White Sasha

by Sasha MacPherson

  Humming a tune, she went to the kitchenette to get a coffee. She was way too excited to concentrate on her math right now anyway. Shirley and Danielle - two of the other assistant professors in Sasha’s department - were standing in the small room, sharing a cup of the bitter brew and chatting. Their smile froze when Sasha entered the room and they fell silent as the newcomer poured herself a cup.

  And the two other women turned and left as one, in the same moment as Sasha tried to place herself at the coffee table next to them.

  Sasha tilted her head and stared after them, uncertain of what was going on.

  ***

  With a disappointed sigh Sasha looked into her office mail in-tray in the department’s mail room. She had been waiting for a note from a jury selecting contributions to one of the most important and prestigious annual conferences in Sasha’s field of research. The young scientist hoped to be picked as a speaker for the conference, and couldn’t wait to get an answer if her proposed paper had made the cut or not. She was optimistic that it would, considering how much work and passion she had invested into it – and being aware that some of her findings were of a decent enough calibre to warrant the invitation. But it seemed she wouldn’t get her answer today. It often seemed to be this way with things people were anxiously waiting for – they always seemed to be able to find an extra detour to make in order to put people on edge for a while longer.

  Slowly, Sasha trotted back to her office. Through an open door she spotted Shirley typing away at her keyboard. Sasha peeked through the door and knocked at the door frame. The typing stopped and the other woman looked up at the newcomer by peeking over the rim of her glasses. Shirley was Sasha’s senior by five years and had been working in their department for just as much longer than Sasha. They had occasionally collaborated in various project teams, but Shirley’s research focus was slightly different from Sasha’s, so their work relationship wasn’t too close either, as this put a natural limit on how much the two women could actually work together.

  Shirley raised an eyebrow when she noticed her white-haired co-worker standing in her door. “Anything I can do for you, Sasha?” she asked.

  “Hi Shirley, I was curious if you had ever heard back from the conference we both submitted papers to? AlgoCon?”

  Shirley shrugged. “As a matter of fact I did get a response a few days ago. My paper got accepted.”

  Sasha smiled at the woman and clapped her hands together. “Hey, congratulations, Shirley. I am so happy to hear that,” Sasha cheered.

  “Thanks, Sasha.”

  “But yeah, I didn’t get a reply so far. You did put both of our papers into the mail back then, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did, Sasha. I carried both letters to the mail room that day. Yours should have been mailed at the same time as mine.”

  “Oh well. Maybe the reply letter is still stuck somewhere in the mail system, then. It can’t take too much longer now, if they have already notified some contributors.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Shirley mumbled, then looked back at her screen.

  January 19th, 2008

  Sasha frowned when she checked her mail tray again and still found no notice from the jury. Letters sent on the same day sometimes could of course get separated in the mail system and arrive on different days, but this sort of delay seemed to be unusually long.

  Puzzled, she turned to the team assistant overseeing the office mail room. “Nancy...I am waiting for a letter from AlgoCon that should have been here for a few days now. Any chance it got placed into someone else’s tray?”

  The other woman shrugged. “I don’t think so, Sasha. I have to admit that it occasionally happens, but usually, if someone gets a misplaced letter, they’d just put it back into the correct tray.”

  “That’s strange,” Sasha mumbled and inspected the metal tray that served as her office mail in-tray once again, shaking her head. There was no way she could possibly overlook a letter in an open metal cage barely larger than letter format itself.

  The department’s office mail distribution system essentially consisted of around twenty identical metal cages mounted on a wooden cupboard containing their stock of office supplies. Each metal cage carried the name tag of one employee and would indicate where all their mail would be put into for them to pick up. Sasha checked all her co-workers’ trays in case the letter was still somewhere in there and nobody had noticed the misdelivery yet, but no luck. Out of a sudden thought, Sasha moved the grid of metal trays a few inches away from the wall and checked the area behind the cupboard. She noticed something thin sticking in the small gap between the cupboard and the wall. Bending low and stretching her six feet of length as far as she could, she managed to pry a large envelope out with two fingers.

  Sasha recognized the envelope all too well. It was the unopened letter with Sasha’s paper in it. It had never left the mail room and never reached the jury.

  Sasha stared long at the unstamped letter. Her gaze went back to the metal trays, examining them carefully. And Sasha cursed as she realized what had happened.

  ***

  Sasha stormed into Shirley’s office and didn’t bother to politely knock her door this time. She slapped the letter in front of the slightly older woman and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Why, Shirley?” Sasha demanded with a strong voice.

  Shirley stared at the letter and then at Sasha. “What do you mean, Sasha?”

  “I just pulled this letter out from behind our mail trays. It never got sent out at all.”

  “Oh, Sasha, is that your paper? I am so sorry about that. It must have fallen out of the outgoing mail tray somehow.”

  “Don’t play innocent, Shirley. The out-tray is at the other end of the shelf. There is absolutely no way the letter could have accidently dropped to where I’ve found it. You put it there on purpose, didn’t you, Shirley?”

  Shirley coldly stared into Sasha’s face but didn’t say anything.

  Sasha slowly shook her head as she suddenly understood the bigger picture behind what was going on. “You sabotaged me...so that your own paper had a better chance of succeeding. Is that what this is all about?” the younger scientist whispered.

  “Heck, Sasha. Do you really think you’re the only one who wants to get a small dose of the limelight every now and then? Sasha, the university’s ‘most promising young scientist’ – after just one and a half years of working here. Just for your information because it seems to have eluded you: Nobody ever got this award so early in their career, until now. Sasha, the girl who according to office rumour will be getting the next available tenure track position. You know what? Until you came in, I was in line for getting it, since I have been here for a lot longer time than you. But thanks to you I will probably have to wait for another five years now. Sasha, the brilliant one, who has been at nine out of ten conferences our department managed to send a speaker to in the last year. Do you realize that you’re not the only one in this department submitting papers to prestigious conferences in the hopes to get an invitation? How high do you think my chances would have been to get my paper accepted, if your paper would also have been chosen? If you think these high-profile conferences will accept two speakers from the very same department, you haven’t been working in this field for long enough yet, Sasha. It was either you or me. And it’s goddamn hard to compete against someone having an artificially enhanced IQ.”

  Sasha’s eyes opened wide as Shirley had spoken the last sentence.

  “Sasha, did you really think we wouldn’t find out, and that you could keep this stuff secret from us forever? These charges you faced ten years ago for what you did to that guy might have been dropped, but you still made it to the newspapers back then. It all popped up when I googled your name...including the sort of talents you have,” the older woman spat.

  Sasha could barely hold back her tears. “I thought we were on the same team, Shirley,” she whispered through a tight knot forming in her throat.

&nb
sp; Shirley firmly shook her head. “Sasha, I don’t know which team it is that you are on, but it’s definitely not mine. I, for one, prefer to work with actual humans. Not with someone who makes me feel inferior and unworthy all the time. And don’t think for one single second that I am the only one in this department who feels about you like I do. I guess we pretty much all do.”

  “What have I ever done to you to deserve that much spite, Shirley?” Sasha whispered.

  Shirley shrugged almost apologetically. “Nothing, I suppose. Except being your metahuman, enhanced self. Which I guess is the entire root of the problem here.”

  Dumbfounded, Sasha slowly backed up and out of the room. Shirley’s comment felt like a knife in her heart, particularly since she had not seen it coming. She ran back into her own office and slammed the door shut behind her. Then she let herself sink into her office chair and buried her face in her hands, suddenly feeling very tired.

  ***

  Sasha did not know for how long she had been sitting there, staring into her palms, when she finally lifted her head again. Her gaze fell on the wall, where she had placed her two Ph.D. degrees in Mathematics and Astrophysics. She stared long at the two degrees she had been so proud of. But that was only how she personally felt about them. For the first time Sasha realized that to other people she might look like the equivalent of a cheater, who had used an artificially enhanced intellect to achieve her goals the easy way. Goals people like Shirley had to work much harder for.

  But there was nothing she could do about that. Artificial or not – Sasha couldn’t just shut down her metahuman abilities and pretend they weren’t there. They were a part of her. They were what made Sasha the person she was. And they were the reason why she kept being rejected by others.

  There was only one way out for Sasha, if she ever wanted to lead a normal life: She had to look for a profession where her metahuman abilities just didn’t matter.

  ***

  “Are you sure that’s what you really want, Sasha?” Laura Clarkson asked.

  Sasha nodded. “It’s the only way. I don’t want to be an outcast anymore. I want to be a normal, regular person. You know...the sort of person that can make actual friends.”

  “I thought you loved being a professor, darling.”

  “I did, very much so. But I can’t remain one. Not after today.”

  Laura’s shoulders slumped an inch. “It makes me sad and angry seeing that even educated people can be so narrow-minded and jealous that they keep doing these things to you. I think I can understand you, though. But why don’t you want to join your father and become a crime fighter? They need people with your skills there. He would be so proud and happy to have you follow his footsteps in the RCMP.”

  “Mom...I don’t want to have anything to do with my metahuman abilities anymore, as in not ever. If there was a way to purge them from my body I’d gladly do that. But I can’t. So I will do the next best thing and make no use of them anymore.”

  Laura sadly nodded, and then took Sasha into a firm embrace. “Your father and I will always stand behind whatever you will decide, Sasha. The only thing that matters is that you will find happiness.”

  March 7th, 2008

  Sasha used her key to open the building’s side entrance and headed straight to the office room in the back of the building. Her boss sat at his desk, brooding over a stack of forms. “Hi Marc,” Sasha said, while she retrieved her utensils from her locker. Her boss threw her an appreciative smile and cheerfully waved to her before he returned his attention to the paperwork.

  Sasha checked her appearance in the large mirror to make sure she looked all right. She chuckled when it occurred to her how very out of place her attire would have been for her last job. But here, the skin-tight black mini dress and stiletto heels were more or less regarded to be a part of the corporate identity.

  Setting up her best smile, Sasha walked out of the office and headed straight for a large table where a family with two giggling kids was seated.

  “Hi, my name is Sasha. I will be your waitress tonight,” she said to the family, while she handed them the menu.

  June 17th, 2008

  Jennifer Myers recognized the man walking towards the restaurant long before he stepped through the opened door. Roger Brooks was a regular guest, who usually dined here at least once a week - and always left a more than generous tip to the lucky person serving him. With a silent sigh Jennifer realized that she wouldn’t be the one getting it tonight - she was on reception duty and had to escort the patrons to their tables.

  “All alone tonight, Mr. Brooks?” Jennifer cheerfully asked the good looking man in his early thirties. Roger Brooks’s pitch black hair was short-cropped in a military-style. His face was clean-shaven at a level of perfection that most men didn’t even try to achieve. He wore a black designer suit that complimented his dark tan just perfectly, and in all likelihood had cost substantially more than Jennifer made in two full weeks.

  “Yes, just a table for one this time, thank you, Jennifer.”

  As the dark-skinned waitress was leading him inside the restaurant, Roger stopped for a second when his gaze fell towards the counter – and on the mini-skirted girl waiting for the bartender to hand over a tray full of opened beer bottles and glasses.

  His hand motioned to the white haired female. “Is she new here?” he asked, keeping his gaze locked at her.

  “Who? Sasha? No, she has been here for a few months now. She usually works the day shift though, so you probably just haven’t seen her yet.”

  “She’s gorgeous. And I don’t think I have ever seen a girl her age having snow white hair already,” Roger said.

  Jennifer giggled. “Sasha is a one of a kind in a lot of ways. Is there any particular table you would like to have tonight, Mr. Brooks?”

  The man nodded towards the curvy white-haired waitress. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s one of hers,” he said without taking his gaze away from Sasha.

  ***

  When Jennifer passed Sasha on her way back to the reception, she playfully bumped into her with her hip and gave her a wink. “It seems one of our more sought-after bachelors has set an eye on you, Sasha. Good luck!” she whispered to her co-worker, who also happened to be her friend.

  Sasha raised a curious eyebrow, took a menu from the stack and walked towards the table where Roger Brooks was waiting for her.

  ***

  A short glance at her wristwatch told Jennifer that her shift was almost over. Guests were now going home rather than coming in, leaving her out of work for most of the time. It was a boring hour to work the reception. Jennifer glanced over her shoulder. Roger Brooks’s table was filled with little extras and the remainders of a plethora of side dishes he had kept on ordering all evening long, in a more or less clear attempt to keep Sasha coming to his table, so he could flirt with her. Now he was finally in the process of paying the bill, while happily chit-chatting to Sasha.

  And Jennifer gasped as she saw Sasha taking a small piece of paper and writing something on it before handing the note back to Roger Brooks.

  Jennifer had witnessed her share of male patrons hitting on the beautiful white-haired waitress, but Sasha had never given any of them her phone number, until today.

  Jennifer smiled. “You’ve earned it, Sasha,” she muttered to herself, feeling happy for her friend, who had told her a while ago that she never had a date before in her entire life.

  May 15th, 2009

  Tom and Laura Clarkson stood arm in arm at the curb, watching the scene unfolding. Tom was wearing a black tux, which he couldn’t remember doing at any other occasion in the past twenty years. His wife looked gorgeous in her blue satin dress and carefully crafted hairdo that had her cost an multiple-hour long session in a hair studio to have created.

  “I don’t think I have ever seen her so happy,” Tom said, nodding towards the small crowd and the two persons in the center of its attention.

  “Neither have I,” Laura said. “S
he has finally found the life she wanted, I guess.”

  “Sometimes, happiness can be found in strange ways. I didn’t think she made the right choice back then when she left the university, but it seems I was wrong,” Tom nodded.

  And Tom and Laura cheered with the others, as the pink-clad bride tossed her bouquet into the crowd and Jennifer Myers caught it with an excited shriek.

  Then the gleaming Sasha Clarkson-Brooks took her groom of five hours by the hand and led Roger to the stretch limo waiting for them, which was sporting a colourful ‘Just Married’ sign on the rear.

  March 3rd, 2010

  Sasha stretched her arms and yawned before she crawled out of the bed. It was almost 9am already, but she still had last night’s late shift in her bones. Like she did on every day before doing anything else, she trotted to the large window and gazed out. She could see the entirety of downtown Vancouver and the ocean behind it from their 2,000 square feet penthouse suite, and to her, there was no way she would ever get tired of the glorious view that never looked the same on any two days. The apartment was nothing Sasha had ever dreamt of being able to call her home one day - her sorry excuse for a salary would not even remotely have allowed her to afford it. Even had she remained a professor, she would never have accumulated the necessary wealth.

  She walked out of the bedroom and spotted her husband sitting at the table, typing away at his laptop. He looked up when she trotted into the kitchen and poured herself a coffee.

  “So my sleeping beauty has woken up?” Roger teased her while he longingly stared at Sasha, who was wearing nothing but a short satin nightgown which didn’t even try to hide her features all too well. Roger had bought her an entire wardrobe full of similar cut gowns, for he really enjoyed Sasha wearing them for him.

  “It was a long night yesterday. We had somebody’s birthday celebration in the restaurant, and those people drank as if Canada was going to introduce the prohibition today. I can barely feel my feet anymore.”