Organised as the Disfavoured were, it wasn’t hard to establish a schedule for Zax’s visits. In turn, it wasn’t hard to see this routine wouldn’t be sustainable; the demand was endless, but his drop in revenue would catch up eventually. His apprentice couldn’t manage the shop by herself that often, and she would eventually leave the nest. He had to get back to custom orders sooner or later, without dismissing the private Resident fixes.
Fortunately, they were all experienced professionals. By the end of the day, they knew what kind of pace to expect and drafted a satisfying arrangement. Zax would spend mornings in his shop, some afternoons in the dot for his usual work, some in the community centre, some with Residents for repairs. He wouldn’t stay as late though; it wouldn’t do to cease his other activities.
Both the community centre and the mayor hall would display a web address for people to see when he would be available, volunteer their templates, and ask for a private service, with all three parties having specific admin rights. Zax tinkered a temporary platform on the spot. It was barely functional, but it would do. He would improve it later.
Having already prepared for repeated absences, he could also come in the mornings for the coming days. Everything had its place, he was low maintenance, so Azar had no issues with him coming unsupervised. He would merely have to announce his arrival, departure and keep track of his progress and payment, which was already planned. Skoret, the mayor liaison, was unhappy at their refusal of making customers pay a stipend for their mediation services, but Zax made it clear they didn’t want his work to go from “to feed his hobby” to “it’s a business”, and Azar reminded him the community centre was a people oriented non-profit establishment.
“What would that fee even pay for? I made and I’m maintaining the communication platform, access to it is part of free services you’re already required to provide, transport is…” He blinked. “Hm, I do pay for transport to come here, but having them pay for it seems unfair, especially since the distance will vary a lot. Plus, it’s included in the centre’s basic prestation; I can only work and get paid in person.”
“That’s not, that’s, I- You-” The liaison stammered, his eyes a deer’s in headlights, while Azar smirked knowingly.
Did I miss something?
Zax frowned, feeling uneasy at the otherwise casual silence that followed. The guy was not all bad; his idea of tracking the issues and items, in their website, was a keeper. It could reveal unexpected correlations, and at worst it would please statisticians. Maybe the fee had something to do with the water filters?
At least the tension didn’t last long:
“What’s with that ‘Little Dot’ thing?” The red-haired man asked, pointing at their shared website on his own screen.
“Ah, that’s how I call this block in my head.” Zax confessed. “Sorry, I must’ve written it without thinking.” The woes of a neural interface. “The architecture and fashion are typical of the Circle, the average technology and mutations are similar to the dot’s, and it feels less demeaning than ‘the Disfavoured Block’. So, ‘a little dot away from the dot’. I can change it if you prefer, I know Residents are not fans of my home.”
“No need. It’s… nice.” Azar appeared lost in thoughts.
The next few days saw a lot of work, trying all the kinks in their system. Zax pushed it hard, experience having taught him it was better to figure everything out from the start. Reworking already established protocols and habits was such a hassle.
It was difficult, but finally, they reached a satisfying point.
The template database was slowly but surely being filled; it was already catching up with the dot’s.
People were understandably cautious of the stranger with strange clothes putting strange things in their bodies, which made it harder to build a picture of their daily lives. The lack of incidents, the personal testimony section of the website, and official statements from the mayor’s office and the community centre helped, but it was an ongoing battle.
Understanding their lifestyle had been difficult for another unexpected reason: it was not that different from the dot’s. On the contrary, it was too similar. There were still unmistakable divergences, like their lack spacial economy, or regularly subsuming 3G units late in life or even if they had children. On the other hand, they had a heavy emphasis in reusing resources, and used mostly mundane technology. Barely more bio-technology than the dot, who only used it for domestic lights and air recycling. Communication was a lot easier once the dotter realised it, though he was sure it wouldn’t be the same in other blocks.
Examining the results so far, the nickname “little dot” revealed itself to be oddly accurate. Looking at both the averages and the outliers, one would be hard-pressed knowing which baseline was the dotter’s or the Disfavoured’s.
Probably not related, but the nickname was catching on. Some Disfavoured had taken to calling themselves “little dotters”. How cute.
Many topics were covered during their conversations. Their tacit rivalry with dotters was a weird one, but it made sense. The recent arrival of ‘troublesome newcomers’ in the little dot was first interesting, then intriguing, then worrying. Interesting because they usually didn’t get newcomers by groups. Intriguing because of their mutations, even a layman could tell they were not standard. A single gorilla arm? A single arm and a single leg tending towards different animals? A whole group of such mutants? It could be the beginning of a new Family, but why would they start among the Disfavoured? And worrying because, why were they called troublesome? Nobody would tell him, not even Azar or Agni.
Besides that, disappointingly, nothing stood out from the effort. Not in the templates, not in the fixes. Which was something new in and of itself, but it didn’t help much.
In other news, SG had found a new hobby: more and more often, she went to the community centre on her own to play and take care of the children. She was like a whole new person with them, still soft-spoken, but smiling and more open. Telling stories and playing pretend were her favourite activities. Zax figured she was catching up on her missing childhood, but Aran pointed she acted as big sister, a caregiver, not as another child who needed to be taken care of. The tailed girl described it as finding a missing piece you only realise is missing when it’s not missing anymore. Wordy, but it fit with Zax’s past observations.
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The winged girl seemed less interested in her apprenticeship too; she barely reacted when she officially reached three stars. Had she found a new path?
Aran didn’t want to be left out, so she had her work hours shuffled to be able follow one of her friends in the Circle and lend a hand. Aran being Aran, of course she made quick friends with everyone she met. Some even told her about a place that would be perfect to train in parkour; a relatively narrow alley-way between two residential buildings, with two evacuation stairs within jumping range of each other.
The teacher had recently allowed them to train even where there was no grass and dirt to soften impacts. If some precautions were taken, of course. They hadn’t found a suitable place in the dot – all the good spots were filled – so today would be their first actual lesson in urban free running.
It was… a new experience. The dotters finally understood SG’s caution; what they expected to be a minor variation made balancing and, well, everything totally different. Stepping on the walls and grabbing a stair’s metal guardrail was surprisingly hard on their joints, and they kept overcompensating, slipping or holding too tight.
It felt like trying to walk straight when they were drunk; they knew how to do it, but they couldn’t do it right.
Luckily, the winged girl knew what she was doing. The first falls and scrapes were painful, actually drawing blood for the first time in all their sessions, and made the following jumps more intimidating.
“As they should. You’ll be more careful now. Don’t rush.” Was SG’s only reply when her students expressed their worries. Fair enough.
It was only when they were scrapped everywhere, throbbing in places they had forgot existed, that they could say they were used to this new medium. Incidentally and apparently for the first time in her life, Aran could actually see an advantage from her tail; she balanced more easily than the more coordinated Zax. They were resting on the ground and against the walls when they were interrupted.
“Well, well, well. Would you look at that?” Came a self-assured voice. “And I thought the doc was just paranoid.”
The speaker stepped past the alley’s threshold, two other people at his side, with more behind. All new faces, but their mutations were identification enough.
The presumed leader in the front had a right eye betraying a typical brain mutation, a goat mutation for his left eye and a gorilla’s right arm. Not just an ape-type mutation, a full gorilla arm, starting from the shoulder.
A tall woman on the left had enhanced musculature, but it was unlike any the hobbyist had ever seen. Her trapezius muscles were over-inflated – visibly so – compared to the rest of her shoulders and neck, giving her a slight slouch and making her head movements uncannily stiff. Her rigid steps hinted towards similar issues on other parts of her body. A mutation awkwardly affecting hormone or muscle production?
The man on the right had a stout but otherwise normal-human torso and upper body, that severely clashed with the pair of long cheetah legs below. Strange mutation by itself, but the proportions didn’t fit with the legs of a stout man who had mutated towards a cheetah.
This last thought brought something else to attention. They wore outfits in the Resident fashion, expressly exposing their mutations, but somehow hiding the transition with their unmutated parts. A first for Residents.
A quick glance revealed some others behind them were the same, with uncanny and asymmetrical mutations, but there were also teens with them. Dot-typical barely mutated angsty teens.
“Hello, people.” Aran stood and greeted. “I didn’t think we’d meet that soon. We were told you had interesting mutations, but I didn’t expect that, haha. Do you want to have equipment fixed in exchange for interesting templates?”
“What?” The nonplussed leader asked.
Attagirl!
They were definitely the troublesome newcomers the little dotters had warned them about, but they would give the benefit of the doubt until they saw the trouble. Keeping them off balance was probably for the best though; the pair hadn’t missed how SG had stiffened when she saw them; which was a worrying reaction.
In front of strangers, she usually made herself smaller and more withdrawn. They were sitting against the walls, so crouching with her wings cloaking her folded legs would have been more in character, not standing up with them, her wings raised in front of her. Even her face was uncanny; rigid like a mask.
“Just so you know, I’m not particularly interested in surgery, and I’m not paying full price for templates pieces.” Zax amended Aran’s claim. “Although I don’t even know if it’d be worth anything. Guess I could pay full price for a few, then see what I can do with them.” He added, raising his eyes thoughtfully.
“What?” The leader asked again, frowning, but it didn’t seem to be because the words were nonsense to him.
Zax had hoped they would be. Their mention of a “doc” and other hints gave him an idea of their origin story, where their strange mutations and behaviour came from.
It was a terribly painful idea and he didn’t dare speak it aloud.
“By the way, are you, okay?” He added to the tall woman, unsure. “You look, in pain…?”
“We don’t have time for this.” Leader stated, snapping the fingers on his human hand. A gust of air rushed by.
“Ow!”
Cheetah Legs had run between Zax and SG to Aran, tackled her to the ground and he was now sitting on her chest. She seemed fine, mostly dazed and out of breath, but it felt uncalled for.
“What was that fo- Uh!” Zax’s bewilderment was interrupted when he was lifted off the ground by his collar and kept against the wall by a muscular forearm pushing against his throat.
Tall Girl.
Found the trouble.
Zax couldn’t deny it any longer; they were not in civilised company.
They were all highly mutated and ready for violence. Worrying. He tried to keep his heartrate under control, but it was a losing battle.
What do they want?!
“Look at you. The infamous Harpy. The terror of the arena.”
Leader strutted in the alley, ignoring Tall Girl and the pinned Zax, stopping in front of SG. She hadn’t moved a muscle, but she was now frowning and glaring at him.
“Drop those losers and come with us. We have a better use of your talents.” He ordered, motioning with his gorilla arm.
The winged girl didn’t say anything, but neither did she move.
“What? Cat got your tongue? Playing hard to get?” He sneered. “Don’t you understand the situation you’re in? Your friends are kinda in my grasp right now.” He mimicked grabbing and crushing a fruit in his furry hand for emphasis.
More silence.
“Pathetic!” He spat. “That’s where you’re at?! Where’s your famous sharp tongue?! Your vicious mockeries? You grown soft? We have no use for softies here.” He was growling in the end.
He punched her in the face.
Hard.
The clash loudly echoed between the wall of the alleyway, but the dotters’ ears mixed it with another one:
[ Resonance detected ]