Tweak

He slipped into the dinning room and smiled at the long table. Six generations of his family looked at him expectantly for an answer. Each generation had had children later in life and each generation had had multiple children. Each of their generations had chosen partners from the other families who had been genetics from the start.

Six families had begun as genetics, several others had been convinced to volunteer to be tweaks, with each genetic family paying for the tweaks to be altered. The tweaks were a generation behind and a pair from each family had been chosen to breed naturally to see what would happen.

But for them, for the six genetics, breeding pairs were assigned as per which person would give the widest range of genetic material. Whichever person offered the best genetics weighed against the offered contract and ‘groom’ price. Finding a breeding partner was much like finding food in the wild. While a big animal would offer the most filling food, the smaller animal had less risk.

“I apologise, I was touring the museum.”

“Ah, how was the guide?” his father asked, motioning to the empty seat beside him.

He slid into the seat and smiled at everyone, “new and floundering, she seemed obsessed with a toddler.”

“Perhaps she’s pregnant,” Meshnan, the matriarch of the family, said, her hands trembling terribly as she lifted her glass.

Two hundred and ninety-eight years old, Meshnan was the last remaining fifth generation alive and she had outlived her siblings by nearly hundred years. The sixth generation was all but gone as well, a miscalculation in their genetic code had caused many to die ‘prematurely.’ As if hitting two hundred and then suddenly dieing was premature. The seventh generation had suffered the same miscalculation, as had the eighth. By the ninth, as revisions and information from the first and second generation commoners had rolled in, the geneticists had realised the mistake of their forefathers and corrected the problem.

Supposedly.

The ninth generation were fit and healthy, though a few had gone mad and a few others were taken by temper so terrible that at times they had to be confined and restrained to keep themselves, and the servants, safe. The tenth generation, his generation, were still young. Many had not hit age of majority and few had gone through their second growth period.

Not one of his family had power, a fact the family prided itself on. Except for him. And none of them knew that he had power, none of them would ever find out, if he could help it. But that second growing period was a bitch for power users, with powers running rampant, lights flickering and many going mad. The tweaker family that his family paid for pretty much all had power, had gained it after a tweak that was lost to the history books now. Each time one of them hit the second growing period they were heavily sedated, restrained and put in a government facility until the growth had stopped.

He would hit his second growing period within a year.

“Perhaps,” he said to Meshnan, “or perhaps she was just coming to maturity. We did hand out free second growth periods to a randomly selected group of people.”

“That’s true,” one of his great-great-great uncles said.

“What else is this generation carrying, again?” His father asked, “I can never seem to recall.”

“Fourteen viruses which have all but destroyed the homeless population,” he responded, being the youngest generation and coming to adulthood meant learning the family business. His father’s questions were the family’s way of keeping an eye on his progress, “one parasite that would allow them, in a few generations, to live in the wilds and a curious fungus that has proven to dispel acne from a teenager’s face. Too bad I didn’t get that one.”

A few of the family chuckled.

“We’ve been reviewing recessive genes for the past few generations, as you all well know, and we believed we had found one that would basically stop a woman’s menstruation while levelling out her hormones and still leaving her fertile. This resulted in four hundred thousand women being born infertile. At least,” he paused and took in a breath, “we thought so.”

All eyes turned to him.

“One of the women came in the other day, upset and crying. She came to us because her stomach had been swelling and she was experiencing abdominal pain. Others have come in with those symptoms and been riddled with cancer so we put her through the scans and found that she was not only pregnant, but had carried the child to term.”

“Impossible,” his mother said, “I’ve been reviewing those files closely and. Well, it is not possible.”

“They’ve checked multiple times. The woman was not tampered with and it was her child and her husband’s child. I can give you the name later and you can review her case. Perhaps it is just a case of nature,” they called anything they couldn’t explain a case of nature.

“Perhaps,” his mother picked up her glass and sipped at her water. He did the same.

Talk began, quiet murmurings of conversation and passing on of news. Some few people talked about the health of a member of the family who was closest to them. At the end of the dinner hour a servant came through with a tablet for each of them. They each swallowed the tablet and that was their daily sustenance. That day’s tablet had actual flavour to it, some kind of pumpkin puree.

They each finished their glass of water and drifted out of the dining room. He hung back until it was only himself and Meshnan remaining at the table. She hadn’t eaten the tablet that had been put in front of her. He sighed and stood, walking to her side. Usually after dinner Meshnan would tell him stories of ‘the old days’ and how her forsaken lover had been a power user.

That was, sadly, where he had learned most of what he knew about power.

“Grandmama Meshnan?” her head was down against her chest. He knelt at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Grandmama Meshnan?” he gave her shoulder the lightest shake. She lolled forward.

Clenching his teeth, he stood and pulled away from her. She wasn’t breathing. He knew if he took the time to check, she would have no heartbeat either. He left the dining hall and stopped in the entranceway, hand pressed tight against his lips.

“What is it, Ehsshushin?”

“Grandmama Meshnan,” he said quietly, lowering his hands to his sides.

“Oh. Well, I will call the plot and have them come remove the body,” his father said as if that was some how an inconvenience.

“Yes, of course,” he responded.

“I know you liked her, Ehsshushin, but I don’t know why you are wasting so much time lurking about, being so mournful,” his mother added.

He straightened, pulled his shirt straighter, as if to remove the wrinkles and smiled at his mother, “I did not get much sleep last night, excuse me.”

“You still have to meet Uwahnallahnea!” his mother called after him, “she has many good offers Ehsshushin, women like that don’t come along every generation, you know!”

“I know, mother, but I have work I need to do. She and I can meet at the ball in a few days,” he called over his shoulder.

“Four days!” his father snapped.

Which pulled him to a frightened stop. He swallowed and placed a controlled mask of calm on his face before he turned back to his father. That one in the museum, Mally, had said the same thing. Four days and what, exactly?

“Sorry?”

“The ball is in four days, not a few,” his father snapped. That tone meant that he would no doubt get a visit from a tutor or an aunt, explaining yet again how to speak properly.

“Oh yes, must be the lack of sleep getting to me, I thought it was in a few days. Excuse me.”

He went to his room and closed the door. Breathing in the silent twilight, he stripped down to nothing, wandered to the middle of his room and sighed out. There would be no funeral, no wake, not remembrance of any kind. The others had been waiting for her to die so that someone else could become matriarch or patriarch. There had been whispers that Meshnan had been keeping them too conservative.

Laying down on his back in the middle of the room, he folded his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling. What the hell was liberal, if playing with the genes of the people was considered conservative? What could be more liberal than Meshnan’s movements for more rights for those with powers?

He was overheating, damn it. His stomach gurgled hungrily.

His stomach?

He sat up and put a hand over his gut. He hadn’t been hungry since his had hit puberty. But that could only mean that. That.

His second growth period had start.


****


Ash left the interrogation room and rubbed his face. Bri was waiting there with three pills, a cup of coffee and a camomile tab. Ash took the pills, downed the coffee quickly and set the tab under his tongue to melt. Having years of experience with Ash, Bri waited for ten minutes, for the tab to melt, before she led Ash to their office and sat down.

“Well?”

“Victim is,” Ash rubbed at the back of his neck and cringed, “twenty-four years old, a power user-”

“He’s never used a power user before,” Bri sat forward in her seat.

“I don’t think this is him. The,” Ash waggled his fingers by his temple, “it’s different. Younger, stupider, it’s not as organized, mentally, and there are no connections to other victims. The only part she knew was her own part and even that she did unaware of the consequences of her actions. He made her a puppet in a one woman show. She’s no recollection from the time she started the tour, to when we picked her up.”

“None? Her words or your delving?”

“My delving. Information on the thief wasn’t released to anyone.”

“Except your fund family,” Bri muttered, chewing the end of her pen, “it would have then been given over to the matriarchs and patriarchs to include in their inheritance journals because of the items he had stolen before, because of the genetics files he’s made off with. So the family leaders know, likely the tweaker families know as well. Given the fact that you are the ones who have to find him and bring him in.

“Outside of that. A few from the office know, no one here, not yet.”

“Are you suggesting,” Ash sat in the seat behind his desk, “that we have a tweaker on our hands?”

“Or a genetic.”

“None of them have power. Three or four in a generation might have power, but they either have accidents or join the tweakers.”

“So none of the family have power users in them?”

“No,” Ash shook his head, “the tenth generation is coming to second… growth.”

Bri’s head jerked to the side, “second growth period? The. Oh, that would explain why he needs it now. Some poor genetic bastard has power and needs the ring to hide it… no that doesn’t make sense. He’d be put in with the tweakers, so why hide it unless you’re the big bad, first born of your generation, going to inherit everything?”

Ash shook his head again, “the first born of each family have already come through their second growth period. If we knew what a rich kid needed with a ring that powerful, we could narrow it down from a thousand candidates to a handful. Then we could start asking questions.”

“Remember, he hasn’t technically broken a law yet, the genetics will never let you question a kid based on a crime he might commit in the future. Having power or not is not illegal and suggesting that one of them has power will only draw an internal inquiry with them shutting down all legislation outward. Sales would plummet and that will get the higher ups upset and when they get upset they look for the person at fault and we’d be the persons at fault, if you get my drift.”

He sighed, “yeah, I’d hate to do a shift in the wilds too.”

“Try being sneaky about it. Isn’t your fund family trying to get another family to pledge their son to you?”

“Yeah, uhm, the first born daughter of the second born son or some such. She was the third born of her generation by like two minutes, perfect breeding record. Being pledged to some runt from the Ishteshtin clan. But they’ve got money and the Mieta family needs the investment.”

“And… you do have a standing invitation plus guest to that party, do you not?” Bri looked at him hopefully, smiling almost innocently.

Ash groaned, “I don’t want to go to a meeting of the families! It’s stupid, it’s-”

“The perfect time to poke around and see who has power. You’ve been around most of these people before, you said yourself, reading them is like reading a brick wall.”

“Like beating my head on a brick wall.”

“Same thing,” she waved her hand dismissively, “I bought a new dress.”

“That’s nice, but you’ll have to buy another one. It’s the Ishteshtin and Mieta families, you have to wear either red trimmed in gold, or blue trimmed in silver. Cover arms, legs and neck, get one of those fashionable gowns with the,” he tapped at the hollow of his neck, “hole thing so that they can see you aren’t branded. No jewellery, no makeup, no perfume, flat shoes and no hosing or stockings, the dress must come down to your anklets but no so far as to cover your feet and must be form fitting without being clingy. Your hair must be pulled up and in a bun, you must be freshly washed without perfumed soaps. No food or drink before the ball, to eat before hand is an insult to both families. It is the only time fresh foods are presented to them and their children and it comes in a great deal.

“Do no paint your nails or use lotions on your hands of feet. No moisturizer on your face. Do not pluck your eyebrows or… well you don’t need contacts… Ears are pierced?” Ash looked.

“You’ve known me how long?” Bri asked.

“About twenty-three years.”

“Twenty-five.”

“I’ve never taken you to a family gathering before, though,” he muttered, “if you’re pierced where stone studs, not metal, a type of granite or marble is best. Brush your teeth before you come then rinse your mouth well with water.”

“Why can’t I wear scents?”

“Most of the tweakers and genetics have modified oral factory senses that kick in around maturity. They can stand sweat, since most of us don’t have nasty chemicals oozing out of our pores any more, but the perfumes will drive them mad and they will take it out on you. Oh,” the most horrible thought occurred to him, but he had to talk about it, “should your,” he spun his hand in a circle, “you know, start?”

“It won’t.”

“Should it. It might, a case of nature,” Ash shrugged, “make certain that your products have no perfume on them and if it is a reusable one make sure it is freshly cleaned with hot water and vinegar. When you go to the bathroom wash your hands, if you aren’t certain you’ve washed them long enough, wash them some more. Wash as far up your arms as your dress goes. Oh wait.”

“What?”

“I think you actually need a sleeveless dress, are you-”

“I’m hairless, yes.”

“Oh good. There are some who like it but I know that some women find it quite embarrassing to be told they cannot shave before hand.”

“Seriously?”

“Most razors now have smell to them.”

“Eating etiquette?”

“Same as anywhere else, try not to get it on yourself, they don’t look at it as piggish or something the poor do, they actually expect the poor to be able to feed themselves considering the fact that they eat more often than the rich do. You might be asked which foods taste best, always say, in your opinion.”

“In my opinion…”

“Yes, and don’t bring a purse. Did you get-”

“Memory boost, yes, what do I talk about?”

Ash paused and chewed his bottom lip, contemplating, “I have no idea. I’ll be with the tweakers.”

“You’re leaving me with the genetics?”

“The genetics like playing with third generations, you’ve got things in you that they want to see in action. Tweakers are. Well, tweakers. I’ll mingle, I’ll talk with the newest generation, but the older generations are the ones most likely to speak to you, because you’re third generation.”

“So they want to see what their tweaks are doing to me.”

“Exactly. There will likely be other third generations there, the fourth generation should be about old enough to talk, so there may be a few randomly selected families. These people are entertainment for the genetics, not friends for you to talk to. And if proposed for sex.”

“Seriously?”

“If proposed for sex,” Ash stressed, “if it’s a tweaker, check if he’s wearing a black granite hoop in his ear, if he is, then someone’s just chosen you for an experiment. If there is no earring and he’s a tweaker, it’s at your own risk.”

“I’m on birth control.”

“Not always effective when sleeping with tweakers,” Ash muttered, “if it’s a genetic, say no, be polite, but firm.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“I don’t. I’m going to tell you a little known fact,” one that Bri had guessed long ago, “and it’s not to leave this room.”

“Alright.”

“I don’t find females all that attractive.”

“Women.”

“Females. You can’t exactly call a half lizard, half person a woman. I prefer males.”

“Well, science has gotten rid of the need to actually be with a female,” Bri growled, “but if it makes you feel better, we don’t really like you either.”

“Bri.”

“What? You’re being a. A. Tweaker!”

“I’m being honest with you. Because you’re going with me, you’ll be attending the ball and the after party,” Ash got up and locked the door of the office before moving to Bri’s desk, “The after party is our time.”

“Don’t people go to the after parties all the time?”

Ash paused and thought, “no. The families barter for our behaving by letting us overrun their gardens. Some of us are more animal the people.”

“So. I’ve seen worse.”

“I’ve seen that ‘worse’ with you and I’m telling you to be wary, Bri. This is a part of my life that I’ve kept you out of. But if I bring you to the ball then skip on the party then word will get around that all of a sudden I might be breeding.”

“Breeding is a bad thing.”

“I’ve built up a reputation as an asexual.”

“Oh.”

“Oh. Whatever you buy, make certain you can wear underwear.”

“Why…”

“The after party is sans formal clothing.”

“But I can’t bring-” Bri went bright red, “you mean it’s a naked party?”

“No, you can wear underwear,” Ash said, “still want to go?”

“It’s an investigation! I have to go or we’d have to let this kid get away with whatever it is he’s planning,” Bri’s phone went off. She sighed and picked it up. A quick conversation and she hung it up, groaning.

“Despite my good hearing, cell phones have been installed with this audio blocker so that I can’t listen in on your conversations and I taught you how to keep me out of your mind so…”

“Bait and switch.”

“The ring?”

“With a titanium alloy. A type of ring that can be bought anywhere online, the manufacturer is sending us the buy list now. The star ring is a popular style for youths, every kid and their dog has one of these rings.”

“How do we tell it apart from the replica toys, then? Better yet, how did they know the difference?”

“The inscription, a few symbols that have never been shared with the public at large. Apparently those in power decided that it would be safest not to give all details so that if something like this happened the replica wouldn’t have the marks,” Bri made a sound at the back of her throat, “looks like we’re working late.”

“Go get the dress, then we can start working.”

“Where am I going to find a dress like that?”

“I can take you. It’s by a restaurant I’ve been meaning to take you to, so we can get dinner on the way by. Wear blue and silver, you’d look better in blue than the red, the red with your complexion would be too much.”


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