Variant

by T. C. Edge

  "Evidently," she breathed, taking a bite. She fell into a temporary state of ecstasy, and I gave her a moment to enjoy it. It really was so much better than the chocolate you got in the ration boxes down here. "So. Good," she purred, looking at the chocolate as though it was a dear lover. She took another few moments to collect her thoughts. "So...the Bends?" Her eyes raised again to mine, blinking away the residue of her euphoria. "Tell me about them. I've always wanted to go."

  She leaned forward expectantly as she took another bite. I didn't quite have the heart to tell her that, if she ventured that way, she'd be absolutely eaten alive. The Bends referred to the bends of the river, over towards the northeast. It was once called the Thames, a river that snaked through the city of London. Further down the river to the west, were the areas of Southbank and Northbank, yet over in the east it was far more lawless.

  The Bends were a haven for vice and depravity, where intoxicants and hallucinogens and other mind-bending drugs were readily available. It was also home to the black market, and ill-tech augmentation. There were people there who lived outside of the system, where organised crime was common and gang warfare a regular part of life.

  Curfew didn't seem to apply, though the Reapers were regularly spotted. Somewhere like that, I knew, was likely to draw in rogue Variants. It was a profitable hunting ground for the Reapers. There was no place more dangerous in the entire city.

  Or more interesting.

  I brought Becca up to speed on a few loose details, though declined to go into too much depth. The simple fact was, knowledge was dangerous for her, and managing what she knew would be sensible.

  "I really shouldn't say too much," I said. "If they find out what I am, Becs, they'll take you in for interrogation. They'd get the info, trust me. Knowing me could ruin your life."

  "Life?" She shook her head. "What life, exactly, are you referring to? I have no family, no friends besides you. I'm an outcast and a reject and pretty much live for the chats we have. So if you went down, Paige, I'd want to go down with you." She stood from the bed, unfurling her legs to the floor. "We're in this together. And anyway, I'm probably part Variant too with these eyes. At least, that's what everyone's thinking..."

  "They're not thinking that, Becs, don't be silly."

  "How do you know?" She peered at me closely. "Holy hell..." Her eyes widened. "Can you read minds? Is that what you can do?"

  I drew a smile.

  Variants were known to have odd, supernatural powers and gifts. Some could read minds. Others could move objects with the power of their thought. Many had advanced physical speed and velocity. Powerful senses of eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell were also common. This was widely known by the public, though there were other, more obscure powers that Variants had too, some possessing multiple gifts, and with varying degrees of potential.

  My father, my mother always said, was incredibly fast, and could move things with his mind. I guess I've taken after him in part, with my advanced speed. Yet the telekinesis? Not that I know of. I've tried many times and it's never happened.

  I looked at Becca, shaking my head. "Nothing like that, no," I said. "I wish I could read minds. It would make life a hell of a lot easier…”

  "Then what?" she pressed, fascinated. "Please tell me you can do something cool."

  I lifted a grin. "I'm pretty quick, I guess."

  "Quick? That's all?"

  I raised my eyes. "It's not enough?"

  "No, no, of course it is. I just thought, I dunno. You're a genius, Paige. That's got to be part of it, right? You're one of those super-smart ones. The ones who..." She trailed off. I knew what she was going to say.

  "The ones who started the war?" I asked.

  She nodded slowly.

  There was a reason why the Variants were so hated. It wasn't only because they were different, because they were genetically enhanced to be better. It wasn't only because they lived in hiding, and had been so vilified by decades of propaganda against them.

  No, at the core of it all, it came down to one simple thing.

  The Variants, it was known, had been the ones who had caused the global collapse.

  And those like me - those with enhanced intelligence - had been the ones who'd dreamed up the super-weapons that did it.

  Worldkillers, they called us.

  Oh, I wasn't just a Variant.

  I was seen as a destroyer of worlds.

  5

  It wasn't sensible for Becca to stay in my apartment unit too long. Though she only lived a little way down the street, if curfew was enforced she could still get into trouble for being caught out of her own unit so late.

  We spent what time we could, therefore, whispering more secrets. I did most of the talking. Becca asked the questions. Though I still told her, several times, that knowing about me would only put her in peril, she waved the suggestion away each time.

  "You've kept yourself safe and secret all these years," she said. "I see no reason why anything would change now."

  "It just takes one slip up, Becs. If they find out you knew about me, then..."

  "Then whatever," she said firmly. "I'd rather take the risk, than live long enough to become one of those bitter old women in the warehouse. What is the point, Paige? What's the point of their lives? I'm surprised suicide isn't more common."

  "I'm not," I told her. "You know the laws on that."

  She nodded, sighing deeply. If you took your own life here, then a loved one, friend, or even working colleague would be selected to take the blame in lieu of your absence. Few people truly cared for no one. Even the most embittered wouldn't want their own suicide to lead to the arrest of an innocent neighbour or workmate.

  It was part of the totalitarian system down here in Southbank that we were all forced to live with.

  "Either way," Becca went on, "I don't have much to live for. But knowing what you are, that's exciting for me, Paige. I guess I can live through you a bit, and all the adventures you have."

  "I think you're overstating it. I wouldn't call my life an adventure."

  "You said you go to the Bends. That's about as adventurous as you can get. Maybe you could take me one day?"

  She raised her eyes, hopeful.

  "Becs, no," I said, framing my expression to show her it wasn't a good idea. "Knowing about me is one thing. But getting involved in my life? Nope. Not happening. That's far too risky."

  "And how do you get away with it?" she asked me. "I mean, you can't exactly reveal you're a Variant over there, can you? If you used your advanced speed, for example, you'd be spotted, right?"

  "Not necessarily. Some bio-tech augmentations allow for super-speed as well. I could just be an ill-tech. There are loads of them there. Many walk around openly."

  She seemed quite amazed by the idea. "They don't care about the custodians?"

  "It's different there, Becs. The custodians have a presence, but they let some things pass. I think the Controller sees it as an acceptable evil, so long as its contained and doesn't bleed into Southbank or Northbank."

  "That's bullshit!" Her voice came with some passion. She wasn't usually one for cursing. "So, today Layla gets taken in by them because she took drugs, and meanwhile the custodians just let it pass when they see proper, bionic-upgraded ill-techs walking around in the street? How can that be?!"

  "I didn't say it was fair, Becca. And, well, ill-techs do run and hide when the custodians come through. Mostly, at least. It depends on who they are. There are some powerful criminals in the Bends. Gang lords and things like that. Seriously, it's like another world."

  "And I wanna see it!" she stressed. "If Layla can go there, why can't I? I wouldn't take drugs or anything." She cringed at the thought. Her family history gave her a particular aversion to them. "I'd just...I'd just look around," she went on. "And you'd be there with me, right? So I'd be fine."

  "I think you're overestimating what I can do. And who said Layla went to the Bends anyway? There are some dodgy places here in
Southbank too where you can get drugs. I doubt she went over there."

  "Clearly you know more than I do," she sighed, shaking her head. It was as though she was realising just how mundane her existence truly was, listening to me talk like this. "So, what do you actually do there? I mean, I knew you were up to something, but...what is it?"

  It wasn't the easiest question to answer, really. The word, when I said it, came strangely off my tongue. I don't think I'd ever actually used it out loud. It sounded too dramatic.

  "I'm a...vigilante, I guess." There was no other word that better described my nocturnal activities.

  "A vigilante?" She spoke the term as if she wasn't sure what it meant. "Like a bounty hunter?" A realisation swept upon her face. "So, that's why you don't worry about money. You're a bounty hunter! It makes so much sense now!"

  "Becca, I'm not a bounty hunter. Sorry to disappoint you."

  She frowned. "Well then, what? You take down criminals for the fun of it?"

  "Fun wouldn't be the word I'd use. I do it because they deserve it. I do it because someone has to."

  "Have you..."

  She stopped, and I looked up into her eyes. The excitement in them began to recede, drawn back a little, morphing into something different. A concern, perhaps, for me. For the darkness she may have seen in glimpses, but was now witnessing for real.

  "Have you ever...killed anyone?"

  My lungs emptied, my mind conjuring a memory from the previous week. In truth, calling myself a vigilante was probably overstating it. I went to the Bends to get parts, to trade on the black market in order to improve my gear. I had notions in my head of being a hero, a secret protector of my people, and anyone who might find themselves in peril. It wasn't just about helping Variants - truly, I didn't even know any.

  No, it was about doing something. Something to rage against this great machine. Something to give my life meaning.

  Holding my pistol to the snitch's head was about the closest I'd ever been to killing anyone. He was meant to be my first, and in a way he was. He was the first person I'd seen die with my own two eyes. I guess, for now, that was enough for me.

  I shook my head. "Not yet," I said. "I've come close but..."

  "But it's hard?" Her eyes were shallow, her shoulders tight. "I can't even imagine it, taking someone's life. I mean, you'd have to really hate someone, wouldn't you?"

  "Yeah, that or be defending yourself. Or someone you care about. If we went to the Bends, and someone attacked you? I'd kill them if I had to, Becs. It's a protective instinct."

  "Well you can back it up, at least it sounds like you can anyway." She peered at me. "So, that's how you spend your nights then? You sneak out to the Bends? You try to hunt down killers and rapists and people like that?"

  "Sometimes," I say. "It's not always the Bends. But, yeah, I try to make a difference."

  "And how do you do it? Don't the cameras pick you up when you sneak out of here? What about curfew?"

  "I'm careful," I said. "And lucky, I guess. But..." I looked to my storage unit again. "OK, let me show you something."

  I stepped over towards it, and opened it up. It had a few shelves with clothes and the odd bit of food stored on them. Behind, however, I'd fashioned a secret compartment where I stashed my gear. It was protected by a cloaking seal of my own design, that would trick the scanners if the custodians ever came here to search the place. I moved the cover, and drew out my stealth bodysuit, as well as a few other items I'd managed to build.

  I brought them over to the bed and set them down. Becca looked at them with a keen interest.

  I set about explaining what they were, without going into the technical aspects of just how I'd designed and built them. It was largely intuitive for me really, engineering such technology. I was partly self-taught in the discipline, though much of what I could do came as a natural by-product of my primary Variant power, the main product of my old genetic engineering. It was as though the knowledge to break down, build up, and completely redesign tech was already present in my mind, without prior learning. My enhanced intellect was the very thing that had enabled me to stay hidden and safe all these years.

  Unsurprisingly, Becca's main interest was in my multi-function pistol. She picked it up carefully, looking it over, caressing it's surface. It wasn't overly sleek or polished, but dented here and there, its surface rough to the touch. It had a little circular switch on the left side, which you'd turn to activate its various settings. It had taken me some time to fashion and build, the parts not easy to come by. Now, I never left this place at night without it. It had saved me already on several occasions.

  The other items came under her interest too. The cloaking suit, enough to fool some cameras and custodians. The scrambler that I used in order to deceive and temporarily deactivate cameras and other surveillance, allowing me to move around in secret. Everything had it's purpose, it's place. But still, I needed to get lucky.

  And more recently, I'd been taking risks.

  It occurred to me, as she looked over the items, that she was taking a risk right now too. I looked at the small clock that sat next to my bed. It was coming up to eight in the evening, about the time that curfew would typically begin. I turned to her and told her to go. She protested, of course, but it wasn't a suggestion.

  "Becs, don't push things, OK? I know this is all exciting for you, but it could also get you killed."

  She opened her mouth to speak, set to tell me she didn't care. I didn't want to hear it again. She didn't truly comprehend the dangers of all this.

  "Look, this isn't up for debate. Get home, and I'll see you tomorrow. And don't say anything to anyone. I don't need to tell you that."

  She looked at me with flattened eyes, as though insulted I even had to tell her. As she prepared to stand and leave, however, the door suddenly knocked. She stiffened, going tight, the clandestine nature of the situation setting her on edge.

  She really didn't need to bother. I knew exactly who it was.

  "Paige, are you in there?"

  I stepped to the door and pulled it open. My mother stood outside, face ever-weary, over-slim body draped in oversized overalls.

  "I thought I heard voices," she said. Her eyes moved past me, taking in the scene. The utter bewilderment on her face was only matched by her anger. She stormed right past me, waited for me to shut the door, and then spoke in a hurried, though hushed, tone. "What the hell is going on here!" she hissed. "You're what, just showing your friends your gear now? You'd put Rebecca in danger like that? Paige, I'm very disappointed in you."

  "Hi Mrs Alder," Becca said from the bed. "It's not Paige's fault, really. It's mine."

  "Well, that's very nice of you to say, Rebecca, but you don't need to cover for her."

  I rolled my eyes. She was in one of those moods.

  "No, really," Becca went on. "I guessed it. I guess she was a...well, you know."

  "You guessed it?" My mother's blue-grey eyes were incensed as they stormed right at me. "How careless can you be, Paige! How could you be so stupid!"

  "I'm not being stupid, mother," I said, my voice blank. "It just...happened. She guessed, but it's OK. She's not going to tell anyone."

  "And what, now that she knows, you're just telling her everything? You're putting all of us in danger. Have I taught you nothing?"

  "I won't say anything, Mrs Adler. I promise."

  "I know, Rebecca. I know you'd never do it on purpose. But sometimes we give things away with our eyes, our expressions, how we look and act. You may not ever tell a soul, but they have ways of finding out." She let out a heavy puff, shaking her head. "It's all these night-time excursions of yours, Paige. They make you look suspicious. I can't believe you let this happen..."

  Her eyes were on mine again, her overalls dusted with smoke and grit. She was once beautiful, but you wouldn't know it now. The young, intrepid woman she'd once been had been gobbled up by the system, chewed up and spat out as this ageing, quivering wreck. She didn't have q
uite such a cushy job as me, her factory work more gruelling, and pay just as bad. She was still only in her early forties, but seemed at least a decade older, her hair greying when not covered in dust, her skin wrinkled and stained.

  I loved her, of course I did, more than anyone else. She had been my rock for years, helping conceal me, teaching me how to stay under the radar. Yet as I grew older, and stepped out from under her wing, so did my desire to take risks, to try to make a difference.

  She hated that I went to the Bends. She hated that I didn't just keep my head down, and live as she'd done. It was her curse, really, being my mother. A great honour, and yet a burden too, worrying about me daily, still trying to lead and control me as she did when I was a child.

  But I wasn't a child anymore. And, I suppose, there was too much of my father in me.

  As she told me often.

  I looked at her now, as the anger in her eyes mutated into anxiety. She let out another heavy sigh and moved over to sit on the chair. Her head dropped, as she took a few moments to gather herself. It was a losing battle in which she was never going to prevail. I was just too wild to be caged like this forever.

  "So," she said eventually, her voice drained. "What do you make of it all then, Rebecca?"

  She looked up slowly. Another few years seemed to have settled on her face.

  "It's...kinda awesome," Becca said, glancing towards me. She was new to all this, young enough to look on the bright side. "I mean, I'm sure it's been hard but...well, I've always thought Variants were cool."

  My mother nodded dourly. Just wait, her face said. Just wait until it all gets real.

  "Well, I suppose if anyone was going to know, I'd like it to be you," my mother said. "I didn't mean to be rude just now, Rebecca. It's just..."

  "I know. I understand. But maybe...maybe I can help somehow? Help share the burden?"

  By trying to get me to chaperone you to the Bends? I thought, looking over at her. I didn't say it, of course. It would only freak my mother out even more.

  "I'm not sure it's a burden you want," mother said. "It's like a full time job worrying about Paige." She looked at me pointedly.