7 Blue-Eyed Man

Of all the people in the world, I managed to bump into a Genetically Altered researcher. My tension was clearly visible -- but so was everyone else's. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Dylan coughed.

'Dude... it's not that I... I just thought that you're studying, you know, something laidback and cool. Not the... anyway, why this?

Ted made a face.

'No need to be polite about it, dudes. Yeah, yeah, I know. Most of my fellow students are sick fucks who chose this field because of some fascist fascination. But not me.'

He took another drag and leaned forward.

'It's just, you see. Science is built, basically, on observation and logical conclusion, right? Sounds neat and simple, but in reality, it's always messy, because more often than not, to make valuable observations, you need to study the subject of observation in relation. And that's cool, that's how good science is made. Hence the comparative part. You know, how they had a major breakthrough in linguistics when they decided to start comparing European languages to the Native American ones? Cuz, if you have a thing that is similar to your subject, but independent, you can observe what is common and what is uncommon about the two, and this gives your observations ground.'

Claire raised her eyebrows.

'Jesus Christ, Ted. Do you always become mister eloquent when drunk, or are you just not drunk enough?'

He laughed.

'No such thing as drunk enough, dude! Anyway. What was I talking about? Oh yes, comparative anthropology. The problem with it is that our society is the only sapient society on Earth, bummer, so there's no independent source for comparison. Right? But there was, once.'

'Wraiths?'

'Yeah, bingo. Most people think about the GAs as mutants or something, but they're wrong. GAs are actually an evolutionary branch of the homo genus completely separate from us, homo sapiens. You know, like Neanderthals. What's more, they actually had a society of their own up until the Middle Ages, which developed isolated from human civilizations. That is remarkable, considering that all other branches of the homo genus were wiped out by us, humans, in the dawn of history!'

I've heard about it, of course. Every wraith has, in fairytales and old songs and myths passed down through generations. The lost Paradise Land where we were free to live as we wished, safe behind the deadly desert and a chain of tall, unyielding mountains. Until the human merchants came, and then their priests, and then their armies. They crossed the desert, scaled the mountains, enslaved us, and turned our paradise to ash.

Of course, in these fairytales wraiths are always happy, peaceful and innocent. And these are good stories, too. But I suspect that in reality, my ancestors were neither innocent nor peaceful. Otherwise, the horror of their first encounters with humanity would not imprint into human mind and last until today.

Ted exhaled smoke through his nose and looked at his cigarette.

'And that, my friends, is a capital letter scientific Treasure. If we can compare our civilization to theirs, we can understand ourselves so much better. Understand our shortcomings so much better. And do so much better... But, crap. Crusaders weren't known for preserving cultural heritage. They fucking burned the whole place to the ground. Didn't even bother robbing the ruins, out of superstition. "Too evil". So almost everything we know about the wraith homeland comes from fucking ancient Greek anecdotes. Broken fragments of half-forgotten hearsay. Still... fascinating stuff for an anthropologist.'

Ted's cigarette died forgotten in the ashtray. He sighed again.

'On second thought, though. I think I actually am not drunk enough, guys! We need to remedy that ASAP!'

#

We left the club about an hour later, well into the night. It was snowing again, large fluffy snowflakes falling to the ground in the yellow lamplight. The streets were deserted, with an occasional car speeding past on its way to wherever. A homeless man wearing a light jacket was standing in the shadows on the opposite side of the road, unsure on his legs. I hoped that he had somewhere warm to spend the night because even this early into winter it was too cold for comfort.

'Hey-o! Are we walking to the dorms, or should I call a taxi?'

Dylan was as drunk as the rest of us, but he seemed to have the situation under control.

Claire yawned and then giggled.

'It's what, twenty minutes on foot? My vote is for that, then. We really need to sober... uh... Ted up. You know...'

Ted looked at her with outrage.

'You're the one who needs to sober up! I'm, like, at a perfect level of being drunk!'

I smiled, listening absentmindedly to their chatter. It was a good evening, far better than most I had in recent weeks. The tension I was feeling ever since my last test eased, and although it wasn't completely gone, alcohol and good company chased the worst of it away.

'So should I call a taxi or not? Guys? Crap. I dropped my phone. Wait a minute...'

'Fine, call the damn taxi. It's too cold to walk anyway...'

Funny, I wasn't cold at all. Despite the snow and the wind, the air felt warm. In fact, I was starting to sweat a little.

In hindsight, this should have been my first clue. If I had caught it in time, maybe things would have ended differently. But I allowed myself to relax, gave my mind permission to lose focus. Of all the mistakes I made, this was probably the first.

I didn't realize that someone was behind me until his shadow fell across mine. I turned around, slowly, still caught up in the comfort of the pleasant evening. The homeless man I noticed earlier was standing near me, looking at me with a seeking expression on his face.

'Sorry, can I help you?'

He didn't answer, and it was only then that I first started to realize that something wrong was happening.

His ragged clothes were too big for his unhealthily slender figure, a chaos of torn fabric too light and flimsy for this weather. Underneath a messy grey beard, his face was dirty and gaunt, with blue eyes gleaming feverishly at me like pools of arctic ice.

I wouldn't have recognized him if it weren't for those eyes. There was nothing left of the cheerful, handsome man I saw in the photo the Protector showed me. The person standing in front of me was a complete ruin, but it was him. And there was something strangely familiar about how he looked.

Without thinking, I awakened my Ability, and at the same time, the man took a step forward, now standing mere centimeters away from me. He leaned to me, searching for something in my face, a strange smile on his lips. His voice was broken glass and smoke, sharp, almost a whisper.

'Are you real?'

There was heat radiating from his figure in almost palpable waves. Terrified, I saw snowflakes melting in the air around him. Everywhere else, the pavement was covered with snow, but around him, there was water, a clean circle of around two meters in diameter. Finally, I realized what seemed so familiar about him. He had the same lost, mad look in his eyes that my mother had for the last few days before the PA took her.

A look of a wraith in the thrall of the Disease.

My sweat turned ice cold.

The man saw something in my face and looked down, at the broken reflection shimmering in the puddle of melted water at his feet. Suddenly there was a pleading, almost fearful note in his voice.

'Am... am I real?'

'Hey Matt! - someone called with laughter in their voice. - Is that a friend of yours?'

I looked at Claire and her friends, smiling at me from a couple of meters back. Of course, for them, it just looked like a homeless man whispering something to their buddy Matt. They didn't know what... who was standing in front of them.

They also didn't know who, or what, their buddy Matt was. And they weren't going to find out.

The blue-eyed man looked at me. His lips were moving, repeating my name without a sound.

'Matt? I... know you.'

I took a step back.

'No, no you don't.'

I needed to get the hell out of here, get Claire and her friends away from this man, from the danger he posed to my secret.

'Let's go, guys. Forget about the taxi.'

'I know you. Yes, I know. Matthew.'

I was backing away now.

'I know. Zero five ten. I know now.'

The next thing I remember, I was holding him by the collar, screaming:

'What did you say?! Repeat it! What did you just say?!'

He smiled, white teeth shining in the dark. Pressed against my fingers, his skin was impossibly, scorchingly hot.

Someone was near me, trying to move me away from him.

'Matt, what the fuck! Let him go!'

It was Claire, alarmed, looking at me with concern.

'Sorry, mister! Our friend here had one too many drinks! Matt, for fuck's sake, snap out of it!'

A unclenched my first, letting her drag me away.

'Sorry again! Have a nice evening!'

Dylan, Nelly and Ted were near, ready to step in if I do something stupid. When I looked over their shoulders, the man was gone, swallowed by the shadows and the snowfall.

The only thing to remind me that he was real was a circle of clear water, slowly turning to ice.

'I'm alright, guys. I'm alright.'

Claire let go of me.

'What. The fuck. Was that?'

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

'Did he, like, say something rude? Or are you just fond of grabbing homeless people by the neck?'

I looked around, anger still pulsing in my system, shaken by what happened, and by my reaction to it.

'Sorry, guys. He just... said something about my mom.'

Claire shook her head.

'Let's get out of here, guys. I freezing my ass off.'

#

By the time I got home, I was completely sober, and shaking. Nervous energy was coursing through my body, mixed with anger and fear.

I didn't know that I was capable of such fury, and the depth of it was scaring me. Three words were pulsing in my mind, and with each flash, something inside me surged and boiled.

Zero five ten.

How did he know? How could he possibly know?

My mother's PA number. In the whole world, only two people outside of the Agency ever knew it: me and her. And she was dead.

Everything in my world was going wrong. The botched test, the Protector's visit, and now this. I worked so long and hard to achieve a feeling of having control over my life. For someone like me, who lived on borrowed time, defenseless against what was sure to come, that feeling was a lifeline. And now I felt like control was slipping away from my hands.

And what was I supposed to do now? The Protector was searching for the man with blue eyes, and that meant that I had to report our meeting. I had to. If she were to ever find out that I saw him and chose to conceal it, it would be the end of me. She would put me down like an animal, of that I was sure. But even without that threat, he had the Disease. Which meant that he was dangerous.

And yet, he knew something about my mother. Zero five ten... he must have met her, before or after they took her.

I was tired, exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. To calm myself, I sat down on the bed and started working on the Rubik's Cube. I mixed it, and then solved it. Then I did it again, and again, and again.

And again.

I did it until my fingers went numb, and the pale light of dawn started to crawl inside through the curtains. Only then, finally calm, I was able to fall asleep.

And right before I did, I sensed that I made a decision.

My dreams were dark and cold.