“Doc, can he still be revived?” Taylor, long platinum hair swept back, her sexy figure cleansed of blood and gore, sporting in what looked like a skin diver’s suit with exposed cleavage and navel.
“I’m sorry, Taylor. The creature had tore off his vital organs; it must have been famished when you fought them. Marten is beyond regeneration”, the white haired, lab-coated, 50 something woman with round gold ringed glasses intoned evenly. Taylor sobbed. The doctor-scientist placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry”, she said, as her whimpers echoed in the antiseptic smelling metal hallway illumined by white overhead flat lights.
“Is this our only life, Doc? We fight and die to protect humans from monsters they don’t even know live among them? Don’t we too deserve a normal, ‘human life’?”
“You want an answer?” the doctor eyed Taylor steadily.
“Yes”, Taylor had stopped crying.
“Since time immemorial, monsters have preyed on innocent humans. You have seen them. Fought them, killed them. Where are they from? They are from other star systems, evolving from alien cells, some sentient, some no. Such creatures could not develop space travel, for they fed on each other.”
“How then did they come to earth?”
“Their seed-cells were carried by the debris blasted from their planets when their suns went supernova. They’re like cockroaches; they survived the thermonuclear explosion, the vacuum of space, hitching a ride on comets and meteorites that unfortunately, crashed into our atmosphere. The ancients believed comets brought bad luck, because they did. They brought the seed-cells of these monsters, which, adapting to our climate and chemicals in nature, have managed to change to human form, and need human blood and organs to sustain that form.
“Where did our technology come from? How did I get my abilities?”
“Your upgrades, our technology, was handed to us by the Atlanteans.”
“You mean Plato’s Atlanteans?” Taylor raised an eyebrow, incredulous at this reference to the legend.
“Yes, but not exactly. You see, it takes an ideal and utopian human-like society to make space level technology without destroying themselves in the process, before their home sun goes supernova. Plato described Atlantis as a city in the middle of the present day Atlantic, citizen-ed by an advanced civilization. It is in fact a large spaceship-city, whose dome could origami-open upon arriving on human habitable planets like ours”, a bearded fellow scientist passed them by, smiling.
“And they traded with the ancient Greeks.”
“They mingled with them. But their main purpose was to safeguard human societies from monsters from space. You might’ve read the Greek myths filled with demigods slaying dragons and monsters. They are actually eyewitness accounts of humans watching feats of strength and superhuman abilities, plus their tech-weapons, of the upgraded Atlanteans waging war on alien predators. Eventually, their mother ship had to leave for other destinations, so a few Atlanteans were left to guard humans from the creatures. Somehow, the fiends were able to infect the human gene pool, hence, every once in a while a monster is born after generations of humans, and they’ve learned to prey in the underworld, avoiding human detection. The last surviving Atlanteans made contact with modern humans, thus, the Center was born. They bequeathed to this Center the science in making upgraded humans and clones, bred in our labs to be Protector Humans, carrying Atlantean DNA. However, Atlanteans, whose evolution was different from ours, cannot interbreed with us. So their DNA is artificially bonded with human DNA. You are among the first hybrids produced by this Center, however, we could not duplicate your abilities with the other fighters. Your quick healing, and fighting skills have so far been perfected in you.
“Marten…” Taylor became downcast.
“If it is of any comfort, dead comrades can be re-cloned. Come with me”, the old woman tagged her along, surprising Taylor with her irresistible pull. The blast proof steel doors slid aside with a whoosh, bathing them with a golden glow from the inside. They walked through a long room rowed with cylindrical holding tanks, and inside them, were naked but battle fit men and women in suspended animation, reserves for the underworld fighting force. Taylor never knew this before, in her years of fighting for the Center, posing as ordinary humans in almost every major city in the globe.
“Marten’s bio-chronometer had informed us he’s already KIA. Here is his replacement”, the Doc brought her before an exact replica of Marten, down to his Josh Hartnet crew cut and lips, “He is almost near vivification. He will be prepped, trained, and be ready for action as your new partner within a month or so”, the Doc said with a grin.
“Will he remember me?” Taylor asked, as she viewed the naked body that had so beguiled her, but whose former owner’s mind she loved.
“No, We can’t download past memories from old clones.” Then, Taylor stiffened. Marten’s clone’s eyes opened, winked at her and closed. However, a smirk remained on his playful lips. Taylor remained calm, staring at his floating form.
“Doc, are there any Atlanteans left?”
“That, child, I can’t answer, I suspect High Command’s got a few of them left, what with sightings of space craft every once and a while. I guess they check on us every once and a while, the others. Meanwhile, rest. Tomorrow, we send you back to the Philippines. The creature had been spotted in Manila. Your knowledge of Tagalog will be of good use there. See you later”, with that, she left Taylor to her own wonderings.
Taylor can’t help being excited. That smirk her new partner had a while ago was the same expression Marten had before they made love.
When a Grown Man Cries
{ July 15, 2007 @ 6:15 am } · { Behavior, Micro story, Psychology, Short Story, Social Commentary, family, love, lovers, relationships }
{ } · { Comments (4) }
Roy had such a dark mood the past week. His wife, Linda, had intuited that he was having an affair, and he indeed, had an affair with a co-worker, which might be fast becoming a corporate culture. Linda employed the sleuthing services of the TV show, Cheaters, and Roy and his young paramour 10 years his junior would have been seen on National TV en flagrante had he, being somewhat geekly clairvoyant, had not noticed those trying hard to be unnoticed black vans with unusually dark window tints pulling up in the parking lots of the motels they had trysted in. Roy had seen enough episodes of the show to recognize the crew who had the most lovable habit of barging into couples’ heat of the moment, with the lovers’ bleep-bleeping words and their hand-quicker-than-the-eye grabs for underwear televised for all to hear and see.
He had confronted Linda and she admitted to it, saying that the least scum like him deserved. She said she wanted a divorce.
“So what”, Roy spat. The next day, Linda had his things thrown out on the yard, while their children, Erika and Taylor, mutely looked on.
A week later, Roy was walking along the morning crowd on the sidewalk of 5th avenue, when he got ear of a news flash from an appliance store TV whose volume made the show window glass seem immaterial. He heard a live interview of a senior Louisiana black woman in mid-sentence.
“…she touched me and all of a sudden, ah had dee premonishun, ah, vizhun, of mah huzbund behahnd duh wheel, crashin’ duh tree trunk. Ah ain’t believin’ it, ah thowt ah wuz jus’ halluzinatin’. Mah poor Walter, I nagged him yes’t’day mohnin’, and”, the woman started to cry, “he’s gohn. Dat gurl, dat anjuhl, she warned me, but ah didn’t listen.”
“Can you describe how the girl looks like?” the female reporter evenly asked.
“She had big dark brown eyes, long straight black hair, an oval face, white skin, with arch’d eyebrows. She looked lahk an anjuhl. She moved like she floated. ‘N’ when ah came to, she’s gone.”
“You’re delirious”, Roy scoffed, and whistling, ambled towards his office, with the accounting clerk’s little round naked ass foremost on his mind.
Last night was pretty swell for Roy. After work, his woman treated him to grilled steak and some beers, and they hied off to a hotel, with a tip for the front desk to inform him of any suspicious looking camcorder armed smart-asses. After a brisk tumble in the sheets, he complained how Linda had become a pain in the neck, delaying the processing of their divorce papers by this reason and that.
“But tomorrow afternoon, we’re legally through”, he beamed as he caressed a nipple. The girl just yawned, turned her back to him, and dozed off.
The morning after, Roy was busy perusing a mag at a newsstand owned by an old Asian man.
“Noh prahvet reading, mistah.:
“I’ll pay for this, don’t worry”, he replied. Then, he felt the hairs on his neck rise. He turned his face to his left. He saw a girl, no more 5 foot 3, in a white blouse, below the knee white skirt, and white shoes, just standing there. Passers-by seemed not to see her motionlessness. Then she started toward him, floating. She was before him now, and a hand reached languidly but caressingly toward his cheek.
“I’m not going to see my kids in some freak accident, no!” he shouted, but no noise came from his flexing throat. He shut his eyelids so hard it hurt. He felt her cold fingers on his face, then.
He opened his eyes, automatically so, to what appeared to be a wide green lawn full of aged people in the bright sunshine. He tried to bound toward the space but couldn’t, he just budge the wheelchair he was in, and beheld his age-spotted, wrinkled, veined, bony hands gripping the handlebars. The wheels were locked. He heard conversation, and to his left, under the nursing care home’s roof awning and high white pillars, stood a family: an aged couple and two young adults, the mother and the younger companions oddly familiar to him. They were talking to one another before a wheelchair-ed old gentleman, so senile, he just nodded every now and then.
“Good thing, honey, we had plenty of exercise and our two darlings didn’t send us here. I pity your brother here, he seldom gets visits from his family”, the father said.
“I raised my kids well, Clark dear”, replied the old woman.
“Why can’t we take Uncle Joe with us?” asked the young lady, “he could sure be taken cared of well in our house.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Your cousins put him here, they might take offense if we did take him in. The least we can do is visit your Uncle Joe”, the old man said. Roy thought, Linda’s brother’s name is Joe, too. If he is Joe, then they are my…
“Mista, mista?” the gentle Asian man was waving a hand before Roy’s face, “are you all right?”
“Oh! Yes”, he looked around. The girl was gone. He forgot about work. A drink would be in order, to think things out, he thought. He paid the guy for the mag.
“Keep the change”, he said.
“Thank yah, mista! Come again”, the guy called after him, shaking his head.
He arrived at Linda’s house past dinnertime. Necktie loose, coat in arm, hair long ruffled from his persistent hand combing at Jerry’s bar. After the doorbell, light from inside washed the front porch with a warm, yellowish glow. Roy now faced Linda’s chiseled features, blue eyes, creamy skin of her v-neck blouse, and slightly open cherry lips, expression all puzzled but a tad dismayed.
“What are you doing here, now? Are you drunk? You’re supposed to be here this afternoon, to sign our divorce papers.”
“Linda, I’m sorry.”
“Okay, you can come back tomorrow afternoon.”
“No, Linda. I meant I am really sorry. I realized my mistakes. I love you. I love Erika and Taylor. Please take me back. I promise, I’ll change for you, for the kids”, Roy pleaded, never minding when a window lighted up across the street. A lady walking her dog stopped at the road, pretending not to hear. Linda turned to a side.
“Don’t tell me that. You agreed to divorce me, and then this…”
“It’s all over, Linda. I’m not going to see anyone anymore, ever! Just take me back.”
“No. You’ve crossed the line”, Linda crossed her arms, her eyes like that of a falcon’s, “you…” Roy took her hand, knelt, and unabashedly sobbed on her pliant fingers.
“Linda, please! Don’t divorce me. I love you, please! Please, please, please!” Roy was crying steadily now, the smell of liquor mingling with the subtle scent of his tears, rose to Linda’s face. Her expression softened, her eyes wetting, lips tightening to a curved line. She lowered to her prodigal husband’s face, full of tears, and she too, was crying.
“All right now, stop that darling, it’s okay now”, she hugged him. Roy hugged her, the tightest she had ever received from him. A coarse man’s voice cut through the thick silence.
“What’s going on here? What do we have here, Days of Our Lives?” Both stood up to meet the uncouth entry.
“Clark, this is my husband, Roy”, Linda calmly said.
“I thought you was divorcing”, Clark’s lanky frame and blond head were inches above Roy’s.
“Not anymore”, she said.
“Wait a sec, there, we was going out”, Clark’s gesturing toward Roy, “he’s outta your life, right?”
“I’m asking you to leave.”
Clark puffed his chest, “Lindy Baby, I just arrived.”
“You heard my wife, asshole. Leave our house”, Roy snapped, not batting an eyelash. Clark pouted, crumpling his face obtusely. Without another word, he brushed past them.
Linda ushered Roy into the light, “Come on in, sweetheart. They’ll be glad to see you.” A few moments later…
“Daddy! You came back!”
“My darlings!”
Outside, the lady, who was almost by herself all her life, with only a dog for a companion, took in the rare scene. It was the happiest moment of my life, she thought. Her dog had big dark brown eyes, white fur. She moved on her fours like she skimmed the pavement. Her tail floated.