“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.
2.
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.
3.
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.”
