Costumes help people forget that the Evolved used to be as normal as they are, Chris reflected. It was too much for most people to accept the fact that transitions could happen at any time, to anyone. The disguise essentially created a barrier which helped them to maintain the idea of ‘us’ and ‘them.’ Chris knew the truth. If she rebranded herself with a costume, her old life would disappear beneath it. Maybe the guise would help her feel better about herself.
Chris grabbed an archer’s costume with a quiver, calf boots, and a felted jacket with a spacious hood. She never liked Robin Hood, but this outfit looked like it was the best option available so she headed to the cash register with her choice in hand. When she arrived at the front of the store, she saw that an older lady with a grayish complexion had entered the store while Chris had been in the back. The woman was talking to the cashier as she fumbled in her purse.
Here’s hoping these two haven’t watched TV lately. Chris adjusted her hood with a tug, pulling it as far down over her face as she could. She set her costume choice on the front desk.
The instant the sales clerk turned his full attention to Chris, his smile froze as a ripple of recognition crossed his face. He glanced down at her armband, and then back up at her face, at a loss for words.
Shit. He must have seen an ANBE News segment with me in my hoodie. Just seeing the guy’s face was enough to make Chris wish that she could sink into the floor and disappear.
The older lady managed to finish digging a bill out of her purse. The instant she saw the store clerks expression, she put the bill down on the counter and turned. Her eyes widened as one hand clutched the front of her blouse while the other moved up to touch her quivering lips.
“Oh, child, is that you?” she whispered. “Yes, it is! I recognize you. Do you know you’ve been touched by the almighty Lord?” she asked, shuffling one step closer to Chris.
The gleam of adoration in her eyes compelled Chris to back away a similar distance. She looked to the clerk for help, but he was frozen on the spot.
“Um … I actually just wanted to pay for this,” she told the older woman, eyeing the exit.
The woman let her hand drop away from her lips to reach out to Chris. Not quite touching her, but almost. “Please, will you pray with me? My two grandchildren are sick, and my husband has been unemployed since his accident. Will you just say a few words? Or just touch me, even. Please?”
That last ‘please’ was one too many. Chris left the faux fur costume at the cash register and made a dash for the exit, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye. As soon as she found herself outside in the cool morning air, she felt better.
“Geez, that was creepy,” Chris muttered to herself. The woman must have been one of those Godkin fanatics who her family had been talking about last night. One of Preacher’s followers.
Once a pedestrian walking in her direction on the sidewalk recognized Chris, he picked up a small lapdog and ran away from her.
She tightened her hoodie around herself and set out for Averton’s other store at Southport Corridor a few blocks away. Wanting to feel at least somewhat normal, she shuffled at a fast human pace instead of using her hyperspeed.
She headed down Jefferson East, passing Adventure Park Mall. On her way to Southport Corridor, she passed the soccer field behind her high school—well, her former high school. She pressed her face against the mesh wire fence and stared at the abandoned field, its green grass slick with dew.
In a way she was sad it was a Sunday morning because she would have liked to hear the grunts and cheers of an ongoing game one last time before leaving town. Some of her best memories were tied to this place.
After a few minutes a certain rawness grated in her throat, letting her know it was time to leave. She turned to walk away before she thought about never playing soccer again.
She had almost reached Southport Corridor when she spotted Aaron Cusak and Oliver Beech, two former classmates who she had a bit of history with. They hadn’t exactly had the guts to bully her, but their provocative sneers and hurtful jokes had followed her for the better part of her high school career.
Oh, look, it’s the Iron Maiden. Still not dating anyone? Big surprise.
The two of them were leaning against the graffiti on the side of the Hackman Brothers bicycle repair shop, smoking cigarettes and faking coolness. From the looks of them, they hadn’t gotten to bed last night. Chris assumed that they had seen the news.
As she moved closer, she heard Aaron’s voice. He wore a smug smile as he talked into his smartphone. “So this chick, you know, the one we met at Garry’s place last week? So she actually sent me—”
Chris had nearly closed the distance between them before Aaron spotted her. As recognition dawned on his face, he tensed. His face went blank except for a dumbfounded stare, all the smugness gone from his expression.
“Shit. Oh, hi, Chris,” Oliver stammered, raking his fingers through his tousled hair. His eyes flitted back and forth, searching for anyplace to land but on her. There was no doubt now. They had seen the news. Hearing the quiver of anxiety in his voice didn’t give Chris any satisfaction. Looking at them now, she realized those guys were peanuts, hardly worth her attention.
She reached out to pluck the half-smoked cigarette from Oliver’s fingers. “Smoking’s bad for your health, you know,” she said. She brought the glowing cig to her lips and took a drag, and exhaled. “Lucky for me, I’m already fucked up. Thanks.”
She continued on her way without giving the two of them another glance. Not long after she had turned her back, she heard a belated barrage of swearing followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Knowing them, they were going to text everyone they knew to brag about how they survived an encounter with her. They would make up some juicy details for added wow factor.
Chris turned a corner, putting Aaron and Oliver behind her. She stopped to lean against a brick wall in the alcove of the Southport Community Center. As she pulled on the stolen cigarette, she thought about how distant it all felt now. High school. Home. Guys like Aaron and Oliver.
After walking the final block to Southport Corridor, Chris entered the Masquerade Costume Shop. She was happy to see that it was empty except for the salesgirl, a heavily made-up blonde in her twenties. Her black tank top was so tight that it did a pretty good job of distracting the viewer from the shop logo on the front. To Chris’s relief, the girl had the look of someone who spent too much time partying to keep up with the news.
This store was smaller than the last, with less emphasis on hero apparel and Covenant merchandise. It did, however, offer a larger assortment of traditional Halloween and carnival attire. Mannequins wearing sample costumes had been positioned between the shelves to show off the boxes’ contents. Cat costumes. Pirates. More gargoyles. Chris didn’t see anything that grabbed her attention.
The shelves were stacked with boxes, each one tagged with measurement indicators in thick black lettering. Chris took a step closer to some random boxes. Sizes 34, 36, 38, and 40. Huh? Everything was in European sizing instead of the S, M, L, and XL American sizing she was used to.
“Can I help you?” the salesgirl asked, suddenly beside Chris. She sounded bored.
Chris hadn’t heard her approach. “Um, I’m not sure. I’m looking for a costume. Just something simple and cheap. Something unique, I guess.”
The salesgirl squinted, like she was computing a hard algorithm in her head. “Well … if you’re looking for unique, then I suggest putting together a few individual pieces. You know? That way, the chances of someone else showing up at the party dressed in the same costume you have are, like, none.”
Chris almost smiled. She wished she was going to a party. Actually, what she really wanted was just to get the hell out of there. “Sounds good,” she told the shop girl. “Can you choose some things for me? Whatever you think would fit me. Something easy. And likeable.”
The salesgirl’s face didn’t show any reaction. Maybe she got requests like
that all the time. “How much you wanna spend?”
“Um …” Chris counted the bills in her hoodie pocket. She had fifty dollars, but she didn’t want to spend all of it on a getup. “Will thirty bucks do it?”
Again the girl’s face contorted in deep thought. After a moment she headed over to a large bin marked ‘Bargain Basket’ and rifled through.
Happy that her task had been offloaded, Chris browsed the accessories aisle. Saint Patty’s Day hats. Feather boas. Devil’s horns on a headband. Who actually buys this stuff? she wondered as she made her way to the front cash to wait for the sales assistant.
After several minutes, the sales girl emerged with several plastic packages and medium-sized cardboard box. “I just picked what I would wear if I were you,” she informed.
Chris’s eyebrows raised as she eyed the girl’s tiny tank top. Oh, well, it’s too late now.
The girl rang up her purchases and bagged the items. “Twenty-two fifty,” she said, passing over the bag.
Chris handed over three wrinkled tens. “Thanks for your help. Keep the change.”
The girl looked pleased. “Thanks. Have fun at your party!” she called as Chris headed for the door.
Chris opened the bag once she rounded the corner into a deserted alley. When she opened the box, she couldn’t help but to smirk at what the shop girl had selected for her. Her new persona consisted of a fuzzy brown bear mascot head with large ears and eyes, as well as a matching fur bodysuit. Luckily the cut didn’t obstruct her vision too much. There was also a fuzzy brown wrist band with an attached Hello Kitty purse. Definitely huggable and family friendly. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony of it. If last night hadn’t drained all of her emotions, she might have done both.
She threw the wrist band in a nearby trash can. There was no way in hell she would wear a Hello Kitty purse. Not in a million years. Regardless, it would be a massive improvement over being seen as a walking threat—that much was for sure.
Goodbye, Chris, she thought, pulling the furry brown bear mask onto her head.
***
Chris decided to take the train to Seattle rather than run at hyperspeed along Interstate 5. Even though she was going to the city to start her new life as an Evolved, she wasn’t ready to completely say goodbye to life as she knew it—at least, not quite yet. She still didn’t know how far she could sustain her new power, and she didn’t want to end up stuck on the side of the highway with only a stupid bear head for company.
It was surprising to see how much her transformation into a cute mascot changed people’s reactions to her. Less than an hour ago, people had crossed the street to get away from her. Now they smiled at her. Not wearing the face of that antisocial teenager from the news had to play a large part in it.
Chris made sure that the green UNEOA armband was quite conspicuous around her arm, but not many people took notice of it. They smiled at the fuzzy mascot head instead, taken in by its big cheerful eyes. Some of the younger kids even waved or squealed with glee. Chris noted with some satisfaction that the fuzzy bear head succeeded in hiding her face much like her hood, but with a notably less standoffish effect.
Maybe I’ll get a chance to rehabilitate my reputation a little before the news people catch up with me in Seattle, she mused as she boarded the train. Making her way down the aisle to find herself a seat, she negotiated her oversized bear head with little difficulty and chose an empty aisle seat in the middle of the car. There was a newsmagazine discarded on the adjacent window seat, but there weren't any other signs of anyone sitting there.
She settled into her seat and closed her eyes, getting comfortable. It felt like years since she last sat on plush furniture. After a few minutes, the train moved ahead. The steady motion almost put her to sleep.
“Excuse me,” she heard a voice ask. “Would you mind taking a picture with my son?”
Chris opened her eyes to see the expectant face of a plump dark-skinned woman sitting across the aisle from her. From the seat beside the woman, a curly-haired boy of around six watched Chris with interest.
“Huh?” Chris mumbled in surprise, her sleep-blurred mind busy connecting the dots.
“You’re with the Wardens, right?” The woman motioned to Chris’s armband.
Everything fell into place. She was a hero now—or so she appeared. It was only natural for people to think that she was with the Wardens, the American hero branch. She decided not to correct the lady’s observation. Being ‘with the Wardens’ sounded much better than being a ‘UNEOA-approved cooperative rogue living in America’ so she simply nodded.
The lady leaned across the aisle. “My son is such a fan. He collects the action figures and everything.” She laughed, a warm, honest sound which made Chris feel a little guilty about not clearing up the misunderstanding.
Chris wasn’t sure how to reply. “That’s nice. Who’s your favorite hero?”
“Samael!” The boy tossed his hands into the air before bringing small balled fists down to strike at some imaginary target. “He flies up, and he sees everything with his silver superhero mask! And pow, pow! The bad guy can’t run, he’s too slow!”
Chris couldn’t help but to smirk underneath her mask. “Yeah, Samael’s pretty cool,” she lied. The kid looked way too happy to be told that his hero came across as a self-absorbed jerk.
“Who are you?” The boy’s eyes narrowed at her.
An embarrassed smile crossed his mother’s face. “You’ll have to forgive him. He only knows a few of you guys.”
“That’s okay,” Chris assured her, adjusting her fuzzy bear head. “I’m sort of new on the scene.”
The woman dug a smart phone out of her purse. “Would you mind taking a picture together?”
“Um, sure,” Chris agreed.
At his mother’s urging, the boy slipped past her knees and landed beside Chris. He gave her furry arm a pet. “What’s your name?”
Chris said the first thing that came to mind. “Mascot.”
“Mascot!” he squealed in delight. “Cool! Me and Samael and Mascot! We protect people! Pow! Pow!” His tiny fists landed a series of punches on the back of the seat in front of him as his mom’s smartphone camera flashed. Click. Just like that, Chris was stuck with a new identity. A commitment marked by a little boy’s gleeful squeal.
Something about the enthusiasm in the boy’s words struck a chord with her. Somehow it just felt right, and, for a fraction of a second, she was overcome with the feeling of almost remembering something important, something buried so deep in her mind that….
It was gone before she could think of it.
The mother thanked her, and held her hand out to the boy. “Come on, Elliot.” She picked up her oversized purse and the little boy’s Covenant backpack. “Our stop’s coming up.”
As the train slowed to a stop at the station just outside of Averton, the woman led little Elliot down the aisle. “Thanks again,” she called over her shoulder to Chris.
“Pow! Pow!” Elliot said, imaginary guns blazing all the way down the rail car until he was on the platform.
Closing her eyes behind the oversized mascot mask, Chris leaned her head back against the headrest. But after a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep, she turned her attention to the discarded magazine on the seat beside her. It was a month-old edition of Evolved Revolution, the sort of magazine she never paid much attention to before.
But for the next fifty miles or so, she flipped through the glossy pages with interest. Nobody knew for certain why transitions happened or if they were random, but Evolved Revolution tried to demystify the phenomenon.
She skimmed over the first paragraph of an editorial which condemned how one Antonio Verras, the man known as Preacher, was raising millions in private right-wing donations to publish a whitepaper on how God had supposedly abandoned the earth and redistributed His powers among the Godkin.
“Wacko,” Chris muttered. She didn’t finish reading the letter. It made
her think of dinner last night, of Helen and Ryan and her parents. She just wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet.
She flipped the page to a long story about the latest scientific Pulse theories. One of them claimed that the thirty-minute global power outage of February 2010 hadn’t been caused by an imploding star in the next galaxy, but by some sort of energy surge originating from the earth’s own core. She also read about how scientists around the world had confirmed the sixty-two seconds that had disappeared from the global population’s collective memory.
Chris was doubtful of this last factoid. She remembered the day the Pulse happened. It had been a perfectly normal day until the power went out everywhere and everyone freaked out about it.
An elderly man shuffled down the aisle, holding the backs of the seats as he made his way to the rear of the car, presumably to use the bathroom. She felt a dull ache as she watched him painstakingly make his way past her. He nodded at her furry bear head as he passed.
She flipped over to the next article, a feature about the earliest transitions. The first one had happened to a fourteen-year-old boy in Turkey a few days after the Pulse. The boy had gained the ability to speak every language and dialect perfectly, and was soon declared a saint by various Muslim leaders. They named him Prophet. Despite his young age, Prophet possessed superhuman wisdom and diplomatic skill which was proven when his intervention had peacefully resolved numerous conflicts, primarily in the Middle East where his opinion was valued by many.
The following article featured Katsuro Sakai, who had transitioned while attempting to resolve a hostage situation in Osaka, Japan. After changing his name from Ronin to Paladin, he had worked alongside a United Nations task force to form an independent sister organization, the Evolved Oversight Authority. He had been the first member to join the UNEOA’s international superhero team, the Covenant.
Chris turned to stare out the window at the passing scenery again. How was she supposed to live up to the expectations set by these other Evolved and change the world? Getting her own life in order was daunting enough.
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