Microstory 2505: Health Smeller

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I can smell your health, and heal your ailments. I was Landis Tipton before Landis Tipton was Landis Tipton. While we gifted him with all of the Vulnerabilities, mine is the one that he uses primarily, if not exclusively. I want to make it clear that I did not waste my gift when I had it. I too healed people. It was at a smaller scale, but you have to understand that none of us believed that we could announce ourselves to the world. Before Landis was brave enough to stand in the spotlight, it felt too dangerous to be open to the public. We decided that we had to be very selective with our clients. Of course, that didn’t always work out, but we did our best. I think we helped a lot of people. Everyone we chose was entitled to a healing, but it was sort of usually considered secondary to the other—more abstract—therapies. People get sick; it’s a way of life, and I didn’t think that there was anything I could do about it. It didn’t even occur to us that my gift of healing could one day be synthesized into a mass-produced cure-all. What people really needed was to feel better about themselves, and realize their dreams, even if that meant shifting those dreams to things that were a little more realistic and attainable. I’m not saying that I was a pointless member of the team, but we did see our responsibility as being more holistic. On the contrary, my job was very important, and should not be discounted. You see, healing begins from within, but physical pain and suffering is real, and it can make it impossible to feel like your life can get better, even if you’ve not been stricken with some serious disease. Everyone has something. They have joint pain, or frequent headaches, or circulation issues. I could fix all of that. Maybe not permanently, but those first few days after the clients met us were incredibly vital. It was at least one less thing that they were worried about while they were trying to move on, and improve their situations. It gave them a new baseline by which they could judge the things that happened to them in the future, both good and not-so-great. Healthy body, healthy mind, as they say. I have heard people ask Landis what people’s health smells like, but I have never heard his answer. That’s probably because he’s so busy saving the world. That’s not me being resentful, but it does lead well into the answer to their question. When something is particularly wrong with someone, their health typically smells sickly sweet, like spoiled fruit. The disease is rotting away in their body, creating a build-up of waste, and generating a toxic smell that anyone would perceive as being wrong, if their noses were designed to detect the right signals. Poor general health, on the other hand, is bitter, with metallic overtones, and I could sometimes cure that too, but generally not. So if you ever meet Landis in person, and he’s a little shy or standoffish, I can’t speak for him, but that might be why. People just kind of smell bad all the time, even when they’ve been cured. It’s unsettling, but it’s part of the job, and I for one think that Landis faces it valiantly.

Microstory 1578: Nameless

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Prompt

I found a package on my porch. It was addressed to me, but had the wrong address. I don’t know how it got here, but I shrugged, and opened it up. Inside was...

Botner

...a huge bag of Reese’s Pieces (I don't even like Reese's Pieces) and...a shirt, and pants, and...a cardboard license plate? Who did this? Hey there! Yes, I know, that license plate looks pretty strange, but I thought it might help you identify yourself if you ever get pulled over. Here are the parts of it. There’s a 4x4 strip that says “Pickles Drive”. There’s a piece that says “Raging Bull” and another that says “Scotty Doesn’t Drive”. There’s a plate holder. It’s hard to make out the rest because the back part’s missing. I’m very disappointed to find out that it’s not just some kind of joke. I’m so excited! Did someone send me a gift? Can I open it now? Can I say thank you? Can I wear it? I think I’m going to cry. From: The [Nameless]. To: [Me]. From: [The Nameless]. Date: 12/16/13. Subject: Greetings and salutations and other nothings. To: [Me]. I really appreciate it! I haven’t tried the Reese’s Pieces yet, but my brother really likes them, and it would be a shame if I didn’t...

Conclusion

...at least eat a little bit of it. Someone went through all this trouble to make this care package for me, and it would be rude for me to completely ignore it. The fake license plate intrigues me. I feel compelled to use it, even though I obviously already have a state-issued plate on my car, and this would be extremely illegal. I remove that one, and affix the fake one in its place, just for fun, I guess. To my surprise, the cardboard transforms into metal, and looks totally authentic. You would never know that this isn’t the real thing. I now feel the urge to get in my car, and drive as fast as I can. I’ve never been much of a daredevil, and I don’t break the law. This is so not me, but I can’t stop myself. I stick to normal speeds while I’m in the neighborhood, and don’t go too terribly fast in the city, but once I’m out, all bets are off. I’m going ninety on a sixty-five, and pissing everyone off as I weave in and out of traffic. I pass a speed trap that we all know is there, because it’s not a very good hiding place. The cop pulls out of their little spot, and switches on the sirens. They match my speed until they’re right behind me, and then they do something strange. They turn off the siren, and pull back over. Since we’re in flat Kansas, I can see them in my rearview mirror for quite awhile, even at these high speeds. They’re just sitting on the shoulder as if this were a video game that’s not programmed well enough for the NPCs to notice the player once they pass a certain point. I turn around, and start heading back towards them. I don’t mean I get onto the other side of the highway. I’m driving the wrong direction on the shoulder. It’s dangerous as hell, but as I was saying, I don’t care anymore. I can’t. This Nameless person isn’t letting me. I keep going until I’m face to face with the cop. He just smiles at me through the windshield, and gives a salute. What the hell is going? Curious and bold, I step out, and approach from the passenger side. “Mornin’ officer,” I say.

“Mornin’, sir,” he replies in between bites of his own giant bag of Reese’s Pieces. “Almost got up to ninety-five today! Still can’t make a hundred, I see! Ah, I’m just playin’. Anything I can help you with?”

Again. What the hell? Where does this license place get its power?

Microstory 1307: Metal Thief

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Property Crimes Detective: All right, Metal Thief. Tell me what you know about the Twin Hillside Burglary.

Metal Thief: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Property Crimes Detective: You expect me to believe that? It was all over the news.

Metal Thief: I’m not really into the news. I like history.

Property Crimes Detective: And money.

Metal Thief: Doesn’t everybody?

Property Crimes Detective: And metal.

Metal Thief: Metal makes money.

Property Crimes Detective: What did you do with everything you stole from that house?

Metal Thief: I told you, I didn’t do it.

Property Crimes Detective: Then who did?

Metal Thief: How the hell should I know?

Property Crimes Detective: Well, you must have contacts, what with everything we know that you’ve stolen.

Metal Thief: What did they take?

Property Crimes Detective: Everything.

Metal Thief: Everything?

Property Crimes Detective: Everything but the kitchen sink. They did take the workshop sink that was in the garage, though.

Metal Thief: They literally cleaned it all out? But just the one house?

Property Crimes Detective: Yes.

Metal Thief: You didn’t call me in because you think I did it. You called me in for help.

Property Crimes Detective: [sighs] Where would someone go to unload all that? I’m talkin’ bookshelves, couches, televisions, frickin’ photo albums. They took a lot of junk that was personal; I honestly don’t get it.

Metal Thief: They took photo albums?

Property Crimes Detective: Yeah. What does that mean to you?

Metal Thief: There’s always someone willing to take the valuable stuff. You don’t even need to go to the black market. All you would need to do is haul that stuff to your own house, and sell it on your lawn.

Property Crimes Detective: A garage sale?

Metal Thief: As I understand it, confidential informants get paid.

Property Crimes Detective: You give me something I can use, we’ll talk.

Metal Thief: [...] Detective, this crime is personal. Like you said, they took junk. Anyone willing to go to that much trouble is doing it for one of two reasons. A, it’s a prank, in which case it’s gone too far by now. Or B, the victim just went through a bad break up, or fired a disgruntled employee, or something. Find someone your victim has wronged recently, and see if they have a garage sale goin’. Or see if they’ve just purchased storage space somewhere in the city. They may not want, or need, to sell it at all, and it’s really just about hurting the victim.

Property Crimes Detective: That was actually kind of helpful.

Metal Thief: Next time you want a favor, don’t drag me into an interrogation room. Just ask.

Property Crimes Detective: Oh, it’s a favor? I guess we don’t need to pay you then.

Microstory 737: Credos, Convention Nine: Commitment, Chapter Two

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For a long time, the girl was embarrassed of her shameful jalaxian harmony bowl performance. She immediately gave it up, and fell into a depression, spending her days in self-pity and remorse. Her father decided that she needed to get out of her own way, and stay busy. If she couldn’t play the jalaxian harmony bowl, then maybe she needed to help other people play it. Though he was not known for designing the bowls himself, he was an accomplished metal worker, and knew he could figure out how to do it. He brought her on board for a new department in his small business, where they learned to make harmony bowls together. She took to the trade quite well, enjoying the tediousness and focus that metalwork forced her to adopt. She was starting to think that she should go into the family business permanently once she was finished with her general studies. Meanwhile, her infamous recital piece was uploaded to the global network so that anyone and everyone could see it, and make fun of her. Some of the comments on her video were offensive, but many were more playful. A not insignificant number of people were actually suggesting that she become a comedian. Those closest to her made their own remarks, saying that what she lacked in talent for the harmony bowl, she made up for in her stage presence, and comedic timing. When she wasn’t in school, or building harmony bowls with her father, she was practicing her comedy act at local establishments. This was becoming difficult to manage, however. She never had time to sleep. Her studies faltered, her work at the factory was subpar, and her comedy routines were rather weak. She asked her mother, “what am I to do? I cannot handle all this at once. But I must study to earn my degree, and I have an obligation to the factory, and comedy is my passion.” The mother sat down and spoke. “You are trying to do too much. You cannot divide your attention to so many things at once. If you want to be good at any one of them, you must devote all of your time to it.” “But what will happen to the other two things?” the girl asked. Her mother answered, “you will not be able to do all three. You must decide what is most important to you.” “I don’t know what that is,” the girl said, “they’re all important.” “I cannot choose for you.” So the girl made the decision on her own. She stopped working at the factory, and started concentrating most substantially on her education. She continued to work on her comedy, but only when she had extra time, for no matter what she ended up doing with her life, she would need her degree to fall back on. When she grew up, she refocused her efforts back on comedy, committing to her skill with vigor. She utilized what she learned in school to make her jokes more meaningful and thought-provoking, able to make references to history and pop culture she would not have been able to without a well-rounded education. She even incorporated a little manufacturing into her routines, building her own custom-made props to accentuate the skits. And she became one of the most famous comedians in her world.

Microstory 583: New Home Hair Management Products

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One thing that everyone deals with is their hair, whether it be the lack there of it, or that it’s too long, or just its general unruliness. While other companies are working on trying to cure cancer, or develop faster supersonic passenger aircraft, one has decided to help with something a little simpler. Antubian Product Co. has created a so-called revolutionary new product line that claims to provide for everyone’s hair needs, whatever they may be. This line involves multiple kinds of products, to be used differently, and sometimes in tandem. A series of microinjections, for instance, can (oversimplistically speaking) jumpstart hair follicles, and engender growth. The irony in this is that the device only works once the subject has first been shaved in all desired areas. Another subsection of products gives its user command of the color of their hair. While traditional dyes have taken time and effort, the new Antibus shampoo goes in during a shower, and is complete by the time you get out to dry. Other products can shorten, and even restyle, your haircut at will through static charges and texturizing gels. Antubian, Inc. has had a colorful past. It began as a scrap metal broker before becoming an entertainment company. It then abruptly transitioned into a pulp fiction publisher, spent a brief amount of time as a ‘supernatural threat eradicator”—where it was tried in court for fraud, until finally landing in the car restoration industry. It has spent the last seven years restoring antique and classic vehicles up to working condition, with as much retention of the original operating functions as possible. It has only been in the hair business for the last seven months, but has already come up with an impressive array of products. Whether any one of these products actually works is something that still needs confirmation from our field reporters. As mercurial as founder and Chief Vision Officer, Lovro Antubi has been known to be, his ventures have proven to be largely legitimate. There is even evidence that his supernatural phase may have shown some level of merit. As time goes on, Antubi tends to move on from one project in favor of another. Instead of selling, or even spinning off each company to start another, he simply sells the patents and intellectual property themselves, and begins to focus on something new. Join us next week when our field testers release their analyses and reviews of the new Antubian haircare line.

Microstory 550: Second Day of No Death Crash at Same Location

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One year ago, something terrible, and virtually impossible, occurred. A man named Drummond Breckenridge was the only survivor of a plane crash that resulted in the death of one-hundred-and-twenty people. The most alarming part of this story was that it happened on a day that the cosmos has set aside to disallow death, for whatever reason. Even after centuries of study, researchers are still not sure why it is that the Day of No Death exists at all. Most people have simply embraced it, and treated it as normal. After all, no one knows what the world would look like without it. It would seem that not being able to die on the eighth day of the eighth month of every year is just part of life. New interest in studying this phenomenon was sparked with the unique catastrophe that took the lives of passengers on Flight 5683. And now, even more interest has been ignited following the development that stopped the 5683 tragedy from being unique. A second plane has crashed. And it crashed on the Day of No Death. And it crashed at the exact same spot that the first plane did one year ago.

Flight 216 had just taken off from Kansas City, and was on its way to Miami, Florida when the craft experienced an inexplicable change in mass. The true reason for 5683’s malfunction was never discovered. The entire mechanical apparatus was in perfect working order. It was as if the pilots simply stopped monitoring the controls, leaving many to speculate that they were slipped drugs that put them to sleep (though no toxins were found in their systems). The reason for Flight 216’s crash—though so absurd, many do not believe it—is rather obvious. Scientists just don’t know how it’s physically possible. Broadcast media is already referring to it as The Golden Plane, because that’s what it became. At some point mid-flight, every single square inch of metal was somehow replaced with, or converted into, gold. Airplanes are primarily constructed using the metal nekromei. It’s light, durable, abundant, and cheap. It also exhibits low toxicity, which makes it perfect for encapsulating living beings for an extended period of time. Gold—also known in the scientific world as glomei—is extremely heavy, relatively rare, costly, and better used in smaller forms, like electronic components. No one would ever build a plane made out of gold. It would never even get off the ground. So how did this happen? This is why Flight 216 tumbled out of the air. It was simply too heavy.

Like last year’s fateful flight, Flight 216 ended in the death of every passenger but one. Her name has not yet been released, nor has anyone else’s, but sources say that she is currently in critical condition at an undisclosed hospital. Assuming she wakes up, authorities hope she will be able to shed some light on the matter, and explain what exactly happened up there...how the plane suddenly transformed into gold, and also how she survived. The Transportation Regulation And Safety Commission, also known as TRASC, is scheduled to make an official statement to the public regarding the tragedy of The Golden Plane. A viagent close to the investigation has said that they want the family of the deceased to make proper arrangements before releasing any information.

Microstory 221: Vampirs

So, vampires. They exist. Not so much anymore, but still. The first of the kind called themselves Pilot Vampires. This originates from a constructed language where vham (pronounced with more of an f sound, and related to famish) means “hunger” and pire (pronounced pier-ay) means “ruler”. Many take the full word to mean “hungry ruler” but it better translates as “ruler of hunger”. Those in the original generation are extremely strong, and difficult to kill. They don’t have trouble with the sun so much as they have trouble with heat, which the sun happens to have a lot of. Their scions were called vampirs (pronounced vahmpiers) and they were weaker, but more compatible with the environment. Each subsequent generation was born more compatible, and they would have likely regressed back into humans, given the time. The species, and all its varieties, are collectively known as murexa, because of their purple blood. The exact cause of this is unknown (except I know), but it is the result of a cobalt-magnesium alloy oxygen carrier, rather than the iron found in most people’s red blood. While Pilot Vampires are immortal, their descendants are not. They live about 190 standard years, and lead pretty standard lives. They eat normal human food, and will die from overheating if they do not receive regular transfusions of human blood. These transfusions allow greater efficiency of blood flow and body temperature regulation, as they will cause the body to temporarily transport oxygen via iron, but this will not last forever. If you see a vampir with purple eyes, then the right thing to do is to immediately present your arm and provide them with blood. The eyes are the most vulnerable, and so the red blood will pool to the eyes for as long as possible, and will be the last indicator of a healthy specimen.

Unlike fictional representations of vampires, real vampires do not have a thirst for blood. In fact, since they were descended from humans, they do not like the taste of blood. It’s gross, and so they avoid drinking it unless they absolutely have to. Instead, they either inject themselves, or consume a special drink that’s mixed with sugar and other, more suitable ingredients. Earlier vampirs did not have fangs, but scientists saw this as a need, and so they gave evolution a nudge, so that later generations would have a safe backup, if need be. They did this along with a special gland in the mouth that alters their breath so that it numbs human skin, lowering or eliminating donor pain. Vampires do not bite people on the neck, because that’s pretty sexual. That’s something we just made up to make vampire monsters either scary or sexy. Vampires do not bite people without consent. If a vampire wants to kill someone, the last thing they’ll do is bite them, because biting leaves DNA evidence, and that would be foolish of them. They’ll use a knife, or a gun, or something like that. Vampires are not evil, or dark, or violent; they’re just people with a medical condition, so please stop treating them differently. That’s so insensitive of you. They do not glitter in the sun, nor do they instantly burst into flame. Yes, a vampire will die if you stab them in the heart with a wooden stake. You know who else dies from being stabbed in the heart with a wooden stake? You. You die. We all need hearts, okay? And it doesn’t matter if it’s made of wood, or metal, or candy cane; any sharp object will do. Some people are allergic to garlic, and some of those people are vampires. Vampires do not heal magically, nor can their blood heal others magically. If you drink vampire blood, you’ll probably get sick from cobalt-magnesium poisoning. Don’t do that. It’s possible to become a Pilot Vampire, but the process is much more complicated than that. It requires dying, so...be prepared for that, if that’s what you really want. Also, you specifically are missing a key component, so it will actually not work for you. Sorry, I messed that up. I forgot who I was talking to. Better choose Jacob. No, don’t choose Jacob. He’s bad. I’m talking about a different Jacob, by the way. Who are you talking about?

Microstory 179: Sara Medina

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There was not much to say about Sara Medina. Sure, her life was full of pain, loneliness, and tragedy, but she didn’t do much. Her mutation was not useful for her daily life, and in fact made things beyond difficult. It had some potential applications in defense, but there were too many better and safer options to warrant too much study. And so she ended up being little more than a footnote in history. Sara’s mother died in childbirth; an outcome that was practically unavoidable. Growing up after that, she faced many challenges, including being resented by her father. Her skin was made of a strangely malleable kind of metal, which was what caused her mother so much stress while in labor. It was a miracle that either of them survived longer than the first few months of pregnancy. Sara’s skin was impenetrable, which made it impossible for her to receive vaccinations in the traditional way. Fortunately, her uvula was made of pure flesh, and acted as a surrogate for proper vaccinations. Unfortunately, however, this caused other health complications, because the uvula is not designed to take so much irritation. Sara’s father kept her away from the public eye as much as possible, but too many in and around Madrid discovered her condition too early. The difference in her physiology was too noticeable to prevent people from knowing about her. Her saving grace was that the mutant island holding Colton Underwood had recently been established, and so she was able to move there. She spent nearly her entire life there.

Microstory 117: Milo Chombers

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Despite the fact that his real given name was Midas, Milo Chombers could not perform elemental transmutation, since that would break a number of physical laws. He could instead manipulate metals in a variety of other ways. He was said to have the greatest range of abilities than anyone. At first, Milo could only sense the vibrations of metallic objects. This allowed him to, for instance, find gold on the beach with no tools. Using time and patience, however, Milo accumulated a number of related but still different abilities. He later discovered that he could survive electrical surges, and was able to dissipate a charge safely with only a thought. After that, he learned to manipulate the shape and density of metal to suit his needs. He could roll up a sheet of aluminum foil and then increase its hardness so that it was as strong as steel. He could also disintegrate metallic objects. After unwillingly receiving a treatment designed to enhance anomaly abilities in general, he started being able to control magnetism, and could telekinetically move objects with enough magnetic attraction. Using all of his abilities, he invented a lightweight, and rather form-fitting, but sturdy suit of armor that would protect him from the rare nonmetallic weapons enemies may try to use against him, and also gave him the ability to fly. He was not a superhero, and did not go out on field operations. Seeing the need for it, he became the founder and leader of Bellevue’s security department, eventually protecting all of the inhabitants of the entire city that grew around headquarters.

Microstory 111: Serenity Theodo

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When an honorary member of Bellevue first laid eyes on a list of anomalies that was compiled by someone who was once able to sense and track people, he found out that one of his former patients was on it. Serenity Theodo was five years old when she was diagnosed with an extremely rare form of leukemia that had, until then, not been seen in a child. The doctor gave her one month to live. Her parents agreed to treat the symptoms with drugs, not to prolong her life, but to make her as comfortable as possible. Still, she remained bedridden in the hospital throughout the barrage of treatment, and was unable to enjoy her life during those times. To the surprise of the medical community, the cancer never went away completely, but the symptoms lessened over the years. For some of the pain, Serenity simply learned to deal with it better than most people. When she was a teenager, she discovered that she had the ability to phase through objects. Her parents were horrified, especially after her recovery. They belonged to a religious order that treated what others might call a miracle as a curse, so they were already frightened and suspicious of their daughter for having survived a deadly disease. It is, however, the Amadesin way to playact at all times; to hide hate for others behind a mask of overexaggerated compassion. They pretended to be learning about her ability by testing her limits. Instead, they were searching for her weakness. They found it. For an unknown reason, anomalies have difficulty using their abilities around the metallic element of bellmei. Jaklyn Simonds cannot teleport from a room lined with bellmei, Jayson Casy cannot disintegrate bellmei, and Bernard Maly would not be able to climb up a wall made of bellmei. Once Serenity’s parents discovered this trick, they built a cage under the garage in their basement made entirely of bellmei, and even claimed to their neighbors that she had succumbed to her disease. After more than a year of being trapped, Serenity was able to communicate long enough to the neighbor boy so that they could make a plan to break her out. He smuggled tools into her cell and provided a distraction by crashing his car into her house. She managed to pull enough bellmei down to phase through the wall and escape. She remained in the safety of a facility designed to protect Amadesin defectors for years before her family caught up with her. Fortunately, the Bellevue member she once knew as her doctor was keeping tabs on them, and was able to intercept before her parents had the chance to take her back to hell.