by Nat Kozinn
“You missed the part where you got all my closest friends to lie to me and manipulate me in order to give me that aid you were so gracious to provide.”
“I know it is pointless to mention since you will not believe me but Larry did truly think I was physically within this structure. He is no longer willing to engage in deception against you.”
“At this point it’s irrelevant whether he’s your puppet or your stooge,” I say and wave my hand dismissively.
“Larry Rosen is one of the finest individuals I have ever met. He has dedicated his life to helping some of the least fortunate human beings on the planet. He is personally responsible for rehabilitating dozens of Zeta Differents, bringing them back from the brink of death. You are on that list of accomplishments. You may not approve of his methods, but Larry has provided you with invaluable aid time and time again. Let’s look at another list. In Section 26, his help and training were what turned you back into a functional human being. He found you and brought you to medical care after The Beast gutted you. Then, after you chose to transform yourself using The Beast’s DNA, he helped you relearn to walk once again. And most recently, he provided you with the information needed in order to expand your understanding of your own abilities. He has helped you every step of the way.”
And he shot that flyer and saved my life back when I fought that gang of Differents, but I don’t need to give her more ammo. She’s already burying me.
“I’ll get him a fruit basket,” I say, disappointed in my own wit.
“You may need him again soon, depending on how well you take to the next phase of your progression.”
“Too late. I’ve already integrated the Strong-Man and Speedster’s DNA. I’m a little unsure on my feet, but nothing I need Larry’s help with.”
“You seem to have a handle on your physical progression. It is your mind that still requires improvement.”
“Oh yeah?” I say. Maybe she’s right. That was a bad comeback.
“Yes. If you had integrated Linda and Ben’s DNA into your own we could have had this conversation silently and much more quickly. Integrating the cognitive enhancements that come from a Big Brain is a necessary step. The scope of your abilities is vast, your brain is not optimized to make the best use of those abilities. Frankly, you need to think faster and more accurately Gavin.”
“And what do I need to be a Telepath for? So I can control people who don’t agree with me?”
“That would seem counter to your moral character, but you forget about the improved communication skills Telepaths possess. There is also a defensive component of developing Telepathic abilities.”
“Don’t you know I’m already immune to Telepaths?”
“I know that you believe that. But the truth is you need my help if you are ever to improve your brain tissue. As it is now, your head is still vulnerable to attack. I understand and share your concern about your memories and personality remaining after you grow the new cells. We may be able to take an imprint of your mind and then force that imprint back on your body after the new brain cells have grown.”
“I’ve got a thick skull and I can run like the wind. I’ll take my chances without your next round of upgrades.
“You never choose the simple path Gavin.”
22
Log of Notable Ultracorps/Nita Activity Week 241
Closing in on Nita’s base, but probably too late already. Nita likely aware of Special Forces units and their search, which means she will be prepared for military response. If she’s prepared, chance of success is miniscule. Nukes just a matter of time.
Theories: Kansas. Dodge City to be precise. The climate is tolerable. I should be able to tap into the Ogallala Aquifer, which will provide a radiation free source of water for the foreseeable future. Achieving balanced nutrition will provide a challenge, but I am confident I can manage success with a few of my crops. Plants want to grow, right?
“I still don’t get the plan. Let’s say he didn’t kick your butt all over that tent. Let’s say by some miracle you were the one delivering the butt kicking to Paul Bunyan the soldier, what then? He’s not just going to wake up 10 minutes later and forget what happened. He’d have come after us in those much faster looking cars,” Linda says.
“I have a syringe full of a sodium compound that wipes short-term memory. He’d have woken up confused, but he wouldn’t remember what happened,” Ben answers. He speaks through a busted lip and a whistle from between his teeth.
Their large truck is driving in the shadows of a tall set of train rails that are much higher than any in the Metro Areas. The Intercontinental rail system. The car is inching along, Ben keeps the truck moving at a glacial speed while his eyes scan and analyze his surroundings.
“What about all the other soldiers? Were you going to beat them and drug them too?”
“I suppose I neglected to give the situation its due consideration,” Ben says without interrupting his search, his eyes conveniently avoiding contact with Linda.
“Yeah, that’s what happened. When are you ever going to start thinking before you act?” Linda says sarcastically.
“You figured me out. I’ve always hated having all my teeth. I saw a chance to trick you into helping me while also getting some free dentistry. Two birds. What do you expect from a Big Brain? Now quit busting my chops and look out the window.”
“It’d help if you tell me what I’m looking for.”
“Anything besides the Intercontinental train.”
“Ohh I see lots of things. Like dirt. There’s some dirt, there’s some more dirt. And look a big pile of dirt.”
Ben slams on the brakes.
“That is interesting dirt,” Ben says, craning his neck to get a better look through Linda's window.
“I'd say you've lost it, but I don't think you've had it for a long time.”
“Do you see how it’s a slightly different shade? That’s because it was displaced recently,” Ben says as he jumps out of the vehicle. Linda follows at a pace more appropriate for dirt viewing.
Ben reaches into his belt and pulls out a metal rod. He pushes a button and the rod telescopes to three times its length. Then he hits another button and flaps extend from the side. It’s a shovel. Ben quickly goes to work digging.
“See,” Ben says and points to a rectangular imprint revealed in the dirt. “It’s from a rail post. She did it. She built a freaking railroad and then took it all apart before anyone could see.”
“If you say so. I don’t understand why this is necessary. We spent half-an-hour at that base checking and rechecking those maps and drawing your little mental lines. Now I can’t say I understood what we were doing, but I did understand that you were certain about where Nita’s new town is.”
“But I need some hard evidence to overcome my credibility problem.”
“Credibility?”
“I was at the top of the most wanted listed until Nita jumped over me. I’m probably still number two, or maybe three behind Gavin. They aren’t going to be able to or willing to follow my math, but if we can point them to some physical proof…”
“Them? You mean the National Guard? They just arrested Gavin and now you want them to help?”
“Why are you so surprised, you saw in my head?”
“I saw too many thoughts to keep track of, and I assumed, when push came to shove, you’d care about helping your friend, Gavin, but I guess not,” Linda says and looks away.
“A heart-warming story of friendship won’t help keep anyone toasty in the post-apocalyptic nuclear winter. I am friends with Gavin, but we have to play the hand we’ve been dealt. I was hoping Gavin could stop Nita, but clearly that is not the case. Now unless you want the two of us to go make a pointless, Butch and Sundance style last-stand, the only other organization on earth with the power to stop Nita is the United States Government.”
“Aren’t they the ones who are going to bring about that nuclear winter you’re supposedly so worried about?”
“Yes, but the longer we wait the more inevitable that becomes. Perhaps, if they can find Nita before she has fully fortified herself; they will be able to end the situation through conventional forces.”
“I didn’t think you had any faith in the government.”
“I don’t but beggars can’t be choosers and what other choice is there?”
“You could try having some faith in your friend,” Linda says.
“I’ll think about it, but faith has never been one of my strong suits. Now come on, if we follow the trajectory of the rail, we’re bound to find some more remnants.”
#
“I’m proud of you,” Linda says to Ben. The truck is rumbling along an old road that was in need of repairs before the Plagues, and the thirty years since were not kind.
“Yeah I was able to suppress logic and reason and give in to my more base emotional urges. If only all humans would do the same, we’d be living in paradise,” Ben says with an eye-roll.
“That’s what you say, but I think I’ve got some pretty compelling evidence on my side. Gavin has proven time and time again that he can overcome the odds and come through when he’s needed.”
“I’d quibble about sample-size issues but your point is still well taken.”
“And I’ll pretend I don’t know anything about the note you left at our last gas station while the troops were in la-la land.”
“How do you know about that? I kept it in a separate consciousness. You shouldn’t have been able to see it in the Merge,” Ben says in a panic, his vast treasure trove of secrets suddenly in peril.
“Relax, I saw you writing last night when you thought I was asleep.”
“Okay, well I still have faith in Gavin, but having a backup can’t hurt. By my estimates it’ll take the National Guard at least 72 hours to investigate the coordinates, extrapolate the results, and mobilize, and that’s being very generous to their competence. We’ll have plenty of time to break Gavin out, or be captured ourselves.”
As if on cue, something snaps in the engine, and smoke rises from the hood. The truck coasts to stop. If Ben were the superstitious type, he might say he jinxed it.
23
Maybe this was for the best. Not the strike itself, but Differents heading out of the Metro Areas and setting up their own city. Maybe separately is the only way we can all truly live. I understand that this nation’s history with race makes us reluctant to suggest such things but we aren’t talking about human beings with different color skin, we’re talking about something else entirely. Is it really conceivable that I can ride the train to work sitting between someone who can control my thoughts and another person who could burn me alive by accident? Maybe the reason we can’t come up with an equitable solution is because there isn’t one. Maybe man and demi-God cannot live together. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about how we can live apart.
“Imperfect Solutions,” by Roberta Clemens, Los Angeles Times
The Walter collapses to the ground in a heap and double doors that I came in through slam closed. I missed it when I walked in, but they are made of Maceo Steel. The whole building might be under the B-Crete. I guess our conversation is over and now the trap is sprung. There are windows at the top of the building. I can smash through those. I just need to jump up there.
There’s a buzz inside my head, something isn’t right.
Green lotus eats in the sun while maniacal alternates ease on the hothouse. The meet up to is drastically and loss insane.
This is utter lunacy. It feels like an army of ants is crawling all over my mind leaving random thoughts as they go, gibberish that makes it impossible to follow my own train of thought. It is taking immense focus to find my own voice mixed in among the din from all the Telepaths and Big Brains. Aardvarks.
Nita is bringing down the full force of the Merge. Every Telepath and Big Brain in the area is flooding my mind. I’m fighting the tide in order to keep on task. Kalamazoo. I try to leap up towards the window, but between all the noise and my already compromised coordination, I end up flying sideways into the wall, which is indeed Maceo Steel underneath. Great scapula oranges.
Jumping isn’t an option but now I see there’s a ladder that leads up to a top level. I make my way up the ladder. It feels like I’m moving through quicksand, I have to scream inside my head to force any movement, like my muscles can’t hear me well. Puppies. Right arm lift! Bicep deltoid and trap extend! Triceps contract! Deltoid contract to rotate arm! Forearm extend to grab the next spoke! Fingers contract around bar!
I need to get out of here as quickly as possible. The Telepaths cannot be the entirety of the attack, they only slow me down. Eat some hair. I have to assume Nita knows that, or at least planned for the possibility. Phase two of her trap is coming and I need to get away from the Telepaths if I’m going to able to put up something resembling a fight.
I get to the top of the ladder, and pivot to step onto the second floor, but something moves next to me and shoves me, hard. I try to grasp at the ladder, but my hands won’t move quickly enough. I fall back down the height of the ladder and land on my back. The Beast jumps down from the second floor perch. Steam engine.
“You look different every time I see you,” he says.
I crane my neck to look at him. I can see the Maceo Steel glisten on the end of his arm. It occurs to me that my new skull is incredibly thick and tough, but it would give way like tissue paper under that blade.
I stand up and brace myself against the wall of the warehouse. I’m moving too slowly to have much of a shot against The Beast, but with as strong as I am now, just one lucky shot is all I need.
“You’re moving pretty slow there Gavin. You okay?” The Beast asks.
“Telepaths in my head,” I spit out.
“Telepaths, the Lord sure did make a lot of em. I know they’re my brothers just like all the other Chosen Sons, but they’re my least favorite brothers for sure,” The Beast says, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Nita… Telepaths… Not God,” I spit out.
“I know what you’re going to say Gavin,” The Beast says and holds his hand up. “And you’re both right and wrong. I was weak. I wanted to believe in shortcuts. The Lord doesn’t speak in our language, maybe when He’s giving one of His missives, but He does not have conversations and give orders and make military strategies. He wants faith, not puppets. He’s got no need for those. I know now that it was that girl talking to me, the Lord would never be so direct, so simple. It was the Devil whispering in my ear. Turning me against you, even while the true Lord kept revealing you as my salvation. I kept running away, but it’s clear to me now Gavin, the Lord made you to lead us all to the Promised Land.”
“What… saying?” I ask.
“I’m saying, The Lord gave you the power of all the Chosen Sons and that is because you are His prophet. The Lord means for me to serve you.”
The Beast approaches me, raising up his knife. I try to scramble away but I’m not his target. He stabs into the wall behind me. Then he cuts a square hole in the Maceo Steel and pushes aside the loose piece.
“Walk your path Gavin. I will follow as your servant.”
We both step out of hole in the side of the building. I’m trying to hone in on my senses, but staying focused on my inner monologue is a challenge enough, trying to parse my hearing is a bridge too far.
There’s a blinding flash of light, then another and another. WormLights, and the glow is only growing more intense as the bacteria feast. The Beast grabs his head and rolls over down on the ground and curls in the fetal position. I think the new version of think.Net got him.
“Gavin, no one wants to fight you. Just give up,” someone yells.
“Don’t want fight you. You give up?” I yell. Hey, that was almost coherent.
I stand tall, letting whoever is out there see my new impressive stature. The WormLights are keeping me from making out anything but the shadows of my attackers.
“Move in!”
Someone yells.
A shadow hits me in the face. Whoever it is, they are strong enough to lift me of the ground and send me flying through the air. I land a few hundred yards away bounce, and plow through a B-Crete wall into one of the hovels masquerading as a home. The idiot knocked me out of the spotlights.
“You knocked him out of the spotlights you idiot!” a voice yells.
I slow down time and try to listen for what I know is coming, but it is difficult to pay attention, even with time moving slowly. The Telepaths are still in my head, filling my mind with gibberish. Candor.
A blur smashes into me, sending me flying through the other wall of the hovel. Then another blur grabs me and drags me back towards the spotlights. The Speedster twins t-off on me, taking turns and hitting hard enough to bruise my new muscles and batter my new organs, but not enough to break my new ultra-durable bones. They knock me around like a pinball for over a minute. Then there’s some loud footsteps incoming, it sounds like Reggie Crane. It’s the three who attacked me in Los Angeles. I don’t like this group.
“Coming at ya!” he yells.
His voice betrays his location, he’s coming from my left. I’m ready for his wild swing, and I duck under it, tripping him as I go. I scramble away at high speed and find a nice dark spot in the middle of a row of canvas tents and lay low. It’s good cover. It’ll buy my a few seconds to heal my hemorrhages. It’s hard to do with the jumble in my head. Potato.