dumb american: Transhuman: A Short Story

“I’m not going to lie,” the wild-eyed technophile warned, “this is gonna hurt.”

Those were the last words I heard as a human being. He plunged the needle into my neck. I felt the cold fluid invade my blood. My muscles tightened and stuck me in place. No pain yet. My senses began to grow dull and unreliable. The color of rust, the white sheet, the strange metallic instruments all churned into darkness. There was no way of knowing how long the droll state lasted. I remember wondering if the freak was just going to fuck me over just before the foggy cloak fully drew over my perception.

The pain snapped me back into consciousness as if I were thrown into a pool of Arctic water. It splintered throughout my body and every part of my frail, human vessel screamed an agonizing song. There’s hardly anything to compare it to. Imagine the worst headache you ever had and every tendon in your body on the verge of snapping. Oh, and suppose your skin was also boiling off of your bones. Remember those old stories about Hell that your parents used to scare you with? Kind of like that.

But then it was gone. Instantly. That was the precise moment I ceased to be a man, so I'm told.

“Okay, kid,” the freakshow said, “how about I do your cute little punk ass a favor. One mod on the house.”

A Glasgow-smile crept across my face. I was going to have to wait over a week to have enough money to afford one. I tried my best not to act too excited though on the inside I was squirming.

“I appreciate it,” I replied.

He took me up to a green cabinet that hung on the wall furthest from the door and keyed in five digits on an analog keypad. It opened with a satisfying click by itself.

“Good place to start,” stated the freakshow as he turned to me and curled up his arm to show a bicep, “is with muscle, don’t ya think?” I nodded. He pulled down a gray container and opened it up. It’s hard to describe how I felt at the time. Excitement ebbed inside a sea of apprehension, tossing about flotsam of doubt as it violently crashed against the rocky shores of expectations and lapped up to the feet of my peers and superiors. Or something like that.

I winced and it was over. I felt the paralyzing feeling again but it quickly subsided as sensation crawled over my skin like a thousand tiny ants. There was no pain, soreness, or fatigue. I sprung up from the table and walked over to the large, dirty mirror in the corner and stared at my figure. I didn’t look any different. It was still me for the most part. Roughly 85 percent I guess.

I thanked the freakshow and left. Once outside his little rundown hideaway, I began to run. I was much faster. I sprinted through the brick corridors of the Old City with no regard to direction. The Old City was dark, moss-laden, and the permanent home of underground modders, the derelict, and all manner of unsavory characters. Not to mention the beasts and monsters that called it home, sweet home as well. It was tiny patches of civilization spread thin across a 20th century metropolis like a some dirty mucous membrane. Crumbling skyscrapers, fast food restaurants, and massive neon signs served as the only reminder that this place was once civilized. Humanity had forsaken this place.

The bygone city did have one thing to offer you: freedom from the watchful, infiltrating eye of modern civilization: all those cameras and sensors 'round the city probing at every chance. A little danger isn’t a steep price to pay for liberty and the land-of-do-as-you-please. Like in that comic book where the masked man that wanted to blow up Parliament over in the UK. ‘Course it was just England back then I guess. I’m not sure. The government had too much control and was corrupt and all. Feels like it’s the same way here now but not as bad since people aren’t disappearing in the middle of the night far as I know.

Anyway, I’d just read about that kind of freedom and I was kind of feeling it now. It was intoxicating. It was an incomprehensible idea you heard the intellectuals musing on for hours down in the New Senate. How much was enough? Was there such a thing as enough? As I tore through the labyrinth of the the lost city, propelled by legs that could barely feel fatigue, I couldn't fathom an end to it.

The wind against my face was cool and inviting like those pictures of mountain streams in the school archives. I leaped over an approaching wall and clumsily smashed into another one upon landing. It turns out grace isn’t something you can just fix with technology. I felt like that spider kid from the comics: like right when he was starting out.

I ran for a full two hours around the city, trying to run across upright walls, seeing how far I could jump (a few car lengths), and other amateurish acrobatic feats until the most remote feelings of tiredness began to sneak into my body. I glanced at my mobile: it was nearly three in the morning. I guess I had to go home.

Dad’s gonna be pissed.

Y’know, I don’t have to tell them. It’s not like I look any different. Most people, including my folks, have this idea about what a person should be. They see all the modders and technophiles as evil sub humans. It's just simple prejudice I guess. It will probably pass with time just like the civil rights movement we read about in History.

I walked into the front door of the apartment and was relieved to see the Holo was turned off. I tried not to kick the spare computer parts that were sitting at the top of the steps like I did the night before. I made my way to my room as quietly as I could.

“ Do you know,” came dad’s stern voice from behind his door, “what time it is?”

“Yeah,” I groaned.

“Get in the bed. Nobody who was ever anything slept ‘til two in the afternoon,” he continued.

“I know, dad.”

I shut my door and stripped off my clothes. I didn’t really feel like sleeping but I figured I should try. I need to be on dad’s best side possible for the next few weeks just in case he gets wise to what I’ve done.

I gingerly placed the old comic books that were laying on my bed onto the night stand. I really like comic books: all different kinds. I like the classic super hero ones with the masks and capes. I like the amateur ones on the web that people just publish themselves. I like the less mainstream comics with the realistic stories. I even like the Japanese ones. They’re called manga but you can still call them comics if you want. Some people don’t like to though. Anyway, they're a lot more serious than people think. Most people think comics are just kids stuff but a lot of the stories are really mature. There's also an interplay of words and images that's so unique. It's different from the stuff on the Holo. I drifted off to sleep thinking about it.

I woke up the next morning pretty early all things considered. Ten AM wasn't bad for me. Dad had left a note for me to go to the grocery store and get some things for dinner and all so I drove out to the grocery store downtown. Oh Christ, it was Sunday. I hate Sundays.

So I was walking into the store and I saw this girl. She was wearing her Sunday clothes and had probably just left church. It was a nice dress actually: white with some sort of floral print. I don’t bother with any of that church and soul stuff. Dad doesn’t really either. Well, I guess he does in his own way. He doesn’t go to any churches or anything but I guess it’s more of a tradition thing for him which I guess is okay. So anyway, she looked at me then looked away real fast because our eyes met. I did too. We did it again before she passed me. I wonder why she looked that second time. Was it out of admiration or disgust? Probably the latter. I didn’t look that nice. I didn’t wash my hair that morning so my hair was kind of greasy. I don’t know why I was thinking about it because she wasn’t that attractive. Well, she was pretty and all but not exactly a supermodel. I guess it was that look of incredulity on her face like she couldn’t believe it was Sunday and I wasn’t dressed nice of coming from church. Fine by me I guess. People like that are usually pretty dull anyway.

The grocery store was uneventful. I grabbed some vegetables and some steaks and bought them with dad’s card; he had left it downstairs with the note. I had to go back in because I forgot to get his beer. Dad liked beer. He drank it like most people would drink soda I guess. He hardly ever got drunk though.

As I was walking outside, I heard a commotion somewhere off to the distance. It sounded innocent enough. I figured it was one of those minor accidents that tend to happen in parking lots. So I pretty much tuned it out completely until I reached my car and started digging in my pockets for my keycard. Someone started screaming right around that time and it scared the hell out of me.

I looked over to where the noise was coming from. It was the girl in the pretty dress. She was disappearing behind three black shapes that were probably muggers. My heart started racing. It was definitely fear, but there was something else in there too.

I ran over to where she was standing before she was engulfed. I tried to think of something to say.

“Hey get off of her!” I shouted.

Two of the shapes looked up. The third continued to restrain the girl in the dress. They were all wearing black hats, solid black turtlenecks, and similarly colored pants and boots. The boots looked heavy. They were also definitely human males. For split second I thought they could have been monsters, as absurd as that sounds.

“What's it to you, punk?” one of men grimaced.

“You're hurting her,” I replied. “Stop it.”

The one who had spoken to me stood up and looked me over. He didn't laugh or anything but I knew he thought I was a fool. I didn't look that threatening and, of course, there was only one of me and three of them. He smiled. I would've grinned too if I wasn't so goddamned scared. I knew they probably couldn't hurt me or anything but it's not like I had ever been in a fight. I'd seen plenty of kung fu movies and read plenty of comic books though. I'm sure I could improvise something.

The first punch caught me right in the nose. It didn't really hurt but I could feel the blood pouring into my mouth and running down my chin. He looked pretty shocked that I didn't fall down or even really react to him attacking me. He threw a second punch but I moved to the side and threw one of my own about as hard as I could throw it. It struck the side of his head and sent him toppling over. I nearly fell over on top of him from the momentum. The other man in black kicked me in the side as I was getting my footing back. I ignored it and answered with another wild punch. It struck him in the cheek but he remained standing. A push kick sealed the deal and he collapsed onto the pavement next to the last man in black and the girl in the pretty dress. She managed to roll over and look up to me. Her makeup was running all over her face and she wore an expression of mixed anguish and relief.

The third man was on his feet. I didn't notice because I was watching the girl in the dress. He produced a pistol from his back and pulled the hammer back. The girl started screaming again.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

I ran towards him as hard as I could. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I wasn't sure if my enhanced muscles would stop the bullets. I knew that it would be impossible to dodge the bullets. I was at least ten feet away so at least one or two would hit me. I hoped it wouldn't hurt as bad as the broken nose. My perception of pain seemed to be dulled, but what if he hit me in the head? That would still kill me probably.

The first bullet hit me in the left shoulder. It hurt, but less than the nose. The second grazed my cheek, taking a bit of my face with it. The third missed completely.

I struck him with my whole body: shoulder first. He dropped the gun from the force of the blow. It was like a truck running over a carton of milk. I nearly folded him over. I wasn't finished though. I wanted him to remember me. I picked the low life up and rammed him into a nearby car causing it to slide across the lot as I pushed. I could feel his lungs attempt to draw breath... I was crushing his internal organs. I pushed for a good seven seconds before I stopped and let his limp body fall to the ground like a ragdoll. He wasn't dead, but I'm sure he was in the worst pain of his life.

The blood from my nose and gunshot wounds was coming down like waterfalls. I covered them up with my hands and made my way back to the girl in the dress. She had sat up but was obviously still in shock. She had started crying again. She wiped her eyes and made eye contact with me for the fourth time that day.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said through the sniffling. “Thank you so much. I don't know what they would've done to me.”

“It's okay,” I returned. “Go home and be with your family.”

She nodded and rose to her feet. Despite her dress being torn and her makeup all runny she still looked pretty. She quickly kissed me on the cheek and disappeared into the lot. The gunshots and commotion had attracted a small crowd that snapped pictures of me and clapped as I walked towards my car. Two of them approached me and asked if I was okay and if I needed to go to the hospital. I declined saying I was okay and I could drive myself. I heard someone in the crowd shout “hero”.

Suddenly the full gravity of my situation dawned on me. Mom and Dad are going to find out.

My visit to the hospital was fairly brief. They were even ready for my arrival, greeting me at the emergency door with applause. They quickly closed my wounds and set my nose. All the doctors and nurses congratulated me and told me I did a fine job. I was on my way back home within forty-five minutes.

The road home was a long one. I was filled with conflicting emotions. I'm sure my parents had saw everything. There were cameras everywhere. The people at the hospital already knew. I know what I did was good, but they won't see it that way. They'll see me as subversive and deviant. They'll see me as a corrupted being. I'm no longer pure even though for once in my life I acted selflessly.

I pulled into the car bay and stepped through the door into my house. Dad was sitting in his chair and turned to face me. He stared at me like I killed his fucking mother or something. I finally broke the silence.

“What?”

“What's wrong with you?” He snapped.

“Nothing, Dad.”

“I saw you all over the Holo. You're one of those freaks, aren't you?”

“Freaks?” That hurt me. “I saved a girl's life.”

“So? You're one of those techno freaks aren't you? Huh? Are you?!” He shouted. I could feel his rage growing. It pricked at my skin like wool.

“I guess I am Dad,” I sighed. “But why do you care? Did you see what I did? Everyone was cheering and telling me I did a good thing,” I paused. “I really did.”

“It doesn't matter. You're unclean,” he said as he turned away from me. “I don't want to see you right now... go to your room. Your mother is on her way over.”

“I'm a fucking hero Dad,” I asserted. “A fucking hero. And I don't care if you shun me or tell me I'm unclean.”

Dad was silent. He refused to look at me. It was like he pitied me like one might pity a one of those wretched monsters that lived in the Old City.

“I'm not going to my room,” I strained through gritted teeth. “I'm leaving.”

Still he wouldn't face me. I wondered how long he stood there before he realized that I was gone.