do if you tried to leak matters of national security you will be approximately on the right track."

He turns to look at the corpse of the orange lizard, at the blood sprayed across the alley and pooling on the ground.

"Okay.  That's a pretty clear threat model.  Thanks."

He closes his eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply.

"Yes, I would like that card from you, and I'm interested in more information about joining the Conspiracy of Silence."

He takes off his backpack, and starts opening zippers and glancing through the pockets.

"Cool. Come ride in the van," the man says, hoisting the entire heavy bundle over his shoulder effortlessly.

There is indeed a panel van parked on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alley. They open the back and throw the corpse in.

"Great; thanks."

He walks around the van and enters through the side, hoping there's somewhere to sit besides crouching next to a corpse.

"It looks like my bag has the same stuff I remember from before my memory discontinuity. What's the current date; is it still June 1?  And where are we right now?  Oh, nevermind, I can check my phone."

What date and time does his phone show? Does he have cell service?  Can Apple Maps get GPS?

He does not have cell service. There are WiFi networks in range, though.

There are a row of chairs and a layer of bars and bulletproof glass between them and the body.

"Uh. No, it's April 20th. 2024. San Francisco, California," Gene says as he get in the driver's seat.

"United States, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way, Reality."

"Also, I'm Sarah. Gene is driving."

Uh.  He stares at his phone, still showing June 1.  He checks his watch, with the same date.

"We're uh... call me Everett.  I have additional anomalous experiences to report.  Does your conspiracy also handle uh... time travel?  Is this a known effect of terrifying orange lizards, or other infohazards?  Last I knew, I was definitely in June 2024, in Berkeley.  My phone and watch still say June 1, although I don't seem to have cell service."

"No, I've never heard of that. Just dragons, werewolves, and vampires. We're in a state of cold war and if the muggles catch on it goes hot. That's the short version."

He fidgets with a black cylinder he takes from his pocket.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply for a while.

"Okay.  I'm confused and disoriented about something.  Can I borrow your phone to call my wife?  I won't say anything about classified topics."

"Sure," she says after a minute, and hands it over.

He checks the memorized number against the one stored in his phone, then dials a 10-digit Utah area code number on Sarah's phone.  Does anyone answer?

"Hello?," says a female but completely unfamiliar voice.

"Sorry, I think this must be the wrong number."

He hands Sarah's phone back to her.

"So, where are we going right now exactly?"

"A garage where our family runs our patrols. We cover downtown. If we have to read someone in, they have to talk to our local branch and get them to sign on and know what they're responsible for. You... might be handled differently. Time travel or whatever might be a big deal."

He stares out the window.  He thinks.

Okay.  So we were in Berkeley.  Then we lost time, and we're in San Francisco, and dragons and vampires and werewolves are in a secret cold war.  And it doesn't seem to be going well, if dragons are running around loose in downtown SF.  And my emotional support human isn't at her phone number.  And it's April 20th, somehow.

He checks his bag further.

We're not missing cannabis, and my mind feels pretty clear, besides the shock.  Probably the date is a red herring, not *everything* is a sign.

"You think this 'whatever' might be relevant to the cold war?  That wouldn't be a great sign, for a situation that's already this precarious."

"The situation is basically under control. We're on call whenever there's a suspected clutch but that's not really that often, couple times a year, and the babies aren't signatories so we're allowed to kill them if they're threatening the masquerade because the signing dragons haven't kept them in line. We've been stalling for three centuries and the plan is one or two more, but an unprecedented phenomenon might mean we can knock em down early."

"How did you find out about this one? And, I guess, what would victory look like for you, what have you been stalling on?"

"We were backing the Manhattan Project."

"Oh."

He sits quietly and stares out the window, watching the city pass.

"Dragons get tougher with age. The young ones die to swords, the adults can probably match tank battalions, and the ancients cannot be harmed by any weapon ever made. Yet. And unfortunately the ancients are the ones who will never peacefully coexist with humanity or us."

"Also they do things like set up their junior cousins with fake clutches of hatchlings and then tipping us off. To justify killing them. Ancients are nasty selfish fuckers."

"That's terrifying."

Gene laughs. "Yeah. That just says you're thinking clearly."

"They're a bunch of Bronze Age god-kings who haven't noticed the world has changed around them and can't cooperate except at knifepoint. For good and bad."

"So if humans don't have any knife that can threaten the ancients, and the ancients will never coexist peacefully with humanity, what's maintaining the masquerade? What's the equilibrium here, what's maintaining the balance of power?"

"They take us - the semi-humans - somewhat seriously and they don't like having to hunt you in big numbers. We promised to keep them secret and not stop them hunting when they do."

"Grandpa said he had the idea the first time he saw a cannon smash a castle."

"So, you're currently under obligations to work for them, to cover up what they do, to keep people from finding out the danger they're in and what's really going on in the world, to not stand against them.  I'm pretty uncomfortable with that, but as you describe the situation, it seems like there's not a lot of better options available."

"Can you say more about what you mean by 'semi-human'?"

"Vampires are all born human. Werewolves either are born human or are the children's children of born-humans. And we're all psychologically human, with some little instinctual tweaks. We think of ourselves as part of humanity. Dragons... aren't. Even the ones who are our genuine allies aren't. They're loners, hoarders, predators -- the younger ones often have some modern sensibilities but they're not human."

"Zayeed down in SoCal likes us because our food and performance art are endlessly novel and beautiful and if we ever got wiped out or corralled into dragon-teen-84 we'd stop making more. And he's one of the less weird ones."

"So what are the other factions and powers involved here? Vampires and werewolves consider themselves part of humanity, but you also said earlier there's a three-way cold war going on? Are vampires and werewolves similarly terrifying to learn about in some way?"

"Did we? No, there's three factions, four if you count the informed humans separately, but only the two sides. We're... pretty minimally terrifying, given what you might guess from stories? Wolves are faster, stronger, heal quickly, and usually live about two centuries. Vampires are even faster, can turn to smoke, need to drink blood non-fatally about twice a month, and don't age. Mostly we just work through human organizations."