by Nat Kozinn
>>>Well la-tee-da. Anyway, we're heading back Thursday night. You down?
<<
>>>The bartender from the other night? I didn't know you had a thing for older women.
<<
>>>That does sound better than getting drunk and chasing girls. Good choice.
<<
>>>Have to get right back on that horse. What should I tell the bartender? I bet she will ask about you.
<<
>>>I didn’t know you had it in you.
#
Larry made himself look like a fat, redheaded little troll again. He does remember me. You never can tell with teachers. They seem like they care about you, but then they move on to countless other kids they are supposed to care about. It's nice to know I stuck in Larry's mind. I don't think he normally walks around as a short, fat guy with a fro.
We're at Oasis Burger, much to my chagrin. Larry’s choice. He orders himself a burger, shake, and fries. I don't order anything. I can't stand the thought of paying to shove this food in my mouth. I can barely take it when they pay me. Larry gets his food and we sit down.
"So, is that all they have you do when you're not testing food, filing?" Larry asks.
"No, sometimes they'll have me help clean the bio lab when they have an especially messy experiment. Those are the exciting days,” I answer.
"I guess someone has to test the french fries. I'm glad it's you. I'll feel much more secure eating here from now on."
"They're called Palm Fries now, old man. What have you been up to? I've been trying to call you on think.Net for a few weeks, but it kept saying you were out of range. Was everything all right?"
"Government business. Very top secret. Can't tell you," he says with a huge grim.
"That smile seems to say something else."
"I'll trade you. I want to know one of your pieces of top secret information."
"What? You already know everything about me. You taught me everything about me for Christ sake," his attitude has me worried. He can't know about me fighting those punks out in the boonies, can he?
"Nope. I want to know what the Oasis Shakes are made of. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Okay, I'll go first. So there I was late one night, minding my own business, sitting in my Construct recliner, watching Crossup on think.Net. Suddenly, I heard a loud banging on my front door and a threatening voice saying, ‘Larry Rosen open up! We know you're in there!’ I open the door and find ten men standing in my hallway. They're all wearing suits, sunglasses, and handguns. They look like they'd love it if I tried something," Larry says, acting the scene out with his hands.
"I figured, this is it. They know about me, they found out I can hide my mind from Telepaths. They're going to lock me up in Great Basin and throw away the key. I started worrying they would make me tell them about you and some other people I know about, and you'd all end up sharing my fate.
“The leader asked me to come with him and I figured, what the hell, I'll face my end with some dignity and class instead of trying to run away screaming and crying like I really want to. So they took me downstairs and threw me in the backseat of a car. I hadn't been in a car thirty years, so I was pretty pumped about that.
“The car windows were covered so I couldn't see out, but I was sure they were taking me to court. Then the jury would find me guilty, and that would be that. A Tranq-coma in Great Basin was the best-case scenario.
“They took me into a building, sat me down at a table, and left me alone in the room. I was working on trying to make my face look like one of the guards when an important-looking man walked in.
“He asked me if I was a patriot. I figured the interrogation had started, so I answered, of course, I love my country. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘do you want what's best for your country?’ I figured this was the part where he tells me that it was for the greater good that they were going to lock me up. But what was I going to do? I told him of course I want what's best for my country.
"Then he leaned in close, and I started to get really scared and he says, ‘Ambassador Lewis died last night of a heart attack,’ and then he just looked at me," Ben finishes his monologue and pauses.
"Who is Ambassador Lewis?" I ask, waiting for the punch line.
"That's just what I asked. He was the U.S. Ambassador to the Africana Coalition. It turns out that he dropped dead right before some important trade negotiation. Apparently, Ambassador Lewis had been the only one who was able to make any headway with the Afrikaans. They needed me to Morph myself into the Ambassador and handle the negotiations.
“It was the real deal. They had a Telepath there to help sell the charade, and just in case the Afrikaans had their own mind reader. It was an intense couple of weeks, but the government was happy with my work. I was able to secure our supplies of gallium phosphide and cadmium sulfide, whatever those are," Larry says dismissively.
"They're semi-conductors," I say. I have that memory in my brain, but I don't know where it came from.
"Oh, well, that just clears everything up. Now, listen, I know I was joking around, but you really can't tell anyone about this. They'd disappear me and you and everyone we’ve ever talked to, so make sure you keep it to yourself," Larry says, and for once, he isn't smiling.
"Don't worry, I won't. You know I never let anything slip out I don't want too."
"I do know that... Well?" he asks.
"Well what? It was a cool story. What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to keep your end of the bargain. What do they put in those shakes?"
"I don't think you want to know, but I honor my debts. It’s 35% manna, 5% sugar, and 60% boiled Styro."
"What's Styro?"
"It comes from a Different. It’s the adhesive they use in B-Crete that turns all the crushed up old bricks and wood into the grey paste we know and love,” I say with a smile.
Larry pauses for a moment to consider this, then shrugs and takes a big swig of his shake.
"Calories are calories. We had to eat worse during the Plagues. In '84 I would have given my right pinkie for a glue sandwich, anything besides boiled rat."
We sit silent for a bit as Larry stares at his shake. I find myself thinking about my fight the other night. If I do want to keep up my life as a vigilante, I will have to do some studying on think.Net. I need to learn how to handle myself better, or next time I might not make it out alive. I have to remember to make sure all the guys are down before I assume I've won the fight. I should also bulk up. I could make my body carry more muscle mass. More muscle will take more calories to maintain, but I think the increased strength would be worth it.
"I said, what do they make the ketchup from? I know it's not tomatoes," Larry says loudly. I realize it's the second time he's asked.
"There are some tomatoes in it, about one part per thousand. The rest is Manna, artificial sweeteners, and food coloring," I answer.
"A little slow on the uptake. What's on your mind?"
I think about telling him what happened. I could tell him about how I saved that woman and how good it made me feel. There's something telling me not to though. I think I trust Larry, but he does work for the government. I don't want to test whether he's more loyal to me or them.
"It's nothing, just bored with my job. Any chance you could put in a good word for me with your government buddies, find me something a little more exciting to do?" I finally say.
"Still hung up on that, huh? You did always want to be a hero. Let me fill you in, the government doesn't help as many people as you want to think. You're probably saving more lives testing french fries, or Palm Fries, or whatever they want to call them."
"It doesn't feel that way. I can't imagine testing food my whole life. I've already eaten enough fast food for a hundred lifetimes. I'm bored out of my mind."
"
Sounds like a job all right. Tell you what, I'll talk to some people, see if there's anything for you. But I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. Not to offend, but you did used to be a Zeta, not a great thing to have on your resume. I recommend you do what every other guy who hates his job does: go home, have a beer, and fall asleep watching baseball on think.Net. You've got a job, buddy. In this day and age, that makes you pretty lucky," Larry says as he polishes off his shake.
#
"I remember trees. Most of them were dead already, but there was a little patch behind our house that was still alive. It was so green and full of life. I dream about it sometimes. The air in that little patch of forest was fresher than any air I've smelled since. I think I'll miss it till the day I die," Becky says.
It's the fourth time I've met her at the bar and walked her home. I know taking an hour train ride just to walk with her for twenty minutes seems a little desperate, but I don't care. As soon as I realized that woman I saved could just have easily been Becky, I couldn't stand the thought of her walking home alone. I've been coming as often as she'll let me. It helps that I don’t sleep.
"I read there are still forests up in Canada, where it was too cold for Cabot's bacteria to take hold. I'd love to go see them someday," I say.
"Maybe you can on your hamburger-eater salary, but we regular working humans aren't ever going to save up enough to see them," Becky says.
"Yeah, yeah, talk to me when you have Section 26 debt. Maybe I'll get to start pocketing some cash when I'm sixty."
"Let's not start comparing sob stories, you don't have a chance."
She's right. I'm embarrassed, and I should show it. I rush blood to my cheeks and lower my eyes.
"You're right, sorry," I say while looking down.
"Oh my God, you look embarrassed. I thought you didn't have emotions,” she responds.
"I have emotions. I mean, I guess I do. I just don't have to show them unless I want to. I figured you couldn't be offended anymore if I was embarrassed."
"I'm not, and it's cute," Becky squeezes my hand.
We continue on the dimly lit street hand in hand. Her skin is cool from the night, but it still feels fantastic. I slow down time so I can enjoy it for as long as possible. Even with that, we arrive at her house way too soon.
"Maybe we can't go to Canada, but would you like to go see the Hanging Gardens?" I ask.
"That sounds fun. It's been so long since I've been to the Center."
"Does next Saturday work, or do you have to be at the bar?"
"I can get my dad to cover. His leg is feeling better, and he'd be happy to do it. He's ecstatic that I'm seeing a Different, especially one who's such a gentleman. Even if I am robbing the cradle."
She puts her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. Soft and wet and perfect. Each night I walk her we kiss a little longer, we grab each other a little tighter. Then she turns and runs off into her house.
I wait until she's safe inside and then make my way back to the Slug. Just like the last three times I walked her home, I take an indirect route back. I tell myself that I just want to check out the neighborhood, or burn off some excess calories, but self-deception is not one of my strengths. I'm trying to be a hero. Despite the fractured skull, broken wrist, and brain damage I suffered last time, I'm hoping I get to do it all over again. I must be crazy.
I relax the muscles of my face to give me that old man look. I walk for a few blocks as my geriatric alter-ego without seeing anything to be excited about, just a few exhausted souls coming home from working a late shift. They're more concerned about me than I am about them. It's hard to believe these battered people are lucky, but they are. They have jobs.
Aside from the tired workers, all I see are ugly, decrepit buildings and the occasional WormLight. There's trash all over the streets. I wonder if they'll ever get Hoovers out here in the boonies, or Walters to clean up the sidewalks. I've had just about enough of this ugliness and turn to head back to the Slug, declaring this another wasted night.
I freeze when I hear what could only be describe as a roar. It sounds like a wild animal. A big wild animal. My mind immediately goes to the rumors of The Beast. Could it be true? Could he be out here somewhere? I turn and run towards the sound. It came from a few blocks to the north.
I hear another roar as I turn to run. This one is stifled shortly after it’s let out. The roar sounded almost... happy? It came from about ten blocks away. I run as fast as I can towards the source, turning up my hearing and vision sensitivity on the way. I hear someone slam a window shut, and the sound is almost deafening. I hear another noise too, like someone or something scrambling away. Is it coming from the roof?
As I run, I start preparing my body for a fight by getting my adrenaline flowing and rushing blood to my muscles. It occurs to me that I might not be prepared to deal with a fugitive murderer monster. I'm already committed though. Something falls and makes a splat on the ground. It sounded like something soft. I run to the alley where the sound came from.
There I find… nothing. Just a pile of rubble and trash. I see a rat sniffing something in the corner. I head over to the spot and the rat scurries away. Now I can see what it was smelling, a kidney, and it looks human. What a lovely neighborhood.
10
I sent my only son to earth with a simple message: love. Instead of love, mankind has responded with two thousand years of horrors. War and violence are as omnipresent as they ever were. The poor suffer disease and famine while the rich wallow in their own decadence.
Chosen Sons: 4
The Beast crouches on a roof, lazily picking at the innards of some poor old Forgotten Son. The man looked like he was on his way home from work, at three a.m. That work ethic is commendable, especially for a man of his age. Sixty-year-olds with limps do not usually work the late shift. The Beast could reward this soul with eternity in heaven. It should be easy. All he has to do is feed, but he has found it hard to choke down more than a few bites lately. He has been too worried to eat.
Ever since he put Gavin on that train, he has not stopped wondering if the Chosen Son lived. The Beast has to hope that God sent some Forgotten Sons to help Gavin. Having to rely on humans makes The Beast angry. He should not need anything from those pitiful creatures. The Beast stops and takes a deep breath to calm himself. Gavin was not a healer. Doctors and nurses were his only hope. That does not mean The Beast likes it.
He closes his eyes and prays.
“Lord, I’m begging you. Please tell me if Gavin is alive. I’m sorry to keep asking, but I got to know if I saved one of my brothers. I got to know if I did something to make up for all the bad I done. Please Lord, even if he’s dead, just tell me. I can’t stand not knowin’.”
The Beast keeps his eyes closed for a good thirty seconds, hoping for a response, but the Lord is silent. Dejected, The Beast turns his attention to the dead old man. He takes a big whiff of the old man’s insides, hoping that something in the man’s ripped open belly stirs his appetite. Instead of something delicious to eat, he smells something better. Gavin. He let out a howl of joy. The Beast eyes where his nose points. He spots Gavin about fifteen blocks away. The boy still looks like an old man. Does he always look that way?
It does not matter. Gavin is alive! God is great! The Beast has saved a Chosen Son! He is a hero. The Beast cannot contain his excitement. He starts running around in small circles on the roof. His knuckles drag on the floor. Then he starts to howl, though it’s more of a high-pitched yelp. He howls for a good ten seconds before he gets himself under control.
He needs to be calm. He needs to pray. The Lord must be so pleased. He must be proud of what The Beast has done. Before The Beast closes his eyes to pray, he takes a peak at Gavin. He is surprised to see that Gavin is heading his way. Gavin moves fast for an old man, fast for any human. He is nowhere near as fast as The Beast, but Gavin is still going to reach The Beast soon.
The boy has good hearing. It is hard to hone in on a sound in
this part of the Metro Area. The buildings are all five or six stories tall, and sound echoes off the B-Crete. Even The Beast can struggle to track down a sound on occasion.
The Beast looks down at the dead old man and starts to panic. Gavin cannot find him like this, covered in the old man’s guts. Gavin will not understand. He has not been shown the truth of Cabot. He is going to think The Beast is a monster who slaughters innocent old men. Gavin does not know The Beast gave the man eternity in paradise.
The Beast needs to get out of here and take this old man with him. He stuffs the man’s stomach and intestines back inside the torn open chest. The Beast pulls the man’s jacket closed and hopes it will hold everything in. Then he throws the old man over his shoulder and jumps to the roof next door. As he’s in the air, The Beast feels something slippery slide out of the old man, down his back, and onto the alley below. The Beast cannot worry about that. He has to get away.
As The Beast keeps moving away from Gavin, he thinks about how great it would be if he did not have to run. How great it would be if he and Gavin were friends. If only Gavin knew the truth of Cabot. The Beast remembers when he first learned the truth.
#
Tom sunk into a deep depression after killing his parents. He knew he was a monster, an animal, a beast. He belonged in a cage. It was the only way to make sure he did not kill again.
Tom decided to turn himself in to the police, but not in the Houston Metro Area. They would know who he was. They would know that Tommy Calhoun murdered his own parents, two of the richest people in Houston. There would be lots of reporters and lots of questions.
Tom could not stomach the thought of all that attention. He decided to make the long walk to the Miami MA. There, the death of the Calhouns was just a blurb in the news. It took Tom three weeks to walk to the outskirts of the Miami Metro Area. Once there, he turned himself in to the police for the murder of Oren and Lilly Calhoun.
Since Tom could not own up to his identity, he made up a new name for himself, Arnold Taft. Arnold Taft was a Tranq junky born in the Non-Assisted Area. He had broken into some rich guy's house looking for money to buy Tranq. The couple caught Arnold breaking in, so he killed them.
