Chosen Different_Book 1

by Nat Kozinn

  "Thanks for rubbing it in."

  "The truth hurts sometimes. Let's go in."

  We walk hand in hand to the ticket window.

  "Two please," Becky says and starts to take out her cash.

  I can see the disdain on the ticket taker's face. Becky is just another hick paying cash. I think the ticket taker resents having to do work as opposed to just agreeing to a think.Net transaction. It's not Becky's fault that she can't afford a bank account. She can barely afford her house. Besides, she seems like a cash under the mattress type for her savings.

  "Wait, no, I can get this. Two please," I say and step in front of her.

  "You will not. I have a job, thank you very much."

  "Don't be silly. The tickets are probably two months of pouring drinks for you. Even with my COL obligations, I can afford it."

  "My dad gave me money just for this. If he found out I let a Chosen Son pay for me, he'd be furious. The principles of..."

  I can tell what she's about to say, but Cabot is not a name you mention in the Metro Center, not in a positive light anyway. The First Amendment still stands, but it also lets people say what they think about your religion in screams and curses.

  "I thought you liked me being a gentleman!" I interrupt her, loudly. She reads the look I give her and stops talking.

  "Can you lovebirds make up your minds and get out of here?" the ticket taker says, frowning.

  "Right, sorry. Two please," I say as I go on think.Net and authorize the debit to my account, $88.50. Ouch.

  "You can get the maps on think.Net. Welcome to the Hanging Gardens.”

  We walk through the turnstile into the Gardens.

  "Can we go see the Morning Glories first? They'll close if we don't get there soon." Becky asks.

  "We can go wherever you want. We are going to have a great day."

  "I already am," she says with a smile. She takes my hand and leads the way.

  #

  "There are so many different colors. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

  "Sure I have," I say and look at her.

  I know it's sappy, but sometimes sap works.

  "Oh stop. Are they really all roses?" she asks as she blushes.

  "That's what it says on think.Net. They evolved for different climates and different locations where the bees are attracted to varying colors. They had to adapt to their environment, and to look tasty to bees."

  "This truly is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Thank you so much for taking me here. I missed it when I was here with my dad."

  "They were my mom's favorite."

  Now seems like a good time to open up and tell her about my mom. I think she'll like it if I reveal something personal. It feels like the right time.

  "Were they? You don't talk about her much," she prompts me.

  "I came here with her when I was ten. Normally, she hated all Different creations. She saw all the work of Differents as slave labor and wanted as little to do with it as possible. I think she made an exception for the Gardens because she loved the flowers, and she loved the roses most of all. We must have spent two hours in here just staring at them. It's one of the last good memories I have of her," I say and make myself look sad. It's a true expression. The only memories that stick out after the Gardens are the Genetic Incongruity Scan and her abandoning me.

  "I'm so sorry, when did she die?" Becky asks and puts her hand on my arm.

  "She's not dead, not as far as I know. She left us when I was twelve. Right after my Genetic Incongruity Scan came back positive," I say, adding small pauses to my speech.

  This would be hard to talk about for a normal person. It is hard for me, but I have to make myself show it or she'll think I'm a soulless monster.

  "I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be sorry. She said she couldn't stand the thought of what they were going to do to me—Section 26 and then whatever job they'd make me do. I was so excited to be a Different and had no idea what she was talking about. I understand better now. Living through what I went through, I can imagine how hard it would be for a mother to watch."

  "It’s so amazing that you can forgive her."

  "I don't forgive her, not for a second," I shoot back. "It would have been hard for her to watch? It was hard for me to live. It's a mother's job to help her son, even when it hurts her. Mothers can't just leave because it gets hard. Should a mother abandon her child because he's sick? I can understand her, but I will never forgive her. I was a kid. It was her job to be the strong one," I’m almost yelling. I don't know why I said it so loudly. I didn't mean to.

  Becky doesn’t have anything to say to that, so we continue looking at the roses in silence.

  "I think we need to do something to cheer you up. Let's go get some ice cream," Becky says with a smile.

  She leads me by the hand to a cart nearby. Becky runs up.

  "Hi! We'd like two small vanilla ice creams please," Becky says to the man behind the counter.

  The young man looks up with a smile, which disappears after he gives us a quick scan. His eyes stop on the "D" on my hand. Then he looks at Becky's hand and recoils, I think because she's tattoo-less.

  "Can't do it. I'm on my lunch break," he says coldly.

  "Good one. How much are they?" Becky asks.

  She hasn't picked up on what's happening here yet.

  "Are you deaf lady? I told you I'm on break. Now, get the hell out of here."

  "Come on, Becky, let's just go. We can get something to eat once we're done with the Gardens. I want to try those donuts you were talking about anyway," I say and gently try to move her along.

  "No, that's ridiculous. I don't know what this kid's problem is, but I want some ice cream, not donuts."

  "Why don't you listen to your freak-show boyfriend and move along? You ain't getting nothing here."

  "So that's it. You won't serve us because he's a Chosen Son? Are you kidding me? I must have seen a half-dozen other Chosen walking around here."

  "It's bad enough that I have to serve those deforms. But they can't help being born freaks. You, on the other hand, are a human, built in the Lord’s image. I'll be damned if I serve a cow who betrays her own race," he says with disdain.

  Becky looks at me, expecting me to say something. There's isn't anything worth saying.

  "It doesn't matter Becky," I say, but it's no use. She's incensed.

  "Betray my race? I'm betraying my race? What about the food you sell? The house you sleep in? The entire Hanging Gardens?" she says, her face turning red with rage. "That's all thanks to the Chosen. If it wasn't for them, your whore of a mother wouldn't have had a bottle to feed you or a crib to put you in. You should be kissing his feet in thanks that you are alive. If it wasn't for him and the goodwill of those like him, you, me and our whole race would be dead and the Chosen would reign as they should."

  I've never seen her angry before. I find it a little attractive. Is that wrong?

  "You have five seconds to get your filthy race-traitor ass out of here, or I'll have security come and throw you out," the vendor says as he shakes with anger. I can see him reaching for something under his cart, and I don't think its ice cream. This is about to go south.

  "It's time to go. Now Becky!"

  I guide her away from the stand. I think the only reason she's willing to go is that she's shocked by my lack of response. I can see in her eyes that her anger is moving from the concession vendor onto me.

  "One day, the righteous will rise up and you will burn in this life and for eternity," the vendor yells after us.

  Becky follows my lead until we get out of sight of the stand. As soon as we do, she pulls her arm away.

  "Get your hands off me. I can't believe you. How could you let him say those things about you? About me? What is wrong with you? Don't you have any backbone? You could have kicked that guy's ass up and down the street," she yells.

  "And if I did that, I'd get shipped off to Great Basin for the rest of my life
and you'd never see me again. Would that have taught him a lesson?"

  "You could have said something at least. How can you let somebody say such horrible things and not give them a piece of your mind?"

  "They taught us how to handle this situation in Section 26. There's a class called Emotional Control that every Different has to pass before they let us out. I had to sit in the center of a room full of people and stay there stoically as they hurled the most offensive insults you can imagine. I can remember every word they said. What they came up with was unbelievable. They made the guy back there sound like a children's think.Net show."

  "That's awful."

  "It wasn't just words, they threw things: spit balls, used tissues, and worse. We had to take it. Differents aren't allowed to fight back unless we think our lives are in danger.

  "This is still America. You have the right to free speech. That applies to the Chosen too."

  "Sure it does, but angry words can lead to angry actions. That's why they make us go through the process. If we can take those awful insults and keep our cool, it means we won't hurt some moron who calls us a freak."

  "But you say you're always in control. You know you wouldn't get violent if you gave that guy your two cents."

  "True, but I also know a waste of time when I see it. That guy looked like he was twenty-five. That's twenty-five years of him being a bigot. It's pretty unlikely that fifteen seconds of screaming will change his mind. Especially from somebody he thinks is lower than a dog. Besides, let’s say he gets mad and tries to hit me. Who do you think the cops would believe when he says I started it?”

  As I say this, I'm imagining myself punching that guy in the face. It would have been so satisfying.

  "I guess that you're right, but I still don't have to like it," she says after pausing to calm herself down.

  "Nobody said I liked it either. Let’s go get some donuts."

  12

  There is but one way for my Forgotten Sons to return to my grace. They must serve my new race, my Chosen Sons, in any way possible. They must tithe to the Chosen and submit to their every whim. They must be willing to sacrifice anything and everything for them. If my Forgotten Sons do this, they will be welcome in my kingdom for eternity.

  Chosen Sons: 49

  The Beast rubs his body up against the corner of a large B-Crete building. He’s marking it with his scent so there will be no doubt that this building belongs to The Beast. Everyone will know. The building will make for a good nest. The one The Beast had been using in this neighborhood collapsed last week.

  The Beast pauses his rubbing and takes a big whiff of his handiwork. Immersed in the smell of his own musk, he once again picks up the scent of his fellow Chosen Son, Gavin Stillman. The Beast lets out a howl of excitement.

  This is three times now that Gavin has come across The Beast. The Lord must be trying to tell The Beast something. Maybe Gavin is supposed to be the companion the pastor promised. The Beast starts running down the street towards the smell. Usually, The Beast tries to stick to the roofs so he doesn't get spotted and end up on the news. Right now, he doesn't care about that. He’s too excited to see Gavin.

  The Beast is fast, he covers thirty blocks in five minutes, but he is not fast enough. He can hear shouting in the distance. It sounds like another fight is breaking out. Does Gavin come out to these neighborhoods looking for trouble on purpose?

  The Beast surges forward and turns the corner, onto the block where he heard the shouts. There he is greeted by the sight of Gavin, still looking like an old man. Gavin is fighting a very large man swinging a baseball bat. There's another thug lying on the ground, struggling to get up.

  Gavin dodges the large man's swings and eventually knocks the man down. The stupid boy does not learn. He’s forgetting to watch his back once again. The thug that was down at first has managed to get to his feet, and he has a knife. Just before The Beast can jump in and stop the thug, Gavin whirls around and engages the man. Maybe Gavin is improving.

  Then again, maybe not. As Gavin struggles to handle the thug with the knife, the large thug with the bat gets up. He has a clear shot at Gavin's backside. Before he can strike, The Beast grabs the large man by the head, palming it like a basketball. With a jerk of his wrist, The Beast snaps the man's neck. Then he throws the three hundred pound man over his shoulder like a rag doll and jumps onto the roof of the house across the street. The entire attack took less than three seconds.

  The Beast watches from the roof as Gavin finally manages to handle the thug with the knife. He keeps watching as Gavin makes his way back to the Slug. The fool has a smug smile on his face the entire walk, he must be thinking he scared the guy with the bat off.

  After he watches Gavin get onto the Slug, The Beast stops and prays.

  “Lord, I’ve saved that boy’s life twice now. Please tell me that’s worth something. Please tell me that counts towards making up for my sins.”

  The Lord is still silent. Saving Gavin’s life is not enough. The Lord must want more. The Beast is going to have to save his soul, just like The Beast was once saved.

  #

  When Tom awoke in his prison cell after finding the book, he was no longer a freak, no longer murderer, no longer a monster; he was now a Chosen Son. Tom had more of the Lord within himself than any normal man did. Tom didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve to be in prison at all. Tom needed to escape. In order to escape, he needed to get stronger. In order to get stronger, he needed to eat.

  At breakfast, Tom took the largest portion he was allowed. After he devoured his food, he took the food of five smaller, weaker inmates who could do nothing but protest. Tom repeated this for a couple of weeks, stealing more and more disgusting prison meals. He steadily grew hairier, heavier, and stronger, but eventually he realized that the prison food was not going to cut it. Tom would never get to full strength on those tiny morsels. He needed more. He needed to get into the kitchen.

  Tom saw his chance in the cafeteria one day. A few tables away sat Lawrence "Fishy" Grimes, the former head of the Pazota crime family. Muscle-bound cronies surrounded Fishy, making him the perfect target.

  Tom walked right up to Fishy, grabbed the Manna Sloppy Joe from Fishy's hands, and gulped it down right in Fishy's face. When one of the cronies responded by grabbing Tom, Tom threw the goon into a rival gang's table. They responded as prison inmates do, and soon a full-blown riot erupted in the mess hall. This was not an uncommon occurrence, and the guards were prepared for it. They sent in the Riot Squad, who, the guards assumed, would handle the situation as they always had before. They didn't know that this time was different. This time they were dealing with a Different.

  The guards all stormed into the cafeteria in formation. They made their shields into a wall and advanced on the prisoners. The inmates did not have any weapons that could get through the guard's shields. The food trays and utensils they threw just bounced off. Tom did not need to get through the shields, he could go over them. He got a running start and leapt over the line of prison guards. Once behind the line, Tom attacked the guards. He swung his arms violently, knocking officers down like bowling pins. The riot squad broke formation, which gave the other inmates an opportunity to attack. Soon the entire Riot Squad was disarmed. Now that they had control of the cafeteria, the prisoners barricaded themselves in and prepared for the coming police siege.

  Tom headed to the kitchen while the other prisoners focused on building up the defenses. He raided the pantry, tearing packages open and eating as much as he could as quickly as he could. Tom spent twelve straight hours eating Manna Flakes, Manna Chicken, and even raw Manna. He shoved handfuls of the gooey syrup into his mouth. No matter how much Tom ate, he could not get full. His body needed something more substantial. He needed real meat, but the prison didn’t serve any.

  In a flash, it struck Tom what he should do, what God would want him to do. He looked up a passage he remembered reading in the Old Testament: Genesis 9:2-3.

  "The fear
and dread of you will fall on all the beasts of the earth, and on all the birds in the sky, on every creature that moves along the ground, and on all the fish in the sea; they are given into your hands. Everything that lives and moves about will be food for you. Just as I gave you the green plants, I now give you everything."

  Tom was a Chosen Son. According to Cabot, the Lord had promised His new children all that He had originally given to humans. That included dominion over the animals. Humans now fell into that domain. Eating the flesh of a human was Tom's right as much as it was the right of a human to eat a cow, or a lion to eat a gazelle. In fact, the greatest gift Tom could give a human was to eat their flesh. If he ate them, they died in service of a Chosen Son. Cabot taught that was how a Forgotten Son could be guaranteed salvation. Tom knew just who his first meal would be.

  George Gibbs was a quiet, skinny man. He was serving three to five years on his second conviction for accessing think.Net with an illegal account. Tom liked George. He kept to himself and was well-versed in the Bible. Tom and George had engaged in several discussions regarding Bible passages. George deserved to go to heaven, at least more so than most of the other prisoners.

  Tom asked George to look at something in the back of the kitchen, a place out of view from prying eyes. Once there, Tom grabbed George by the hair and shook. George's neck snapped like a twig. Tom thanked the Lord for the bounty he was about to receive and tore into the man. He started with the thigh. The mix of fat and muscle was delicious, and when Tom hit the femoral artery, the blood was like an explosion of flavor in his mouth. If God did not wish for Tom to do this, the Almighty would not have made humans so delicious.

  Tom continued his binge, eating the man's sweetbreads, his eyes, and every bit of muscle, flesh and tissue he could find. Then Tom cracked open George's bones and sucked out the marrow. Piling the bones behind some empty shelves, he went back out on the hunt. George had been satisfying, but Tom felt a year of repressed hunger grumbling in his stomach. He needed to gorge on the bounty the Lord meant for him.