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From: munster@remus.rutgers.edu (Fredd Ortiz)
Subject: More Human than Human {Pt. 1 Draft 2} I hate messing up verb tenses
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Problem #1) I'm too fucking wordy.  Problem #2) I like the active
present verb tenses too much, so they slip in if I don't pay careful
attention.  Problem #3) Still no archives.  Problem #4) Has anyone
ever written a story about someone and had that person unknowingly
talk about the story with you? That's going to be Fantasy #1.






More Human than Human

     by El Sol

Part 1 (Life)




I sat listening to the low chant of mass. I'd stumbled onto the church
during its Latin mass months ago, and had made of point of returning
for it. I could sit by one of the pillars listening to the centuries
old intonation; words that had been spoken year after year for so long
that most could not understand it as a passage of time.

Time stopped.

Like clockwork, people stood up and walked to the center aisle subdued
by meaning.

There weren't many of us; mostly old women to whom the language
brought the comfort of age to. I stood up and joined them.

I can't say that I believed the words, but the ritual is to be
observed if only in homage to the comfort it had brought millions upon
millions.

Maybe I hoped that somewhere among the memories of those people I
could

find comfort.

I walked slowly; my hands folded in front of me, my head hanging down
in respect. The line got closer and closer to the beginning and end of
the ritual.

Faster than I wanted, I was standing in front of the old man. His eyes
looked at me with recognition. I was the only person in the church
still touched by the first breath of youth.

He stared at me with more than just recognition though. Something in
his faith told him I was different, more than a young man honoring the
only comfort left to the old.

"The body of Christ" he said in Latin.

He placed the waif on my tongue.

I turned and walked to the younger priest standing to the side.

"The blood of Christ" he said carelessly placing the cup to my lips.

I took a taste of wine into myself.

As I turned, I heard her crying.

I crossed a small space to be out of people's way and turned myself in
the direction of the tears I could hear thunder against a pillow. She
continued to cry. I did not know how I could hear her crying, the
distance wasn't vast bit more than I'd ever been capable of.

My mind or maybe soul had destroyed another block.

I tilted my head as the desperation in her crying increased. I could
feel her grief, frustration, rage, confusion. 

I stood there for minutes listening, trying to figure out why she
would be so important that my mind would stretch  miles to hear her
cry. I reached out again and saw the cause of pain in the betrayal of
her body.

I know I do things subconsciously, and if I pushed the issue I could
know why I arranged some things. But I had placed the blocks in my
mind for my own protection before I even knew what I was capable of.
They only came off as I grew able to handle things emotionally.

I recognized her though, in the same way the old priest recognized
that I was different.

The safest thing to do was play my role. 

I walked to the doors. The mass wasn't over but I didn't hear it
anymore. 

I wouldn't return.

It was cloudy outside. I turned right; there was a small alley created
by the church and the small building where the clergy lived. It would
serve for my purposes.

It would have to be flashy to repress questioning.

I reached and placed a physical point of light between atoms in her
room. The light grew, pushing air out of the way creating a vacuum
large enough for me.

I bounced.

Her eyes were wide as fear of me overpowered the fear of what lived in
her own body, waiting to kill it. She had scrambled to the back of the
bed trying to push herself through the wall and outside.

I collapsed the light towards me enclosing me. The light played on me
for seconds before I released my hold on it.

She stared at me for a moment longer before attempting an awkward
scramble for the door.

I picked her up and placed her gently back on the bed.

Without touching her.

She fainted.

I smiled and arranged her comfortably on the bed, and looked around
the room. The room was the generic dormroom architecture that my
college prefered.

That would make life easier, I wouldn't have to deal with parents just
friends. The style on one side of the room was different than this
girl's side.

A picture on that side of the room gave me my best starting point for
finding the roommate. 

A latina.

I thought I had seen her somewhere; probably a class. I reached for
the girl in the picture. The latina carried the girl on the bed on the
outside of her awareness even at that distance.

Definitely the roommate, and her distance meant I would have time.

I looked down at the girl.

She was blonde, with sunlightened ends. She was too big, on the edge
of muscular, to be classicly attractive, but there were touches of
uniqueness.  The slight asian tilt to the eyes, green eyes instead of
the blue so natural to blondes, a softness to her face even tears
could drown, even her athleticism only added to an original.

I went to stand by the window. Her faint turned into exhausted sleep.

I waited.



Hours later, I heard her stirring. I turned from the window and waited
for her to notice me. She sat up on the bed with her back to me. She
rubbed at her eyes and stretched.

Her spine locked. She started to look around the room. She must have
remembered me. She moving up on her knees she spun around.

Our eyes locked.

Her body signaled a renewed flight attempt.

I smiled at her.

"This will take less time, if you don't try to run again." I said.

She looked at me from the edge of real fear, but answered "The way you
appeared in my room, can you give me a reason I shouldn't run?"

She was edging off the bed as if I wouldn't notice movement if she
managed to do it slow enough.

I turned to look out the window.

"The way I appeared in your room." I replied.

Her eyes widened. She made the next move off the bed more obvious. She
cringed when I looked down at  her legs so close to the edge of the
bed. I decided to cut the attempt short. I picked her up and placed
her a little roughly in the center of the bed.

She gave a frightened squeal.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" I asked pointing toward her roommate's
bed.

She nodded warily, and watched me as if I were a rabid dog. I walked
over to the bed and sat down.

I didn't know how to start but figured getting to the point as fast as
possible would be good enough.

"My name is Uriel." I said.

She blinked recognizing the name.

I shrugged, "My mother was an armchair student of classic literature.
And I came late in her life."

I waited.

"Oh! Rachel." she said unwillingly.

I smiled at her again.

She waited, a rabid dog likes to shows it teeth I guess.

"Someone slayed you." I said.

She looked at me obviously not understanding.

"Your body starts dying sometime. Sooner than you expected and not by
accident." I said simply.

She looked away as the fear of death won over her fear of my presence.

"I can heal you."

She turned back at me; anger flashed deepening the green in her eyes.
I studied the change and was disappointed to see it had so much to do
with facial expressions and the shadows even a minute change in muscle
tension caused.

"Fuck you!"

I sighed and stared back  answering anger with emptiness.

The instant she remembered was obvious as the anger drained from her
eyes replaced by wonder and hope.

I stared back answering them with emptiness still.

"How?"

I shrugged.

She looked at me; some of the fear scratched its way back.

"Why would you do?"

"I don't know yet." I replied honestly.

"You don't know?" she asked.

"No. I don't know yet. But I have some ideas."

She waited for me to continue, but I wouldn't.

Suspicion clouded her eyes. I studied it again, but it was still
facial muscles that created the illusion. Her face worked to make her
eyes incredibly expressive.

"What do I have to do?" she asked.

I thought about that. I didn't really know, she was attractive but
that had never been issue before.  Why was I here when I'd made sure
from the cradle my parents told me to stay uninvolved?

"One year of service" I heard myself say and rode whatever part of me
was driving.

"Service?" she asked suspicion dripping in her tone.

"From the day you accept I was what removed the virus from your body.
One year of service, no rules except mine."

I struggled to keep surprise from my face.

She shook her head violently.

I stood up and raised a hand toward her.

She backed up, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry. You'll remember that the choice was given and you refused
it. But you won't remember me."

"Wait!" she cried.

I waited.

"That's it?" she asked. "You're just going to let me die, when you
could have cured me."

I nodded.

"You fucking  asshole!" The amount of venom that she used to enunciate
each syllable almost floored me.

I put my hand down and looked at her.

"The choice wasn't mine, Rachel. I gave it to you, life for one year's
service to me."

"But you're going to let me die!", I could see green glistening with
moisture.

I looked at her, and raised my hand again. I didn't actually need to
do that, but it helped keep my body out of the way.

"Wait!"

I sighed, "Rachel, yes or no."

"What do you mean... service?"

"Everything I say, even if I have to force you."

"Force." she said scared.

"If it becomes necessary, or interesting. If I could make you remember
the choice but forget me, I could just make you want to do what I want
you to.  I guess that would still be forcing you though. At least in a
way it would be."

Her eyes remembered to fear me. I sighed.

Death didn't cast that long a shadow.

I raised my hand again.

"Okay!" she said.

I sat down. I looked back at the last few minutes. The hand had been
pure theatrics to force her choice, some part of me instinctively how
to manipulate her.

I wouldn't say that I enjoyed it, it was different.

New.

"What are you?" she asked me.

I didn't bother to answer her.

"Are you an angel?" she asked more pointedly.

I stared at her.

"No, you're not or else you would've just done it."

I kept staring at her. I changed the field of view. I didn't know if I
could actually heal her. I looked into her body and studied the
spreading of the plague among her cells. I took it apart protein by
protein, then went lower than that, and then lower again. There were
several solutions but the most expedient would be a purge and replace.

It wouldn't be the easiest, but it  would be the most convincing to
her personally. Doing it that way would make it her feel it the most?

"Are you the devil?" she asked seriously.

I thought about that.

"I don't think so." I replied honestly.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said that I don't think so."

She looked at me scared again.

"What happens after the year is over?" she asked me.

I looked at her.

"For all I know, Rachel. I'll kill you anyway."

She looked at me.

I decided she really couldn't handle much else.

"I can put it back, Rachel."

She looked at me not understanding.

"There's no walking away from me. You have to understand that. If you
try, you'll know that you were given the choice, but this time you'll
know it was for real."

She nodded slowly.

I stood up and walked over to her bed. I motioned her toward me. She
knee-walked to me slowly.

I reached out and put a finger between her breasts.

I didn't know why I was doing. I needed time to think about taking her
into service. Letting someone close to me even if it was only in
service.

I purged her.

She screamed in pain. I let her enjoy that for a second, driving into
her that I could and would do what I said.

I replaced everything.

She fell backwards gasping as her body accepted renewed health.

I stood watching her try to recover.

She looked up at me.

"No telling people about me." I told her body. "That the doctors made
a very stupid mistake is as good a story as any. Use it."

She tried to nod.

"I'll be waiting. Don't make me chase you." I paused.

"Because I won't."

I bounced out of her room and into mine.


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