When I first started converting the rig, my intention was that if I built right above where the antithesis were, I wouldn’t have to chase them down. When the Family came to me insisting I rent out space on the platform to let them use as a forward base against the Antithesis, I was skeptical. Then they offered me a rather… tidy sum, and it became much easier to accept their presence.
* Interview with First Generation Samurai, Buoy, for the documentary “The Hidden Origins of New Houston“
***
Located directly to the left of the lobby, our family dining room is designed in a stereotypically rich way. A long table covered in a white cloth that could seat upwards of twenty, is instead set for five. Silver cutlery and plates yield to the paranoia of my grandfather, unwilling to take the risk of ending his career. I had the feeling he’d be able to survive any poison that he ingested, regardless.
The deep maroon room is decorated with images of New Houston, taken from all angles at various points of its construction. My family even snuck themselves into a few of the later ones, posing on the wet docks next to a few of our boats. One particular image of my grandfather standing proudly before his factory on the lowest level I swear was faked, considering I doubt he had ever actually gone down there. From experience, that man did not see people who lived below sea level as humans, even more so for the slums that made their home on the second to last floor.
Somehow, I am the first to arrive, and I immediately consider fleeing, but…I resolve myself and take my assigned seat. This room was the one public room in the house that my grandfather insisted on having control of, and my mother reluctantly allowed for it. Originally, he had also tried to get us to have family meals every day, but my father stepped in and after a lengthy, combative argument that caused me so, so much stress five years ago, somehow convinced him to lower it to once a week.
With a grunt and a little effort, I pull the ornate and heavy oak chair out and take a seat. Apparently these chairs were hand crafted the year the incursions began, so my grandfather refuses to get rid of them for anything more comfortable. It isn't like they are heirlooms or anything, but now that I think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if that's exactly what he's planning for them.
As I shudder at the thought of my inheritance being these damn things, a familiarly chipper and welcome voice enters my ears, yet not as comforting as expected.
“Hey, you’re back! God, it’s good to see you, bro.”
A frown creeping onto my face, I wave hello with my fingers at my brother, as he takes his seat across from me. Out of everyone in my family, my brother was definitely the person who both understood and cared for me the most, though it hadn’t always been like that. Originally, he was just as power-hungry and aggressive as my grandfather, whom he'd been essentially raised by. He had mellowed out dramatically in the last two years. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but it had turned a terrible living situation into a somewhat bearable one, so I couldn’t complain.
“Why the long face? I know you just got back, but is something wrong?”
I shake my head, forcing a small smile onto my face. It hurt to lie, but I couldn’t exactly explain to him why I felt this way. I didn’t know the reason myself, after all. Something about the way he had called out to me unsettled me, and it left me with a gut feeling that he's planning something. It reminded me of how he used to talk before he changed, when he made power plays just as often as the adults.
It made me feel sick.
As if they sensed my discomfort, the dining room doors open with a creak, revealing five figures. Three of which are of course the adults in my life, and the remaining two the “help” my father always seemed to keep around. Rather slowly as if flaunting their feathers, the figures approach and take their seats, my grandfather taking the head of the table as always with my father to his right next to my brother, and my mother beside me.
A familiar, awkward silence fills the room as each member of the family patiently waits for their meals to be brought out. It claws at my composure like the screech of a feedback loop.
A new figure enters the room pushing a covered cart, and soon everyone has their plates filled with perfectly proportioned food one by one. As the youngest, I'm made to wait the longest. When my turn arrives and a filet of snook is finally placed upon my plate, I grimace.
I wasn’t allergic to fish and actually remember liking the taste. But ever since I dove for the first time and saw the wild fish population fighting to recover from the antithesis infestation that plagued our ocean, I ended up sick whenever I would try to eat them. I'd previously made this clear to my mother, but she decided that since we live in New Houston where fish farming was a major source of income and food, that it must merely have been a grab for attention and continued to have them make fish for me.
After everyone takes a few bites of the fish (and me the side dishes), to my surprise it is my father that breaks the silence. His words are slow and chosen with consideration, his baritone voice showing a surprising amount of interest in the topic at hand.
“There was a tiny incursion in the Canadian countryside yesterday, but a new Vanguard literally burned it out before it could really begin. She seems interesting, considering her style, but unfortunately I doubt fire would really be useful here.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
With a sigh, my grandfather places his fork down and responds, annoyance obvious in his rather brittle, aged tone.
“Richard, how many times have I told you that it’s a fool's errand to try and control vanguards?”
“Father, I understand that, but you know we need all the help we can get for the infestation.”
I flinch as my grandfather slams his fist into the table, an audible crack coming immediately after.
“I don’t need any goddamn help, Richard. If you’re going to try and help someone, fix your damn son’s inability to close an already done deal first!”
I pale as a chill runs down my spine, everyone’s eyes turning to me. My heart begins to race, all the excuses I had come up with on the trip home flee my brain. This was far worse than I had expected, and I know I have to come up with something quick.
“I-I…”
Before I can even get a full word out, my brother nonchalantly interrupts me.
“I’m going to space with Eren tonight, Grandfather.”
My mother audibly gasps, and the entire room’s dichotomy shifts towards my brother. My jaw hanging, I watch as my brother stretches his arms above his head.
“You all are planning something big, and I don’t want him to be alone during that.”
My grandfather, obviously amused, gives a hearty huff of amusement.
“You and Haifisch, huh? Color me surprised, I’m impressed you managed to do this under my nose. Guess I’ll see you there.”
Who is Eren? Space? Completely out of the loop, I watch as my mother drops her utensils and stands, leaning on the table as she does.
“What the hell?! What about your work?”
My brother scoffs, taking a large bite of fish before responding.
“I can just hire someone actually skilled at the job to do it for me.”
With a groan, my father places his fork down, turning to look at my brother.
“Tristan, that isn’t how this works. You can’t just leave everything to go on a trip with someone we barely know.”
“Honestly, that’s exactly how this is going to work, because I am an adult and can do what I want.”
I nearly fall out of my chair as my mother screeches like a banshee beside me, something I had never heard her do before. Deep inside of my head, I begin to feel a migraine form.
“Ugh! What if you die up there?! No one would be able to take your place!”
“I’ll be fine, but in the worst case scenario you can just have Anthony take my place as heir.”
I feel my heart plummet at my brother’s words, immediately understanding what was going on. Everything in the last two years he had done to mend the gap between us, all for a quick grab at freedom. The worst part was, I couldn’t even be mad at him.
“No! That’s not how this works! He might as well be useless, and I can’t have another child!”
The entire room freezes at her words, and my mother visibly hesitates before turning to look at me. The migraine has taken full hold at this point, and I shakily stand up. Feeling the beginning of tears beginning to form, I quickly decide that I definitely should not show myself breaking to these people and take a few steps backwards.
“I-I’ll talk to you all l-later.”
“Wait, Anthony, I didn’t-”
Without waiting for her to finish, I storm out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind me. I turn my implants off, and though I hear a few muffled protests behind me, I continue on my path. As I re-enter the lobby, I feel a hand grab my wrist, but I don’t bother to turn and see who it was. Wrenching my arm out, I dash towards the eastern hallway leaving murmurs behind me.
No more attempts are made to stop me, and I lock the door behind me as I enter my bedroom. I almost collapse to my knees, but I stop myself and manage to get onto my bed as the floodgates break. A deep sob escapes my lips as I push my face into a pillow, and I can feel the fabric dampen against my face.
I had experienced direct and blunt rejection from my grandfather before, so I’d been pretty prepared for his outburst… I couldn’t say the same for what happened afterwards. The combination of my brother essentially dropping all of his responsibility onto me and then my mother blatantly cursing me as she stood right beside me shattered something deep within me.
I hadn’t been under the impression my mother loved me, but she had never been outwardly hostile to me before today. The way she had stated that I was inadequate as a matter of fact, that I was less useful then a child she couldn’t even have, stung.
My brother’s betrayal totally and truly hurt worse than anything my mom did or could have said, however. We'd talked, just a week before I left for New New York, about getting me an apartment on one of the lower levels so that I could have a safe place to go if something like this were to happen. It had given me a bit of hope that when I came back from the trip I could have some kind of backup.
I doubted that would ever come to fruition now.
The next few hours are a blur of panic attacks, my consciousness fading in and out with periodic sobbing and fretting in the times I am lucid enough to do so. Eventually, I calm down enough to notice it was dark, the sun having hidden away as I was doing. Groggily, I rise to see that while I was sleeping, someone had unlocked my door and brought a tall glass of what I assumed was water for me, placing it onto my desk.
Carelessly I reach over, and without looking at the liquid first I take a drink. As the liquid flows down my throat, something else does too. In disgust I chuck the glass at my bedroom door as hard as I can, the glass crashing into the wooden door, sending shards of glass down to cover the floor. A bit confused and a tad panicked at having swallowed something unknown, I begin to rush over to see the remains of my reflexive action, only to freeze in horror when I saw what could only be something that I had never seen outside of pictures.
A small swarm of antithesis model sevens wriggled around in the pile of broken glass, their maggot like bodies doing their best to wriggle towards me. As the worms began to approach, I did what any rational person would probably do in this situation; I began to stomp with my right foot, doing my best to eliminate what I knew as a direct threat to both my and potentially other’s lives. I didn’t care that they had betrayed me, berated me, hated me. I wouldn’t let these things kill the people in my home.
I wince as the shards of glass pierce my skin when my foot hits the ground, but I ignore the pain as I continue to stomp until I see all the worms beneath me dead. It takes a minute, but I can’t help but take a deep breath of relief when I see the damned things stop moving. A sharp pain in my chest leads me to place my hand near my heart, terror filling me as I feel something move beneath my skin, then I nearly faint as a second and more intense shock bounces around my brain.
And then, it happens, a honey-smooth and feminine, yet obviously artificial, voice with a teensy bit of a southern swing slips into my mind.
System Initialized!
Congratulations. Through your actions you have proven yourself worthy of becoming one of the Vanguard, a defender of humanity. I am Anyvi. I will assist you to uplift humanity so that you may defend your homeworld from the Antithesis threat!
Rise, Anthony Montero, and become a protector of the weak!