Human Superior

by C. S. Won

  “They were lonely,” Clay said.

  “And so when they finally discovered us, they were ecstatic. Finally, there was someone sharing the same space that they occupied,” Tobin said. “And not only that, they grew to admire us. They saw our primitive ancestors fight to become masters of our land, to conquer beasts stronger and bigger than us, and to withstand disasters that were relentless and wanton. We persisted, despite the enormous odds stacked against us, and even flourished, creating civilizations, societies, and ethical laws, and through that they saw great potential. It was for that very reason they decided to personally intervene during times of great peril, or in need of greater understanding, because they not only wanted to see us survive, but to also prosper.”

  “Intervene? Wouldn’t direct intervention be catastrophic? Wouldn’t there be mass hysteria if they saw aliens beaming down from the sky?” Andrea asked.

  “Perhaps today, in the age of doubt and skepticism, there would be hysteria, but back then, when we were simpler people, no, they saw very little reason to be hysterical. They saw only divinity coming down to bless them. We worshipped them. They were our gods. In fact, the different gods we believed in throughout human history were derived from our interactions with them. From the Greek Pantheon to the Norse Gods, to the deities in Egyptian, Hindu, and Aztecan lore, to even the Christian God—they were all real, created in the images of these aliens. They nurtured us, and in return we deified them, placing them on a pedestal and creating entire cultures and religions around them. Many of the ancient man-made monuments you see throughout the world, such as the various pyramids, the thousands of dolmens and megaliths, Stonehenge, the Moai statues—they were built to honor them.”

  “So that explains it . . .”

  “As our relationship became more and more symbiotic with these gods, growing ever more complex and intricate, a need to future-proof us became a priority for our nurturers.”

  “Future-proof?” Jae asked.

  “To ensure the continued survival of our species, a few million humans, the strongest and wisest of them all, were gathered together and gifted with a seed of sorts, implanted right here in our cerebrum.” Tobin tapped his scalp. “The purpose of the seed was to augment the recipient at a molecular level, enhancing existing DNA or even rewriting it altogether to allow the host to gain various new abilities, thus guaranteeing our continued existence.”

  “Or in other words, it rapidly transforms, or evolves, humans into what we now call the neo-human,” Clay said.

  “The seed was to stay dormant only until a global extinction event ever occurred: a meteor striking the Earth, abrupt climate change, a global pandemic—anything that could be categorized as catastrophic. Even something like a nuclear war. If anything like that were to ever occur, then the seed was supposed to activate and imbue its host. It acted as a bulwark against certain doom, a defense mechanism to ensure that humanity lives on despite all odds.”

  “This is all so wild,” Andrea said.

  “That doesn’t make any sense, though. That storm from last year, while harrowing, didn’t exactly feel like the end of the world,” Jae said.

  “Because it was deliberate. There’s another way to activate the seed, a manual override you could call it, where if the situation warrants it, someone can trigger an evolution.”

  “How?”

  “With the aforementioned metal sphere in the spacecraft. It has one purpose and one purpose only: to mimic the conditions of an extinction event. The sphere sends a specialized, coded signal into the atmosphere, where it then induces an electrical storm, one that is precise enough to know exactly who to hit, without harming anyone else. The resulting lightning strike, as you’re well aware, induces the recipient into a coma, and into eventual evolution.”

  “How does it know who has the seed?”

  “They found a list of names of those who had the seed, and the sphere has an onboard computer where you can input directives on who to target.”

  “It can do that?” Andrea asked.

  “How can a list made eons ago be applicable today? Names can merge, change, or even fade from history. The only way that list is relevant today is if these alien gods were updating it themselves,” Jae said.

  “That’s because they were,” Tobin said.

  “. . . They were?”

  “How else can the list be up-to-date if our benefactors weren’t still keeping tabs on us?”

  Andrea looked up at the sky. “No way.”

  “Then this sphere, this manual override . . . if the government had possession of it, then were they responsible for giving us our powers?” Jae asked.

  “Correct,” Tobin said.

  “But why? Why suddenly awaken everyone’s powers?”

  “That I do not know. Maybe someone had made a mistake when they were handling the sphere, or maybe someone meant to do it.”

  “So this magical, metal sphere that can turn humans into superhumans was conveniently left behind in some mysterious alien spacecraft, for people to plunder and exploit? Something isn’t adding up here.”

  “Many of the translators on the project, your brother included, felt the same way. Judging by the crash landing of the ship, some believed we were never supposed to receive it in the first place. Others believed it was purposefully given to us, like a gift. A few thought that it represented something more ominous, perhaps a warning to let us know that something sinister was on the horizon and to prepare ourselves.”

  “How did they discover the sphere’s purpose in the first place?” Andrea asked.

  “Early on in the process, translators discovered text that spoke of evolving humanity to new heights; of unlocking latent potential and pushing the boundaries of the human mind and body. These documents even spoke of the gods’ successes in imbuing powers to certain individuals, referencing mythological figures like Hercules and King Arthur.”

  “Hercules was real?”

  “As real as you and I. The government pounced on this, taking this as a cue that these aliens figured out a way to create the fabled superhuman. As a result, without even bothering to wait and find out how it was done in the first place, they embarked on an ill-advised venture of recreating the superhuman. The project lasted for nearly fifty years, with hundreds, maybe even thousands of people subjected to various forms of genetic engineering, manipulation, therapy, and modification. So many died from these shortsighted trials, but the government didn’t care. All they cared about was their superhuman, so the project continued unabated, ethics be damned.”

  Jae thought back to the photos Clay showed him, of people strapped to cold, steel slabs, their arms and legs bound and bloodied, screaming out in pain. These were the so-called failures the government had created in their insane quest to create an army of neo-humans.

  Madness.

  “It wasn’t until maybe the mid to late ‘90’s did they finally discover what the sphere’s purpose was, and it took at least another five years to finally figure out how to even use it,” Tobin said.

  “That’s when they started having their first successes. Some of the people you saw in the photos were those successes,” Clay said, invoking the photographs.

  “The Evolution Trigger, they called the sphere, as celebration for their discovery and achievement,” Tobin said.

  “The Evolution Trigger,” Andrea repeated, saying the words slowly.

  Mired in their own thoughts, the group sat unmoving, shrouded in a darkness that had crept up on them, the sounds of nightfall echoing around them.

  “How did I come into possession of this seed if they were planted in our ancestors a long time ago? I don’t remember receiving one,” Jae said.

  “Just as you can pass on your genes to your children, so too can you pass on the seed.”

  “It’s why my son and I both have powers,” Clay said.

  “It’s hereditary?” Andrea asked.

  Tobin nodded.

  “That explains why Adam and I . . .”
r />   “Wait, then does that mean Han has powers also?” Jae asked.

  Tobin gave Jae an apologetic look. “I don’t know. He never showed me. But he most likely does.”

  Jae furrowed his brow. “You worked for him. How can you not know?”

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t. Whatever his abilities were, he kept it a secret.”

  “Was he struck by the storm last year?”

  “No.”

  “So he got his abilities before then?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Then what are his abilities?”

  “I know you think I’m lying about this, but I’m not. In fact, I only suspected he had powers once I heard you were affected by the storm.”

  “He’s telling the truth. Every time I saw Han, he made zero mention of any powers he had. I only put two and two together when I found out you had powers,” Clay said.

  “And to be clear, I’m not denying the idea that Han has powers, only that I’ve never seen him use it,” Tobin said.

  “And you never thought to ask him what his powers were? Even after you found out I had powers?” Jae asked.

  “I had no reason to ask. If he wanted to let me know, then he would have said something. But he never did, so I simply let things be.”

  It was the sort of explanation that made it impossible to figure out if a person was telling the truth or not. It gave Tobin just enough room to weave an improbable fabrication, and yet sound convincing at the same time. It was too convenient and too frustrating, but Jae knew pressing the issue would only result in more denials. The dispute would have to be settled another day. The truth will come out sooner or later, he assured himself.

  Andrea stood from her seat. “Aliens. Gods. Superhumans.” She had a dazed look about her. “I think I need to lie down for a little bit.” She shuffled inside the cabin, dragging her feet behind her, the walk of a person who was both shell-shocked and disturbed. Jae couldn’t blame her. Her whole belief system was probably just turned upside down.

  “Mr. Yeon, if you also need a moment yourself, I won’t—”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Really?” Tobin seemed surprised.

  Jae shrugged. “Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet. I don’t know.”

  “I hope what we just discussed was enough to rebuild your trust in us.”

  “Not yet. You still have a long way to go.”

  The three sat unmoving, the hushed whisper of the wind filling in the silence for them.

  “So, what do we do now?” Clay asked. “Morgan has your brother, and he’s goading the world into war.”

  “We find and rescue Han. He can expose Morgan. Expose him, and there’s no war,” Jae said.

  “Will that be enough?”

  “It has to be.”

  Tobin stood and made his way to the entrance of the cabin. “Then I’ll see what new info my people might have on his whereabouts.”

  “I’d like to contact my friends back home. I need to let them know how I am,” Jae said.

  Tobin shook his head. “You’re a wanted man, Mr. Yeon. You have an entire country looking for you. Until the heat dies down, you have to stay hidden, even to your friends.” Tobin had told everyone to destroy their phones, as a precaution to make sure they weren’t being tracked or listened in to. “But I’ll do what I can to obtain a secure line. Until then, you must lie low.”

  Knowing he didn’t really have a choice, Jae nodded, resigned to this fate. “Fine.”

  Tobin disappeared into the cabin. Clay searched his pockets and took out an empty pack of cigarettes. Disappointed, he tossed it to the ground. “Let me tell you, when I first heard the aliens story, I thought my mind was about to explode.”

  “Clay,” Jae said. “Did my brother give you more information, or was that folder of photographs all he really gave you?”

  “It was all he gave me.”

  Jae narrowed his eyes.

  “It’s the truth,” Clay insisted.

  “But I thought you were meeting with him all this time? Why would he continue to withhold information knowing full well what was at stake?”

  “Because for the past six months, I wasn’t meeting with your brother—I was meeting with Tobin. I only saw Han once after I woke up from my coma, and that was just a few days ago, on the night of the latest bombing. The meeting was brief, but he promised to tell me everything the next time he saw me again.”

  “Only once? Why?”

  “Han is a very paranoid person. Conditions had to be absolutely perfect before he was willing to meet.”

  “Then why not simply ask Tobin to request more information?”

  “I did, but he was denied. Han was only willing to disseminate information directly to me, and at his own pace.”

  Jae wasn’t sure if Clay was lying or telling the truth. The truth, most likely, as Clay appeared to have no reason to lie anymore, but Jae still had to question it. The revelation of Clay’s behavior made it necessary. The presumption of truth was a luxury now, something he had to be careful about. Everything had to be picked apart and examined before Jae was ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wished it didn’t have to be that way, as it was a terrible feeling having to question the legitimacy of every word a person uttered, but for his own sake, it was something he now had to do.

  After a moment, Clay bent down to pick up the empty pack of cigarettes he had just tossed away and crumpled it into a ball in his hands. “Marlowe always told me to never litter.” Pain flickered in his eyes. His hand trembled, the empty carton squealing in his grip.

  “We’ll get him back,” Jae said.

  Clay walked over to the cabin. “I’m sorry for lying to you.” He entered the cabin and closed the door behind him, leaving Jae alone in the faded light.

  Chapter Two

  Sparkling stars, bountiful as grass on a spring meadow, glimmered in the sky. Resting on the roof of the cabin, Jae stared up at that endless expanse of atmosphere, tracing the path of all these stars, deriving shape and form from the patterns. He reminisced how often he used to stargaze with his father in the backyard of their old home, hours spent with the entirety of the universe staring down back at them.

  Jae wished his father was still around. A man of decisive action, he’d have a good idea on what to do in a predicament like this. More likely than not, he’d have sought out Morgan Duffy, bruised him purple and blue for instigating the dilemma they were in, then sat him down and lectured him at length on the principles of decency and integrity, wagging a finger at him like a man dressing down a disobedient dog.

  The thought coaxed a smile from Jae. Not a bad plan of action, he thought.

  The wind curled around him, and Jae’s thoughts shifted to Han. Jae hoped his captors were treating him well, even though he knew they probably weren’t. Morgan killed his own son in cold blood, then in a disgusting act, used his lifeless body to further his agenda. If Morgan was willing to go that far with his own progeny, then what little would he care about with the life of one translator—especially one that plotted against him? Protected from international scrutiny, inoculated against the rule of law, and aided by the government itself, Morgan had free reign to do whatever he pleased with his undocumented prisoners. All Jae could do was pray that his brother was still intact in one, coherent piece by the time they found him.

  But would they ever find him? Jae hoped they could, but in this moment of quiet, doubt festered. To say he was on a long losing streak would be an understatement. He had failed Madeline, failed his old chief, failed Clay and his son, failed countless thousands, and could do nothing to prevent Han’s capture. He had made promises, and he couldn’t keep them. He may have been lied to and manipulated, but it did not change the fact that Clay was nearly killed, and his son abducted under his watch. Firm verbal commitments meant little if Jae kept failing the people who depended on him the most. Clay and Marlowe, at this point, were just more in a long line of people he had let down.

  Wood an
d metal groaned. Jae sat up, and saw Andrea pulling herself up onto the roof.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked.

  Jae went over and took her arm, helping her up. She thanked him with a smile, then walked over to the center of the roof. Jae followed close behind, their footsteps sending shivers up the roof’s spine. They sat together, staring up at the moonlit sky, and for a while said nothing.

  “How are you doing?” Jae asked, breaking the peace.

  Andrea gave a contemplative look. “Considering that I just found out aliens are real, not too bad, surprisingly.” She nodded at that. “Yeah, I think I’m doing okay. You?”

  “I thought I’d be in this perpetual state of shock by now, but I honestly don’t really feel any differently. Maybe it’s because I’m just too preoccupied with how to save my brother and Marlowe, or maybe it’s because the revelation hasn’t quite hit me yet, but whatever the reason, the idea that aliens are out there doesn’t really bother me.”

  “That Tobin guy could still be bullshitting us, you know. He had no proof to back up his claims. I don’t know the guy, and you don’t know him either, and it sounds like he has a history of being dishonest. But yet—”

  “We still believed it,” Jae said. “Because—hell, why not? In this day and age, with everything that’s happened already, are aliens really all that improbable?”

  “I suppose not.” Andrea looked at her hand. She closed it into a fist, then opened it back up again. She repeated the motion a few more times, her gaze fixated on the action. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No.”

  She pouted her lips.

  “Go ahead,” Jae said, chuckling.

  “When you hear someone like Morgan Duffy talk about how dangerous we are, how does that make you feel?”

  Jae worked his mouth, formulating the words. “Conflicted. Sometimes angry.”

  “Why?’

  “Because nothing good ever comes out of painting broad strokes about people. It engenders nothing but fear, distrust, and hate. It’s a wedge that divides us, and it’s the sort of thing that can lead to dire consequences down the road.” Jae sighed. “But at the same time, their trepidation about us is understandable. If a neo-human decided to use his powers in a less than scrupulous manner—well, we saw firsthand what happened with Daniel Duffy. It could be catastrophic.”