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SURHUMANS

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 01, 2018

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Submitted: January 01, 2018

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TO: Gerald B. Newton, Director - Dept. of Human Interest; Sector 4B-1

FROM: Clark Loard, Chief Executive - U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative

RE: SURHUMANS – Breach of Contract: COCOON TRAFFICKING

DATE: December 12, 2024

Director Newton,

It has come to the attention of the office of the Diplomatic Chief that heightened crime due to the trafficking of SURHUMAN cocoon placenta (P-17) in your sector has reached a level of drastic proportions. The repercussions of human P-17 abuse have led to heightened crime and death among the human population throughout the Northern Province. Over the course of one year, detailed analysis shows an increase of 47% in overall crime dealing with the distribution of P-17 in Sector 4B-1, far greater than any other sector. SURHUMAN COCOONING is at record heights and it is pertinent to the continuation of the human experience to eradicate any and all SURHUMAN COCOON REMAINS as quickly as possible. If you cannot find it within your capacity to eliminate this issue, you will be removed from your current office.

Regards,

Clark Loard

Chief Executive

U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative

***

“You gotta be shitt’n me!”

“No, I shit you not.”

“How is that possible? I just spoke with him last night.”

“Apparently, he straight up cocooned early this morning, fuckin’ dank motherfucker. Right on the fuckin’ toilet. Fitting. I bet he was in the middle of takin’ a shit when it happened!”

“That’s impossible. The change happens slowly, he could have moved from—wait a minute, how the hell would you know if he was sittin’ on the toilet?”

“My cousin Ralph walked in on him.”

“What the hell was Ralph doing there?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue, Mike. He just said he went over there, walked in and saw him all covered in goop and shit, sittin’ on the toilet. He wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Bullshit, Tony. Ralph told me the other day that he himself cocooned last week, said it was the best three days of his life. Come to find out, he was just shootin’ up P-17. You know how I know? Fucker went and robbed a convenient store the next day!”

“Oh shit! That’s right!”

“He’s a dumbass, Tony. Once you change, you can’t do shit like rob places

anymore.”

“I know Ralph’s an asshole, but I doubt he’d lie about Benny cocooning on the toilet. That’s just too fuckin’ hilarious!”

“I’m gonna go over there and see for myself.”

“I don’t know Mike. You know how people get once they change. Strange motherfuckers. Like fuckin’ robots.”

“Benny’s not a fuckin’ robot.”

“Not yet, he’s still gotta pop outta that fuckin’ thing. Then, he’ll be a robot.”

“I still think I should go over there, make sure everything is alright.”

“It’s gonna be a few days at least. Why go over there now?”

“I don’t know, make sure no one messes with him till he’s done?”

“Uh huh, or maybe it’s because it’s been a whole five minutes since y’all fucked one another, huh.”

“Blow me Tony.”

“You wish. Oh, and while you’re there, bag up some of that cocoon shit when he cracks outta that thing. Finally got an inside scoop on some P-17.”

“Always lookin’ to score—”

“You better fuckin’ believe it.”

“I’ll call you later Tony.”

“Peace out shithead.”

Click

***

The bus stop on 115th was considerably more crowded than usual at 2:30 in the afternoon on a Christmas Eve. It was snowing and the large digital marquee across the street read -4. Mike had made it to the empty bus stop bench just minutes before twelve other people showed up, desperate to find shelter inside the small hutch the bus bench sat. Three other men sat down on either side of him. One smelled like rotten cheese; which one, Mike was unsure of. The warmth from their bodies was enough, however, for him to settle on breathing through his mouth to avoid throwing up. His rear-end, numb from the lack of movement, seemed frozen to the cement bench in which he sat.

“Damn its cold!” Mike cried through chattering teeth.

“Excuse me?” A large woman bundled up to the eyelids approached the packed bench, a bag of groceries in hand. “Would any of you mind moving? My legs are killing me and I could really use a seat.”

“Tough luck lady, you should’ve gotten here sooner,” Mike replied basking in the stinky warmth of his bench buddies. The woman muffled something through her scarf, but it got lost in the mists of Mike’s lack of caring. The guy directly to his left suddenly stood up, a rush of icy air cut through every layer Mike had on. The cheese smell seemed to leave with him.

Ah, so it was you…

“Here you go ma’am,” the man said in a sandpaper voice through a grizzled beard.

“Bless you dear!” As she sat down, her large exterior wedged Mike against the remaining others on the bench.

“Shit, lady! Watch it!”

“You watch it, young man! Ugh! Chivalry truly is lost among—”

Mike could not make out the rest, he was suddenly distracted by a bony, shirtless man snow-blowing his yard across the street. His reaction to the woman’s wedging effect was merely a reflex. His droopy brown eyes examined the skeleton across the way toss snow from one place to another, until the rumble of the gray bus with its pond scum roof crept over the powdery road towards the bus stop. He fiddled around the assorted pockets of his over-sized winter coat until he found his bus pass. As the bus squealed up to the curb, he pushed off of the grocery-clad woman and bound for the open doors.

“Excuse me!” she cried

He slugged towards the back of the vacant bus, found an empty window seat and plopped down, knocking the snowflakes off his jacket as if they were bugs crawling all over him, uninvited.

"Dammit Benny” he said under his breath. “Why’d it have to be you?”

Before he could think of an answer, the rotund grocery lady slipped and fell in the isle on her way to a seat, landing hard on her wrists. Her shrieks of pain were like toothpicks jamming in his ears as the small bones in her wrist shattered like porcelain.

“Watch your step next time, idiot,” Mike said, just loud enough for only himself to hear. The cheese man quickly shoved his way through the people trying to get on, until he reached the fallen woman, gently helping her up.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked in his raspy voice.

“M-My wrists! Ah! I think they’re broken!”

“Let me have a look” he responded.

Mike watched as the bearded man from the bench stared at the wrists of the woman as if he had never seen a woman’s wrist before. No one in the bus seemed to move, their eyes locked on the commotion in the isle way. After a moment, the man shifted his grip on the woman’s wrists and closed his eyes. Thirty seconds later, the woman stopped her blubbering and looked down at her wrists, still in the strange man’s hands.

“Th-The pain! I-It’s gone!”

The man opened his eyes and released his grip, letting the woman’s wrists hang in the air. Mike shook his head in disgust and turned his gaze back towards the window.

“Thank you sir! Thank you!”

“It was nothing, ma’am.”

Moments later, as if nothing had happened, the patrons on the bus were all seated as it squealed away from the curb. Mike tried to shift his mind back to his friend Benny in the cocoon, but every time he tried he would just think about the event that just happened. Finally he gave up and closed his eyes in hopes to snag a nap for the next twenty minutes.

“Fuckin’ surhumans.”

***

TO: Clark Loard, Chief Executive - U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative

FROM: Gerald B. Newton, Director - Dept. of Human Interest; Sector 4B-1

RE: RE - SURHUMANS – Breach of Contract: COCOON TRAFFICKING

DATE: December 17, 2024

Chief Loard,

I have received your notification and respectively decline the notion that anyone capable of maintaining order in this sector can do so more efficiently than how it is currently being handled. I agree that the rising number of metamorphoses does bring a higher capacity for P-17 distribution, and there is no denying that a rise in crime dealing with the distribution of P-17 is ever present here in 4B-1. However, you have failed to recognize that of all the sectors in the Northern Province, 4B-1 has had the largest rise in metamorphoses without the addition of more law enforcement. Over the space of five months, our office has issued twelve (12) requests for additional support in order to combat this rising issue. Unless I am mistaken, those requests get granted through your office, Chief Loard.

The surhuman metamorphosis has not only been a leap forward in human evolution, but it has been a positive aspect to how we have strived currently to combat the issue. The surhuman’s ability to correct physical disruptions in the human body has allowed a huge leap forward in human medical practices. Hospitals around the Northern Province have commissioned their assistance, showing an increase in human recover times, of which you are aware.

Due to their new natural shift in moral perspective, their inability to act against the good of mankind, and their compelling drive to correct immorality and unlawfulness, we have seen fit to follow in the example of our medical professionals, and have reached out to the surhuman population for assistance. We have since deputized surhumans in the effort to combat the distribution of P-17. It is a newly applied technique that has yet to garnish vast results, but the potential is there. In other words, Chief Loard, WE ARE doing what we can to correct the issues here in 4B-1. If these actions do not seem fit within the administration, then I understand my being replaced. Until that time, with all due respect to those in office and to the administration of the U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative—we will keep moving forward as we have been.

Regards

Gerald B. Newton, Director

Dept. of Human Interest; Sector 4B-1

***

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie, Tony?”

“You are! Ralph fuckin’ said—”

Ralph’s a fuckin’ liar! How many times do I have to say it?!”

“…for real?”

“For real! The cocoon is in his bedroom. Benny must have felt the change coming on and just chilled in his room till it happened.”

“…serious? He ain’t on the shitter?”

“Let it go, bro!”

“Man, I’m gonna sock Ralph in his fuckin’ jaw the next time I see him, that filthy stin—”

“Tony…when did Ralph say he saw Benny’s cocoon?”

“Uh, this morning. He went over there around eight or so, I think.”

“…Have you ever seen one of these up close?”

“Of course I have, Mike! Hundreds of times, shit. How do you think I keep it deep—”

“Tony!”

“…I haven’t seen shit.”

“…Aren’t they supposed to be, like, soft when they first get made?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. I just know they’re hard as shit when they crack, oozin’ all that cheddar.”

“Tony, I’m standing right next to Benny’s cocoon and it’s hard as rock.”

“I bet it is, you fuckin’ perv.”

“Shut the fuck up and listen! How could this thing be crusted over after less than a day?”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ cocoon expert, Mike?”

“Why do I even bother with your dumbass?”

“Shit, if that thing’s already rock solid, he should be poppin’ out any minute! Benny, ole boy, yo ass is gonna make me rich!”

“You still don’t think it’s odd that it’s only been—”

“Can-it Mike, I’m on my way! Don’t tell nobody about Benny. That shit’s mine.”

“Fuck you Tony.”

“Love you too, bro. Peace.”

Click.

***

“Fuckin’ Tony, I could just…just…” The cocoon kept Mike from finishing his thought, simply because he could not stop staring at it.

Benny’s room was essentially a large box with a bed in the middle. Beyond the Metallica posters, Megadeath banners, and that random cardboard cutout of Limp Bizkit during the Wes Borland hiatus, there really wasn’t much else to offer any sense of life to that box other than the heaps of clothes and paper work strewn about. Not to mention the overpowering aroma of Old Spice and Flaming Hot Cheetos. 

“Benny, Benny, Benny…”

The bed groaned as Mike took a seat, his eyes still locked on the giant bulb that housed his friend.

“What the hell is going on in there?” He placed his hand gently on the cocoon, which glowed with a fluorescent hue. It was warm to the touch, and it vibrated. Yet it made no hum, nor did the heat from the surface radiate out. Mike lifted his hand off and immediately felt the unforgiving subzero temperature of the room. Then, after rubbing both hands together, he placed them both onto the smooth surface of the cocoon. It reminded Mike of when he was a kid making pinewood derby cars. The first step after carving was sanding, and he wasn’t allowed to paint the car until it was smoother than a newborn’s skin. This cocoon, it was ready for its first coat.

“Hope you don’t mind buddy, but it’s cold as hell.” His hands welcomed the heat as his body welcomed the vibrations. His muscles loosened and his thoughts began to float. Driving with Tony across the country last year rumbled into mind, the warm summer breeze whipping through the open windows of Tony’s car.

The purple sedan.

From the back alley behind the liquor store.

The one the old lady was driving.

Just before going in to buy last minute snacks for her grandchildren.

…she shouldn’t have left it unlocked.

Mike longed for the warmth and vibration to never cease. He needed it to reach the very core of his body, through the surface layers. He pressed his hands harder on the cocoon, hoping the added pressure would sponge out what he so desperately desired.

CRACK!

“What the—”

CRACK! CRACK!

“What the hell is happening?!”

Crevices began to form in the outer crust of the cocoon. The fluorescent glow that once illuminated the box of a room quickly diminished as the previously silent object now dealt deafening blows one after another.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”

Afraid of giant cocoon pieces flying off at deadly speeds, Mike hurled himself over the bed and cautiously peeked over the top to watch the unveiling of Benny. However, he soon learned there was no real danger, for one by one giant pieces of crust simply fell to the ground with a thud, as if a boulder had landed on the floor. As each piece fell away, a large gelatinous sac became more visible, squirming and writhing until it eventually slopped onto the floor with a liquidy plop.

“B-Benny?”

The crimson sac, shimmering in goo, continued to twist and turn until suddenly, a gloopy finger poked its way through…followed by another. One by one, Benny’s fingers made their way through the newly formed hole until they began to rip the fleshy sac apart like wet rubber.

“Ho-ly…”

***

TO: Gerald B. Newton, Director – Dept. of Human Interest; Sector 4B-1

FROM: Clark Loard, Chief Executive – U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative

RE: SECTOR 4B-1 REASSIGNMENT - TERMINATION

DATE: December 19, 2024

Director Newton,

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: The Department of Human Interest - Sector 4B-1 will be officially disbanded. All agency members will be individually re-assigned after thorough debriefing by emissaries of the U.S.D.H.I. Until a new Human Interest department is established, all accompanying responsibilities held previous will fall under the detail of the U.S.D.H.I.

Under the abiding legislation Section 3, addendum SH-0322: No SURHUMAN is to uphold a position in law enforcement. As a governing body, it is without reproach that the welfare of the human race must first be considered priority over that of the SURHUMAN. To oppose this mandate is to oppose the human race.

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: Gerald B. Newton – Due to insubordination, you have been terminated from the position of Director of Human Interest; Sector 4B-1.

Regards,

Clark Loard

Chief Executive - U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative

***

“Has he said anything?”

“No, he fuckin’ ripped out of his cocoon and went straight to the shower.”

“Fuuuuck! That’s insane!”

“It was really weird Tony. Like watching something on the discovery channel.”

“Sick! Now, before you start tellin’ me all about it, start baggin’ up that shit bro! I’m almost there.”

“Fuck you Tony! Benny just fuckin’ cocooned! He’s a surhuman! You know what that fuckin’ means?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ robot, dude!”

“No. It means that if I start baggin’ this shit up and he catches me, he’ll…stop me.”

“Oooooh, he’ll stop you? And will it make you cry ‘n shit to have your buddy slap your wrist for wanting to make some money off his gunk? Grow a fuckin’ pair Mike. That’s some serious money sittin’ there in that room!”

“Then you can take it. I’m not touchin’ that shit. Plus, its fuckin’ disgusting!”

“You’re such a pussy Mike. You ever think that maybe Benny could benefit from some extra dough? The fucker just lost his job bro. Maybe the right thing to do would be to sell that shit and make him some money! Ain’t no straight-shootin’ cocoon motherfucker gonna mess with that, right?”

“You’re an idiot…Shit! I think he’s done showering.”

“Don’t fuckin’ jizz your pants, bro. I know you can’t stop thinking about hi—”

“Shut the fuck up Tony.”

Click.

***

Benny walked into the kitchen where Mike had moved to. The smell of the cocoon placenta was enough to peel paint, so Mike closed the bedroom door behind him and made for the kitchen, staying by the sink should he feel the urge to hurl. Benny’s tall, lanky frame still looked the same. His brown hair was matted to his forehead and his jockey shorts hung loose off of his hips. Mike searched the cavern of his brain for words to say, but there was nothing but the echo of his pulsing heartbeat. Benny’s hoarse voice eventually broke the silence.

“Well…that was something.”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh, an anxious reflex that left him guessing whether it was genuine or forced.

“Shit Benny. How do you feel?”

“Hungry. Other than that, pretty much the same.”

“Crazy. Do you even know how long you were in there?”

“I don’t know, like three or four days? I remember it starting on Tuesday morning…”

“Benny, it’s Tuesday afternoon.”

“What?”

“Yeah! It took you less than a day! I don’t think that’s ever happened.”

“Huh. That’s nuts.”

The sound of crashing glass coming from the bedroom suddenly broke up their brief conversation.

“What the hell was that?” Benny asked.

They made their way to the bedroom, Mike ahead of Benny. As he opened the door, the smell of the placenta attacked Mike’s senses like a battering ram, almost knocking him to the floor. As he regained his bearings, he peered into the room to find a huddled mass in the midst of Benny’s afterbirth. The all-too-familiar overcoat and head cap left little to the imagination as Mike leaned down to grab the shoulder of Tony.

“What the fuck, Tony! Did you just break in through the window?”

As he spun Tony around, Mike stepped back in disgust as he watched his friend chewing mightily on the outer placenta lining from the floor, the fleshy fabric in which Benny had ripped open.

“Once you get past the gummy texture it’s not that bad.”

“You sick fu—”

“Oh shut it Mike. Just have some. Normally, I’d processes this shit and shoot it, but I could really go for a fix right about now. It won’t be as potent, but it’ll do.”

“Tony, we gotta burn this shit!”

“Burn it? Are you outta your fuckin’ mind? I’m retiring off this shit!”

Mike looked back to see Benny’s reaction, but Benny was nowhere to be found. Panic began to creep over him as he watched Tony trying to stuff the slippery afterbirth into a greasy backpack.

“Tony! Benny’s gone! He probably went to call the cops! He’s a surhuman now! He can’t help himself!”

“Well then get the fuck down here and help me—oh, hey Gerry! You’re lookin’ goo—”

The ringing in Mike’s ears from the blast of the shotgun took a minute or two to dissipate. Tony’s body flopped to the floor, a mangled hole in the place of his face gaped up towards the ceiling. Mike turned around to see Benny holding the smoking barrel of a shotgun, determination still plastered across his eyes.

“What the fuck Ben!”

“He was breaking the law Mike. P-17 consumption is illegal. Plus, he was gonna sell it. Rectification needed to be made.”

“But, I th-thought—surhumans can’t kill people!”

“I didn’t kill him. I stopped a crime.”

Mike searched every facet of his being for a semblance of a response, but ultimately fell upon what seemed to be (at least to him anyway in that moment) an insignificant question.

“Why did Tony call you Gerry?”

“That’s my name. Benny is short for Benjamin, my middle name.”

“What?”

“I made the mistake of telling Tony my first name and, well—”

“I—I don’t understand.”

Benny reached for a stack of papers from the nightstand in the room and handed them over to Mike, who hadn’t fully shaken the ringing sensation in his ears.

“This will explain everything.”

Mike quickly looked over what seemed like a host of corporate emails and memos regarding Surhuman characteristics and their ability to recognize immoral behavior. There was a detailed mission plan regarding the use of surhumans as law enforcement, due to their inability to shy away from immoral and unlawful acts. At the bottom of the stack were a few detailed memos regarding the change in government and the firing of a Gerald B. Newton.

“This is you?”

“Yes.”

“You told me you got fired a couple of days ago Benny, but I didn’t know you worked for the government!” Mike exclaimed. Benny chuckled in response.

“Yeah, and Mike…there’s a lot of work to be done. Tony was just a small part of the larger issue. And now, I can do something about it.”

“But—”

“Not buts, Mike. This is the way it is. If this doesn’t seem right to you, just know that nature won’t take that lightly. You’re either with her, or against her.”

***

TO: Clark Loard – U.S. Diplomatic Human Initiative

FROM: Gerald B. Newton

RE: RE - SECTOR 4B-1 REASSIGNMENT - TERMINATION

DATE: December 21, 2024

Chief Loard,

 

Go fuck yourself.

 

Regards,

Gerald B. Newton


© Copyright 2018 BrandonEverett. All rights reserved.

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