by Nat Kozinn
Once I’m done with the shower, I dry by jumping into the king-size bed and rolling around in the silk sheets. The bed is made of Construct. I shape it and give it a slap. Now it’s like I’m laying in a cloud custom made to fit my body. I’m sure my prison bed will feel just like this.
Once I dry off, I rifle through the closet for some clothes. I pick out a blue suit. It has an Italian-sounding name and looks fantastic, if a little tight. I put on a red-checked dress shirt. It’s also too small, but I can make it work. Then I put the trousers and jacket on. I pick out a pair of brown leather shoes shiny enough for me to see my reflection. I try to tie a tie for three solid minutes before I give up and decide to wear my shirt open collar. I take a look at myself in the mirror. For a guy who is bleeding internally, I don’t look bad. I think it’s time to go face the music.
I start my long descent down the Tower. I have far to go and each step makes nerves shoot off like fireworks, reminding me, in case I'd forgotten, that my body is riddled with injuries. As I head down the steps, I don’t hear the Tower residents below me. They must have all gotten out already. When I get to the twenty-fifth floor, I see how. They’ve got a two hundred fifty foot ladder running up from the ground floor. They must have had that Strong-Woman I saw earlier take out the rest of the stairs for access.
I start climbing down the ladder. I can hear activity below me. Someone yells, “There’s one more!”
It takes me three minutes to make my way two hundred feet down the ladder, with the cops encouraging me.
“Come on buddy, you can make it. We got medics waiting!” a cop yells.
I keep climbing until I’m about twenty-five feet off the ground, and what I was waiting for finally happens. One of the officers spots the D on my hand.
"He's a Different!" the spotter yells.
Suddenly, twenty guns are pointed up at me. One of the braver officers jumps up the ladder and grabs me by my pants and rips me off the ladder. He throws me down onto the ground where the other cops surround me.
"It wasn't me!" I shout.
They twist me around, pinning my arms behind my back. The little bit of cartilage I had grown to help support my spine, tears. Three of them lay on top of me, digging their knees into my back to keep me pinned. Then another cop puts a gun right up to the back of my head.
"You feel that freak? You move a muscle and a bullet blows your skull to pieces. So you'll do exactly what I tell you, won't you, freak?" The cop says. His voice is a mix of fear and hate.
"Yes," is all I can manage. It is hard to speak with my face smashed into the ground and my jaw still dislocated.
"Now, don't move yet, but when I tell you, slowly hold up your hand and let me see your tattoo." He signals to the cop holding my arm down to release me. "Okay now, raise your right arm and only your right arm, slowly."
I do as they ask and raise my arm slowly. When my hand gets close to him, he grabs it roughly, straining a muscle in my shoulder. Another injury to heal.
"Gavin Stillman: Anthropomorphic Control: GAMMA. Somebody get on think.Net with Section 26 and find out what in God's name Anthropomorphic Control is. Meantime, let him up, fellas. He's not our monster. He's only a Gamma, but somebody keep a gun on him," the cops says,
The officers on top of me relent, and I'm allowed to get to my feet. I can barely manage it. Several cops follow the leader's suggestion and keep their firearms trained on me. Then, the leader grabs my right arm again and twists it behind my back.
"I'm placing you under arrest for suspicion of violation of the Different Acts." The officer says as he pulls my left arm behind me and places me in handcuffs. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" he asks.
"Yes," I've watched enough cop dramas on think.Net to know the less I say the better.
With my hands behind my back, the police lead me down the rest of the stairs, through the lobby and out the front door.
The ruptured Hoover main did an incredible amount of damage. The buildings have had their windows sucked out and their facades torn off. Streetlights and garbage cans litter the sidewalk. They must have been pulled here from blocks away. No one had prepared for a broken Hoover main. Why would they? The main is made of Maceo Steel and nothing on earth can break Maceo Steel, except, apparently, Maceo Steel itself.
Besides the property damage, people are bleeding from cuts and scrapes caused by flying debris. The paramedics seem to have the situation under control, though. I don’t see anyone who looks that bad.
Beyond the crowd of residents, police officers, and paramedics, is one more group: reporters. They stand about five thick at the police barricade. They're all craning their necks, trying to get footage. Everyone will be seeing through those reporters’ eyes for the six o'clock think.Net news.
I have a moment to take it all in before the police move me along. I can see my destination, an armored police car. It's obviously the one they use for Differents. It has Maceo Steel plating. At least I'll get to ride in a car before I’m locked in Great Basin forever. I did always want to do that. I have to strain my sense of optimism to see that upside.
As we walk towards the armored car, I make eye contact with a young boy who I remember seeing on the roof. I give him a smile. The boy makes no response to me, but I see him pull on his mother and point to me. There is too much other noise around to pick out what they are saying, but whatever it is, it seems to be spreading through the Tower residents. I see several of them point at me.
"It's him," I'm finally able to make out one resident say. "That's the guy who saved us."
Suddenly, the crowd of people starts surging towards me. I can hear many of them yelling "Thank you" or "You're an angel." The group surrounds us.
"Get out of the way. You are all interfering with police business!" the lead cop yells and starts pushing people aside to clear a path.
The crowd does not resist. They don't want to free me. They just want to thank me.
"You saved my baby. How can I ever repay you?" one woman says.
"That monster, he said he was going to kill us all. Thank you. Thank you so much," another woman says.
"I pay my debts son, any lawyer you want, it's on me," a man offers.
I say “You're welcome” as many times as I can before we get to the police car. By that time, the crowd has affected the officers, and they are treating me more gently. They carefully put me inside the back of the car and close the door.
I barely hear the car start because the crowd of residents has broken into applause. It sounds like I just won the World Series. I slow down time much as I am able so I can savor the moment. I don't want to miss a thing because this is what made it all worth it. I saved those people. I'm a hero.
#
As the car moves along, I keep my body healing. I've taken care of the direst injuries, so I can spare a moment to think of other subjects. I remember what Ben told me to do when I had a free moment: figure out how Nita was tracking The Beast and me.
She can see my think.Net transactions, which can explain how she knew when I was on the Slug. It doesn't explain how she was keeping track of The Beast though. I don't think he went through the turnstiles. From what I understand about think.Net, it can't be used to track people. The Telepaths are already stretched to the limit running the network. Supposedly, they don't have the energy to keep track of locations too. That could be a lie: they aren't supposed to be able to connect people who don't have accounts either.
I'm not sure that's it though. Ben seemed to know a lot about think.Net. I imagine he would have figured it out if it were that simple. I think back to the first time that Nita seemed to know where I was. It was that day she asked me sodium levels in drinking water. She had the train waiting for me when I got to the station as a reward, but how did
she know when I'd get there? She's smart, but I don't think she knows exactly how long it takes me to get ready in the morning. She also seemed to know I was hunting The Beast. Then she tracked me down after The Beast gutted me. I don't think Larry just got lucky and found me on his own. I look through my memories of those incidents. What did they have in common?
Walters. I ran into Walters.
I think that's it. She can see through the Walters. That could also explain how she kept track of The Beast and found his victims. If she can see through the Walters, she basically has a giant network of spies all around the city. I wish I could talk to Ben and confirm that I'm not just being crazy.
I spend another twenty-three minutes healing before my mobile prison comes to a stop. I don't think we made it all the way to Great Basin Prison, but I have no idea where we could be. We move again, backwards this time, and then suddenly the back of the car opens and about a dozen armed personnel are waiting for me. More guns pointed at my head.
"Exit the vehicle slowly!" one of them shouts.
I do as they say and step down from the car. I can't go any speed but slow considering I still haven't come close to healing my cracked vertebrae. I'm led to another station where one of my guards hands over a wad of paperwork to a bureaucrat.
"Gavin Stillman: Gamma, for booking," the guard says.
"Is this Great Basin?" I ask.
"No. This is LA Metro lockup for Different offenders," the bureaucrat says without looking up.
The bureaucrat writes something on a ledger then pulls out an inkpad to take my fingerprints. I can't believe the police still do this. Then a Pre-Plague camera is used to take my picture. I only know what it is from old TV shows.
"Are you in need of immediate medical attention?" the bureaucrat asks.
That's nice. One hour after they arrest me, they finally get around to asking me if I need a doctor.
"No, I'm all right."
I'm far from all right, but I don't think there's anything a terrible prison doctor will be able to do for me. I can manage healing on my own for most of my injuries. I don't know how to re-grow the missing half of my index finger, but I should have plenty of time to figure it out while I'm rotting away in prison.
"This location is shielded from think.Net, but we have a room where you have the right to make one call," the bureaucrat says.
"Who am I supposed to call?" I ask.
"Do you have an attorney, or the money to hire one?"
"No, I don't," I say. I leave out the part where I spent all my money committing my crime. "But one of the people at the Shimmering Tower told me they'd pay for any lawyer I want."
"Then you should call that guy. Do you know him on think.Net?"
"You guys dragged me away before I could make the knowledge request."
"Well, if this mysterious millionaire shows up, I'll be sure to tell you. Otherwise, if you got nobody to call, you can hurry up and wait for your public defender to show up."
The guards take me away and into a bathroom where I'm told to shower and change into my bright orange prison jump suit. Once I'm clean and meeting the dress code, I'm led down a hallway made of Maceo Steel, to a door made of Maceo Steel, which opens to reveal my cell which is made of... Maceo Steel. Maceo is the only person who could break out of this jail.
My escorts put a gun to my head one more time while they unhook my handcuffs.
"Enjoy your stay," a guard says, and they slam my cell closed.
The cell is quite large. The ceiling is about fifty feet high. It's not for luxury. Aside from the door, the only opening in the cell is the air vent located at the top. They must have another cell for Differents who can get up that high.
Besides the vaulted ceiling, there's a sink, a toilet, and a thin cot on the ground. I don't think I'm going to be given any reading material. Lucky for me, waiting for my public defender won't seem like that long, no matter how long it takes. Besides, I have healing to do.
I focus my attention on rebuilding my spine. I pull calcium from my digestive tract and then send it to the areas where my vertebrae are cracked. Then I stimulate my bones to grow. I have to be sure everything heals straight, or the bone may end up damaging my spinal cord, which would take even longer to heal. I'm glad I ate so much before being arrested. This much healing takes a lot of nutrients. Although, I’m having a little trouble dealing with all the cheddar cheese I ate. There was a lot of lactose in there. It is building up and the reactions in my gut are creating a lot of gas. I’ll have to make more enzymes to help me manage that.
I spend seven hours in this state, making time fly except for taking care of my body’s recovery needs. I snap out of it when I hear the door opening. I look up to see one of the guards grinning.
"Looks like it's your lucky day, somehow they were able to find you a public defender in the middle of the night. Enjoy your worst-in-his-class lawyer," the guard says and steps aside.
My lawyer steps into view. I recognize him immediately, Ben the train conductor.
"Hello Gavin, pleased to meet you. My name’s Ronald Hopkins, and I'll be representing you," Ben says and gives me a handshake. "Now, please officer, if you wouldn't mind giving me and my client some privacy."
The guard shrugs and heads out. "Holler if you need me."
Ben watches to make sure the guard is out of earshot, and then turns to me.
"I'm going to be honest. I think you have a lousy case." Ben says with a smile.
"Is that your opinion as a lawyer or a train conductor?"
"Both."
"Will you tell me who you really are, or am I going to have to call that guard?" I demand.
"That would be a real shame. You have no idea how hard it was to get in here. I had to hack into think.Net, create a fake identity file, falsify housing records, school records, my bar exam. It took me three hours. Nothing takes me three hours,” he says smugly.
"Who are you? How can you do all that?"
"My real name is Benjamin Grant, and I'm an alcoholic. Really, I can do those things because I'm a think.Net Librarian, or I used to be until I found out some things I should not have found out. Conspiracy things. Things I need to warn you about."
"If you hadn't noticed, it's a little late for a warning. They already have me. If this was all some sort of government conspiracy to take me down, I think it worked."
"No, I don't think it did. Have you had time to think about all that happened? Maybe you've started to wonder how three of your friends just so happened to be on call to save you the night The Beast tore you open."
"No, I hadn't thought about any of that. I've been focused on my healing." He’s right. How were all my friends just waiting to help me? No one can be that lucky.
"You need to work on your multi-tasking, Gavin. Once again, I will clue you in. Nita already knew your friends Gary, Sarah, and Larry. They all work for her, well, kind of anyway. I think that's why Nita befriended you in the first place. I think she was planning on recruiting you before your whole fight-crime-and-avenge-your-lady’s-death-thing started happening."
"Recruiting me for what?"
"That I don't quite know yet. It's hard to grasp Nita. I used to be Nita before Nita was Nita. I was the young kid who was the smartest Librarian. They called me the most powerful mind on earth. I thought I was smart, but Nita makes me look like a monkey. I am not sure I am capable of understanding her plan. She's as different from me as I am from a normal human. Luckily, she's still lacking in experience. She's too naive to consider the possibility that I left some backdoors into her systems when I made my escape. I'm sure she'll find them when she grows into a jaded teenager."
"I think I figured out how she was tracking The Beast and me. She can see through the Walters. I looked back through my memories..."
Ben holds his hand up to shut me up. He's thinking about what I said.
"I think... I think that's it. The Walters are just empty shells, really, but they do have humanish brains. I think a Telepath could ta
p into them, which means Nita could tap into them through think.Net. You're smarter then you look Gavin, or act, for that matter. Maybe that's why Nita wanted to recruit you."
"So what's the plan now? How are you going to bust me out of here?" I ask.
"Well, you see I've got this cake coming, but what the guards don't know is that there's a nail file inside," he pauses for effect. "Are you kidding me? It was a miracle I made it in here and it'll be miracle if I make it out. A miracle wouldn’t cover what it would be if I broke you out too, we'd have to call it a Supracle. I just wanted to let you know to be afraid of Nita. Hopefully, I'll have more information by the time you make it out of here."
"How am I getting out of here, if you aren’t busting me out?"
"Nita's going to let you out of course. My legal opinion is you're guilty, but I think somehow you'll be freed anyway."
With that, Ben turns around and yells, “Guard! I’m done with the prisoner.”
Then he turns to me and says very quietly, "I'll leave you with one more thing to ponder. If Nita was just manipulating you so that you'd attack The Beast, wouldn’t she just need you to believe that Becky is dead?"
Then he turns and heads out of the cell.
34
Reign down these Plagues, Cabot, and you shall make the world a harsh and unforgiving place. None shall be fit to live upon this earth, save my Chosen Sons. Through your hand, Cabot, I will remake this world and bestow it upon my Chosen Sons.
Chosen Sons: 20
The Beast is not hungry for the first time in a long time. Whoever is keeping him here is giving him more food than even he can eat. He has been dining on a variety of meats he has never tasted before. The meals are gigantic and delicious. The food has helped The Beast heal. Already he can stand, if not walk. The voice over the intercom encourages The Beast to push himself.
The Beast sits, waits, and heals. He knows he has been righteous. He knows this is all part of the Lord’s plan. That was the only way to explain how he survived the fall: it was God’s will. Job had to wait to get his reward for being righteous. Moses had to wait, too. If The Beast can be patient, the good Lord will provide.
