Second Genesis Read online

  The young man had nightmares quite often. He could never recall the events that caused him to toss and turn and break out into what appeared to be feverish sweats. Tonight, was no different. Xairin tossed and turned, wearing nothing but blue boxers and kicking his silvery sheets onto the floor as he spun around while slumbering. Sweat poured down his subtle hair chest, and down his slightly pudgy belly. He tossed hard, thudding his hairy legs against the wall beside his twin sized bed. That didn’t wake him.

  This sight happened often. His psychologist assumed it to be PTSD. He had lost his entire family in a dronemobile crash when he was seventeen, forcing him to live out his last year before adulthood in foster care. His neurologist assumed his night terrors were something else impart to him being what was called a sensitive. Sensitives were psychics that arose from a forced evolutionary jump due to a psychiatric drug aimed at controlling ADHD, depression, and anxiety called Xyphamine. It was developed to be a miracle drug. Xyphamine had shown not a single side effect but one, one that was only found later on. It caused a chemical build up in ovarian tissues, mutating the ovum. In Xairin’s case he was known as a Gen-2. His father was a sensitive, passing on this new gene. Often Sensitives would pick up random thoughts, emotions, and have visions. Some were highly telepathic, while others manifested varying degrees of telekinetic abilities. The drawbacks, were the headaches, using their abilities often caused horrible migraines, in which the very drug that created them, now acted as psychic suppressant.

  Xairin looked like a dog, running for its life while he slumbered. His breathing was labored. This wasn’t an apnea but resembled as if he was being choked in his dream. This woke him up.

  He sat up fast, choking and gasping for breath.

  His disorientation caused him to fear his surroundings. He looked at his white massage table still covered in yesterday's laundry he had yet to put away in his brown dresser. He looked at his computer, a gaming system, that he used to escape from time to time. His eyes prowled the room, searching for something. His face looked as if he was expecting some horrific monster to come out of the darkness and do god knows what to his nearly naked body. Finally, this sense of terror passed. He sat on the side of his bed and wiped the sweat from his face. He ran his fingers through his short wavy hair and took a deep breath. “God not this again.”

  His head began to ache. It was like a searing pain that started right between his eyes, and afterwards felt like worms burrowing inside his brain, spreading out from that focal point. He reached for his night stand beside his small bed and opened the top drawer. He got his medicine bottle out and popped the purple pill into his mouth. He had to get up and travel to his gaming machine that looked like something some alien would use on top of a quaint metal desk and found his bottle of water resting where he had left it, right beside the mouse. With a quick gulp, he swallowed his Xyphamine pill, and hoped it would kick in fast, these headaches were a bitch.

  At that moment, the door to his small compacted room opened. The door creaked open eerily. Standing there, was a blue-eyed face, with glowing eyes. It took Xairin a moment but let out a sigh when he realized it was just his droid, a droid he had nicknamed K2. He glared at the muscular built bot as it entered his room. K2 was once a human kill capacity droid, an HKC, model 2, hence the name. Xairin’s father was an Interpol agent, which what law enforcer wasn't now, since Interpol took over all branches of law enforcement globally almost thirty years ago. His father acquired the droid, sparing it from being recycled, had left it to Xairin in his will.

  “K2, you could knock?” Xairin asked with his soft yet masculine voice.

  K2’s voice wasn’t as soft, but deep. His voice reflected his chassis type. K2 looked as if a body builder had put on a black pair of pantyhose made of black metallic scales, with HKC-2 etched in the center of his chest. “Xairin, I heard you wake, are you well?”

  “I’m fine K, just another bad dream I guess.”

  “Should I contact doctor Hostettler?” The droid asked humbly.

  “NO, I’m fine. I just took my meds, I’m sure it's nothing, okay?”

  “If you say so Xairin.” The droid responded.

  “What time is it?” The man asked as he looked for his white robe that he had kicked off into the floor.

  “It's currently 7:22 PM. You missed the comet’s demise. I took the liberty of recording it for you.”

  Xairin yawned out the words. “Just delete it K2.”

  “Are you sure sir?”

  “What date is it K?” Xairin asked in a slightly sarcastic manner, while placing a hand on his left hip.

  “The date is Friday, February 18th, 2118.

  “Keeping a hint of sarcasm to his voice, Xairin followed up his point. “Exactly K, if we didn’t have the technology by now to blow something up in space threatening our planet, then I would worry. Besides, I’m sure the Haze is going to have it on a loop tonight on every screen anyways.”

  “I wish you would stay in tonight Xairin. I realize the desire to commune with peers, but there has been a steady rise in crime in that zone. I wish you would reconsider.”

  Xairin had made plans to hang out at his favorite club, The Haze. Xairin didn’t have many friends, but those he did cling too were going to be there tonight celebrating what the club owner had coined, “THE END OF THE WORLD PARTY.” Xairin usually wasn’t much for partying or drinking for that matter, but he did promise his friend that owned the club, Topher, that he would be there. Xairin was also feeling a tad bit selfish, even for his usual demeanor. He had hoped on having a one-night stand, and tonight, the men would be out in force, given that the club was Bastion City’s premier gay club. Xairin would have given anything to have found Mr. Right, but digressed to accept Mr. Right-Now, for now.

  Xairin walked down a small white hallway, with what looked like plastic paneling, and shiny floor tiles, also white. Both the walls and the floor were made of the light absorbent material, to help boost energy conservation. Living in his tiny apartment, was a blessing, since it had been updated with most energy saving technologies, he didn’t want to pay a higher energy tax after all.

  He entered a small bathroom, with a brown marbled pedestal sink, toilet, and walk in shower of the same decor. He slipped off his boxers, revealing his average length and girth, a grower, not a shower, measuring at 5.9 inches which made himself conscious.

  If that wasn’t enough to derail his confidence, the rest of his body did when he looked in the mirror. Once Xairin was an active teen, that was lean and captain of his high school laser ball team, despite his geeky quirks. Now, Xairin was a little overweight, and suffering from some mild depression, and his PTSD, not to mention his occasional psychic twinkles. He simply glared at himself in the mirror. Self-hate was still a common trend among some gay men, especially those still in their twenties suffering from body shaming issues. No matter how hard he tried, working out never got him the results he wished he had maintained, nor did his clean diet get him anywhere either. He was working six days a week on average. Almost everyone was a government employee now, which had stomped out corporate greed. Small business owners, simply applied for a government license to operate, once they had the proper credentials behind their name, much like it had been in the past. Very few corporations existed now, all others had been absorbed into government branches almost 30 years ago, just as Interpol had acquired all law enforcement divisions.

  Xairin wanted to become a doctor once and had the grades to pull it off. Had he chosen to develop his sensitivity and learned to control it, he might have accomplished that, instead he decided to do something else that allowed him less stress and only having to deal with one person at a time to help evade sensitive overload. He was a medical massage therapist, traveling from home to home, and swiping his patient’s I.D. cards to register his attendance. He made good money, seventy thousand a year, but living in the city was a tad bit pricey, as property still was subject to a landlord’s rates. It did help that the energy tax had replac
ed a power bill, as did the ecological tax, covering water uses.

  Xairin slid back the door to his walk-in shower, and pressed the hand print module on the front, below the primary nozzle. Instantly, water temperature adjusted based on his current body temperature, and six nozzles all at once, began gently pressure washing Xairin’s body as he stood there letting the water wash his sweaty body, and worries away.

  Normally a shower was one thing that comforted him. Tonight, it didn’t seem to do the trick. He loved his droid, which often gave him some comfort at times, being the closest thing, he had left from his previous life. K2 had been left to Xairin in his father’s will, which Xairin couldn’t claim out of storage until his 18th birthday, when he finally managed to leave the foster facility he was having to finish out in. K2 had become a synthetic parent, constantly uploading new programs to help him be more helpful to Xairin, despite his previous designation as a combat police unit. Xairin’s father, Draven Thunder, had managed to save the droid from being recycled when his model was no longer useful, and purchased him outright from Interpol. Most droids purchased in this manner were required to have their AI’s reprogramed, Draven managed to bypass that law with connections he had made, that and Xairin suspected his father using his telepathic ability to mind control the agent responsible for selling refurbished droids. Xairin never learned to do that.

  Like any healthy 28-year-old, Xairin explored his body while showering, and decided to take care of business, hoping it would make him less edgy, that and if he did bring a guy home, it might help him last a little longer.

  He still felt on edge.

  Dressed in a white polo t-shirt, and cargo pants, Xairin entered his small living room, and sat down on the black leather couch, facing his white kitchenette that was adjacent. He put on his favorite blue sneakers, the ones with the pulsing LED strings, and tied them while he waited on K2 to prepare him an egg sandwich.

  “I almost ordered you a pizza.” The Droid announced.

  Xairin scoffed, “and pay an extra $3.00 on the unhealthy eating tax? I’ll take my usual K2.”

  The droid smirked, “A little indulgence is never a bad thing Xairin.”

  The droid finished cooking and spread a little bit of veganaise on the top slice of bread. He finished the man’s late breakfast by getting him a second bottle of water. Often Xairin, would try his best to instill drinking water amongst his patients, but Xairin himself was struggling to practice what he preached. He ate his sandwich while reading a book he had downloaded on his tablet. Xairin was a horror nut, loving a good scary story, and occasionally a good conspiracy. He sipped his water, while K2 sanitized the cooking area.

  “I really wish you would rethink going out tonight Xairin. Crime is up, by 48.2% in that zone. Not to mention Xairin, Neo activity has been reported in the entire sector.”

  Neos were a remnant of the Neo Nazi movement, that had survived the test of time it seemed. Lately a resurgence of hate crimes had been initiated by a separatist group calling themselves the SSE, the Supreme Separatist Elite, one of numerous branches of NEO sects to arise. Their views were typical of previous ages, claiming racial superiority, and anyone not of their sect, inferior. Like in previous decades, they attacked homosexuals, those of African descent, and targeted native north Americans with a passion since Sophie was elected. Xairin passed them off as harmless, which K2 often attempted to educate Xairin on the dangers they pose. Xairin was young, and in that regard, felt that their ideology would eventually die out. He also figured that law enforcers would eventually cripple the regimes, at least that's what the news was spinning as of late. “I will be fine K. It's the Haze, it's in a safe location, it's constantly patrolled in that zone. I promise I will be fine.”

  “At least let me drive you.”

  “K2, i love you man, but I’m going to take an aircab. That way you won't have to worry about me. Plus, I actually think I’m craving a long island iced tea or two.” Xairin mentioned with a warm smile.

  “Xairin, just be careful. If something happens to you, I couldn’t face it, that and being recycled should I lose my handler.”

  Xairin smirked, “That's the reason you want me to stay in. You just don’t want to end up back on the recycler, admit it?”

  “Xairin, my AI allows me the perimeters of feeling affection. Do not mistake that. I just ask that you be careful.”

  Xairin could tell his droid was overly concerned tonight. It was a quality that Xairin both loved and hated equally. Sometimes for spite, Xairin would push the droid’s buttons, metaphorically, just to see how far the droids concern levels could go. It helped him feel like family was still around.

  Chapter 3: A Night to Remember.

  Xairin flew in the aircab looking at the puzzled pieces of the streets below as a slender built yellow droid wearing the cabby uniform, flew the yellow cab. This was a newer model he was riding in. It was oval shaped, with drone fans built along the sides, that rose upward, once the wheels were on the ground. It flew smoothly, while Xairin looked at the black shiny metal of city around him, lit up brightly.

  The Haze, was once a warehouse on the river side, facing what was once New York City, that now lay in ruins, a section that was next to be refurbished once the recommission was approved by parliament.

  The club was white on its exterior, remodeled to resemble a Greek colosseum on its outer walls. A red carpet lined the entry, and often, the wait to get in usually wrapped around the building. Tonight, was no different even with Xairin arriving before 9pm. As Xairin’s cab approached, he could see the purple spotlights searching the skies, while the Purple hologram on the front, flashed the Club’s name for all to see at a mile away from coming in by air.

  Upon landing, Xairin was quick to swipe his I.D. like a credit card, and pressed the touch screen, to debit the account he wished to use tonight for airfare payment. After which he jumped out and walked over to the rope outlining the outskirts of the parking lot overlooking the river. He glared at the once bustling city, now in decrepit ruins. The sight haunted him. World War 4 happened in the summer of 2085, 33 years ago. To hear the tales his parents spun, chilled his spine. Survivors had to constantly be on the move, evading both fallout, infighting separatists and a deadly pancreas eating virus called Mellitus-32, which assisted in reducing the world’s population to a single billion by the year 2088. Both events left both his parents a bit edgy and not to mention germophobic.

  _____

  New Beginnings Zoo.

  While Xairin waited in line to get in, an unexpected event was transpiring. Trevor Graves had warned that the comet may have unforeseen properties that the antimatter explosion might not vanquish, and he was right. Hundreds of red slender crystals, each one seven feet long, shaped like a stretched rhombus, pierced the atmosphere with ease. No fiery entrance, nor wear and tear occurred as they ripped right through the Earth’s ether.

  Oddly they made no noise either. They simply shot straight down. Upon impact, they didn’t let out a wave of devastation. They stood out of the ground, like red diamond spikes, slowly cracking.

  With each crack, they let out an ungodly vapor that moved like it had a mind of its own, like a serpent spiraling around a radius of twice the size of a football field, until everything in its scope had been engulfed in the red fumes.

  From above, Bastion City, looked like a perfect circle, surrounded by a protective wall, made of the same black material. The city was massive, twice the size of New York City, and the largest city on the east coast in what was now only referred to as North America, instead of the US. Two shards touched down near the outskirts, just before the wall.

  Outside the wall, another shard landed two miles away in a lush forest that had recently reclaimed a sector of ruins. A zoo had been established there. New Beginnings Zoo. The zoo was much more than a tourist attraction. It was one of the latest cloning facilities, bringing extinct wildlife back from the dead. Primary goals were to establish breeding populations, within the four miles of
biodomes, and paddocks, that could be released into the established wildlife sectors. Only animals that had perished during the reign of man, were allowed to be reconstituted as part of this mandate. The zoo had turned out many species of wolf, and deer as of late. Puma, and various cats were currently being brought back as well. Other species, such as the dodo, and Tasmanian wolf, the thylacine, had also been resurrected here. A more recent success was the first herd of mammoths that had recently had some relocated to the Floridian Sectors, given that entire region was now established as a wildlife sanctuary.

  The Zoo had an old-world charm, aside from every walkway being made of solatex. Each of the outdoor exhibits had tall fencing, reaching nearly twenty feet or more in height, and were dome shaped to prevent those who had an aptitude to climb from leaving their paddocks. Most attractions were herbivores, while the carnivores were near the center of the zoo. The most recent addition added to the several successes in cloning were a colony of two hundred vampire bats, living in a large jungle styled exhibit, to which a large tiki hut had been crafted to house the flying mammals.