It was that dream again. The one with the ocean and the beautiful kingdom in the skies. Where I always strive to reach it, but I always feel hands pull me back. Tying me here- preventing my escape. Those voices calling me, of people I dislike and want to get away from- but somehow I have to turn back for them. I never understand dreams like that- of why I'm stranded and surrounded by hate, with an illusion of paradise so very close. I always awaken from that dream feeling disconcerted, nauseous.

In this world of change and evolution, I sometimes wonder about reality. In my dreams I would walk for miles and get nowhere. Life was very much the same thing. I would see people who always have places to go, people to see. And I would always be the outsider, watching as life steadily passes. Watching and unable to do anything about it. Unable to cry out to others that I was there, that they were passing me by. I was, and will always be, a third wheel- an unassuming eye. A ghost, if you must. A ghost with a physical form and a numb mind.

It is said that immortals cannot love nor hate, for such extreme emotions have been stripped from their being at birth. There is only like and dislike, and a heart-tugging loneliness. Immortals will stop aging when their life has been drastically changed, shocking their very cells into a standstill. For that reason, most immortals are either children of will live out their entire lives and die like a normal human being.

But there's not much known about immortals... are they really immortal? Will they continue to live forever if they aren't killed? No one knows... because immortals have not populated this earth for very long. They are not the old and wise that one would expect. They do not have extraordinary strengths and healing powers. It's not even sure if they can only life as long as humans do or not.

Why? Because it hasn't been long enough since immortals appeared for scientists to say anything. Mankind has only recently started to evolve again, into different groups and categories. Subspecies of man, one would say. Monsters. Different. Some were called gifts from God, others were called demons.

I am called Nanashi. This is my take on the Age of Evolution, unfiltered by love or hate. I am of the oldest immortals surviving, at the age of fifty-eight. Yet my physical appearance has stopped aging at the age of eleven, during the year of the burning.

This is a record of pain and disillusionment, of bigotry and discrimination. And all in all, of acceptance and humility. A story of a heart more pure than gold....

“Weekly checkup, Nanashi?” Dr. Maclain asked with no little humor. He was holding his clipboard up to his eyes as I sat gingerly on one of the beds. Luckily, I had been tall for eleven, or else things would have just been harder for me. It wasn’t easy being just under five feet for as long as I’ve lived. “Not like there’s been anything wrong with you for the past half century. Overly cautious, or just curious about the other patients?”

I had long since figured that the good doctor was a talkative one, though it had taken years for me to get over the annoyance I felt when he talked so much. In fact, I had learned to enjoy his chatting quite a bit. Things sure do change with time, doesn’t it?

“How are the others, doctor?” I asked, ignoring and answering his previous question. I sat still as he picked up a needle to draw blood from my arm.

He clucked a bit as he tapped the needle, but answered, “Amy’s been asking about you. Hasn’t seen you in a while- she wants to show you her current control over the fires. Apparently, she still feels guilty about last time. Wants to make up for it, I think.”

I kept my face carefully blank. Amy was the youngest pyrokinetic found, and had nearly burned off all my hair by accident the last time I saw her. A sweet girl really, someone who could easily be taken advantage of given her nature to try and please people. The poor girl was three when she burned down her own house in a fit. Of course, no one’s told her that yet. She still doesn’t know why she’s an orphan, as it’s very dangerous to upset pyrokinetics, for obvious reasons. But unlike fantasy novels, the fires aren’t started with their minds. It’s started with body heat and they can’t just ‘make’ a fire. It has to start somewhere on themselves, because of certain chemicals and oils produced by their own body that covers and protects the skin. It creates a very flammable texture that shields their body from fire and at the same time, subtly encourages flames to dance upon their skin. Very different from hydrokinetics, who attract and repel liquids.

Dr. Maclain continued without noticing my moment of thought. “And we found a new type two weeks ago that I forgot to tell you about before. Mutants, some people say. I say that they’re children who deserve to be cared for. No one knows what these batch of children can do- it’s just that they don’t look quite human. Poor things barely have any nerve patches running through their body. Can’t feel much, whether it be pleasure or pain. Their parents refused to give them up, saying that they were miracles gifted to them- have cat eyes, they do, and a tail of hair like a horse. Wouldn’t harm a fly, any of them. At least they all had loving parents, seeing that those children were only born to couples who had tried for years and were almost declared sterile. But being taken away from their parents like that? It’s a tragedy.”

I made no reaction as the needle slipped into my arm. Another type identified. It was almost as if because we had been killing off species, nature was going to refurnish the earth by creating more and different human species.

“So,” Dr. Maclain said nonchalantly. “Going to take up the job offer of historian?”

I thought about it for a while. The job offer had been open to me a month ago, seeing it was me who had seen most of the evolution. I had been there through the vital ages and changes, and been companions with the woman who had started to change the hate in hearts of people and turn it into acceptance. Beautiful Helen, whom I had cared so deeply for. The closest to love that any immortal was going to get.

“I’ve given it come thought.” I admitted as I rubbed my arm.

“And…?”

“And the only reason that you want me in that position is because I’m the one who has seen everything and have been unnoticed by all. And I might live through all of this. So I’m the most obvious choice. Yes, I’ll take the job. But it has to be on my time and my terms.”

Dr. Maclain rolled his eyes. “I would say ‘of course’ but I’m not the one who makes these decisions. You might want to take it up with the old boss upstairs. But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t deny you much.

Not continued

Home