3G: the Glowing Green Goo

“See why I didn’t want to let him help with your bath? Just looking told him all that, imagine what it could have been.”

Aran had tried to exercise patience, she truly had, but she couldn’t take the heavy silence and haunting stare of her new friend any longer. The tension wasn’t so easily lifted however; the gloom persisted, but so did she:

“We’ll settle that later. We don’t ask about each other’s past in this house. It’s kinda our thing here.”

“It is?” Zax was befuddled.

“It’s not?” Aran reciprocated his confusion. “But you never asked about my past?”

“I wanted to finish with your template before telling you about what your mutation tells me. I didn’t want my conclusions to be biased. Live reaction is an important element too.”

“Uh. I’m almost afraid to ask now. Nevermind, let’s move on.” The foxy girl forcefully put the thought aside. “What’s next?”

“Er, clothes?” He pointed to the still wrapped outfit.

Three pairs of eyes stared at it, then the winged naked body. Her birdy parts stopped in straight lines at the joints between her thighs and trunk, and halfway through her shoulders. All the rest was exposed human skin. It was more than should be comfortable, but her resting position had her wings act as a cloak. She hadn’t mentioned it so Aran hadn’t considered it could be cold or uncomfortable for her.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want or need it, but I wanted to mention the option. I can adjust them for you, if you’re uncomfortable or if you want to look more local. You can pass for a recent activation or something. No rush though, we can move to the sleeping arrangements.”

She hadn’t considered that either, so the sleeping arrangements it was.

Zax thought it would be better for their winged guest to have some time alone, to help her process and relax, and probably be agitated by her nightmares without hurting someone. He didn’t mention the last aloud, but Aran could tell. He himself refused to sleep in the same bed as someone he was not intimate with, a lesson drilled from his childhood’s dorm manager. Aran refused to let him sleep on the floor, as it was still his apartment, and she had to leave in the morning for work. Strange Girl would sooner stay close to the entrance, without obstacle if she had to run away, but that would also place her closer to potential threats. She was upsettingly surprised her helpers weren’t sleeping in the same room, but Aran quickly and firmly set her straight about their relationship.

It took some back and forth, but eventually Strange Girl would sleep in Zax’s bedroom, Zax would make a futon for Aran to sleep on the living room floor, while he would sleep on the couch. He didn’t have enough nanites to make a fully functioning bed; thick but soft materials were more gluttonous especially if they had to handle ongoing but variable stress, even a simple futon was pushing his resources. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best compromise for everyone. The next day, he would change his workshop back to the bedroom it was before he moved in; he just had to find what to do with his equipment. It was too late to do it immediately, it would make a lot of noise and wake the neighbours.

The three discussed irrelevant thoughts for a time, but the events of the day caught up with them. They cut their conversation short, but not before officially exchanging all their contact information. Strange Girl would keep her bracelet close, just not on her person.

The futon was surprisingly comfortable, so the foxy girl didn’t have trouble falling asleep. She only woke up once, and it wasn’t from her bedding. Coming from the bedroom, wordless sobs filled the apartment.

Aran sat, a glance confirming Zax was awake too. A shared glance showed similar thoughts.

Too early.

She needs time.

They laid back and stayed there, silently listening. The traumatised girl eventually cried herself to sleep. They followed soon after.

***

When Zax woke up the next day, Aran was already gone, and a quick peek in his bedroom showed their guest was still asleep. He smiled at the nest she had made with his bedsheets, and frowned when he noticed it was on the ground.

He closed the door and turned the lights on. The slight mess on the kitchen counter told him that while Aran’s departure hadn’t woken him up, it hadn’t been as silent as she had tried. It made him chuckle and a shake of his head. He ordered the place, put Strange Girl’s bracelet, clothes and briefcase on the side and unmade put the futon back in its boxes.

He pondered taking his nanites back in his body, but he elected to delay. It hadn’t been long enough to determine an addiction.

Instead, he went back to his recordings. He blocked the door open for when his guest would wake up and set to work. The split in smaller sections was quickly done, and he associated each of them to an explanation of what he had done, the parameters for each assay and what he remembered of his reasoning at the time. He would fill the details later, when he focused on each section. Doing so was… easier than he felt it should have been.

That was when he finally noticed something that should have been obvious from the beginning: he could see the Glowing Green Goo in the recordings! It was supposed to be impossible! It was even why he had to be the one who carried the sentence. There was no denying it, the glow it owed its name to and even the lines through the subject’s body were clear as day on his display.

How did I miss that?!

Confirming it was the case everywhere, he also noted how familiar they felt, as if he had seen it before but only remembered now. It didn’t take him long to figure out where, as it was a more recent memory. It had been displayed in several rooms of the healing centre he had been trapped in for a week, as a map of acupoints. It wasn’t exact, but close enough, and a quick search confirmed it. He didn’t have much information on the subject, but he made a note to examine the topic later.

He never had recordings of activations before, so he started with what he was more familiar with, analysing the result. It proved more challenging than usual, but that was exactly what he needed to distract himself from the less pleasant parts.

He had lost track of time when his winged guest woke up. Keeping his door open to prevent surprises ended up moot when he heard a shout and a fall. A rush to his bedroom revealed a wiggling heap of bedsheet and feather producing muffled sounds.

He had used all his nanites for the previous night’s futon, so the girls had been left with ordinary cloth bedsheets. He chuckled and was about to help untwist her, but a talon tore the fabric near his hand. He reflexively pulled back, but not fast enough and he ended up with a scratch. Those claws were definitely not for show. They also seemed larger than the previous night, but that might be emotions and perspective affecting his judgement. A glance revealed a long gash across his hand. Luckily there were already torn bedsheet pieces around; he took one of appropriate size and shape, folded it and pressed it against his wound. When he looked back up, the winged heap of cloth had stood and taken a mostly human shape, her back turned.

***

It was the first time since forever that Strange Girl could sleep at leisure, not woken up by a blaring siren in her ears. It had been a disorienting experience. When she got her bearing back and remembered where she was, the boy who had helped her was behind her, pressing his hands together. His focused expression quickly changed to a snide smile. He had definitely seen her shameful display, but he greeted her without commenting on it:

“Welcome back to the land of the living. How was your night?”

“I don’t know… but I needed it. Thank you.”

She answered in a small, hesitant voice, still unused to expressing her actual thoughts. Her embarrassment didn’t help either. She nodded her thanks and lowered her eyes, spotting the torn pieces of fabric on the ground and around her body, and she finally realised what the chokehold she had dreamed of and torn through had been.

“Ah, sorry.” She apologised as he was turning back to the living room. “I’m… I didn’t mean to.”

She didn’t explain, she didn’t want to burden him with her nightmares.

“No problem, I’ve had worse and all my vaccines are up to date. My guardians made sure I grew up with all the right habits. Good thing the 3G don’t naturally mutate micro-organisms; right?”

“What? What do you mean?” The winged girl followed him out, still awkward.

“They are too small and too simple, the 3G prefer to activate more complex organisms, so vaccines still work.”

“I mean, about having worse?”

“It looks impressive but it’s swallow. No need for sutures, I’ll be fine with disinfection and liquid band-aid. It’ll just sting for a while.” He winced at the last past.

Strange Girl was even more confused, until he slightly lifted his makeshift bandage. She had missed it earlier. She stared, horrified, as he treated the harm she had caused with an emergency kit from under the kitchen counter.

She hadn’t meant to.

Truly.

She hadn’t.

She didn’t.

It wasn’t her.

It was simply a role.

It wasn’t her.

She wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t that.

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t-

Black dots were covering her vision. She didn’t realise she was hyperventilating until cold water jets assailed her from all sides. Reflexes set off, she raised her wings for protection and kicked in the direction the attack came from, claws first. Her wings blocked most of the offending fluid, but it had done what it had to.

“Strange Girl? Are you okay? Sorry about that. You had a panic attack and I don’t know how else to pull someone out of it.”

She hadn’t seen him finish with his hand, nor felt him move her around.

“A panic attack?”

“Or a flashback. I’m not an expert, but you were unresponsive. You should know better than me. You must’ve seen something that triggered it. I don’t know if telling me would do it again.”

She didn’t answer, but Zax didn’t let the silence linger. He softly pulled her back to the living room, ignoring the water dripping on the floor and the damage to his water unit’s wall, and made them move on:

“In any case, you have deep wounds where no band-aid can reach, and avoiding them will not help. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I’m not surprised. I won’t ask for details, you’re clearly not ready, but I hope you can talk about it someday. Sooner than later. Even if it’s not with us. A professional would leave smaller scars. Now, what do you want for breakfast? I have different flavours.”

Strange Girl took her pills in silence, dwelling on his words and her reaction. She thought she had emotional damage dealt with already. Was she a danger to others? She didn’t want to be a danger to others. She wanted to argue that time healed any wounds, but she had witnessed what it could do if left untreated. She didn’t want that, especially on her own mind. Despite the new development, it was still probably her most intact part.

“What can I do?”

“Hm?”

The question had escaped her before she realised. Explaining what she meant would lead to mentioning her past. As much as they had figured on their own and even with how open they were, she didn’t want to. It was stupid, but she didn’t. Luckily, she had other questions to ask:

“You said my future would change how I wear my bracelet. What did you mean? What should I do? I always thought mutations were random…”

She didn’t appreciate how weak her voice sounded, but at least it was better than the night before.

“The 3G’s mutations are called random, but it’s a misnomer. How do you think the Main Families exist, where everyone has similar but non-hereditary mutations? There are known tendencies.”

“I… never thought about that.”

Zax nodded. The 3G was such a basic part of life, most people didn’t. It would be like asking why one needs eyes to see.

“The problem is, even those tendencies are hazy. ‘Better at staying alive, then at your specialty.’ It’s the best description we have right now, and we’ve had it since the founding of the Shelter. That sounds nice and all, but what count as specialties? How does it know? How will it improve on that?”

“I… don’t know? Everything? Randomly?”

“Nobody knows.” Zax shook his head. “Heavy labourers can develop great strength, or great stamina, or both, or just longer limbs. Worker A can get a more effective but still human metabolism while their colleagues B and C are mixed with other organisms. B might become part horse while C gets an ape. Even if all three have the same job, the same shifts, at the same place. But they will all have something that makes them better at heavy labour.”

“So, what does that mean?” She found herself strangely interested.

“Again, we don’t know. Machines can’t help with the measures, and there are too many variables to survey.” He shook his head, then shrugged. “We don’t even know what variables to keep an eye on. Amount of 3G, how often it is taken, there are elements that suggest even personal feelings and familial fulfilment are important. How do you measure that?”

“You mean, it’s a dead-end? We can’t control the mutations?” She felt disappointed, but Zax denied it.

“There are no definite answers, and everyone has their own stories and theories, but there are still points we all agree on. We can ensure function over shape. Sort of. More or less.”

“That’s good!” Strange Girl clapped with her folded wings. “So, what does that mean for me?”

“Hmm? Ah, right, the bracelet. First, let me be clear: what I am about to tell you is based on a theory I believe in – not mine – but like everything around the 3G, it’s just a theory. I make no promises.” He waited for a nod to continue. “Back to tendencies, it’s just like the workers: if you want to get hands; you must live like you need them. At least, like having hands would make your life easier. Like you already have hands, when you can. Pointing with your wing instead of your head, for example. Or wearing your bracelet at a wing, and use them to manipulate it. On the other side, if you want to keep your wings, you can wear your bracelet elsewhere. As a pendent, using voice commands. At your talons, using them as hands. That one would definitely increase them without affecting your wings much. Wing, talons or else, no matter what you choose, if you use it to manipulate everything in your daily life even beyond the bracelet, your next activation will focus on making it more efficient, meaning less awkward and more natural. At least some, it depends on other factors, but it will make sure it doesn’t keep going in the direction you don’t want to.”

Zax let his declaration sink in some before tempering it:

“Using your wings would make it more annoying to use the bracelet at first, but it would also be faster and more likely to get hands, since you are born that way. Reversions tend to be easier, especially if you don’t like your current state. Never seen it at that scale tho. Of course, the bracelet can help, but it won’t be enough. Your mutations reflect the sum of your whole life; you can’t just do a few exercises per day and do opposite the rest of the time.”

“It’s a commitment.” The winged girl concluded, staring at her bracelet on the counter.

She wanted nothing more than to come back to how life was before. It seemed like a no brainer, so why was she hesitating?

“Why would anyone want… that?” she spitefully spread her wings, but her host knew she meant more than that.

Zax wasn’t supposed to answer, but he did anyway, his soft voice echoing like thunder in the silence of the room:

“For a mutation to be that large and that deep even with your rejection… they must have been an essential part of your life, for a long time. Something you constantly relied on without thinking, that helped you against everything life threw at you. They became a true part of you. Now, you are grateful for their help despite how you got them. Like… like that great friend you met at a funeral and that helped you overcome your grief.” His eyes grew distant as he dived in his own past. “You are grateful they became a part of your life, but you regret meeting them that way, and you don’t know how to feel about something good happening at what should have been the worst time ever. Then, when it’s time to move on, they still remind you how you met, that not-quite-worst time, and you have to choose how you keep moving forward, whether you keep them in your life or leave everything behind and start fresh.”

Strange Girl was in disarray during the following silence. It was an odd comparison, but uncannily fitting. It somehow resonated with her confused hesitation. Starting fresh was exactly what she wanted, but his eyes…

“What… what did you choose?” she muttered as her eyes fled his.

“The same thing I’m doing now.” Zax chuckled without mirth. “I put them face with their own feelings, put the obvious options in front of them, and respected her choice to let me out of their life. They left the dot, so that part was a given anyways.”

It took a moment for her brain to catch on. He wasn’t the grieving one in the example; he was the support they met. Who was “her”? No, nevermind. She didn’t expect an answer like that, but she wasn’t really surprised. He liked to help people, and she wasn’t his first. But his expression… He had accepted and respected the choice, but it still hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt him. Should she try to keep her wings? But-

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. But it’s all I can do with those.” She admitted, downcast.

“What do you mean?” Zax’s melancholy evaporated in an instant. “Using your own body is a skill like any other; it can be taught and improved. You can do what you want with it. Like, what do you think of clothes?”

The non-sequitur made her answer without thinking:

“I’d like to try.”