Chapter 52 Ramping Up
“On my journey to Earth Bulwark, I asked my guide why the people don’t build walls to keep out the many threats that be.
He laughed, and told me anything truly threatening could not be stopped by a mere wall.” - I. La, the Bamboo Hat Meister.
Aiden reread the book, his other hand swirled a scalding flask of yellowish liquid. He barely noticed the heat of the agar as he poured it onto a petri dish. His eyes glossed over the book one last time, confirming for the fourth time he was doing it correctly.
It took a moment for the media to solidify. The process greatly reminded him of making jelly, despite the fact he had never made jelly. He cleaned his hands with an ethanol spray, the book recommended gloves, and to NOT contaminate media with your bare hands, however his power required skin contact.
Aiden sunk a finger tip into the agar media. “E. coli.”
There was a brief moment of loss. The memory gone from his mind, such that he barely even recognised that he had lost something. But the purpose of what he was doing, the action he had set out to do, even if he forgot the subject, was still there. He muttered the name of his power, “Colorful.” He moved all the tattoos on his finger onto the media. Nothing visibly changed, but when he withdrew his hand and tried to absorb everything on it, no memories returned. Success.
Bacteria were obviously too small for him to see with his naked eye, especially when he was only capable of creating one cell at a time. He tried colony, group, bunch, and other synonyms, but Colorful was clearly limited to one lifeform at once, no matter how small. Aiden took out a few more petri dishes, ready to pour more media, only to pause in surprise.
The media in the flask had solidified.
“Ah, Four?” he called out with a slight hint of embarrassment.
One head of the three headed monkey looked up from his book, “Don’t worry, I was expecting this.”
“Sorry, I should’ve poured them all out at once huh?” he replied.
“I kept spares.” Four hopped off his seat, one head and hand still dedicated to reading his book. His spare hand pulled a brain out of one of his containers, putting it into his one empty head. Four opened the incubator, “Banach-Tarski Paradox.”
The spare flask in the incubator split into two, and he passed the new one to Aiden.
“Thanks,” Aiden called out as filled out six more petri dishes, emptying the flask. “Streptococcus pneumoniae, Salmonella, Clostridium perfringens, Clostridium botulinum, Clostridium tetani, and Vibrio cholerae.”
He lidded each of the petri dishes. Stacking them and opening a separate incubator dedicated to the task.
“Wait,” Four held up a hand, “those samples are all anaerobic aren’t they?”
Aiden paused, he used to know the answer. He went back to the book, and a moment later, he confirmed, “Yes, yes they are.”
“Use the box and the packets then, they’re in the back, and flip the dishes over. You don’t want condensation to fall from the lid onto the sample.”
“Won’t the sample fall?” he asked.
“Not at all, they adhere to the media perfectly fine.”
“I knew that,” Aiden replied. It was true, he used to know that. “Thanks again for letting me use the school lab.”
“You won’t when I send you a bill for the materials,” the monkey teacher replied.
“Even though you can freely replicate them?”
“The amount you’re paying is for labour costs.”
After properly putting away the dishes, he got a message, though not the one he was expecting.
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Sarah Sour’s sweet store was closed despite the working hour. The door was unlocked when Aiden tried it, and he walked in to find the old woman with another masked figure.
“Awesome mask,” the man told him.
“Thank you,” Aiden replied.
“You guys can network afterwards,” Sarah grumbled, shuffling off her seat. “You know the drill, Blend S.”
The octopus wasted no time. “Blend, Vaguery, Moult,” it said in succession, before it began its mechanical whirl.
“Person, you can leave, Tao Tie, I have something to discuss with you,” Sarah said.
The other masked waved as he left, not waiting for a response. It was only a long time after that Aiden realised he could not recall any specifics of the man.
“What do you need me for?”
The old woman rifled around her shelves, muttering softly to herself as she collected three different candies. “You need to stop taking so many requests. Take a break.”
Aiden paused for a moment. “Why?”
Sarah sat down in her office chair with a soft groan before answering. “You’re not the only M.I.A kid who comes here. I have an unspoken agreement to keep as many of you kids busy as I can. Helping people instead of doing something stupid with your powers.”
He nodded.
“I’m basically a nanny,” she remarked.
‘Well, I wasn’t going to say the quiet part aloud,’ he thought.
“But you’ve been taking too many jobs, so the other kids are bored. What I’m saying is take a break to let other kids on the playground.”
Aiden frowned, “I’m not going to pass up on money if I can help it.”
“That’s why I’m bribing you,” she presented the three candies. One a familiar scaly white, the second a rich lime green, and the last a softly glowing yellow. Oddly, that one looked somewhat familiar as well, though he could not place it.
“First one is yours, eating it allows you to entirely shed your skin once, leaving it baby smooth afterwards. You can use it to substitute a hit or create a nearly identical skin suit of yourself.”
“Second one is regenerative, good for recent physical wounds that aren’t life threatening. If they are life threatening they can stabilise someone until they reach a hospital. Lasts for an hour. Right now demand for it would be high, I’ll message you an appropriate sale sum for it if you plan on selling it.
“Third and final, allows you to teleport to a place you’ve been before. Its other condition is that it has to be somewhere that you can walk to in five minutes, disregarding any restraints of course. It has a decently high priority so it’s hard to disrupt, spends your own Hume so be sure to be careful. Take one of them.”
“You should have begun with that,” Aiden muttered as he examined the candies. Upon closer inspection, he recognised the glowing colour of the third candy. It was similar to the footprints his classmate Ejohar Wager left behind. “These three are all defensive and utility candies.”
“Glad to see you’re still not an idiot,” she replied. “I only give these out. Having more protection tools out there is always better than the other one.”
“That is a good policy,” he murmured. “I’ll take the healing.”
Sarah squinted at him. “That isn’t for you, is it?”
He paused. “Am I that easy to read?”
“No, in fact you’re better at hiding stuff than most. I’m just especially good at that stuff. Your candy grants a degree of regeneration, so you undoubtedly already have that power. Who is it for?”
Jaiden’s face briefly flashed through his mind, before he shook his head, “I’m holding it in case one of my friends gets injured.”
It was only for recent physical injuries. It likely wouldn’t work on her.
She murmured something under her breath, his enhanced ears managed to catch, “...precocious brats…” before she spoke aloud, “Take another one.”
He stood awkwardly where he was.
“What?” she asked with an annoyed tone.
“May I have another of the regeneration candies?” he asked. “One of better quality. I’ll buy it from you.”
“That one also isn’t for you, is it?” she asked him.
Of course not, if he was going to get two regeneration candies, he might as well test one on Jaiden, or just have it handy for someone else.
Sarah shook her head, “I’m afraid not, these things are in high demand nowadays. War with Hell and all that nonsense.” She spoke the last part with an annoyed tsk. As if a global catastrophe was a personal affront to her. “I’m only parting with that one since it’s middling.”
He had a moment to think then. While he was interested in the candy produced from him, which was a weird thought out of context, he ultimately took the teleportation one given his recent experiences of being trapped and unable to escape.
“May I ask a question?” he asked as he picked the candy.
“Shoot,” she replied.
“You have the ability and resources to heal your own wounds,” he said, looking at her missing fingers.
“M.I.A doesn’t teach you anything?” she asked, shaking her hand. “Of course I can. But this hand and limp became conditions without me realising. Everything does eventually, and it becomes worse the older you are. Their benefit to my power now is greater than a few day to day inconveniences.”
“I understand,” Aiden nodded as he headed for the door. “Have a good day Sarah.”
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“And don't accept so quickly next time! It makes it obvious you have something else lined up,” she called out as he left the shop. “If you need a reference you have my number.”
Aiden thanked her as he left, briefly contemplating the surrealty of his life now that he was getting references from powered candy criminals.
A distance away, Aiden placed the regenerative candy inside his go-bags first aid kit. For a moment he looked at the scalpel inside the kit. Then, with a pop, he removed the fake hand Wren had gifted him.
A small, baby hand was growing out, getting visibly larger by the day.
The limits of his own regeneration meant it couldn’t regrow a limb, but the potion he was force fed grew enough of a structure that his regeneration could take over, and slowly grow it in size over time. It was like a balloon, his regeneration could not make a balloon, but it certainly could blow one up to full size.
Now he was contemplating whether or not he should amputate the new growth, and go one handed for the rest of his life.
He idly spun the scalpel. It would be him actively setting a condition. He wasn’t sure if he could create an entirely new facet to his power, that seemed to be locked to metas who had Expansions. But he was certain, given the rules he knew, that he could empower some aspect of it greatly.
In the end, Aiden closed the first aid kit and slipped the fake hand back on. There was a sense of finality, like a sprout withering, its dust and rot returning to earth. He had chosen to put an end to a burgeoning limitation.
Instead he pulled out a small, hand sized notebook from his bag. As he flipped through the first few pages, he saw numerous still images of various creatures and animals. So lifelike one might think they were looking at the sketchbook of the world’s most talented artist.
He reached a blank page, wedged there was a piece of paper detailing the meaning of several words, Frozen, Stasis, Unmoving, Still.
Aiden read it and tattoos appeared on his skin. Moving off his hand and onto the pages of the book, creatures shrunken to fit the margins of the page. He did this until roughly a quarter of Oros became overgrown with plants, and he had been doing this every time he had full Hume. The serpent even woke him up in the middle of the night just for this purpose.
Aiden didn’t need to go one handed, however banking Hume was just practical.
It was in the evening that he got the message he had been waiting for.
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The Rain that Beholds the Morning Grass was meditating atop the rooftop when she sensed the Son of Fire.
He sensed her as soon as she did. That strange supernatural sense all Gifted had that allowed them to detect Bleed made her stand out like a beacon, despite their significant difference in ability. Most of her normal techniques could do nothing against it. And they called her a mage. Gifted abilities were magic. Cultivation was just cultivation.
The Son of Fire landed softly on the rooftop. Living tattoos of tentacles withdrew from his gloves. “I’m here.”
Something was different.
His tone had changed, there was barely concealed rage in his voice the last time they had met. Revealing the beast behind the trappings of civilisation. That was no longer there. Had the Son of Fire reined his feelings? Rain immediately dismissed that notion. This was not merely the control of emotions, but a complete absence of one.
Without a change in expression, she said, “My benefactor believes you trustworthy enough to join us, but others do not quite believe people are easily tamed.”
The doorman was needlessly anxious, but she entertained his paranoia.
“And what do you think?”
‘That you have somehow excised all feelings of wrath from your mind, to the point where you no longer even consider vengeance.’ “That you are certainly going to try to betray or kill us, but I am strong enough to prevent that from happening.”
He did not answer that, there was no reaction, nothing but a clinical look over her. It was as if she were a complete emotional blank for him. He did not even seem unduly worried about the unspoken possibility that she had invited him here specifically to kill him.
Rain rose, “Follow me Son of Fire, I’ll modulate my pace so that you can keep up.”
She leapt to the next building as easily as a child may play hopscotch. Aiden followed a breath later.
His movements were smooth and practised. His training was effective, and highly adapted to urban terrain. If Rain ever opened a sect, she considered adding a changing obstacle course as part of the daily routine.
Though Rain had to slow herself to allow Aiden to keep up, they made good time. Arriving soon at a silent home.
Aiden stopped to catch his breath as he landed behind her, “What are we here for?”
“One of our mortals ceased reporting a while ago, and an omen dictated his death.”
That last portion did not need to be said, since both of them could smell the scent of death. As well as… an acrid, sour smell that she could not quite place.
“I don’t sense any Bleed, it’s of our world,” Aiden provided as she stepped forward. So it was either natural death or native Gifted.
Rain was supposed to let Aiden go through the door first, in case there was a dangerous ability behind it. But she was eminently the more durable of the two, so without hesitation she pushed open the door, breaking the lock in the process.
Aiden wrinkled his tattooed nose as a stench of stale decay hit them. Garbage and refuse went up to her knees, black bags filled to bursting festered inside.
“I think I know what this is,” Aiden murmured behind her as they waded through.
She glanced at him, but he did not elaborate. They stayed in silence until she kicked open the bedroom door.
The corpse lay on the bed as if still sleeping. Its flesh was desiccated and thin like a dry reed. Piercing the skin were random pieces of rusted metal, shards of clouded glass, and paper packaging painted with old and faded colours. By the looks of it, they seemed to have appeared inside the body rather than added after death.
“Looks like the Pacific Threat got him,” Aiden said.
She turned to him again. He was hiding his right hand for some reason, though he tried to be non-obvious about it.
“I’ve never gotten a clear explanation on what that is,” she simply stated.
“Not a surprise, humanity has long lost the right to name or describe it,” he replied, walking forward and poking the corpse. His right hand was still hidden to her. “It’s better if you don’t know, this man must’ve accidentally uttered its-”
Aiden stopped.
He had said too much.
Aiden pulled up his sleeve, and Rain could see several small bumps on his arm. Changing his index finger to a claw, the Gifted deftly dug out two rusted bottle caps, a soggy cigarette bud and a piece of cardboard packaging for a product that no longer existed.
Without missing a beat, he opened his bag and went about cleaning and disinfecting the wounds with the alcohol from his first aid kit.
“Son of Fire, this man died in his sleep,” Rain stated.
“And?” Aiden said.
She chuckled, “I see.”
It didn’t matter if he was aware he said it. How dangerous.
“You seem rather unbothered by this,” Aiden stated as he wiped the dribblings of the disinfectant. The implication went unspoken, things here died with a word accidently muttered in one's sleep. She could die just as easily.
“You forget even immortals die,” Rain replied. “His soul has returned to the cycle of reincarnation, as will mine one day.”
Rain paused for a moment. ‘Forget?’
“Or maybe it won’t. I don’t know if your world has a cycle of reincarnation. It is certainly backward in that regard,” she played off her pause as she strolled into the kitchen. The scent of trash was overwhelming, but she still found the tea leaves within the cupboard.
“It must be nice to know where you go after you die.”
“Not really,” she said as she looked at the strange plastic kettle. “It means you know you are repeating an eternity of mistakes. There is no end.”
She filled the kettle with water, then placed it on the stove.
“That is not how you use an electric kettle.”
“Heat will boil water, I assume that is true in this world too?” Rain challenged.
“Yes but… why are you trying to make tea?” Aiden asked with an exasperated tone.
“I desire it, bereft of Breath it may be.”
He rolled his eyes as he reached past her, placing the kettle on a similarly-coloured plastic circle that had a wire plugged into the wall. Flipping the switch, the kettle lit up with a blue light and hum. “There, now please wait a moment.”
Aiden fished a few cups from the cupboards, while Rain took a seat by the table. When Aiden thought she wasn’t looking, he swiped his right palm with his left hand.
He finished brewing a teapot, and poured a cup for her. Rain tapped the table with her index and middle finger, which raised his eyebrow. “You use that gesture as well?”
Rain took a sip, “It is strange what similarities our worlds have. We both tap our fingers to thank for poured tea, yet fundamental things differ so greatly.”
She took another sip.
It was damn excellent tea.
The leaves weren’t of any noteworthy quality, completely base and benign, yet Aiden had somehow managed to maximise the flavour and temperature of it.
With a flick of her fingers, she took out a faded crimson feather, laying it beside her as she took a third enthusiastic sip.
“You are very good at brewing tea.”
“Thank you, though I am a coffee man myself.”
“Coffee?” she frowned. “How could anyone enjoy that black bog water?”
“I add sugar.”
“You better not extend that same treatment to tea,” she muttered dangerously. “When I learnt that this world adds sugars and creams to tea I almost slaughtered someone.”
Her face creased in anger at the thought. This world was truly a backwards hellhole in that regard. Rain poured herself another cup, at least there were some people capable of brewing a good pot.
“I suppose someone forgot to tell you about boba and iced tea,” Aiden said with a sly smile.
“Iced tea?” she said incredulously. “Tea is meant to be hot and-”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Your Gift allows you to create something at the cost of forgetting it, doesn't it?” she asked.
He paused at the sudden change of subject. Eyes narrowing. “Why would I answer that?”
“But you already have,” she replied, sipping her tea. “During our battle, you denied a path to victory because it would make you forget someone, or did you forget?”
Aiden tensed and swiped the palm of his right hand again, this time in the opposite direction.
“There’s a copy of me somewhere out there,” she gently stroked the crimson feather beside her. “I wonder if she is as strong as me. Ah! But don’t tell me.”
She wagged her fingers, “What is the term you use in this realm? ‘I don’t want to be spoiled.’”
“I don’t understand you at all,” he muttered.
“Don’t be so tense,” she said. “And I’ve already told you, though you have forgotten so I will tell you again.”
The Rain that Beholds the Morning Grass stroked the crimson feather at her side, “All things die. I will too, your realm has no air that I can breathe, while I am trapped here I am doomed to die a slow death of suffocation. And even if I save myself, gasp a single Breath of fresh air, it will only delay the inevitable.”
She placed a cup in front of him, holding the teapot aloft, “Sit down, drink some tea, for there is no immortality save in the memory of men. You may not understand me, but I am a simple creature. I failed my ascent through the Shattered Mountains, my path to immortality has been cut. My cultivation is naught but a fading shadow. I may return to my realm to begin my cultivation anew, or I may perish here in an airless land, it does not matter. ”
“Since I see no path in which I can return home,” Rain said, “a worthy battle is a blessing for me. Take your vengeance against me, slaughter me, eat me, rape me, turn me into a stepping stone for your own future. It does not matter. I won’t take it personally, for the moment I began my cultivation I already wrote myself off as dead. I will resist with all my might, and I hope you will reciprocate as a fellow Immortal Warrior.”
Aiden swiped across his right palm again and sat down. “I think I get where you are coming from.”
Rain poured the tea, and Aiden tapped the table with his index and middle fingers.
He drank the slightly cooled tea, and a moment of silence passed. “What is the feather?”
“It is a memento from a friend,” she raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, since you no longer remember me, I suppose I ought to reciprocate. I shall no longer call you by your name.”
“You were saying it wrong from the start,” Aiden muttered.
“Your language is crass and without subtlety, it’s less a language and more a street thug that mugs other languages of spare vocabulary.”
“I can’t say I disagree with that,” he replied as he took a sip.
“Now, what was that about ‘boba’, tea brewer?”