[Original Fiction] Angel (1/2)
23 August, 2007
As far as I can tell, I must have written this story around 1998 or 1999 - the backdated date is the last edited date of the file.
As I noted at the time: The first part of the series is in the vein of how I originally intended it to be - a sort of pseudo sci-fi adventure story. The second half is fluff and should be avoided by all except hopeless romantics.
--
Angel
Prologue
If there is one thing human beings are not known for, it is foresight. As a race, they are much more inclined to act first, and then deal with the consequences as they come.
It was during the third millennium that humanity indulged in its greatest war ever. Compared to this one, all the others were like minor quarrels. Weapons had developed a lot over the past centuries, and were capable of great destruction.
The entire animal population of Europe, Africa and Asia, including humans, were wiped out by a genetic plague engineered by one of the nations. The counter-plague was released, but could not act fast enough to save more than a few insects and small mammals. America, Antarctica and Australia, being separated by a vast expanse of water, were the only continents to escape.
Much of the population of the remaining continents were wiped out by bombs - not nuclear, humanity had learned from their previous mistakes on the effects of nuclear bombs, but still deadly.
Those people that were left in the two populated nations decided to do something with their newly decimated population. Both decided they would improve society, that this time there would be no mistakes.
The nation that had once been Australia decided on enforced laws regarding prejudice of all sorts. They acted to erase bigoted minds from the population forever. Criminal behaviour was not tolerated and was dealt with severely. All people were given enough money to keep clothed and fed. And if the resulting governmental system left the people feeling slightly under a dictatorship, well, it was all for their own good. The population grew, and the people were, generally speaking, happy.
That which had been North America, relishing its powers in genetic engineering, decided on a far more complicated tactic. They created, from human and bird stock, an entire new race based on the myths and legends of humankind. Angels, winged humans, were known in many cultures as the representations of good - wisdom, knowledge, generosity. Playing on these virtues, the nation created a race of figureheads to lead the people.
The angels, who could reproduce naturally after the first few generations, lived in isolated cities. Children were educated in their duties and information necessary for being 'figureheads of society'. They were, quite simply, raised to be perfect, under the watchful eye of the Institute, which had created them.
Something the original creators had overlooked was that the easiest way to achieve perfection is to dispose of all that is imperfect.
It was into this society that Blaine was born.
The humans of this society lived their lives in a way that was uncannily similar to how their ancestors had lived in the twentieth century. The rate of major crimes dropped, due to the odd form of social conditioning in place but that of other, less destructive, crimes rose slightly.
The Institute, noting how many criminals were those of higher intelligence than the usual for human beings, started a program of recruitment from the gaols, taking those it felt it needed and conditioning them to 'work for the good of society'.
The government was overseen by the President, an angel, and the Vice-President, a human. Human children were taught in schools, usually by an angel.
It was into this society that Rowan Jessamyn was born.
Part 1
The Institute.
Rowan watched over the monitor as a box was placed in the centre of the room, and carefully unbolted. The audio transmission was on, and he could hear the voices of the two men discussing the contents of the box. Apparently, it was some kind of animal.
"Is it tranquillised?"
"Yes. It should wake up before too long."
"Better leave and lock the door. It could get violent when it wakes."
The two men left the room, and made their way to the surveillance centre. Rowan removed his earphones as they entered, and looked up from his place at the video screen.
"What is it?" he asked, blinking at them.
One of them made an impatient gesture; obviously not feeling it was worth explaining to a security guard. The other shrugged. "Some kind of angel. They found it wandering about outside the Institute."
"An angel?" repeated Rowan.
The man ignored him. "Keep an eye on it. When it wakes, call the main board."
They departed without any further conversation. Rowan replaced his headphones, and returned to his study of the room. It was almost painfully silent.
~ * ~
For the longest time, nothing happened. After two hours of staring at the screen, Rowan was about ready to give it all up and sleep at his desk. As it was, he missed seeing the box open. However, he did see the first signs of movement out of the box. Rowan sat up, working the video controls to get a clearer picture.
The creature stood, slowly, blinking owlishly as it stared blindly around the room, somehow managing to get perfect eye contact with the camera for several minutes, before looking away and down at its feet.
Activating the alert for the main board, Rowan made his own study of the figure now sitting on the edge of the box. It was definitely male, he decided, although the face was delicately androgynous. The white hair was teased at all angles - he supposed the creature had been out in the elements for some time before being found by the Institute scouts. Rowan caught himself wondering what it - no, he - was running from. The eyes had been black when Rowan saw them the first time, but he was uncertain of the quality of the colours on the video. They could well have been brown, or dark green.
But surely, thought Rowan, if it was designed as all the others were, any combination is possible.
The wings, which were half spread as the creature tried to gain his balance as he stood, were a shimmering, pure white. They were also, Rowan reflected, far too short for any normal angel. They were about half the size of the wings he had seen on other angels, both in reality and in pictures, and lacked the characteristic joint that allowed them to be folded neatly behind the back.
"Ah, so the creature has awoken," came a voice from behind Rowan. "Has it spoken yet?"
Rowan shook his head, and then remembered he was supposed to speak. "Not yet, sir."
A female voice recited the physical features in a neutral tone, presumably into a Dictaphone of some description. There was a sharp snap as she switched it off. "Well, they really failed with this one," she said, disdainfully.
"It must be a mutation of some kind."
"What shall we do with it?"
There was silence for several moments. Rowan didn't dare turn his head to see what was going on - they might remember his presence and take the conversation elsewhere.
"I think we should recruit it."
Rowan couldn't mask a wince. He knew all too well what that meant.
"How? Those wings would cause a problem. We'd have to keep it confined."
Rowan could feel the shrug. "Cut them off."
"We should talk to it first."
The male glanced down at Rowan, who had turned at that last statement. He flicked the audio off at the wall. "Very well. Do not turn it back on until we are finished," he ordered Rowan. Rowan nodded meekly.
~ * ~
As soon as the pair left the room, which Rowan had been observing intently for the past hour, Rowan flicked the audio back on. He distinctly heard the man's observation as they shut the door; "Yes. Suitable. We shall have to arrange an operation to remove the wings as soon as possible."
Rowan rubbed his temples. The idea seemed monstrous. An odd expression had passed across the creature's face - shock, horror, sorrow, perhaps all three.
As far as Rowan could see, few words were exchanged during the 'interview'. They had merely judged the responses to certain suggestions and movements. He remembered well his own experience in that position, and he had known what they were doing. If they recruited the angel, Rowan was now certain he would be used as an ambassador, or in public relations. Rowan was well acquainted with the lies the Institute's speakers told at press conferences, and they all had that same air of trustworthiness in their pretty faces.
Rowan shook his head in frustration. He did not want to see this creature's exquisite beauty removed. Not by an operation, and not by the perversions the Institute inflicted on all involved with it. He didn't want to see the expression of bewildered innocence disappear, and turn into resignation or despair. The wave of protectiveness he felt towards this gorgeous creature was almost frightening.
~ * ~
That evening, Rowan tried something he hadn't tried in a long time. He was on night duty, and the other half of his team had taken the night off for a date, making Rowan promise to 'cover for him'. The rest of the various workers, scientists and others at the Institute had long since retired, or gone home. Moving about the buildings at night was against Institute regulations, except for people in security. For the first time, Rowan was grateful for his job.
Listening out for any of the guards on patrol, Rowan made his way to the main computer laboratory. Breaking into the network was easier than he expected, although for an ex-computer hacker it should not have been too hard. Rowan was secretly suspicious about the Institute security system - he had a vague idea whoever had set it up had been leaving gaps for escape holes. Well, all the better for him. He dismissed the idea that it might be a trap. The Institute had too many means to catch someone from the outside to bother about elaborate methods for preventing escapes.
Before too long, Rowan had a print out of the timetable the night guards kept to and had plotted a course out that would avoid all of them. Rowan removed all evidence of his tampering, and returned to his station without being noticed.
The monitor was still on, and the picture was focused on the sleeping form of the angel. He was stretched out on his side, lying on the small bunk provided. As Rowan watched, he began to toss and turn, as if having a nightmare, eventually squashing one of those sensitive, delicate wings under his back and waking with a start. He blinked, and then dissolved into tears.
Rowan couldn't help himself. He made for the door.
~ * ~
Rowan shut the door to the creature's room carefully behind him, and approached the tight ball of cowering angel on the far side of the room.
"Hey," he said quietly, not wanting to startle it, "what's wrong? Are you okay?"
The angel blinked up at him, squinting slightly against the soft light. His eyes really were black, observed Rowan. He looked very young, almost a boy, really, although he was surely over eighteen.
"I... I dreamed. They took my wings! They cut them off... they..." Tears again.
Rowan shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds and then knelt, putting an arm around him and gently stroking the soft white feathers of the wings. "Sshh... they haven't. You're still whole."
"But they will! I know! I heard!" he exclaimed, within sobs.
The anger was intense and unexpected. "They won't. I shan't let them."
The boy looked up at him. "Can you stop them?" he asked, doubtfully.
Rowan paused. "No, but I can get you out of here." He shrugged his jacket off and handed it to the angel. "Here. Use this to hide your wings."
The boy took it, but didn't put it on. He fingered it, gazing up at Rowan. "Are you sure...?"
"Yes. Do it."
He obeyed. Rowan took a deep breath. He had no idea how he was going to work this, but he knew he had all the resources, he just had to use them correctly. "All right. Follow me. And be careful."
Part 2
The City, Two Months Later
All in all, Rowan was amazed at how easy it had been to escape. Still, he knew that with all the connections the Institute had, the hard part was staying out. He was almost amazed they had made it this long.
Rowan's first action was to visit a bank and access an account he had created in the years before his induction to the Institute as a safeguard, in case he ever needed some money quickly. He emptied the account, concealing the money (of which there was not that much, since Rowan knew better than to call attention to the account by having millions inside it) around himself and a bag he had picked up. It wasn't the safest manner, but it would do for now.
Rowan paid cash for two airfares to a city where he owned a small flat, although his name was nowhere on the official papers. The angel had fidgeted the whole flight. When Rowan asked why, he complained that the seat rubbed against his wings. Rowan had since discovered that he hated all chairs with backs for this same reason.
They had made it to the flat safely, and Rowan had locked the door securely behind him. The phone line was dead, naturally. They were more or less prisoners in the apartment. The only time Rowan left the apartment was when they needed food.
"We can't live like this forever," came a quiet voice. Rowan gazed at the angel, who was sitting far forward on the sofa, wings slightly spread behind him. The boy had shown a great deal of intelligence in the few conversations they had shared. Although they lived in the same house, they were still very much like strangers, and Rowan doubted that the angel trusted him entirely.
Rowan sighed. "I know. It's only until I know we're safe."
"And how long will that be?"
Rowan shrugged. He was beginning to realise his initial perception of a frail, childlike figure was hideously inaccurate.
The boy looked as if he wanted to speak, but was unable to find the right words. Rowan waited patiently.
"I've been thinking..." he said, eventually.
"Hmm?"
"It was too... simple. How long had you planned it?"
It took Rowan a few seconds to realise what he was talking about. "I didn't plan it. Well, not while I was at the Institute. I set all that up a long time ago."
The boy frowned. "Then why didn't you escape sooner?"
Rowan shrugged. "I guess... I guess I never had any real reason to, before. It was always just me, and I wasn't really being harmed at the Institute. I expect I figured I would be in more danger outside the Institute than inside it," he said, bitterly.
"And I? How did I change that?"
Rowan smiled, weakly. "Well, if you want the truth, I couldn't leave you like that; couldn't abandon you to that fate, if you will. You seemed so... fragile. Hurt."
The boy gazed up into his eyes, as if trying to find something he could not quite comprehend. "You did it for me?"
Rowan sighed, and nodded.
The boy's shoulders fell, and he looked away, dropping his head into his hands. Rowan was surprised to see he was crying. "What's wrong?" he asked, moving to sit by him and putting an arm around his shoulder, above the wings.
"I... no one's ever done anything like that before. Not for me. Why would they? I'm... I'm a mutant. Deformed. Ugly. A disgrace..." The bitterness behind the tears and self-deprecation was obvious.
"I think you're beautiful," said Rowan, moving around in front of him and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. The angel's head tilted up, so that their eyes met again.
"But... You don't even know my name!" The boy seemed honestly bewildered.
Rowan blinked. It was true. "You never told me. And... I didn't want to ask."
"I know yours... it's Rowan."
Rowan nodded.
"I'm Blaine."
"Blaine," repeated Rowan, cocking his head. "It's pretty. Like you."
The angel blushed. "You're teasing. Don't."
Rowan wanted to say more, but decided to drop it. Perhaps, before too much time had passed they would be friends. He was already closer to gaining the boy's trust.
We're not safe yet, thought Rowan, not by a long shot. He knew they would have to move again, maybe out of the country, to where it was to be hoped that the Institute couldn't find them. But right at this moment, he couldn't care less. This was more important.
Part 3
Leaving the Country
"We have to leave, you know," said Blaine. "We'll never be safe in this country. You know that."
Rowan looked down at the angel from his position on the sofa. Blaine was lying on his stomach upon the floor, and until speaking had been reading the newspaper, which was spread out in front of him. Blaine rolled onto his side, and met Rowan's eyes.
Rowan sighed. "I know. But, there's really nowhere to go, or nowhere to get there. We can't risk catching a public plane, and there's no private ones that fly to anywhere not under the eye of the Institute."
"And there's the additional problem of you being a convicted criminal," said Blaine, watching him for a reaction.
Rowan jumped. "How did you...?"
Blaine presented a newspaper article. It was on computer hackers, and made several mentions of Rowan Jessamyn, who was apparently convicted seven years ago on hundreds of charges of accessing classified information.
Blaine seemed to waiting for a response. Rowan just shrugged. "I can't deny it. It happened."
"So, why can't you use those computer skills to get us a plane out of here?"
Rowan blinked. He hadn't been expecting that question. "Well, for starters, I don't have a computer."
"Surely you have contacts who could do it for you?"
Rowan groaned. "Could, yes. Would, or will? I don't know. Most are extremely unwilling to risk themselves for someone else, and harbouring two fugitives could get them into a lot of trouble."
"How would they know we're fugitives? Surely it's only from the Institute..." countered Blaine.
Rowan laughed. "Blaine, any hacker with any amount of skill knows about the Institute, and does not want to get involved with it."
"So how come you..."
"It was either join it, or be sent to jail. It was the lesser of two evils."
"Why did you get caught in the first place? I mean, according to this you were one of the best in history."
"I slipped up. I was young, over-confident, and took a risk I shouldn't have. Can we drop this? It's not helping us, and not about to get us out of this mess."
"Maybe we should have stayed, then," said Blaine, standing, anger flashing in his eyes. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life cooped up in a tiny apartment, no matter what the other options are."
Rowan stood up, and yanked the younger male by the wings just hard enough to hurt. "Remember these? They were going to cut them off. Or didn't you want to think about that?"
Blaine gasped. "Don't!" he yelped. "It hurts!"
Rowan released him. "Do you understand now, though?"
"Yes," hissed Blaine. Rowan felt vaguely ashamed to see the tears in his friend's eyes.
Friend? he wondered. I guess he is, now. We're not acting like strangers now, any more. It's more like comrades than anything else, though.
Blaine was regarding Rowan with a distinct expression of betrayal. "I thought you liked me!" he said, blinking as if to drive away tears.
That was something else Rowan had noticed about Blaine - he could switch emotions as quickly as a slide projector changed slides. "I do like you," said Rowan, moving around in front of the angel and tilting his head up to meet his own.
"Then why did you do that?" the angel accused.
"Blaine... I'm sorry." There wasn't much else he could say.
Blaine was silent, in thought. Finally, he ventured a small smile. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's not your fault."
Rowan hugged him, spontaneously. He was going to draw back after a few seconds, but Blaine clutched him tightly. "Don't go," the angel whispered. "Please, don't go without me."
"I won't. Believe me on that, if nothing else."
At last, Blaine pulled back, the emotions that had prompted it fading. Rowan gave him a weak smile, vaguely aware that whatever their relationship was, it had just deepened.
~ * ~
Rowan woke at 5.00 am, with an idea. He made his way out of the apartment, as quiet as possible so as not to wake Blaine. Pulling some a phone card from his pocket, he made his way to a public phone booth, and pulled the door shut behind him. He dialled the number he had never forgotten, the number very few people in the world knew, and fidgeted anxiously whilst it rang.
"Hello?" There was slight suspicion in the tone; a definite wariness.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"
"It's 7am. No, I was up. Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I'm going to be quick. I'm in a phone box. I need your help in getting a plane ticket out of the country. A private plane. One that won't be investigated by the police or the Institute."
There was silence on the line. Rowan paced the best he could in the confined space. By mentioning the Institute, he had identified himself as either another hacker, or someone who was in the know, and therefore not to be trusted.
"If you know of the Institute, you should be able to do it yourself." The tone was now gruff, and uninterested.
"I can't. I don't have a computer and I don't have a phone line."
"You didn't say your name."
Rowan took a breath. There was a very good chance he'd lose any chance he had if he gave his real name. But, he had no other alias that would stand up to the thorough investigation this particular hacker would do.
"I'm Rowan Jessamyn."
"Rowan Jessamyn is under the power of the Institute."
"If you are who you are supposed to be, you would know he escaped three months ago."
Another long silence. "Okay. Tell me what you want."
Part 4
Travelling
Blaine shifted against the aeroplane seat for about the thousandth time. "I despise these seats," he murmured to Rowan.
Rowan sighed, irritably. "I'm sorry, okay? But these planes all have seats with backs. It can't be helped. Sit forward a bit, so you're not leaning back against it or something. Just stop complaining, okay?"
Blaine looked hurt. "I..."
"Just drop it, Blaine."
The angel slumped down, every now and then giving Rowan a hurt look.
Rowan gazed out of the window, not really seeing anything. I'm stuck on a twenty hour flight with a sulking angel, he thought, somewhat miserably. No wonder I feel so depressed.
To be fair, they were both nervous and stressed about the journey. The country, known simply as Southland, had practically no contact with their own, and definitely none with the Institute, but that also meant they were uncertain of their reception. The pilot had assured them of asylum, but Rowan was still worried. Once there, they would have find a way to get money (legally, added Rowan mentally), probably by working. Rowan's own money hadn't been enough to cover the air fares, so he'd had to take a big risk and take money from his Institute account. The pilot had also arranged an apartment for them, but Rowan would have to find some way to cover the rent.
It's not going to be easy. I know that. I just wish it didn't have to be, he thought to himself.
Rowan had made an unspoken vow to himself that this time, it would all be legal. He wasn't going to rip off this country. Even if he had to work with computers, which he suspected he would, since it was really the only thing he knew much about, other than security systems.
Blaine elbowed him, making Rowan jump.
"What?" asked Rowan, turning to face the angel.
"We're almost there. We're coming in to land, can't you feel it?" Rowan could feel his excitement, like a child's.
Rowan squeezed Blaine's shoulder, smiling weakly. "Are you scared?"
"A little," said Blaine.
"Don't worry, I am too," said Rowan, distractedly. The sight of the ground rushing towards them was making him dizzy.
Blaine rested his head against Rowan's shoulder. "But we'll be fine. As long as we're together. Right?"
Rowan just smiled, and put his arm around Blaine.
~ * ~
"Nervous?" asked Rowan, as they waited for an interview. Before they left the plane, they were told they must attend an interview to ascertain if they would be allowed to stay in the country. Blaine had been pacing non-stop for the past ten minutes.
"I hope they won't turn us away because of me. But... they won't do anything as drastic as the Institute, surely?"
Rowan had been listening to worries of this sort for the past fifteen minutes as well. He replied as he had the past few times. "I should hope not."
"You'll be fine," came an unexpected male voice. "We're quite receptive to non-humans over here."
Rowan and Blaine turned. They hadn't noticed another person in the room before, but whoever it was could easily have entered later.
"You are?" asked Blaine, rhetorically. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
Blaine twisted his hands together nervously. "Even ones like me?"
The man nodded, hiding a smile.
The air seemed to lighten as most of Blaine's tension faded away. He gazed at the man, then at Rowan, and then down at his feet.
"Why are you here?"
"Here?" asked Rowan, uncertain whether he meant the waiting room, or the country itself.
"Here. This country. What are you on the run from?"
Blaine jumped. "Uh..." He blushed as realised he'd given that part of it away.
Rowan sighed, resigned to explaining. "Not the law. Well, not exactly."
"Oh?"
"It's an organisation... it has a great deal of power in our country. They might very well kill us."
"How did you get on their bad side in the first place?"
"Well, I worked for them. But then --"
Blaine interrupted. "They captured me. They were going to cut off my wings and make me work for them. Rowan... Rowan risked his life trying to save me."
Rowan blinked, and was silent. He'd never thought of it that way.
"I see," said the man. "I thought angels were respected in your country. Why would they want to... castrate you in this manner?"
Blaine winced at his choice of words. "I... I'm not normal. Not for an angel."
"How so?"
"Well, look at me! My wings are too short and my hair and eyes are a funny colour!" said Blaine, bitterly.
The man shrugged. "None of that matters here."
Rowan spoke up. "I'm sorry... I just find that rather hard to believe. It's human nature to distrust things which are different. I just can't see people ever living in a country that's entirely accepting of everything."
The man turned to look at Rowan, an expression of brief surprise crossing his face. "Well, no, you are right there. But, legally, no one is allowed to do anything discriminating against another person. For any reason. To that extent, yes, we do have such a country."
Rowan nodded. Blaine moved over and sat down next to him, perching on the edge of the bench so that he didn't have any contact with the wall behind it.
"Well, I think I've learnt all I need to learn. You are Blaine and Rowan Jessamyn, yes?"
"My name's not Jessamyn," protested Blaine. "I don't have a surname."
"Yes, we do have that noted," said the man, bestowing a small smile on the angel. "Well, that's it. You're free to go."
"Go? Go where?"
"Out. Out to the country, to wherever you were planning to stay, to explore the city itself... Wherever you want."
"But... we haven't had an interview... oh. You were interviewing us?" Blaine turned a brilliant shade of red.
The man smiled again. "Your bags are outside. Good luck, and may your life always be happy."
~ END ~
Part 5 to End
As far as I can tell, I must have written this story around 1998 or 1999 - the backdated date is the last edited date of the file.
As I noted at the time: The first part of the series is in the vein of how I originally intended it to be - a sort of pseudo sci-fi adventure story. The second half is fluff and should be avoided by all except hopeless romantics.
--
Angel
Prologue
If there is one thing human beings are not known for, it is foresight. As a race, they are much more inclined to act first, and then deal with the consequences as they come.
It was during the third millennium that humanity indulged in its greatest war ever. Compared to this one, all the others were like minor quarrels. Weapons had developed a lot over the past centuries, and were capable of great destruction.
The entire animal population of Europe, Africa and Asia, including humans, were wiped out by a genetic plague engineered by one of the nations. The counter-plague was released, but could not act fast enough to save more than a few insects and small mammals. America, Antarctica and Australia, being separated by a vast expanse of water, were the only continents to escape.
Much of the population of the remaining continents were wiped out by bombs - not nuclear, humanity had learned from their previous mistakes on the effects of nuclear bombs, but still deadly.
Those people that were left in the two populated nations decided to do something with their newly decimated population. Both decided they would improve society, that this time there would be no mistakes.
The nation that had once been Australia decided on enforced laws regarding prejudice of all sorts. They acted to erase bigoted minds from the population forever. Criminal behaviour was not tolerated and was dealt with severely. All people were given enough money to keep clothed and fed. And if the resulting governmental system left the people feeling slightly under a dictatorship, well, it was all for their own good. The population grew, and the people were, generally speaking, happy.
That which had been North America, relishing its powers in genetic engineering, decided on a far more complicated tactic. They created, from human and bird stock, an entire new race based on the myths and legends of humankind. Angels, winged humans, were known in many cultures as the representations of good - wisdom, knowledge, generosity. Playing on these virtues, the nation created a race of figureheads to lead the people.
The angels, who could reproduce naturally after the first few generations, lived in isolated cities. Children were educated in their duties and information necessary for being 'figureheads of society'. They were, quite simply, raised to be perfect, under the watchful eye of the Institute, which had created them.
Something the original creators had overlooked was that the easiest way to achieve perfection is to dispose of all that is imperfect.
It was into this society that Blaine was born.
The humans of this society lived their lives in a way that was uncannily similar to how their ancestors had lived in the twentieth century. The rate of major crimes dropped, due to the odd form of social conditioning in place but that of other, less destructive, crimes rose slightly.
The Institute, noting how many criminals were those of higher intelligence than the usual for human beings, started a program of recruitment from the gaols, taking those it felt it needed and conditioning them to 'work for the good of society'.
The government was overseen by the President, an angel, and the Vice-President, a human. Human children were taught in schools, usually by an angel.
It was into this society that Rowan Jessamyn was born.
Part 1
The Institute.
Rowan watched over the monitor as a box was placed in the centre of the room, and carefully unbolted. The audio transmission was on, and he could hear the voices of the two men discussing the contents of the box. Apparently, it was some kind of animal.
"Is it tranquillised?"
"Yes. It should wake up before too long."
"Better leave and lock the door. It could get violent when it wakes."
The two men left the room, and made their way to the surveillance centre. Rowan removed his earphones as they entered, and looked up from his place at the video screen.
"What is it?" he asked, blinking at them.
One of them made an impatient gesture; obviously not feeling it was worth explaining to a security guard. The other shrugged. "Some kind of angel. They found it wandering about outside the Institute."
"An angel?" repeated Rowan.
The man ignored him. "Keep an eye on it. When it wakes, call the main board."
They departed without any further conversation. Rowan replaced his headphones, and returned to his study of the room. It was almost painfully silent.
~ * ~
For the longest time, nothing happened. After two hours of staring at the screen, Rowan was about ready to give it all up and sleep at his desk. As it was, he missed seeing the box open. However, he did see the first signs of movement out of the box. Rowan sat up, working the video controls to get a clearer picture.
The creature stood, slowly, blinking owlishly as it stared blindly around the room, somehow managing to get perfect eye contact with the camera for several minutes, before looking away and down at its feet.
Activating the alert for the main board, Rowan made his own study of the figure now sitting on the edge of the box. It was definitely male, he decided, although the face was delicately androgynous. The white hair was teased at all angles - he supposed the creature had been out in the elements for some time before being found by the Institute scouts. Rowan caught himself wondering what it - no, he - was running from. The eyes had been black when Rowan saw them the first time, but he was uncertain of the quality of the colours on the video. They could well have been brown, or dark green.
But surely, thought Rowan, if it was designed as all the others were, any combination is possible.
The wings, which were half spread as the creature tried to gain his balance as he stood, were a shimmering, pure white. They were also, Rowan reflected, far too short for any normal angel. They were about half the size of the wings he had seen on other angels, both in reality and in pictures, and lacked the characteristic joint that allowed them to be folded neatly behind the back.
"Ah, so the creature has awoken," came a voice from behind Rowan. "Has it spoken yet?"
Rowan shook his head, and then remembered he was supposed to speak. "Not yet, sir."
A female voice recited the physical features in a neutral tone, presumably into a Dictaphone of some description. There was a sharp snap as she switched it off. "Well, they really failed with this one," she said, disdainfully.
"It must be a mutation of some kind."
"What shall we do with it?"
There was silence for several moments. Rowan didn't dare turn his head to see what was going on - they might remember his presence and take the conversation elsewhere.
"I think we should recruit it."
Rowan couldn't mask a wince. He knew all too well what that meant.
"How? Those wings would cause a problem. We'd have to keep it confined."
Rowan could feel the shrug. "Cut them off."
"We should talk to it first."
The male glanced down at Rowan, who had turned at that last statement. He flicked the audio off at the wall. "Very well. Do not turn it back on until we are finished," he ordered Rowan. Rowan nodded meekly.
~ * ~
As soon as the pair left the room, which Rowan had been observing intently for the past hour, Rowan flicked the audio back on. He distinctly heard the man's observation as they shut the door; "Yes. Suitable. We shall have to arrange an operation to remove the wings as soon as possible."
Rowan rubbed his temples. The idea seemed monstrous. An odd expression had passed across the creature's face - shock, horror, sorrow, perhaps all three.
As far as Rowan could see, few words were exchanged during the 'interview'. They had merely judged the responses to certain suggestions and movements. He remembered well his own experience in that position, and he had known what they were doing. If they recruited the angel, Rowan was now certain he would be used as an ambassador, or in public relations. Rowan was well acquainted with the lies the Institute's speakers told at press conferences, and they all had that same air of trustworthiness in their pretty faces.
Rowan shook his head in frustration. He did not want to see this creature's exquisite beauty removed. Not by an operation, and not by the perversions the Institute inflicted on all involved with it. He didn't want to see the expression of bewildered innocence disappear, and turn into resignation or despair. The wave of protectiveness he felt towards this gorgeous creature was almost frightening.
~ * ~
That evening, Rowan tried something he hadn't tried in a long time. He was on night duty, and the other half of his team had taken the night off for a date, making Rowan promise to 'cover for him'. The rest of the various workers, scientists and others at the Institute had long since retired, or gone home. Moving about the buildings at night was against Institute regulations, except for people in security. For the first time, Rowan was grateful for his job.
Listening out for any of the guards on patrol, Rowan made his way to the main computer laboratory. Breaking into the network was easier than he expected, although for an ex-computer hacker it should not have been too hard. Rowan was secretly suspicious about the Institute security system - he had a vague idea whoever had set it up had been leaving gaps for escape holes. Well, all the better for him. He dismissed the idea that it might be a trap. The Institute had too many means to catch someone from the outside to bother about elaborate methods for preventing escapes.
Before too long, Rowan had a print out of the timetable the night guards kept to and had plotted a course out that would avoid all of them. Rowan removed all evidence of his tampering, and returned to his station without being noticed.
The monitor was still on, and the picture was focused on the sleeping form of the angel. He was stretched out on his side, lying on the small bunk provided. As Rowan watched, he began to toss and turn, as if having a nightmare, eventually squashing one of those sensitive, delicate wings under his back and waking with a start. He blinked, and then dissolved into tears.
Rowan couldn't help himself. He made for the door.
~ * ~
Rowan shut the door to the creature's room carefully behind him, and approached the tight ball of cowering angel on the far side of the room.
"Hey," he said quietly, not wanting to startle it, "what's wrong? Are you okay?"
The angel blinked up at him, squinting slightly against the soft light. His eyes really were black, observed Rowan. He looked very young, almost a boy, really, although he was surely over eighteen.
"I... I dreamed. They took my wings! They cut them off... they..." Tears again.
Rowan shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds and then knelt, putting an arm around him and gently stroking the soft white feathers of the wings. "Sshh... they haven't. You're still whole."
"But they will! I know! I heard!" he exclaimed, within sobs.
The anger was intense and unexpected. "They won't. I shan't let them."
The boy looked up at him. "Can you stop them?" he asked, doubtfully.
Rowan paused. "No, but I can get you out of here." He shrugged his jacket off and handed it to the angel. "Here. Use this to hide your wings."
The boy took it, but didn't put it on. He fingered it, gazing up at Rowan. "Are you sure...?"
"Yes. Do it."
He obeyed. Rowan took a deep breath. He had no idea how he was going to work this, but he knew he had all the resources, he just had to use them correctly. "All right. Follow me. And be careful."
Part 2
The City, Two Months Later
All in all, Rowan was amazed at how easy it had been to escape. Still, he knew that with all the connections the Institute had, the hard part was staying out. He was almost amazed they had made it this long.
Rowan's first action was to visit a bank and access an account he had created in the years before his induction to the Institute as a safeguard, in case he ever needed some money quickly. He emptied the account, concealing the money (of which there was not that much, since Rowan knew better than to call attention to the account by having millions inside it) around himself and a bag he had picked up. It wasn't the safest manner, but it would do for now.
Rowan paid cash for two airfares to a city where he owned a small flat, although his name was nowhere on the official papers. The angel had fidgeted the whole flight. When Rowan asked why, he complained that the seat rubbed against his wings. Rowan had since discovered that he hated all chairs with backs for this same reason.
They had made it to the flat safely, and Rowan had locked the door securely behind him. The phone line was dead, naturally. They were more or less prisoners in the apartment. The only time Rowan left the apartment was when they needed food.
"We can't live like this forever," came a quiet voice. Rowan gazed at the angel, who was sitting far forward on the sofa, wings slightly spread behind him. The boy had shown a great deal of intelligence in the few conversations they had shared. Although they lived in the same house, they were still very much like strangers, and Rowan doubted that the angel trusted him entirely.
Rowan sighed. "I know. It's only until I know we're safe."
"And how long will that be?"
Rowan shrugged. He was beginning to realise his initial perception of a frail, childlike figure was hideously inaccurate.
The boy looked as if he wanted to speak, but was unable to find the right words. Rowan waited patiently.
"I've been thinking..." he said, eventually.
"Hmm?"
"It was too... simple. How long had you planned it?"
It took Rowan a few seconds to realise what he was talking about. "I didn't plan it. Well, not while I was at the Institute. I set all that up a long time ago."
The boy frowned. "Then why didn't you escape sooner?"
Rowan shrugged. "I guess... I guess I never had any real reason to, before. It was always just me, and I wasn't really being harmed at the Institute. I expect I figured I would be in more danger outside the Institute than inside it," he said, bitterly.
"And I? How did I change that?"
Rowan smiled, weakly. "Well, if you want the truth, I couldn't leave you like that; couldn't abandon you to that fate, if you will. You seemed so... fragile. Hurt."
The boy gazed up into his eyes, as if trying to find something he could not quite comprehend. "You did it for me?"
Rowan sighed, and nodded.
The boy's shoulders fell, and he looked away, dropping his head into his hands. Rowan was surprised to see he was crying. "What's wrong?" he asked, moving to sit by him and putting an arm around his shoulder, above the wings.
"I... no one's ever done anything like that before. Not for me. Why would they? I'm... I'm a mutant. Deformed. Ugly. A disgrace..." The bitterness behind the tears and self-deprecation was obvious.
"I think you're beautiful," said Rowan, moving around in front of him and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. The angel's head tilted up, so that their eyes met again.
"But... You don't even know my name!" The boy seemed honestly bewildered.
Rowan blinked. It was true. "You never told me. And... I didn't want to ask."
"I know yours... it's Rowan."
Rowan nodded.
"I'm Blaine."
"Blaine," repeated Rowan, cocking his head. "It's pretty. Like you."
The angel blushed. "You're teasing. Don't."
Rowan wanted to say more, but decided to drop it. Perhaps, before too much time had passed they would be friends. He was already closer to gaining the boy's trust.
We're not safe yet, thought Rowan, not by a long shot. He knew they would have to move again, maybe out of the country, to where it was to be hoped that the Institute couldn't find them. But right at this moment, he couldn't care less. This was more important.
Part 3
Leaving the Country
"We have to leave, you know," said Blaine. "We'll never be safe in this country. You know that."
Rowan looked down at the angel from his position on the sofa. Blaine was lying on his stomach upon the floor, and until speaking had been reading the newspaper, which was spread out in front of him. Blaine rolled onto his side, and met Rowan's eyes.
Rowan sighed. "I know. But, there's really nowhere to go, or nowhere to get there. We can't risk catching a public plane, and there's no private ones that fly to anywhere not under the eye of the Institute."
"And there's the additional problem of you being a convicted criminal," said Blaine, watching him for a reaction.
Rowan jumped. "How did you...?"
Blaine presented a newspaper article. It was on computer hackers, and made several mentions of Rowan Jessamyn, who was apparently convicted seven years ago on hundreds of charges of accessing classified information.
Blaine seemed to waiting for a response. Rowan just shrugged. "I can't deny it. It happened."
"So, why can't you use those computer skills to get us a plane out of here?"
Rowan blinked. He hadn't been expecting that question. "Well, for starters, I don't have a computer."
"Surely you have contacts who could do it for you?"
Rowan groaned. "Could, yes. Would, or will? I don't know. Most are extremely unwilling to risk themselves for someone else, and harbouring two fugitives could get them into a lot of trouble."
"How would they know we're fugitives? Surely it's only from the Institute..." countered Blaine.
Rowan laughed. "Blaine, any hacker with any amount of skill knows about the Institute, and does not want to get involved with it."
"So how come you..."
"It was either join it, or be sent to jail. It was the lesser of two evils."
"Why did you get caught in the first place? I mean, according to this you were one of the best in history."
"I slipped up. I was young, over-confident, and took a risk I shouldn't have. Can we drop this? It's not helping us, and not about to get us out of this mess."
"Maybe we should have stayed, then," said Blaine, standing, anger flashing in his eyes. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life cooped up in a tiny apartment, no matter what the other options are."
Rowan stood up, and yanked the younger male by the wings just hard enough to hurt. "Remember these? They were going to cut them off. Or didn't you want to think about that?"
Blaine gasped. "Don't!" he yelped. "It hurts!"
Rowan released him. "Do you understand now, though?"
"Yes," hissed Blaine. Rowan felt vaguely ashamed to see the tears in his friend's eyes.
Friend? he wondered. I guess he is, now. We're not acting like strangers now, any more. It's more like comrades than anything else, though.
Blaine was regarding Rowan with a distinct expression of betrayal. "I thought you liked me!" he said, blinking as if to drive away tears.
That was something else Rowan had noticed about Blaine - he could switch emotions as quickly as a slide projector changed slides. "I do like you," said Rowan, moving around in front of the angel and tilting his head up to meet his own.
"Then why did you do that?" the angel accused.
"Blaine... I'm sorry." There wasn't much else he could say.
Blaine was silent, in thought. Finally, he ventured a small smile. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's not your fault."
Rowan hugged him, spontaneously. He was going to draw back after a few seconds, but Blaine clutched him tightly. "Don't go," the angel whispered. "Please, don't go without me."
"I won't. Believe me on that, if nothing else."
At last, Blaine pulled back, the emotions that had prompted it fading. Rowan gave him a weak smile, vaguely aware that whatever their relationship was, it had just deepened.
~ * ~
Rowan woke at 5.00 am, with an idea. He made his way out of the apartment, as quiet as possible so as not to wake Blaine. Pulling some a phone card from his pocket, he made his way to a public phone booth, and pulled the door shut behind him. He dialled the number he had never forgotten, the number very few people in the world knew, and fidgeted anxiously whilst it rang.
"Hello?" There was slight suspicion in the tone; a definite wariness.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"
"It's 7am. No, I was up. Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I'm going to be quick. I'm in a phone box. I need your help in getting a plane ticket out of the country. A private plane. One that won't be investigated by the police or the Institute."
There was silence on the line. Rowan paced the best he could in the confined space. By mentioning the Institute, he had identified himself as either another hacker, or someone who was in the know, and therefore not to be trusted.
"If you know of the Institute, you should be able to do it yourself." The tone was now gruff, and uninterested.
"I can't. I don't have a computer and I don't have a phone line."
"You didn't say your name."
Rowan took a breath. There was a very good chance he'd lose any chance he had if he gave his real name. But, he had no other alias that would stand up to the thorough investigation this particular hacker would do.
"I'm Rowan Jessamyn."
"Rowan Jessamyn is under the power of the Institute."
"If you are who you are supposed to be, you would know he escaped three months ago."
Another long silence. "Okay. Tell me what you want."
Part 4
Travelling
Blaine shifted against the aeroplane seat for about the thousandth time. "I despise these seats," he murmured to Rowan.
Rowan sighed, irritably. "I'm sorry, okay? But these planes all have seats with backs. It can't be helped. Sit forward a bit, so you're not leaning back against it or something. Just stop complaining, okay?"
Blaine looked hurt. "I..."
"Just drop it, Blaine."
The angel slumped down, every now and then giving Rowan a hurt look.
Rowan gazed out of the window, not really seeing anything. I'm stuck on a twenty hour flight with a sulking angel, he thought, somewhat miserably. No wonder I feel so depressed.
To be fair, they were both nervous and stressed about the journey. The country, known simply as Southland, had practically no contact with their own, and definitely none with the Institute, but that also meant they were uncertain of their reception. The pilot had assured them of asylum, but Rowan was still worried. Once there, they would have find a way to get money (legally, added Rowan mentally), probably by working. Rowan's own money hadn't been enough to cover the air fares, so he'd had to take a big risk and take money from his Institute account. The pilot had also arranged an apartment for them, but Rowan would have to find some way to cover the rent.
It's not going to be easy. I know that. I just wish it didn't have to be, he thought to himself.
Rowan had made an unspoken vow to himself that this time, it would all be legal. He wasn't going to rip off this country. Even if he had to work with computers, which he suspected he would, since it was really the only thing he knew much about, other than security systems.
Blaine elbowed him, making Rowan jump.
"What?" asked Rowan, turning to face the angel.
"We're almost there. We're coming in to land, can't you feel it?" Rowan could feel his excitement, like a child's.
Rowan squeezed Blaine's shoulder, smiling weakly. "Are you scared?"
"A little," said Blaine.
"Don't worry, I am too," said Rowan, distractedly. The sight of the ground rushing towards them was making him dizzy.
Blaine rested his head against Rowan's shoulder. "But we'll be fine. As long as we're together. Right?"
Rowan just smiled, and put his arm around Blaine.
~ * ~
"Nervous?" asked Rowan, as they waited for an interview. Before they left the plane, they were told they must attend an interview to ascertain if they would be allowed to stay in the country. Blaine had been pacing non-stop for the past ten minutes.
"I hope they won't turn us away because of me. But... they won't do anything as drastic as the Institute, surely?"
Rowan had been listening to worries of this sort for the past fifteen minutes as well. He replied as he had the past few times. "I should hope not."
"You'll be fine," came an unexpected male voice. "We're quite receptive to non-humans over here."
Rowan and Blaine turned. They hadn't noticed another person in the room before, but whoever it was could easily have entered later.
"You are?" asked Blaine, rhetorically. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
Blaine twisted his hands together nervously. "Even ones like me?"
The man nodded, hiding a smile.
The air seemed to lighten as most of Blaine's tension faded away. He gazed at the man, then at Rowan, and then down at his feet.
"Why are you here?"
"Here?" asked Rowan, uncertain whether he meant the waiting room, or the country itself.
"Here. This country. What are you on the run from?"
Blaine jumped. "Uh..." He blushed as realised he'd given that part of it away.
Rowan sighed, resigned to explaining. "Not the law. Well, not exactly."
"Oh?"
"It's an organisation... it has a great deal of power in our country. They might very well kill us."
"How did you get on their bad side in the first place?"
"Well, I worked for them. But then --"
Blaine interrupted. "They captured me. They were going to cut off my wings and make me work for them. Rowan... Rowan risked his life trying to save me."
Rowan blinked, and was silent. He'd never thought of it that way.
"I see," said the man. "I thought angels were respected in your country. Why would they want to... castrate you in this manner?"
Blaine winced at his choice of words. "I... I'm not normal. Not for an angel."
"How so?"
"Well, look at me! My wings are too short and my hair and eyes are a funny colour!" said Blaine, bitterly.
The man shrugged. "None of that matters here."
Rowan spoke up. "I'm sorry... I just find that rather hard to believe. It's human nature to distrust things which are different. I just can't see people ever living in a country that's entirely accepting of everything."
The man turned to look at Rowan, an expression of brief surprise crossing his face. "Well, no, you are right there. But, legally, no one is allowed to do anything discriminating against another person. For any reason. To that extent, yes, we do have such a country."
Rowan nodded. Blaine moved over and sat down next to him, perching on the edge of the bench so that he didn't have any contact with the wall behind it.
"Well, I think I've learnt all I need to learn. You are Blaine and Rowan Jessamyn, yes?"
"My name's not Jessamyn," protested Blaine. "I don't have a surname."
"Yes, we do have that noted," said the man, bestowing a small smile on the angel. "Well, that's it. You're free to go."
"Go? Go where?"
"Out. Out to the country, to wherever you were planning to stay, to explore the city itself... Wherever you want."
"But... we haven't had an interview... oh. You were interviewing us?" Blaine turned a brilliant shade of red.
The man smiled again. "Your bags are outside. Good luck, and may your life always be happy."
~ END ~
Part 5 to End