by Kozinn, Nat
“I think you’ve progressed far beyond anything I can teach. Nita told me you’ve even improved from the last time I helped you. I wonder how you figured out how to make your next set of renovations. Maybe a hint from a wise old teacher?” Larry nudges me.
“Do you expect me to say thank you? You weren’t there to help me; you were following orders from her majesty Nita. Or are you going to claim you’re the one who realized I could expand on my abilities?”
“I was there for Nita, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t there to help you too. Your black and white world view leaves you blind to an awful lot of grays,” Larry says.
“Okay so help me see the gray, are you still helping Nita? Or are you working against her now?”
“Gavin, you can only see two sides, but there’s a third side I keep talking about and you just refuse to believe me. It’s yours Gavin. I’m on your side. I don’t trust Nita and I sure as hell don’t trust the government, but I do trust you. I want you out there, not in here locked in a box.”
“I should decide who wins? Why is that anymore fair then Nita deciding?”
“Because Nita wants to decide, and you don’t. You don’t want power Gavin. You just want to help people. That makes you one of the rarest human beings on earth, and frankly a hell of lot more qualified then Nita or any suit in Washington.”
I’m not the body language expert I like to imagine myself to be, and Larry is certainly an expert at faking his, but I still think he means what he’s saying. It’s touching really. I never knew he felt so strongly about me. My emotional centers are going berserk in a much more positive way than usual. I almost want to cry, which is a weird response.
“Thank you Larry. I don’t know what to say.” We stand together awkwardly for a moment. “So, where are we?”
“A warehouse,” Larry replies. He has to return to his snark after being open and honest.
“More specifically?”
“You’re in Nita's town, her Shangri-La. Don’t you feel the magic?”
“This is it? Where all the Differents who left the Metro Areas went?”
“Yup. This is the new world order in all its glory. We’re in Tahoe if that means anything to you. Used to be a fancy ski resort town, now it’s going to be the first Different-built city. At least that was the plan.”
“Nita isn’t living up to her promises?”
“Well I’ve only been here a few days myself, she seems to always have another mission for me, but from what I can tell the reality of the situation is setting in. Building a city from the ground up is a massive endeavor. Nita horded building supplies and food, but that means rehydrated beans for dinner and living in shacks. Sure in five years maybe this will be paradise. But right now, it’s more like a refugee camp.”
“Are people talking about ending the strike?”
“Not out loud. We’re all a little afraid of Nita.”
“She’s making all the decisions on her own?” I ask.
“Seems like it’s just all Telepaths and Big Brains together, or they are just one giant mind. It’s hard to tell, but they all seem to have one voice and the rest of us know who it is. You aren’t alone in your apprehension about Nita, a lot of the Differents here are disillusioned too. It was easy to imagine the work stoppage as a blow for justice and reform but nobody thought through where that might lead, like doing battle with our own military or the aforementioned living in huts.”
“Are you saying they’re ready to betray Nita?” I ask.
“I’m saying I think lots of the strikers were kids, and they have gotten in too deep and they don’t know how to stop it. Most people on earth don’t want to fight anybody. There are a few lunatics who’ve been itching for an excuse to use their abilities violently, but the rest are just hoping not to get nuked.”
“Would most of the people here would be willing to go back to work for Ultracorps?”
“Willing? Hell, I’m saying most of them want to,” he says and shakes his head. “Nobody planned this strike. Sure we all talked about it at night when we get a few beers in us, but it’s not like we formed a Union. We were all scared after the bombs went off in Los Angeles, and Nita exploited that fear. Besides Telepaths and Big Brains and a few big names, most of the other Differents are from Los Angeles. They had a lot more sense in the rest of the country. Now that fear is washing away and we’re all wondering why we went on strike in the first place.”
“They can’t just sit on the sidelines. They need to act. If they walked out of here, she’d have to surrender. Big Brains and Telepaths can’t fight the army on their own.”
“If those kids walked out of here, they’d walk into a hail of gunfire. Just like we’ve got lunatics who relish the chance to bust some heads, humans do too. And a lot of them seem to be in the National Guard. That Reeves guy is intent on making an example out of all of us so Differents learn never to try anything like this again.”
“Great, so we’re stuck because we’ve got stubborn leaders on both sides.”
“And you in the middle. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the third side Gavin and I’m not alone. Some of those people here hoping not to get bombed, they’re thinking you might be the one to make good on that hope. Nobody trusts the government, and Nita’s hard to trust too, but Gavin Stillman, The Beast Slayer. He’s a hero. Who can you trust if you can’t trust a hero?”
“I need to get stronger if I’m going to make good on their faith. I need nutrients to do that. Lots of them. Do you know where they store the vitamins?”
Larry pulls out a sack from inside his coat and tosses it to me. The bag is completely filled with pills, at least 10,000 vitamins.
“Right here,” he says.
#
I’m officially walking into a trap. There’s no way I haven’t been spotted by now. I’ve been doing my calisthenics routine for the last five minutes in order to grow my new muscles, and I haven’t seen anyone among the multitude of B-Crete mounds and canvas tents they’re calling home. It feels like an old-western movie and the streets have been cleared for a shootout.
“Shangri-La,” is rather unimpressive. Besides the canvas tents and B-Crete mounds, there aren’t very many structures to speak of. There are a few hastily constructed watch towers and a couple of large ugly blob-like buildings that I’m guessing are warehouses. Not exactly a shining city on a hill.
Which makes sense now that I think about it. Cities are built piecemeal over the course of a century. Yes Differents are capable of working at rates that far exceed normal humans, but even if they go ten times faster, that is still ten years to build anything resembling a city.
It looks like the bulk of their efforts have been directed towards agriculture. In the distance, I can see miles and miles of land that has been cleared and ploughed. Again, this makes sense. The weather is mild therefore shelter is not a primary concern and it can take years to get agricultural production rolling so I can see how the priority is food, not houses.
I can intellectually understand the truth, but I still can’t help but be unimpressed. If I put myself in the shoes of a striking Ultracorps worker, the picture turns even bleaker. This hypothetical person left behind a world of injustice which included, solid walls, windows, indoor plumbing, heat and air conditioning, restaurants, and endless forms of entertainment. Now he’s free, and that freedom entails endless hours of tilling soil while baking in the heat. It’s no surprise that the strike is losing steam. I bet a lot of people would have gone back to work if they weren’t essentially trapped out here. I’m guessing that’s just what they’ll do if I can rip the leash out of Nita’s hands.
If a fight is coming, I’m as prepared as I can be. I’m huge now. Almost ten feet tall and just a tick less powerful than that Strong-Man whose genetics I stole. I’m fast too. Sure not quite as fast as those high level Speedsters who fought me, but I’m still a blur.
The raw speed isn’t what’s going to be the most useful for fights; it’s the improved reflexes t
hat go with it. Reflexes so lighting quick, they are actually hard to control. If I don’t slow my perception of time to a crawl, it feels like I’m trying to drive a train with no brakes. Nerve signals that used to produce a tiny twitch now produce an exaggerated wave. I have to learn to be much more precise and careful with my movements, like I’m always handling an egg. Luckily, I had a similar experience when I integrated The Beast’s nerve cells into my body. I know the key is to be patient. Practice is the only way to improve.
The upside is that I’m able to stop on a dime, even at high speeds. Most Speedsters aren’t able to make sharp turns while on the move, the strain on their muscles and bones is simply too great. My musculoskeletal structure is strong enough to withstand incredibly high forces, thanks to Reggie Crane’s Strong-Man genetics.
I break into a sprint, hitting sixty miles an hour in less than two seconds. Then I stop, roll and spring sideways, landing on my feet back in a full sprint. I’m slightly disappointed I haven’t been found out yet. Running is all well and good, but I want to hit someone. Can’t say I’m crazy about that urge. I grab an empty water barrel and hurl it into the night sky to cope.
The large PhoPlastic barrel weighs at least a hundred pounds but it might as well be a feather. When I throw it, I feel that little twinge in the elbow that comes when throwing something that is too light. Even still, the barrel soars like a rocket taking off. It disappears into the clouds, still gaining height. God I want to hit someone.
I’ll get the opportunity when Nita springs her trap. It’s time to make my move on the building Larry pointed out as central command.
My instinct is to slow down as I approach the large warehouse so that I can be careful not to raise the alarm. But that’s thinking like the old me. Old me had to move quickly and carefully in order to stay hidden. New me can hide in plain sight. I speed up, breaking into a full sprint, becoming a moving blur.
I slow down my perception of time, but that’s just enough to stay alive, I try to take a quick look at the building to check for guards, but taking focus off my feet was a terrible idea. I trip on something that feels like a rock, stumble, and barely recover before I hit the ground. Falling onto my face in front of the guards will take away from my intimidation factor.
I don’t have to worry about that because there are no guards. I keep time slowed to a crawl and peek my head in the warehouse. I can hear the air flowing through the chamber, and there’s nothing in there. Nothing but a single WormLight, shining down on a single Walter, standing motionless in the middle of the room.
“Hello Nita, are we going to have one more debate before you sic the hounds on me?” I say to the clone.
“Gavin, you are correct,” the Walter croaks, its voice has never been used before and it shows. “I wished to speak with you and I did not think you would trust letting a Telepath into your mind again.”
“Good guess. You just keep coming up with more tricks for your Walters. What’s next? Will you teach one to dance?”
“You jest, but dancing is exceedingly difficult, at least doing it well is. It takes the careful coordinated movement of several limbs all timed to an external source. I do not believe we could teach Walters to do it.”
“You should be careful with the Walters; other Telepaths have figured out that they can control them. I fought a gang of Differents that used an army of them.”
“The vast majority of the Telepaths in the nation are on board with my desires. There are only a handful of individuals who refused to join in the strike. In time they will be found and brought into the fold, or neutralized,” the Walter says, the complete lack of emotion in his voice and face makes what he says all the more terrifying.
“Ouch, there’s that freedom you’re fighting for. Let me guess, most of the Telepaths and Big Brains are on board because you all think alike because of the Merge, right?”
“Gavin, you cannot begin to understand the Merge, you are right to say we think as one, but we also think as many. I direct their thoughts as they direct mine. It is a beautiful experience.”
“Is that how you’re going to try and hook me? With the Merge? Once I’m in on your crazy mental world, you can manipulate me like all your other think.Net puppets?”
“I must first convince you to join the Merge before I could control you through it.”
“Was this your sales pitch? Sending goons after me? Dragging me here stuffed inside a coffin? Or was it when you sent the National Guard to arrest me? Or maybe it was continuing to work with a monster who maimed my girlfriend and tried to kill me? Or how about how you’re starving an entire nation by holding out Manna even though I’ve talked to Julia and she wants no part of your strike? Honestly Nita, I don’t even know what it is you do want. You talk about freeing our race out of one side of your mouth and tracking down Telepaths who go against you with the other. Julia wants to help, she wants to feed people Manna; does your great future society outlaw charity? It seems like the only thing you care about is that you’re in charge. Any other cause you discuss is lip-service to further that goal.”
“You are entirely correct Gavin. I am trying to establish myself in a position of power. But have you asked yourself why? You are not the only individual who possess a unique sense of self-awareness. Do you think that an intellect like mine is drawn to such things for ego? I am working in service of something much greater than myself, human civilization.”
“Wow! I thought you were just a freedom fighter but it turns out you’re the savior of all mankind,” I say with a laugh.
“Walter Reynolds, Julia Chekov, Michael Grange, and Elson Ray. Those four individuals are responsible for creating Walters, Manna, WormLights, and Slugs. If the four of them were to die, the Metro Areas would lose sanitation, food, light, and heat and transportation. Those individuals are 39, 55, 44, and 59. years old. Do you know how long individuals with their abilities and physical changes live? Because I certainly do not. Maceo Olrich had a heart attack at 31. Construction projects continue to be stifled as we struggle to make do with the supply of Maceo Steel he graciously left before he died. There was no plan for his succession. There is no plan for what will be done if any of those four individuals die. And they are going to die Gavin, it is simply a matter of time.”
“What do you propose to do about that? Have you found the cure for death and the government is keeping you from using it?”
“The point is not that solutions are easy to find, but rather that our government and society are not organized in a fashion that enables us to adapt to the new age.”
“You’ve figured out the perfect government? Let me guess, you’re at the head of it.”
“I will lead for the time that I am needed, until a new government can be formed, and spare me the obvious Julius Caesar parallels. You are right that is not simply about Differents being free, it’s about our society truly accepting Differents as part of it. It is about humans as a species realizing that times have changed and we all need to change too. You think that the idea that I lead is absurd. Perhaps it is, but is it anymore absurd than trying to govern in modern times based upon writings from men in wigs two hundred and thirty years ago?--
“Those men were geniuses and visionaries but they could not have accounted for a future where a single man can move a mountain. Even more absurd, the people who hold the wealth in this nation still trace their names back to Roosevelts, Vanderbilts, and Carnegies. This is after the world was almost destroyed and brought back from the brink. Even from the rubble those families held on to their power. Walter Reynolds is able to replicate over 100,000 workers by himself, yet he still works for men whose ancestors built part of the railroad or sold tobacco, or some other accomplishment long ago,” the Walter flatly states.
“Now you’re a socialist redistributing wealth? You’re all over the place. I still don’t know what it is you want. Should Differents and humans live apart? Should Differents be the ones owning the companies and the humans the workers? Are Differents supposed
to live in hippie communes or something? It isn’t fair that someone is rich because their great-great grandpa did something but, what, you should be rich because you’re a genius? You were born that way just like they were born Vanderbilts,” I fire back.
“Did you know that the Ultracorps board of directors has fourteen members and exactly one of them is a Different? A company built entirely on the labor of Differents. Think.Net, Manna, the Slug, all created by Differents and all the wealth they generate, one Different gets at best 1/14 of it, and to be honest no one has head from Allan Fischman in so long, he may well be dead,” the dead-eyed Walter says.
“And what does that board think of your strike?”
“They are against it. Did you not read the all the letters to the editors in whatever newspapers can manage to print without using Differents? If the answer is no I would not be surprised. Shockingly few businesses were able to stay open, further evidence to prove my point about the overreliance on Different labor. I was hoping the world would notice, but they are too busy being angry at Differents to offer other solutions.”
“I still haven’t heard any of these so-called solutions.”
“I do not know what the answer is, but we need to change Gavin, and in order for that to happen there needs to be a spark. Old growth must burn in order for new life to flourish.”
“And forest fires are notoriously difficult to predict and control.”
“That is precisely what I am trying to do-- control the burn, but as I said, I do not know what will happen. I have models and predications and contingencies but they all have flaws and I am acutely aware of all the key knowledge I do not possess. I do know that the answer to the issues society faces will not be discovered by the same old men who were in power before the world changed. I want you to help me prepare for the next step in human society.”
“Is that what you want? Don’t you remember that list I gave you at the beginning of our conversation? Why would I help you? You’ve been trying to kill me,” I say. I point at the Walter, and then feel very silly.