A Million Miles Between Us

A Million Miles Between Us

Tim lay back in the oversized tub and let out a soft moan. The warm water felt good, but he still hurt everywhere. He glanced at the clock above him. “One more time,” he thought, with a sigh of resignation. He took several deep breaths, closed his eyes and let his head fall back, slipping beneath the surface.

His head hit the bottom of the tub with a soft thump. He tried to ignore the way the sound echoed in his enlarged sinus cavities. He opened his eyes, and studied the way the room’s lighting shimmered and refracted at the boundary between air and water.

Coach O’Brien had told him to distract himself when doing these exercises. “Take your attention away from the changes your body is going through,” she advised. “Your body knows what to do. It’s in the DNA.” Even if that DNA had been dormant for millions of years? Tim didn’t understand it. That hadn’t kept him from signing the contract. The Vanguard Corporation owned him, now. But this was, he knew, far better than the alternatives.

As he lay on the bottom of the tub, his mind was inexorably pulled back to the destruction of San Francisco. He replayed the images of mushroom clouds over Golden Gate Park; the fireball that had engulfed Chinatown; the slow-motion, writhing collapse of the Golden Gate Bridge … That morning, San Francisco had become the fourth American city to be consumed in the escalating war with China.

Tim’s heartbeat reverberated strangely within his newly made body. He felt it like a slow dirge, tolling out the names of the dead cities. Boston. Manhattan. Philadelphia. And, now… 

How long had he been holding his breath? Curious more than oxygen-starved, he let his head break the surface. He looked up at the clock and let out an involuntary whoop. Fourteen minutes! 

Tim lumbered to his feet and stepped out of the tub. A wave of water soaked the bath mat and floor. “Balls,” he muttered. Mom was going to … No, she wasn’t. Mom was dead.

It had been four years since the biological quarantine of Oklahoma City had failed, loosing weaponized Covid on the American midwest. The panic and chaos in the wake of the spreading sickness and death had ripped Tim’s family apart. Tim shivered, remembering his mother’s suffering and slow death, and the refugee camp he had been sent to afterward.

 All that had been before Tim signed on with the Vanguard Corporation. After all the death, the refugee camps … Mom … Tim was now living inside a mountain somewhere in Colorado. And he was being made into a tool that Vanguard would use to save what was left of the human race. 

His temporal bone implant pinged, once again echoing strangely in the newly shaped bones of his forehead. “This is Vanguard,” said an androgynous voice—somewhat redundantly, Tim mused. Who else would it be? “Congratulations on the success of your latest round of modifications! You’ve put in a good day’s work, and Vanguard thanks you. Now, you have an important visitor requesting a face-to-face.”

“Geez,” muttered Tim. “You guys watch me even in the bathroom? Privacy much?” He sounded like the sulky teenager he still often was. He shuddered, recalling the “latest round,” as Vanguard so blithely summed it up. He supposed after pumping his bloodstream full of jumping genes, immune system suppressants and RNA messengers, watching him in the bath was a minor thing. “Visitor? Like, right now? Who can possibly …”

“We watch you all the time,” said the voice of Vanguard. “It’s in your contract.” Tim grimaced. “Please refer to section three, paragraph seven, sub—“

“Okay, okay!” Tim waved a webbed hand through the air, conceding the point. “So, what about this visitor?”

“It is recommended that you allow this visit.”

Tim grabbed a robe from the wall rack. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught and admired the reflection of iridescence as water beaded on his “new,” skin. He would be dry in seconds, he knew.

“Okay, fine, but I’m not getting all dressed again.” He absently rubbed his left cheek. He belted the robe and left the bathroom.

Walking felt increasingly awkward as his adaptation progressed. Soon, Tim would feel more at home in the water than on land. His joints felt weird. The layer of blubber under his skin moved oddly yet supplely. It covered him completely, unlike the lumps of fat that unmodified humans often carried. This was a smooth, warm sheath around his thickening bones. He stopped a few paces from the door to his quarters, rubbed his cheek again, and sighed. “Come in, whoever you are,” he called.

The door slid back. Someone … some THING … stood in the doorway. It looked like a human-shaped patch of blackness. Hesitantly, it took a step into the room, and the door slid shut behind it … behind HIM.

The newcomer had matte-black skin stretched tautly over bird-like bones. The skin was made up of tiny hexagonal cells. He wore a tight-fitting singlet that hugged his torso from waist to armpits. He raised a hand and rubbed at his left cheek.

The unconscious gesture drew Tim’s eyes to the stranger’s face. His own eyes gazed back—bright, piercing blue eyes. The left cheek was an echo of his own—the port-wine birthmark that covered it was identical to his. He realized that his own hand was even now making the same habitual rubbing gesture. This was no stranger; the opposite, in fact.

Tim relived the mocking voices from childhood. “Hey look! It’s the Butterfly Brothers!” In the refugee camp, after losing track of his family in the chaos and before joining Vanguard, he had actually missed the jokes that had once seemed so cruel. One boy with a birthmark on his face didn’t get nearly as much attention as twins had.

“Josh,” he whispered. He felt suddenly more drained of breath than he had after fourteen minutes underwater. “Josh? You’re …”

“Alive, yeah. You too! And, how crazy is this? We’re both working for Vanguard now!” They collided in a tear-filled hug, fists pounding shoulders, arms squeezing in death-grips.

“You’re all squishy!” Josh exclaimed.

“You’re all hard and bony, and you look like a soccer ball!” Replied Tim. They laughed as hard as they had cried seconds before.

“You smell like a fish!” Josh teased.

“I do not!” Tim protested. He punched Josh’s arm playfully, then winced and rubbed his hand. “OW! What, are you some kind of robot now? Do you run on solar power? Do those spots go … everywhere?” He pointed at the hexagons inlaid into Josh’s exposed arms and legs, widening his eyes.

“Not quite,” Josh said. He flexed proudly. “These are just for personal shielding, and to power my implants. But …” He trailed off.

“So … Vanguard is sending you to space?” Tim felt suddenly dizzy, and reached to steady himself against the wall. “How long have you been here? Why didn’t you—“

“I just got here, and I leave for L5 tomorrow,” Josh said. “We’re starting work on the habitat.”

“You’re farther along than me,” Tim said. Discussing their diverging body plans, was infinitely easier than trying to bridge the deeper gulfs between them. “The coaches say I’ll be ready to start working on the Coral City refuge in—“

“Dad,” Josh interrupted softly. “Dad was in San Francisco.”

“Oh,” Tim said. “Oh … Oh damn. So …”

“There’s just us left,” Josh confirmed. “I lost track of you after OKC, the camps … Mom … and now Dad. I wanted … I needed to …” Two hands rose and caressed two butterfly-shaped birthmarks. They caught sight of each other, and grimaced in unison. The growing webs between Tim’s fingers extended. Josh’s elegantly tapered fingers, looking too sharp and too hard, reached out, and they clasped hands for a long moment.

“Why didn’t you ever get rid of the butterfly,” Tim asked.

“Vanguard recommended against it,” Josh replied. “They didn’t want me changing anything about my face, no matter what other modifications I got.”

“Same here,” Tim said, wonderingly.

The klaxon that wailed through the Vanguard complex shattered the moment. The boom of heavy doors sealing announced yet another lockdown. “This is a general bulletin,” came the neutral voice, this time over the general P.A. system. “Denver is under attack by unknown forces. Everyone, please return to your quarters.”

The twins hugged again, then Josh turned to go. “I hope Vanguard Corporation saves the world before humanity finishes committing suicide,” he said wryly. “Seems like a crazy thing to do, but I guess they’re playing a long game.”

“Please keep in touch,” Tim called. “Whatever happens…From now on?”

“You too, butterfly bro,” Tim said over his shoulder. “No matter what!”

When Josh had gone and the alert siren had died away, Tim collapsed onto a couch. “Why,” he asked the empty air. “Just … why?”

“You must not lose contact with your family,” replied the voice of Vanguard. “Humanity must not lose sight of its families.”

The distant scream of fighter jets briefly drowned out Tim’s voice. He repeated himself when the roar had faded. “Thank you for finding Josh,” he said.

“The human family unit is the most crucial social structure,” Vanguard replied. “You must never lose your family, however much you change.” Not for the first time, Tim wondered just who … or what … was behind the Vanguard Corporation.

He rose heavily and shuffled into the bedroom. He stretched out, exhausted and still aching, on the waterbed. It rocked slightly, soothingly, under him. Soon the sea would cradle him just like this, after a long, dangerous day of construction work. When it was built, Coral City would be a safe, comfortable home deep under the ocean for a handful of unadapted men and women.

Tim thought about Josh, up in orbit. He would be doing a similar job, saving another remnant of “normal,” humans. Sometimes, Tim wondered cynically what the point of it all was. But not tonight. “Butterfly brothers,” he murmured. “Together again. A million miles between us, headed in opposite directions, but …”

The waterbed didn’t quite muffle the vibration of the ground when the bombs fell. Outside in the night, Denver burned. “Level I protocol is in effect,” the voice of Vanguard spoke softly. “Denver has—“

“Don’t tell me,” Tim cried. “Not now! No more!” He needed to catch up. 

“Okay,” Vanguard said. “Good night, Tim. You’re almost ready for the most important job of your life. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you don’t lose touch with Josh. Together with Vanguard Corporation, we can still save the world.”

Tim turned over. “Maybe, maybe not,” he mumbled. That was a bigger picture he just couldn’t get a handle on right now. Right now it didn’t matter. As sleep swept him under and away, a soft smile lingered on his lips.