Chosen Different (Book 2): Different Strong Read online

  "You know how this works. Keep the arm still for twenty minutes so the cast can set. While we're waiting you can file your report. Open wide."

  She doesn't mean my mouth, she means my mind. Filing a report is a relic from another age; we should come up with another term for it. It’s from back before the Plagues, when everything had to be done on paper. Information was written down and stored in folders, which were stored in cabinets. Entire buildings were constructed to house all the files the government kept. It's a much simpler process now. Of course, the government being the bureaucratic wasteful entity it is, hardcopies still need to be made and stored in some waste-of-tax-money office somewhere. I used to have to file papers like that in my old job. I don’t miss it.

  Linda taps into my mind. I can feel her creeping in, searching, scanning. She wants my memories of the altercation with the Speedster. I offer them up by remembering the experience myself. I recall cornering the Speedster in the restaurant’s kitchen in the Metro Center, then him screaming crazy gibberish and running through the plaster wall, Victor and I chasing the kid down, and finally me tackling the Speedster in the school.

  Linda will then interface with the government Librarian and share the memory with him or her. The Librarian is capable of storing and recalling millions of memories like those. If OEC higher-ups want to see what happened, they will log into the government Librarian through their own Telepath, who will share the experience with them. They’ll remember what I remember. Linda also makes a synopsis for those who want to avoid having a memory implanted in their brain. People who grew up before think.Net tend to find the process disturbing.

  "All right, I got your report. Detailed, as always,” Linda says and stands up.

  “I couldn’t tell what narcotics he was on,” I say. “It was a weird mix of symptoms. His blood pressure was through the roof and he was shaking like he was on uppers, but his pupils were dilated and he was detached from reality which would indicate hallucinogenic and he was drooling…”

  “There’s always some crazy new thing. Trust me, if you ever have a kid, the news will terrify you with the latest horrible drug every week,” she says cutting me off.

  “I don’t see why anyone would take a drug that induced that mix of effects.”

  “Because kids are stupid,” she says and points to my cast. “Speaking of stupid kids, I’m meeting my son for dinner. He’s got a job interview at the LA news desk, which could mean he’s moving back to town! You know the drill with the cast; don't get it wet, yada yada. I'd tell you to come back in a week and have me check on it, but I know you'll take the cast off whenever you decide you're healed. I left you some stew in the Cooler chamber," Linda says and heads out the door.

  "Wish Martin luck!" I yell after her.

  I wish I could go out to dinner, but I don't have that right. In order to get out of jail after fighting The Beast, I had to sign a plea deal where I promised to work for the OEC and agreed to go on parole indefinitely. One of the terms of my parole is that I cannot leave the OEC office unless it's for official business, especially at night. It's to make sure I don't fall back into my old vigilante habits. It also makes sure I can't have a social life. I pretend that it's the government's fault, and I'd be swimming in dates and dinner invitations if they'd let me out.

  It's not a very believable piece of self-deception. I've spoken to exactly five women since Becky and I broke up. It turns out that getting a woman badly injured and her father killed is bad for relationships. Who knew? Becky said I was just a kid and it was bound to end anyway, but I don't know. It felt like something that would have lasted. But after everything that happened, she couldn’t even look me in the eye when she came to see me in jail and told me we were through. When I got out, she wouldn’t accept my think.Net call. I think the last straw for her was my deal with the government to work for the OEC. After losing her father, the thought of me continuing to risk my life was too much for her. She’d rather pretend she never knew me. It would have been better for her if that were true.

  The worst part is there's no chance for it to start up again with her, even if she could somehow forgive me. After The Beast's attack, the press focused on the fact that he was a Cabotist. Anti-Cabotist fever hit the Metro Area like an epidemic. The Cabotist church was burnt down and Pastor Newman was killed. The Cabotists all disappeared, Becky included. She didn't even say goodbye. We had already broken up, but I still think a goodbye would have been appropriate.

  I should stop thinking about this. It's going to be a long night here in the OEC office, and I don't need to start going down the long depressing road of Becky again. There are some nights I wish my body could still sleep. Luckily, I have the cure: there are still a few episodes of Happy Days on think.Net that I haven't watched. It's impossible to be depressed when watching a Pre-Plague TV show. They are magical places where everything always works out in the end. I go on think.Net and queue up the next episode. It's the perfect way to waste another evening. And besides, I have bones to rebuild and infections to fight in my shattered arm.

  #

  I hate coming here. I ate this garbage they call food for almost a year, thousands of pounds of the stuff in fact, and they paid me. I can't believe that I actually have to buy an Oasis Burger now, and I’m wasting the little bit of freedom I get to boot. They let me out for lunch, mostly so they can avoid having to pay to feed me.

  At least choking down the meal today has an upside, because today I’ll meet up with Ben. Other Thursdays I eat here alone so no one gets suspicious that I'm here for lunch only to meet with him. He eats here every three days; I eat here on Thursdays. We have our meetings when our two lunches meet up. It's insanely paranoid, but Ben doesn't think it’s crazy enough.

  We've been meeting every three weeks for the last four months. I don't know why; nothing has come of these powwows. Ben isn't any closer to figuring out what Nita is up to, although I'm sure he has some new theories. Still, I owe him. If it hadn't been for his help and his Maceo Steel knife, The Beast would have killed me. Meeting him every now and then so he can rant for a few minutes seems like a fair repayment. Besides, I still want to know what Nita is up to myself, and I want to make sure The Beast is really dead. Ben has managed to instill some fear that The Beast survived, even though I know he’s only saying that in order to manipulate me. If The Beast is alive, Ben might be the one person who can find him.

  Ben used to work as an Ultracorps Librarian, the Head Librarian in fact. He directed all of the think.Net traffic onto the hundreds of other Big Brain Differents for processing. All of the think.net calls, entertainment programming, data analysis, record storage, everything that happens on think.Net went through him in some convoluted way I don’t really understand. That was until five years ago when a then eight, now thirteen year-old girl named Nita Martinez, with a bigger brain than Ben, took his job. Shortly after, Ben learned that Nita had grand plots and schemes. He tried to raise the alarm at Ultracorps but no one believed him. He ended up going on the run and being named a fugitive because the government, Ultracorps, and Nita are all scared of him.

  Of course, this is all according to Ben himself. I can tell if people are lying, and Ben certainly believes that story, but there’s always the possibility that he’s insane and hallucinated it all. I’m reasonably sure that isn’t the case. He’s demonstrated knowledge that only an Ultracorps insider could possess so at least some of it is true. In that case, I’m meeting with a wanted man, which I’d imagine violates the terms of my parole agreement.

  At least I should be hard to identify thanks to all the extra fluids I sent to my face. I got mobbed by a crowd asking for pictures and autographs the first time I came in here. With the extra water in my face, I look like some poor heavyset slob who eats too much Oasis Burger, not The Beast Slayer.

  I walk to the counter and order an Oasis Burger, fries, and a soda. A number 2, the most popular menu item. I need to be as forgettable as possible. I wait for my food before heading to a b
ooth in the southwest corner of the restaurant. It's a cramped crummy seat, so it's always empty. It does serve a purpose though, as the acoustics are perfect. The shape of the walls around the booth dampens the ambient noise from most of the restaurant, everywhere but the northwest corner where Ben sits. That way, I can turn up my hearing sensitivity without going deaf from all the people talking. Ben has some sort of homemade hearing aid that lets him do the same thing. Then we both whisper but can still hear each other from across the room. To anyone looking, we seem like two separate people murmuring to ourselves in their respective corners. It's pretty ingenious. I wish I had thought of it. Genius is Ben's forte though.

  I sit down and start picking at my fries. Ben will be in place soon, unless he stands me up again. He gets delayed because he has to turn around every time he sees a Walter. Another paranoid act, but this one might be worthwhile. The mindless clones of Walter Reynolds are only supposed to be smart enough to handle simple repetitive tasks, but during the incident with The Beast, we figured out that Nita might actually be able to see through their eyes utilizing the think.Net network. What’s the point of his silly disguises if he still has to spend so much time making sure he isn’t seen? Lucky for me he shows up on time and sits, he’s in his favorite disguise, a Slug conductor uniform. He starts talking immediately.

  "Hey Gavin, any new developments? Were you able to access the government file on the New Mexico thing?" he asks. He's talking louder than he's supposed to. He does that a lot when he's excited. It hurts my ears.

  "Oh, hi Ben, it’s nice to see you. How are you? Me? I’m fine, thanks for asking. No need to worry about the cast on my arm, it’s nothing. And you're being too loud again," I whisper back.

  "Sorry. You know I get like that when I'm too excited."

  "I don't know why you are so excited. There aren't any new developments as usual. I looked up Santa Fe on the government Librarian. It was another dead end; the government file didn't say anything that the news articles missed. A dangerous Different, a Strong-Man, was identified in the Non-Assisted Area near Santa Fe. An OEC agent, my partner Victor, moved in with military support and the Strong-Man was incapacitated. They tried to sedate him with Tranq, but ended up overdosing him. It was a sad story and didn’t include any information on secret prisons where powerful Differents like The Beast might be held.”

  Ben takes a moment to think about what I said, then whispers back.

  "You probably don't have access to the classified file. The OEC helped Ultracorps recover that Different, I'm sure of it. You need to try to ask your partner about it, but subtly. Anyway, have you heard from Nita?"

  "That would qualify as a new development, so no, I haven't heard from Nita. I haven't spoken to her at all since she told me I was going to be arrested after I killed The Beast. She hasn't called me, and I don't have any way to call her."

  "I’m starting to worry she might never call. Your getting hired by the OEC ruined you for her plans. Nita likes to have control of her pawns. She has influence at the OEC, but no real power. You're of no use to her if you're going to answer to someone else, especially the federal government. What about those friends who helped you out after The Beast gutted you? Wasn't there some Strong-Man? Have you talked to him? You should try to see what he knows about Nita," Ben probes.

  "It's a little awkward with Gary. He came to see me when I got out of jail. I accused him of working for Nita and lying to me about Becky being dead. He got angry and stormed out. I don't think he knows anything."

  "He has to. He was covering. You should see him again and try a gentler approach. You get more flies with honey and all that. What about that teacher of yours, Larry Rosen? I remember his file, it was full of redactions, he has a nose for trouble. He must know something"

  "I can’t get him to return my calls. And enough about what I should do, what about you? I have a day job, and I'm on parole. Have you figured out anything new?"

  "I've got a line on something big, but I'm not ready to share yet. But trust me, if it pans out, it's a doozy. Could be the big one, could be you-know-who."

  "You always talk about The Beast because you know it’s the one thing that keeps me coming here. I’m done with my burger. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh," I whisper.

  I get up and dump my half-eaten tray of food in the garbage on my way out the door. Ben hasn’t given me any useful information since my fight with The Beast. These meetings are becoming a waste of time, but I should see Gary anyway. I owe the big guy an apology.

  2

  What can be said about William Jefferson that has not already been said? The young man is a supremely gifted athlete with as superb a work ethic as I’ve ever seen in a nineteen-year-old. His physical gifts alone are enough for him to succeed in the league. So is his dogged determination to constantly improve his game. The combination makes for the finest basketball prospect I’ve ever seen. If that isn’t enough, William majored in Mechanical Engineering before leaving the University of Minnesota early after declaring for the draft. The professors I spoke to expressed little doubt that William could have excelled in that field had he so desired. William Jefferson is an incredible basketball player and just as fine a young man. He deserves to be the first overall pick in this year’s, or any previous year’s draft. If he does not become a star, I have no business working as a professional scout.

  William Jefferson NBA Scouting Report by Skip Pisel

  June 6th

  Sit-ups: 836

  Pushups: 1,075

  Pull-ups: 287

  Running: 17.34 miles, 96 minutes total, 5:31 average mile time

  Diet: 2,575 calories, 193 grams protein, 290 gram carbohydrates, 72 grams fat

  Sleep: 8:37

  Funds: $165.35

  Ammo Count: 5 rounds 7N1, 24 rounds 9mm, 2 Stun Grenades, 1 Smoke Grenade, 2 Standard Grenades.

  Activities: Eliminated Target 16: Male Gamma Enhanced Senses. Administered Cocktail Revision 3 to Test Subject Male Gamma Speedster

  Target Notes: Target followed established path back home from work, passing the alley at Clyde and Forest at 8:55PM. Took position in the shadows and proceeded with a single stab from a six-inch blade. Death verified, otherwise uneventful. Location well within the operating boundaries.

  Money Man Plan Attempt 3 Notes: Administered Money Man’s cocktail to Speedster. Results were disappointing. Subject lost control of his faculties but more fear than violence. Money Man will no doubt have changes to recipe. He remains transfixed on this ill-conceived plan, convinced that the only way to win hearts and minds is by exposing The Beast Slayer as a failure. Not worth the time. There is one way garner support and it is a simple method. Win.

  Personal Notes: Dehydrated beans and whey additive have brought the protein in diet to acceptable levels. Carbohydrates still too high. Need to increase percentage of fresh fruits and vegetables in my diet, but the cost remains prohibitive. Will investigate viability of growing my own.

  Mental State: Accidentally looked Target 16 in the eyes during stabbing. Must avoid doing that. Task difficult enough already. Cannot think of them as people. They are walking atom bombs.

  3

  I understand the concerns, but the incident with The Beast proved that our police officers, brave though they may be, are simply not equipped to counteract the range of threats posed by Different individuals. It is only by some miracle that criminals like The Beast don’t strike more often. The citizens of this Metro Area have a right to expect their Government to protect them. The Office of Exceptional Cases Field Office Program will ensure that this Metro Area has access to law enforcement personnel with the ability and training to neutralize Different threats.

  “Why We Need the OEC” by Forest Brown, think.Net News LA

  "That's easy for you to say. You're like a super soldier. You're too strong,” I say to Victor.

  I hate these training sessions, and Victor’s making me do extra work because of the week I missed due to my broken arm. I’m making up
for lost time now that my cast is gone. I prefer learning off of think.Net. It has hundreds of articles and tutorials. All I need to do is see the lesson once, and I learn it for life. I've already mastered several forms of jujitsu, kung-fu, judo, and other martial arts whose names I can't pronounce correctly. That doesn't satisfy Victor though. He's not big on studying; he thinks I need time in the gym. I think he likes having another opportunity to bust my chops.

  "Yes, I’m stronger than you, but I’m holding back. I know how to pretend to have the strength of a normal man. I’m not beating you because of my muscles; I’m beating you because you start the fight thinking you’re going to lose. You spend your time thinking of excuses for why you lost, not strategies on how to defeat me. Step one to doing anything is believing you can do it. First think you can hit me, and then do it,” Victor says.

  “Thanks for the after school special message.”

  “Wisdom is wisdom because it’s true. Do you think Billy the Kid dominated the league just because he was the fastest and the strongest? He believed he would win every game he played, and then he did whatever it took to achieve that. That’s what all the greats did. Did you complain about The Beast being stronger than you when you fought him? We’re supposed to take out guys like him, and they aren’t all going to take it easy on you because they’re religious nuts.”

  It’s a low blow about The Beast even if he’s right.

  “Is that what you learned while you were pretending to be an athlete?” I say. Victor’s previous job was baseball player, until he was outed as a Different, arrested, and humiliated. It’s a nice bit of ammunition I can fire whenever I want to achieve a petty victory on him.

  “Get up,” Victor says, ignoring my counter verbal low blow.

  I pick myself up off the ground and put my hands back up. Victor does the same with his hands. He wasn’t wrong about The Beast. The Beast only wanted to kill me during the last of our three fights. I beat him because he was already riddled with bullets, and I had the help of friends. Thinking about this isn’t helping me. I need to focus on taking down Victor.