by Nat Kozinn
Tom shocked himself, his parents, and his entire school by making the team as a freshman. He was the first freshman to make the team since the leagues had restarted. He shocked everyone further during the fourth game of the season. The starting running back and his backup were both injured, leaving Tom, the third-stringer, as the only healthy player. Tom was able lead his team from behind in the fourth quarter, rushing for three touchdowns including the game winner as time expired.
Tom was carried off the field by his teammates. After celebrating with his compatriots, Tom went home. His father had heard about the game, he was waiting with two cigars.
“Winners get their reward,” Oren said as he handed Tom the lit cigar.
“Thank you, sir,” Tom replied.
He put the cigar in his mouth and breathed in deeply. He then immediately turned green and nearly coughed his lungs out.
“You keep winning and you’ll get used to it,” Oren told him.
“If you say so.”
“That was some performance out there today. You looked like your old man back in ’68. You’re a little bigger than I was, but you don’t quite have my speed.”
“Thanks. I was just happy they finally let me play,” Tom replied. He was nervous. He couldn’t remember a time his father talked to him aside from telling him dinner was ready or the like.
“I’m not too surprised. You’ve got my blood in you. It was just a matter of time until you cashed in on your potential. Your mom had Martha take some steaks out of the ice house. We’re going to celebrate another Calhoun football star tonight,” Oren said and put his arm around Tom’s shoulder.
The two spent an hour looking up at the stars and talking before heading in for dinner. Tom grinned the entire time.
He continued to grow in size and athletic ability as time went on. By his sophomore year, he seemed unstoppable on the football field. He scored a touchdown half the time he touched the ball. He was the fastest, biggest, and strongest player on the team. Would-be tacklers just bounced off him. He played as the starting running back and the starting middle linebacker, playing every down of every game.
Opposing teams started to question whether Tom was going through a normal growth spurt. Rumors circulated that Tom might be a Different. The Genetic Incongruity scan was not yet available for public use, so there was no way to verify the suspicions. Oren Calhoun had been a star player in high school, and Tom was simply taking after his father. They both managed to convince themselves of that explanation. They chose to ignore the fact that Tom was eating five times more than even the most voracious teenager.
Oren Calhoun could not have people believe his son was a Different. The Houston Metro Area was dominated by believers of Sapienism, a sect of Christianity, similar in many ways to Baptists, but with one essential change. Their central tenet was that Differents were sent by the Devil to torture and test mankind. If people believed Thomas Calhoun was a Different, Calhoun Fishing could be finished. Oren Calhoun started fights in the stands with anyone who suggested his son was a Different. He even sued a rival school after its newspaper printed an article suggesting Tom was a Different.
As much as Tom won on the football field, he failed in the classroom. Tom was constantly getting into fights with other classmates and even teachers. To Tom, it seemed like they were all challenging him, challenging his position, challenging his dominance. A beast was growing in Tom, and the animal inside him could not stand to be challenged. If Tom had not been the star of the football team, the school would have expelled him many times over.
As it was, Tom led the team to an undefeated season his sophomore year, and his team made the Houston MA High School Championship game. Tom's father and mother watched the game proudly from the stands as they had watched all of his games that season.
In the championship game, the opposing team focused on Tom as no other team had. The entire defense would run towards Tom as soon as the play started, ready to tackle him even before he got the ball. They dared the other players on the team to beat them. Tom's teammates were out of practice. They had relied on Tom all year and could not make even the simplest of plays.
The strategy was working. Tom's team was losing by six points with only thirty seconds to go. His team had the ball. He demanded they give it to him no matter what. Tom had been getting more and more frustrated as the game wore on. By this point, he was shaking with rage. The beast in Tom could not accept this challenge to his dominance.
The quarterback hiked the ball and handed it off to Tom, who let out an animalistic scream and charged forward into the pile of players rushing to meet him. All eleven players converged on Tom, but they could not bring him down. He pushed the pile, letting out screams that turned into roars as he moved forward. He swung his arms, tossing players on both teams around like rag dolls. Tom broke into the open field and trampled a player trying to tackle him like a bug. When the last defender tried to stop him, Tom grabbed him by the facemask and threw him aside.
Tom ran into the end zone and spiked the ball, screaming and howling. He pounded his chest. Tom suddenly realized he was alone in celebrating and looked back at his path of destruction. Two boys lay on the field motionless. A few others were struggling to get up, and one had a broken bone that stuck out of his arm far enough to be seen by the crowd. When he saw what he had done, Tom knew what everyone in the stands knew. Tom was not human. He was a Different.
7
By the authority vested in me as President by the Constitution and statutes of the United States and in order to combat the rampant famine and disease that is crippling the nation, all citizens and permanent residents are hereby ordered to evacuate their homes and report directly to the closest designated Metro Area. Failure to do so shall constitute a violation of law. Citizens are advised to contact their local authorities regarding transportation to the designated areas.
President Ronald Reagan Executive Order 13578
March 17th 1985;
Mandatory evacuation to the Metro Areas.
"These ladies are going to be easier than kindergarten," P-Dub exclaims.
"That's what you said about the place last week and it was bull. It was just a bunch of prude private school girls with Ultracorps fat cat daddies," Jason counters.
P-Dub, Jason, and Gary have been having this same basic conversation for the entire Slug ride. I'm suddenly wondering why I made myself go out with them. I don't think I was really missing anything. Hearing P-Dub list his sexual exploits is not my idea of a good time. Besides, I can tell he’s making up half his stories because his pupils dilate and his heart rate goes up. That’s what your body does when it knows you are lying.
"They were hot. Anyway, this will be different. No prudes for us Chosen Sons. God commands them to get with us," P-Dub says.
"Yeah, Chosen Sons, I do like that name better than Differents. How'd you find out about this Cabotist bar anyway?" Gary asks.
"Keep your voice down bro, don't say that so loud. A bunch of Differents headed to a Cabotist bar isn't going to be too popular. There's probably a mob waiting to burn the place down as soon as they find out where it is," Jason says.
"So what? Who's going to mess with four Differents, even if one of them is Gavin? Anyway, as soon as we're gone, they can burn the place to the ground for all I care. I'll have gotten what I need," P-Dub says smugly.
I listen in silence as we ride the train to the outskirts of town. I need to be more social, I tell myself, that's why I'm doing this. I need to get better at social interactions, and practice is the only way to improve at anything. That's why I'm hanging out with P-Dub. Plus, I'm learning the important skill of being able to stomach people I can't stand.
"So, answer. How’d you hear about this place?" Gary asks.
"I heard about it from some dude in Santa Monica," P-Dub answers.
"What were you doing in Santa Monica? You can't get enough of those Morpher girls, can you?" Jason says.
"I found something better. Telepath gi
rls. They can do things you can't even imagine, without even touching you. It’s all in your mind, but it feels just like real life. They cost a ton, but it's worth it, and I can afford it," P-Dub replies.
I like P-Dub less every time he speaks. I'm discovering new depths of loathing hidden deep within my brain. I tune him out as he describes in detail the imaginary fantasies he’d had fulfilled by Telepath girls. I think about whether I can take him in a fight. P-Dub's an energy producer and a Beta at that. He generates heat, probably enough to kill me, but still, I bet I could take him out before he could get hot enough to do any serious damage. This is a weird thing to think about. I should stop.
"And let me tell you, she is as hot as can be. Blonde hair, nice rack, unbelievable," P-Dub says, and I somehow manage to dislike him even more.
"For all you know, it's a fat old dude and he's just making you think he's a woman the same way he makes you think your fantasies are coming true," I chime in.
Gary and Jason look at each other and break out laughing. P-Dub laughs too, but I can tell it's pretend. Being the butt of a joke is not the kind of attention he likes.
"Gavin, coming in out of nowhere with the slam! Awesome," Gary says and slaps me on the back.
"All right, come on, the next stop is ours," P-Dub says.
The Slug pulls into the Robertson station and we get off. I've never been to this part of town. It's far from the Metro Center, and there isn’t any reason to come out here. The buildings are all rundown Pre-Plague structures. Most of them look like they are barely standing. The majority of the buildings are abandoned. There are only a few windows with lights on inside. Not many people live this far out.
"It's just a few blocks from here," P-Dub assures us, and we start walking.
"Man, its spooky out here, all these empty buildings," I say.
"What's the matter, need a tampon?" P-Dub says back, seemingly just to make sure I continue disliking him.
"Someone's still upset because he's been getting mind-screwed by a man," Jason says.
"Gavin is right. We should be careful. The Beast might be on the prowl," Gary says.
"You been reading the think.Net tabloids again?" I ask. Gary loves to read that smut. It's all made up news. The people writing it and the people reading it all know it's fake, so I don't get why anyone likes it.
"No this isn't from the Enquirer. The people out here are actually still afraid of The Beast. I was out here a few weeks ago, dropping off some old Manna to a soup kitchen. The guy who ran the place was harassing me to hurry up because he wanted to get home before dark. He said that Lauren Conrad woman who ran all those protests had been killed out here by The Beast, and he didn’t want to be next," Gary answers.
"He couldn't have been serious?" P-Dub asks.
"Some people are just looking for an excuse to be afraid of Differents. If that means they have to imagine that some psychopath who was killed ten years ago is still on the loose, then so be it. That way they can justify voting to increase COL fees," Jason says.
"The Beast's Feast was only five years ago..." I say but then I trail off. We've finally gotten to the bar.
The block's activity stands out like a sore thumb. There's a giant WormLight on the outside of the bar that lights up the whole street. We can hear the voices inside. I focus and can make out what each individual is saying. There is a lot of disturbing talk about Cabot. These people are nuts.
We head inside and into a thick cloud of smoke. So far it's just like the only other bar I've been to. I take a quick scan and spot a few other D tattoos in the crowd. The other Differents look away when we make eye contact. They know we should be ashamed of what we are doing here.
I think if I could feel guilt and shame, I would be feeling them now. I came in with a bunch of guys who are here to try to take advantage of confused religious fanatics. I have to practice being social, I tell myself. I fight the urge to leave and follow the other guys to the counter.
"Four Manna Beers please, ma'am." Jason says to the attractive, late twenties, brunette bartender. She looks a little like Sean Young. I’ve had a crush on her ever since my ninth birthday when I got to watch the movie Blade Runner on think.Net.
She goes to the cooler and grabs four bottles.
"Here you go. Enjoy," she says with a smile.
"Thanks. What's the damage? You guys don’t charge to think.Net do you?" Jason says as he reaches for his wallet.
"On the house, fellas. We don't take money from the Chosen here. Eat and drink all you like, we would be honored,” she answers.
"Seriously?" P-Dub asks.
"Well that settles it. This is my new favorite bar," Gary adds.
We open our beers and lift them to cheers.
"Let's get stupid," P-Dub says with class.
We clink bottles and take a sip. I remember my dad claiming he hated Manna Beer, said it tasted like crap, that it couldn't compete with the real thing. Then he'd down another bottle, so I guess he didn't think it was so bad. It tastes gross to me, overly bitter. I don't think the taste is why people drink it, though.
"If everything is free, let's get some shots too," P-Dub says. "And some for the ladies at that table."
There's a group of four women sitting at a table close by who were already staring at us before P-Dub ordered them drinks. They happily accept the offer and come over to talk. They seemed to have us picked out already and separate to talk to us one on one. A cute blonde-haired woman approaches me.
"Hi there, my name's Jenny. What's yours?" Jenny asks me.
#
"Then I told them if they didn't get me a table, I'd make the bar so hot it would turn into sauna. We got the table," P-Dub says proudly.
He's full of it. There's no way they let him into Studio 54. That place is all Pre-Plague money. They would not let a Different into the club, and if a Different ever threatened them, that Different would go to jail for a long time. Lucky for him, the girl on his arm doesn't care what he's full of. Her religion has blinded her, and she'd go for any Different, even P-Dub.
Not that I should talk, Jenny has been pretending to like me for the last two hours. She's doing a good job of hiding it, but body language is hard to mask from me. It's nothing too awful, I think she just finds me boring. I can't blame her, I think she's boring too. We don't have much in common. The only thing she wants to talk about is a bunch of radio programs I don't listen to. Why would I? I can afford think.Net.
"I'm going to go grab another beer, do you want one?" I say and suddenly realize Jenny and I have been standing in silence for four minutes.
"I'm still nursing this one, thanks."
I make my way to the bar counter. The place has cleared out as the night has progressed. We are the only ones left in the bar besides the brunette bartender. She's cute and she’s older than me. I like that. She moves with more confidence than women my age do. There’s fire behind her blue eyes, not fear. She's working hard to clean a big pile of dirty glasses. I like the way the sweat looks on her brow.
"Excuse me ma'am, another beer please."
"You sure? You've already had a quite a few. Nervous about your date?" she says without really looking up from her cleaning.
"No, it's my Differentiation, it helps me process alcohol. I'm not very drunk at all, and I can be sober in two seconds if I want to be."
"Sounds useful. Does it save you from hangovers, too?"
"Sure does."
"Now that is what I call a Chosen Son."
"I feel like an ass. We've been getting free drinks from you all night and I don't even know your name," I make my cheeks turn red so she knows I'm embarrassed.
"Yeah, that was pretty rude, but I'll blame it on your jackass friends. I'm Becky," Becky says with a smile.
"A pleasure to meet you, Becky. My name’s Gavin. You're right, my friends are jackasses."
"Lots of friends are."
"We aren't keeping you here too late, are we Becky?"
"No, it’s okay. The owner
makes me keep the place open till two every night, even though no one is ever here that late. Besides, it's my sacred duty to serve you however I can. Keeping the bar open seems like getting off easy."
"Then I'm sorry for all of the other nights that you have to stay till two for no good reason."
"I can't complain, really. The owner is my dad. The part I hate is walking home so late. My dad usually comes and meets me, but his leg has been acting up lately."
"Are you afraid of The Beast?" I ask.
"No," she says flatly. "There are too many real threats to waste time thinking about the Boogey Man. The usual assortment of murders, rapists, and thieves is more than enough. The cops never come out here so they can pretty much do whatever they want. My dad has been trying to get a neighborhood watch started, but nobody cares, or they're too scared."
"Doesn't seem like the cops help anywhere. I could wait and walk you home, if you'd like. I don't think the scumbags would mess with a Different."
She eyes me for a long moment. I think she's already decided to say yes, but she wants me to sweat. Which I should do, I'm getting a little warm.
"I guess so. But, so you know, it’s just going to be a walk. I don't care what my religion says. I am a lady and expect to be treated like one. Plus, you're just a kid and I'm not the type to take advantage."
"Understood."
"Gavin, come on! We're all heading back to Lora's place. We're going to keep this party going," Jason yells.
I turn around and see P-Dub, Jason, and Gary standing with their arms around their girl's waists. I can see Jenny eyeing me sheepishly behind them.
"No thanks. I'm going to stay here a little longer. Have a good night," I answer.
"Screw that. You're coming. Jenny is Lora's sister. She'll be upset if her sister is lonely. I don't want anything upsetting my girl,” P-Dub says. He is very drunk.
"Yeah, Gavin. You gotta come with us. You can't be alone out here at night," Gary pleads.
