New World Disorder

Chapter Eight

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

"How was your day?" Tetyana asked. She was the only one in the apartment when he arrived.

"Surreal," he muttered.

"More so than usual?" She handed him a smoothie, still cold and frothy. He took a slurp and smiled. The flavor memory carried powerful positive associations. Her smoothies had been one of the best things about living in this troubled family for Oran.

"It was certainly the weirdest day in in school I can recall." Possibly in either life, he added silently.

"Care to tell me about it?" She sat down across the bar from him. Oran looked into her dark blue eyes and saw real concern. Always a sucker for a pretty lady, even if she is way too young.

"I guess the events of the past few weeks have caused me to grow up some. Everyone is saying I've changed and no one knows what to make of those changes. Myself included, if I'm being honest," Oran mused.

"I've seen changes. That is not a bad thing. At your age, I was different girl every other day. It is nature." She reached out and cupped his cheek. Her hand was so very warm. "Be who you are. That changes? Be the new you. You are a good person to be."

When she reached forward, her long sleeve pulled back revealing a slight discoloration on her wrist. Oran noticed it. He realized he had seen similar discolorations in the past, though not often. Pope thought they might be signs of a particularly accident prone domestic worker, or they might be symptoms of some sort of abuse. He decided to keep a closer eye on her, having heard that confronting abuse victims often put them on the defensive.

He tried to change the subject. "Are things going to be easier for you now we are all back in school?"

She just smiled and replied, "A domestic goddess' work is never done." She waved as she retreated into the utility room.

Oran watched her, wondering who might have been mistreating her. Jock and Eric sprang to mind, but it could be a boyfriend or some enemy. He had no idea if she had a life outside the apartment. The old Oran had never paid that much attention to her.

After finishing the smoothie, Oran realized he was no longer hungry and had no real desire to endure another uncomfortable dinner with the Coleman's. In his room, he changed into some running clothes thinking a workout was in order. He grabbed the bag with his costume hidden in the false bottom just in case he wanted some real exercise. On his way out he shouted to Tetyana, "I'm going out for a run. I won't be here for dinner."

She just waved in response.

It was almost 5 p.m. The streets and subways would be packed. He crossed into Central Park, heading for a wooded area Oran's memories told him would likely mostly deserted, even at this hour. The area was said to be frequented by criminals and dangerous sorts. In the past he would have avoided the area because of that reputation. Now he was somewhat excited by the prospect of another encounter.

He pulled up his hoodie and started jogging towards the target spot. The park was crowded, but as he neared the remote woods the crowd thinned dramatically. Rounding a copse of trees, he found himself alone. A quick perusal with his enhanced vision showed no one was in sight. Grabbing the mask out of his bag, he slipped it on. This was followed by the tunic and the tights, with their integrated boots. Oran noticed the hidden lifts and subtle heels built into the footwear. Carl had suggested it as a discrete way to physically differentiate Pulsar from Oran. Never too fond of his short stature, Oran had not complained.

Once in costume, Oran shot into the air as fast as he could without creating a disturbance at his launch site. He was out of sight of the park goers in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately the faster he flew, the brighter the energy trail he left in his wake. He found out later a tourist had actually gotten most of his takeoff on camera, as the video became a fifteen minute sensation on the net.