3G: the Glowing Green Goo

Vester’s life had taken an abrupt turn since the debacle in the Core, and he was solely responsible.

Upon returning, Ertor and he had the same idea: they had been played, the rules of the Family twisted and turned against them, and it wouldn’t stand. A rare instance where they willingly worked together.

One went to the internal affairs of their company and revealed everything they had been ordered to keep under wraps. The other reported to a branch of the Enforcers without ties to their company or the Family. They had already reported everything to the dot’s Enforcers during their quarantine, but they had seen and heard enough to be wary.

An investigation had indeed been launched, but everyone was being difficult. Enforcers took their sweet time processing the reports, whoever was interrogated gave perfunctory answers at best, was sometimes hostile and usually dismissive. Progress was the opposite of smooth. Even their direct superior, who had given them the fake orders and was a clear accomplice, only earned a slap on the wrist for disrespecting protocol.

As if it wasn’t enough, the detectives were also forbidden from being loud about it, to protect the Families’ reputation. Whoever was interrogated – suspect or witness – only had to make a scene and they would be free to go. It was hard to say who was an accomplice, incompetent, or simply failed to grasp how important the investigation was.

Neither he nor the dog appreciated this situation, but they understood the need to protect the Family’s interest. It had been drilled in them both since childhood, after all. Only Vester considered finding who was responsible and stopping them as more important than the Family itself.

He couldn’t help it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the atrocious scene they had interrupted. The nightmare this girl had been through. Every time he was alone with his thoughts, he heard sobs mixing with falling water. He smelt blood and disinfectant. He felt handfuls of his fur grabbed by trembling hands.

Most of all, he remembered how powerless he had felt, unable to even comfort her, and he hated it.

He had to do something.

He just had to.

The feline mutant repeatedly raised his concerns to the higher-ups, but they were constantly dismissed, until he was threatened with demotion if he didn’t stop bringing it up.

“Why can’t you be more like you cousin?” They had sighed.

He had heard that question all his childhood. All his life. Every time he did something he shouldn’t have, or didn’t do something he should have. It had always been his motivation. Besting the dog. Surpassing Ertor. Becoming the pride of the Family; the one everyone aspired to be.

When this sentence was used, he always made sure to remember what had led to it. He fixed his behaviour, and moved one step closer to his goal.

This time was no different; he reviewed all the times he had been told that sentence, the effect it had had on him, his views, his interactions. This time something was different. A realisation. Something he never suspected. Maybe he refused to see it.

He was not moving closer to his goal. He was moving closer to theirs. He was being moulded into something, something that wasn’t supposed to be capable, only seen and heard. And the same was true for Ertor.

They were usually the most mutated people around, so they were supposed to take over any team, including emergency responses. It had taken an actual emergency, far from home, to realise what little difference they actually made. How lost they were among other responders.

They weren’t even kept out of the loop; everyone talked aloud for everyone around to listen and react to. Even the nanite-guy, who had arrived after everyone and didn’t know why he had been called, had found his place and fit in naturally; making relevant observations, giving sound advices and following orders even when overwhelmed.

Something clicked in Vester’s mind.

Of course they would be lost. They had never been taught how to help. Only how to “make sure the Family is/stays in charge”, and “ensure everyone knows it”. Their interactions with any team were to remind of their presence and, it seemed so obvious now, they had always been catered to apply their lessons away from anything else.

Does every team have people trained to placate us?

The feline mutant tried to dismiss the ludicrous thought, but it was the only explanation he had for… his whole life so far. People and teammates acted the same in groups under several Families, and in groups his was not involved with.

It was normal for every Family; the whole Circle was built on that template! When anything major happened or had to happen, it was to be associated to at least a Family… via figureheads.

No, not figureheads exactly. They weren’t the face of their families, famous or particularly recognisable. They were not expendable, but not the only ones either. What then? Markers? Flags?

… “Living Flags” felt disturbingly close.

A far cry from the Paragon, the pillar of support he aimed to be.

And now he was told to shut up and stop trying to do something. He couldn’t deny it; the normal way wouldn’t let him act.

He was in a dead-end, and he was alone.

Maybe not. Ertor was in the same situation, so he should feel the same. They could work together, as uncomfortable as the thought still was.

If only life was that simple.

The dog agreed with his observations and conclusions; the role they were groomed for since their first mutation was a show for non-Family people, and they were unable to help anyone. Unlike Vester, he didn’t mind. At all.

“We all have our part to play.” He shrugged. “Ours is to spread the Family’s reach. Someone else will help, so let them do their thing while we do ours.”

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. Their role didn’t require them being helpful. They had no reason to be before, and only the unique, specific and unlikely situation in the Core had demanded more from them. They could perfectly forget about it and keep going on with their life as it was.

It was a good life.

It was not the life Vester had worked so hard for, all those years.

“All the 3G and resources invested in us, just to look good and do nothing?”

“Advanced as we are, we should be more useful than that.”

“We have so much more potential than others, we can’t waste it.”

“We can do more than any civilian and many professionals, why don’t we?”

He had many reasons to not let things as they were, but they were all met with the same wall:

“The Family decided, and they know best.”

Ertor wasn’t wrong about that either. Vester was not blocked by a few corrupt individuals or an incompetent minority; everything had been officially ordered, reviewed and approved by the higher-ups of the Family, by-the-book and following protocol.

The Family and the system as a whole were against him. Even this empty role of his was something they had made happen.

If that’s who the Family wants me to be, I don’t need that family anymore.

“To think we despised the dotters for giving their souls up or the machines.” Were the last, bitter words he spoke to his lifelong rival.

He truly was alone.

Hurt and disillusioned, he resorted to methods going against everything he had ever been taught.

Needless to say, neither the company nor the Family were pleased when the whole affair was anonymously made public, including the bribery in their midst and their reaction, or lack thereof. He didn’t care.

Since the scandal was already raised, and the leak was from inside, the detectives couldn’t be blamed for it and had more options. That day, the feline mutant made allies in the force, but he lost everything he ever knew.

He hadn’t made a lot of effort to hide he was the leak, and it didn’t take long to make an unrelated excuse to expel him from the company and banish him from the Family.

Vester was not a Brahn anymore.

It was not a surprise, but usually there were warnings and loopholes before expulsion was on the table. Which made him think his past dissensions were never taken seriously, even at his worst.

It only comforted him in his decision.

A pivot of the Family, my clawed foot.

He didn’t want to be part of such a selfish and hypocrite Family.

Then came the reality check.

Regardless of his feelings on the question, he was still unemployed and without direction. His savings would hold him a while, but he didn’t know how long. He never had to manage a budget before. Or do groceries. He only knew how to do laundry and basic cooking from brief military camps he had been forced to attend.

Irony or karma, he was saved by the incidental allies he had made with his stunt. The detectives advised him on where to go and what to do. Eety supported him emotionally and listed what he needed. He had kept it secret, but they had stayed in touch. She just wouldn’t let him be.

As an advanced mutant, he never had trouble finding a job, but he never stayed long. They all missed something, though he couldn’t tell what. Living normally, he wouldn’t need employment for a few years anyway.

Leaving the cradle and living in real life also showed him how narrow and naïve his worldview was. Lazy or hard-working people didn’t always get what they deserved; accidents could happen anytime to anyone; nothing was ever certain. As someone who grew up with all life events scheduled since childhood, it blew his mind.

His new friends also helped him find what he was missing: an objective. Something to do, to strive for, beside existing.

Considering all the recent revelations, it wasn’t hard to find one that resonated with him: to help the less fortunate.

He started visiting healing centres to comfort lonely or desperate patients, donating to the poorer ones and mingling with non-profit organisations – exposing him to more of a corruption he had never considered.

Naturally, it was only a matter of time before he crossed path with a Disfavoured.

Their contacts with were tenuous at first; prejudice ran deep in both sides. Regardless, he genuinely wanted to help, and they genuinely needed help. The youngest ones saw it, and who would better close an undeserved gap between people than unbiased children? They had a surprisingly strong effect on the adult population too.

Strong family bonds.

Ignoring the pang in his heart at the thought, Vester progressively got more and more involved with their lives, and some gradually warmed up to him.

Just in time too; severe changes were shaking the community, and not necessarily for the better.

By now, his old life and his former self were but memories. While painful at times, there was no regret. The last thing he ever expected was a resurgence from his past.

“What are you doing here?” The creepy dotter he had accompanied in the Core asked first. Looking around, he added: “Where’s the other one?”

“I saw what I had become, I didn’t like it, but it was exactly what they want me to be, so I quit.” Vester answered without thinking. He had been asked the first question so many times the answer was automatic. “Alone.” He added, for the second question.

“That must’ve been hard. Congratulations.” The human nodded to him with a respect the cat was certain he had never seen before.

He had witnessed a large array of reactions to his explanation; surprise, confusion, scorn, denial, suspicion, even anger, but it was the first time someone praised him. Only as it happened, did he realise how much he needed it. It felt like a balm on his soul, appeasing worries and doubts he hadn’t been aware of.

“It was.” He let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and followed with his own question. “And you? Why are you here?”

“I came for business, with my friends for emotional support.” He nodded to the girls next to him.

“Aran.” She smiled like at an old friend.

“SG.” She muttered and avoided eye contact.

“Vester.” He reflexively nodded back.

Funny, the shy one is the most mutated.

Somehow, he had missed them. He remembered seeing the tailed girl in their quarantine after the Core, but they hadn’t interacted. The feathery girl was new though.

“Then a bit of touristry since we had time on the way here, and now hobby.” Zax continued.

“Hobby?”

“Hobby.” He confirmed.

The rest was mostly directed to Cerba, the flabbergasted receptionist who had been interrupted.

“A precedent was set, so I was hoping to buy templates from Residents more likely to agree. A shop keeper advised us to try here. Ah, sorry. Hello Miss, my name’s Zax, nice to meet you. Hello children.”

He belatedly nodded to them.

“Heeello Zaaax~.” They answered as one, with the drawling tone that seemed common to every group everywhere at that age.

He smiled in return, amused. On the other hand, poor Cerba was panicking.

“Uh- What? Hobby? Templates? What?”

Outsiders rarely came that deep in the block, and she had had unpleasant experiences when they did. With his appearance, her first reaction to the feline mutant had been way worse, but he liked to think she had warmed up to him a hint. Right now, she was looking at him with cagey hope, unsure he would drag her down or help her up. Progress.

“Vester, what’s going on? You know them?”