Killer Instinct

Chapter I

I.

THE YEAR 2993

I've never been normal. There have been so many days, so many nights I wished, prayed to God that he would take my abilities away.

Later on did I realize what I was asking; for Him to take away my very identity. Birds don't ask God to take away their wings, and fish don't ask God to take away their fins. Who was I to hate myself?

The first moment my mother realized I was a Mental, she cried. Because that meant she would have to hand me over to the government.

We had been in the grocery store shopping, and I had been three years old. My mother had been pushing me up and down the aisles in a electro-cart, and I had happily entertained myself until we approached the cookie aisle. I had wanted synthetic chocolate cookies; but they were expensive. Chocolate is all but a rare delicacy now, the Coco Plant almost extinct.

My mother had said no; my father had just died, and now, it would be just the two of us. We didn't have much money, we really never did. Her family was rich, but she'd cut off all association with them after she'd married my father.

Thinking about it, a woman of only twenty-four years, alone in the world with a young child must've been scared senseless. The man she'd given up everything for had just died serving his country, leaving her alone to be a mother.

I had cried for that chocolate, and my mother had cried right along with me. She wanted me to have it so bad, I think. She hated to deny me anything.

I was wishing so hard for a taste of synth-chocolate cookies; tasting it in my mouth, feeling it in my hands. And then they were there. Cookies in my hand.

I had been so happy, overjoyed, and immediately proceeded to happily eat them. But my mother had taken one look at me, her sapphire colored eyes widening, and then she immediately burst into tears again.

I had just made cookies appear in my hand. It was clear what I was.

I was a Mental.

The US Government had taken an interest when the Mental Phenomena was first identified by Dr. W.H. Rhineheart in 2056. Ever since then, all Mental children were to be forfeited as soon as their abilities became apparent. Disregard of that rule was a treason charge. The law was called Federal Order 26991, called it F.O. 26991 for short.

So while I happily ate my cookies, little did I know that my mother was sobbing tears of acceptance.

The agents came to get me later that afternoon, after I'd woken up from my nap. They had been sitting at the table in their expensive synth-silk black suits, talking in subdued tones with my mother.

"Hello Isley." The tallest man said, standing to his feet. His smile was very white and his eyes were very pretty. Very dark and brown.

"Hello," I called out in my high ringing voice.

"Are you coming with us?" He asked. "We're going to go some place nice, where you can play and have fun."

I watched his face, then looked at my mother. She was still crying, her eyes dark with sadness. She nodded at me.

"Will you bring me back?" I asked, sensing something was amiss.

The other man, sitting in the chair next to my mother laughed, a short barking sound.

"Go with the nice men, Isley." My mother said, her voice shaking, but firm.

"But where will you be? I know you're not coming with us. Where are you going to be?" I asked, not wanting to leave my mother. I never left my mother.

"I'll be here." My mother told promised. "I won't ever leave."

The short man stood, his face bearded, his eyes were a hard flint grey. He stared down at me shrewdly and whistled. "Mel, look at her. She's at least a Level 5. She speaks in complete sentences and she's only three years old."

"I just thought she was smart for her age." My mother sniffled, her fine blonde hair quivering with her choked breaths as she struggled to stop crying.

"Unprecedented intelligence at an early age is a symptom of the Mental Syndrome. If you read your parenting books, you could've spotted it sooner. Sometimes it takes years for a child's abilities to manifest. We have to catch these things ahead of time." The taller man said kindly.

"She is an extraordinary child, to have projected so early. They were synth-chocolate cookies, you say?"

"Yes." My mother sniffed.

"We've got a shifter alright." The short man shook his head. "God, we haven't had one of those yet."

"My daughter isn't a collectable." My mother snapped, her voice sharp, angry- that voice she used that let me know she would move the earth and mountains for me.

"Your daughter," The short man said curtly, "is property of the US Government now. She's whatever we want her to be. And nothing, not even your parents could've saved you from that."

"Listen here," My mother stood from her chair, but the short man pulled something blocky and black out of his holster.

"I'm going to have to ask you to remain where you are." The short man said.

The tall man glared at his partner.

"For God's sake! She's a twenty-four year old widow losing her only child. Give her a break."

He touched my mother's shoulder. "I'm sorry ma'am. I truly am."

"Will I..." My mother paused, as if not wanting to dare hope, but desperate to ask anyway. "Will I get to see her?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but no." The man shook his head. "We need her. Plain and simple."

"What will you do with her?" My mother asked, her voice frantic.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that. This is goodbye ma'am. As for as we go, this child no longer exists. She was never born." He stared at her for a long moment, and she stared back into his eyes as if in a trance.

And then she blinked, shaking herself. Her eyes were no longer said, and she no longer shook with grief.

"Have a nice day, Agent Spielman." My mother said pleasantly, smiling.

"Goodbye, Ava."

And as we left, the tall man holding my hand as he escorted me into the big shiny black car sitting in my driveway, I knew he had done something to make her forget me. And then, I remember myself reasoning that he had done a good thing. It had taken her sadness away. But with my own mother forgetting my existence, it was as if I had never existed at all.