Tweak

“The first powers were very likely used to crack nuts, to dig for tubers and to lure in mates,” the guide smiled at everyone, her own power oozing across the room to entrap the unwary minds of those around her. Many of the tourists had no idea that the guide was prepping them to extract extra tips.

Just like the guide didn’t know that he was prepping her to steal something for him.

“Little Lahla, here,” she motioned to the rare plemmer, some type of lemur that had recently been discovered as being distantly related to people while also having power, “is a good indication of how our ancestors might have used power, watch how she cracks her nuts.”

He feigned interest, smiling like all the other tourists, oohing and ahhing over the little tan and white striped creature that held a nut firmly in two tiny little hands. The lemur’s large eyes darted from one tourist to the next as it reacted to the silent command from the guide. The nut went up and down and the lemur sniffed the edge and then crack went the nut and it split neatly.

And the lemur was actually doing it.

Some museums had the guides crack the nuts, because not all plemmers had power. In fact, very few plemmers actually had power and those that did exhibited odd behaviour most of the time and did not take well to cues. Not to mention the fact that catching a plemmer with power was said to be impossible.

“When was she captured?” he asked the guide, beaming all the while.

“Lahla was the first plemmer to be successfully born in captivity. She was hand raised.” The guide smiled widely at them, something ebbing through her power that suggested there was something very wrong going on. Was she rejecting his suggestions? “her parents were the museum’s prized creatures until their death at a ripe old age.”

The problem was that she was lying. Not only was she lying, she knew what had actually killed the plemmers and felt badly about it. Guilty conscious? He could use that to his advantage.

He looked back at the plemmer, the creature stared back at him with unblinking eyes. It’s head bobbed several times before it made its way back to its little hole in the wall. Back into hiding, run and hide.

“Now, over here we have a power user!”

He tried not to wince. Tried not to worry so damned much. When the group moved from the plemmer display to the next one, he followed along but hung at the back of the crowd. The chained in the display was chained, but only other power users could see the chains, it was a method the government used to draw out sensitives and power users alike.

The woman in the display stood with her back straight and her head held high, dressed in purple medieval clothing. She was new and still had a bit of backbone to her, probably thought that at the end of her contract the government would free her like they had promised.

“Power is something that cannot be marked, it cannot be traced, if little baby Talla here,” the guide waggled her fingers at a toddler in a stroller, “had power, there would be no way for us to know unless Talla took part in power use itself. The government cannot see if a person has power and when it comes to accusations or involuntary registration, it is a lot of he-said-she-said but there are a few indications.

“Take Mally here. The way she stands, as if she is superior, the way her nose is in the air-”

The bullshit propaganda.

“The government has a lot of brochures on how to tell if you, a family member or a neighbour has power. To protect the majority of the people, you and me and little Talla here, the government requires all people to register if they are power users and requires them to be tattooed, here,” the guide pointed to the spot on her neck just in the hollow. Few shirts covered that much of the neck and it was only recently that power users had managed to convince the government to stop branding peoples’ foreheads with the six pointed star. The guide’s own mark was covered with makeup. She either had little power of her own or had been deemed harmless by the government, a follower and a victim type of personality.

Which made it so easy for him to slip into her mind and plant suggestions.

“Those with power are guaranteed a job, there are so many jobs that only power users can fill but there are so few power users to fill them. When a power user is no longer able to use power or has reached the age of seniority, they are released from service with a pension plan. They receive healthcare and daycare just like everyone else and are not restricted from reproducing. Power is not passed on, so if, just for example,” The guide looked to the woman pushing the stroller, “Talla’s mother had power, that does not necessarily mean that Talla herself would have power. It has been suggested that power can arise in those of us who find ourselves in dire need. It has also been suggested that if you drink a certain drug, you will gain power. Some cults claim to have power but it has been proven that these people are not actually powerful at all.”

The guide smiled at everyone, pausing for just a moment to give people time to ask questions, before she continued, “Mally is a third generation genetic. Most of us are either first, second, third or, in Talla’s case, fourth generation genetics. Our genes have been manipulated to give us longer life, faster metabolisms and make it so that we can eat a wider range of plants. While the genetics program has been aimed at making it so that young ones will not die from eating sand or glue or plants, it has also been trying to manipulate the gene to find ways to mark, control and even stop power. Some people, like Mally’s parents, come to the program in dire need for money. They volunteer their genetic material or nine months of their time and are paid handsomely.

“Those like Mally, born to the program, are studied for personality, the reflection of home on power, and stressors. Meaning, she is a possession of the government. Mally here just came of age and just registered herself as a power user. Mally? Say hello to the people.”

“Hello,” Mally murmured, looking over the crowd. Her eyes locked with his and she smirked mentally.

Hello to you too… he sent back.

Four days

He frowned as Mally turned her attention to those in the crowd. Completely confused, he stared for a long moment before he managed to pull himself out of the trance and found the guide watching him.

“Uhm, I was told once that. Like,” play the idiot, moronic, wannabe power user, “if you have power, you can. You know. See. Things and I was just. Like. Wondering if that.” he picked an item and verified that it was actually real before he said quickly, “fan on the table is really there.”

The guide rolled her eyes, “yes, the fan is actually there. If you are a power user, or a sensitive, you can see something that makes you question immediately, which makes it very obvious who is a power user. What generation are you, by chance?”

Tenth, “third.” his family had been the idiots who had started the craze. The richer a person was, the higher their generation number was because their ancestors could afford to be tweaked. Genetic manipulation had gone mainstream a hundred years before because the government had found that the genetics were getting too strong, too tall, that classes were developing within the people and that the divide between the rich and the poor was too much.

As it was, he towered over the first and second generations in the crowd. He was short for his generation, a mere six feet before his maturity. Unfortunately for him, his family was one of those who opted for an extra growth cycle. He wouldn’t be able to pass for a third forever and he would have to join his brothers in the military or services in some way or form.

Even all his father’s money couldn’t buy him freedom from the government, if it was found out that he had power.

“I think they tweaked you a bit too far,” a first muttered under her breath. Firsts were elders but they were youthful elders. Gray hair and wrinkles but still straight for the most part, still had a range of motion and fewer cases of arthritis. Most of the generation was still alive and the firsts were the ones who consumed the most food.

Hundred years old and she hadn’t learned some type of manners yet?

“Moving on!” the guide said at a silent cue from him, “over here we have a very special treat. Come on.”

She led the group away from the display and towards another room.

He remained at the display, “you’re pretty.”

“I’d like to scratch your eyes out and then eat your brain,” Mally said, smiling all the while, “tenth.”

He shrugged, “a guy can pretend, can’t he? You really a third?”

“They call me a broken chain, five and three.”

“Meaning you’ve rich ancestors who fell on hard times.” he murmured, “two were genetics, likely one bred randomly and then three were tweaked.”

“There’s no difference between genetics and tweaks, besides the price you pay.”

“Genetics can pick and choose the traits they want, tweaks get the standards as laid out by current genetics laws. You’re clear skin and height are from your genetic ancestors, the longer lifespan, the faster healing, those are tweaks. Plus, you’re a possession of the government, which means they actually tweaked your genes to try to get a certain reaction from you.”

“She’s looking for you,” Mally made a head motion towards the tour group.

He sighed and left the display. He felt sorry for ones like Mally who had to serve as examples, to be held in captivity like an animal. Being a servant to the people was bad, but not so bad as those who were set out like Mally was, to be gawked at and poked and prodded. He rejoined the group and muttered something about how power users never wanting to have any fun.

“Here, we have the pride and joy of the museum. We are the only museum to actually own a piece of star metal. Does anybody know what this piece is from?” the guide motioned to the ring, engraved with six, six pointed stars.

He knew exactly what it was, it was the object of his desires. His heart skipped a beat as he planted commands into her mind, as he scanned the area for security features. Cameras, scanners, heat sensors and motion sensors. Weight sensor on the pedestal itself. He didn’t want her to get it out of the museum, he wanted her to be the first of fourteen to handle the ring. She would grab the ring and be caught, along with thirteen others. But one of those others would switch out the ring for an exact replica made out of titanium.

“It’s the ring of Emperor …that guy with the funny name.”

“Au,” she pronounced each syllable, “-oh-i-ye-sleh-n-loh. He was the first and only emperor of the Sihhaden empire and he lived to be a hundred and seventy-nine. The Emperor was a power user and had the largest collection of un-smelted star metal. He used the star metal to multiply his powers and also to prolong his life. His use of the star metal actually preserved his body so perfectly that we can look at it today as if he just died yesterday. Despite being a hundred and seventy-nine, the Emperor looks to be a young man. This is because at the age of twelve he began using star medal. He was killed by his heir.

“His heir, upon donning the band, was consumed by the power of the ring. The empire, having seen their beloved Emperor killed, shattered.”

“I thought it was illegal to own,” the first generation female snapped.

“It is illegal to own and the government has melted down most of the star metal, pouring it out again into a harmless form. To make star metal harmless, one must melt it at a very specific heat, constantly for over a month. Once it is melted, the government pours it out into tiny little rounds and scatters it to the wind across the wilds.

“Star metal multiplies the power of a user. Some have used it for good, but most have used it for evil. Thus the government declared, in order to protect us, the people, all star metal must be destroyed. They have permitted us, as the nation’s museum of history, to keep the smallest piece of star metal in it’s given form. To show the people what star metal is. Just as we show you those who use power, we show you the instruments of those in power.”

He directed his attention to the ring and swallowed. His entire being vibrated at the thought of wearing the ring. And wear it, he would. He gave a final order to the guide and withdrew his power, pulling it tight and inside himself as he did when he didn’t want to be found.

All he had to do was wait.

*****

“Fourteen thousand un-registered power users in the capital city-” he turned and glared at the gawking stares, “is there a problem?”

“You’re um.” someone motioned to his head.

His hair was standing on end. The damned thing had a life of its own and it took a little while for people to get used to that. It was his first day at the job and so everyone was staring at his hair and his eyes.

“I’m a ninth generation genetic tweaker, my family was the first to volunteer for tweaking. So yes, my hair is standing on end and yes, I do have eyes the colour of blue sapphires, can we move on?”

“Uhm,” someone raised a hand at the back of the room.

He growled, the sound made those in the front row try to pull away from him, “what now?”

“Why are you seven feet tall?”

“Because of the second growth period. Most of my family is six foot to six foot five, I was six feet when I hit the second growth period. My hair has several colours in it and yes, it is my natural colour. When you tweak with metabolism but not with the skin, you get splotches of pigment in skin and hair colour. When you adjust the eyesight to better than 20/20 but forget to check the colour you get everything from yellow, to green emerald, to blue sapphire and sometimes even purple.”

“What about your teeth?” his mentor leaned against the back wall and smirked at him as she asked. She was enjoying this.

Which only made his hair stand further off his head from annoyance. The people in the front row stood up and retreated a row, trying to make it seem like they wanted coffee or a snack or something.

“My teeth?” he asked quietly.

“They’re all. Weird.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth instinctively. Smooth, straight and perfect. His teeth were modelled after a predatory tweak so they weren’t positioned like most peoples and his canines were longer. In school girls had wanted him because he seemed animalistic, in his chosen field, people were afraid to mess with him because he seemed more animalistic than the criminals themselves.

“My teeth are not weird, they are straight and clean, perhaps you should try brushing, you might find it improves the mood of those around you,” he snapped at her and straightened, “can we get back to the topic at hand now?”

“What generation are you?” someone asked just as he turned back to the chalk board.

He sighed and set the chalk down. Turning back to the room, he folded his arms and leaned against the clean board, “alright, fine. My name is Ashientshisu Toleran. I am a ninth generation tweaker and everyone outside of my family calls me Ash, don’t try to call me by my given name, you will fail and I will bite you.

“I’m kidding about the biting, by the way,” he pushed off the chalk board with a shoulder, “I am seven foot four, I weight two hundred and sixty pounds and yes, it is all muscle. I can lift three times my body weight, I can eat as much as a first generation, if food is available, or as little as a third generation. I can outrun any perp, I can outrun any of you, including my mentor, by the way.

“You’ll find that she is armed with a ring gun. That gun has one shot and that shot is meant to kill, it is not to protect herself, it is to protect you, from me. I have power, I am a registered user and because I am an officer of the law, I do not have the brand. If any of you makes a single joke, comment or snickering insult about me or my family you will be shown the door.

“My job is registering the un-registered, it is not to baby-sit a bunch of hypocrites.”

“We aren’t hypocrites.”

“You’ve got a split tongue,” was his response to that, “and two rows of teeth. Betting you’re infertile as well,” he jabbed a finger at the man’s partner as the woman tried to protest, “your breasts are not a creation of natural selection, your eyes are the nearly impossible to get shade of amber that was all the rage for second generation middle class families and your hair is blonde. Daddy really splurged on you.

“Genetic manipulation has been around for five hundred years. When the mass medias were just learning about the genetic generations, my ancestors looked like you did. In seven more generations your children will look like me. I have two nephews, born and bred the natural way between my family and another family of tweakers. As yet another experiment between the scientists and us. They were born with the best of both their parents.

“By the time you catch up to us, we will be so far gone, you won’t even be able to see our path in the sand. Given my lifetime, given my life expectancy, I could very well still be alive when that generation comes along so perhaps you should treat me with a little respect.”

His mentor’s eyebrows raised but she said nothing. She was a third generation and a childhood friend of his but they both took their jobs very seriously; it was her job to reign him in. A problem with being tweaked, that every tweaker eventually came face to face with, was that the adjustments the geneticists did tended to awaken aggression and instincts that no longer had a use in civilized society.

He wanted a quiet moment to refocus his thoughts but instead he sighed out, “any other questions?”

“How do you propose we find the un-registered when we’ve no way of telling a power user from a citizen?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched, “power users are citizens, therefore there is no difference.” hated it when people were idiots like that, “if you mean, how do we tell a power user from a regular person, the answer is me.”

“So we take your word?”

“No,” his mentor pushed off the wall, drawing all eyes to her as she walked towards him. He never understood how she managed to make walking look so smooth, like she wasn’t moving but the world was moving around her instead, “you take my word. My name is Bri and I am his mentor. When I tell you that I’ve seen Ash in action. He walks into a room with a power user and they go nuts. Ash is on the force because he to a power user as star metal is. Their world lights on fire, at the same time, he is learning to take control of their powers and use the powers on the user.

“He’s fresh in the field and the first power user to be put into law enforcement as an actual officer. Hence, why I am here. I know him I know him very well,” she glared at the person in the back who snickered, “so when I tell you to back off, when I tell you not to poke him, I mean it. If he loses his temper on you after you poke him when I’ve told you not to, I’ve been given permission to let him tear you limb from limb.”

Silence predominated over the room.

“I can’t actually tear you limb from limb,” he said to the frightened faces, “And if I could, I wouldn’t. She’d make me clean up the mess and do all the paperwork, two things I hate doing unless I have to.”

Everyone relaxed. As they did he caught the scent of power, flowing out the edge of a mind, caught the images attached to the power. He carefully controlled his face, so that he wouldn’t show the disgust, and withdrew into himself. The government only recognised power users and sensitives, those that were caught between the two or were almost one of the two but not quite, were not registered and were free to go about their lives. To those with power these people were not normally noticeable and most of the time for him, they were only gnats buzzing in his ears.

But think loud enough in a room full of power users, think something that takes every ounce of your attention and even if you had no power, everyone in the room would know what you were thinking. The government had dismissed the idea that mere thinking could put off a power user and so normal citizens didn’t do it.

Just another way for the government to get inside the heads of criminals, though nothing found there could be used against them in a court of law without hard evidence from the real world.

Phones all went off at once. Ash straightened and looked down at Bri, she flipped open her phone and answered it as everyone else began filing out of the room, phones against their ears. Very quickly, Ash and Bri were the only ones standing in the room.

Bri closed her phone and sighed, “looks like he’s struck again.”

“What’s his target?”

“The star metal ring at the national museum,” Bri made a face, “I’m going to go see a judge about getting a warrant to move the ring. The others are likely going down to question victim number one, why don’t you go with them and see what you can find out?”

“Sure. I’ll just ask her about all the males in her tour group, that will go over well.”

“Ask her about the first generation in the group or if there was anyone she was paying too much attention to. He usually uses first generations because they’re harmless and have nothing in common with him, seemingly, but that doesn’t mean he won’t change his method now. New territory, assume new method.”

“Thieves don’t change their method.”

“Not unless the old one has been had and he thinks the person who was hunting him is dead,” Bri muttered, “he’ll cover his tracks, I’m surprised he didn’t go underground for a few years. Why wouldn’t he have?”

Ash thought for a moment as he pulled out his phone and slid it open. A few taps and he was connected to the internet. He did a search on the ring, just a general scan that any citizen could do. Information popped up, from urban myths, to little factoids, to cults and conspiracies. He narrowed the search down again.

“Because the Emperor exhibit is being put into the vault.”

“Which vault?”

“The vault,” Ash clicked his phone closed, “the one where other precious relics have gone and come back out as replicas.”

“Oh. So, they’re planning on melting down the ring without the public knowing it. The question is, does he know, or is he doing it now because the vault is impossible to break into?”

“If he has a time limit, if he needs the ring within the next ten years, he has to do it now,” Ash murmured, “and we know he’s a power user.” Ash shook his head and made a face, “there is no time when a power user needs more power. He could wait until he was an old man and steal the ring then, its properties would be able to repair any age problem he had.”

“I dunno. Just get down there and make absolutely certain they aren’t torturing the poor kid.”


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