The Wraeththu Chronicles by Storm Constantine, Paul Cashman Page A
Authors: Storm Constantine, Paul Cashman
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Pellaz," he said, nodding. (What did he mean?) "But you have a lot to learn. It is all strange to you and you have so much to overcome. Human prejudices, human bonds, human greed . . ."
"Human frailty," I could not help adding. I remembered it from church.
Orien reached out to ruffle my hair. "Pretty child, yes, that too," he laughed. "Now. Tell me what you think Wraeththu is."
I was totally unprepared.
"Well?"
"I ... I don't know." It was feeble.
Orien was exhibiting that unfailing Wraeththu patience. "Oh, come on. I can't believe you haven't thought about it. Tell me what you think."
Next to him, Seel shifted his position on the floor and cleared his throat. He was either bored or embarassed.
"Well," I began, leaning forward to clasp my toes. "I suppose I think it started like a gang of boys ... I don't know . . . something like that, and then it just grew. You don't think of yourselves as human though, do you, but I'm not sure what the difference is. ... You all seem so ... so ... old. It sounds stupid .. . you look young, but you're not.. ." My mind was full of ideas but I did not have the words to voice them. I shook my head. Orien did not press me further. "Old? I'm twenty-one, Seel's nineteen, aren't you?"
Seel did not look amused. "No, twenty now, if it really is that important. "
"How old were you ..." I began, but Orien waved his hand to silence me.
"Questions later," he said. "Now, I am going to tell you exactly what you are getting into."
Years ago, in the north, a child was born. A mutant. Its body was strangely malformed in some respects.
As it grew, this child exhibited many unusual traits that foxed both its parents and the doctors they consulted in thei r concern. Their son conversed earnestly with people they could not see; some of their neighbors' dogs feared him; other children shrank from him in horror. His mother complained she simply did not like the child; he was unlovable, withdrawn. Even as a baby he had snarled at her, refusing the breast. Once, some years later, as she had prepared his dinner, all the saucepans had risen off the stove and flown at her. Turning round, a silent scream frozen on her face, she had seen him standing in the doorway, watching.
On reaching puberty, the boy disappeared from home, and despite massive police investigation (accompanied by an insidious sense of relief experienced by the grieving parents), no clue to his fate was ever found ... for some time.
Months later, officials were baffled by a bizarre murder case in Carmine City. A young man, apparently having been sexually assaulted, had been found dead in a disused building. But it was far from the simple case it appeared; such killings commonplace in the city. The young man's insides had been eroded away as if by a powerful and caustic substance. Post mortem investigation revealed the presence of an unknown material in the body tissues, something that kept on burning even as it dried on the dissecting table. Under the microscope, it teemed with life like sperm, but unlike the sperm of any creature the scientists had seen before.
A mutant runaway had come alive in the city; alone, frightened and dangerous in his fear. He had learned just how different he was. His touch could mean death to those that offered him shelter, the sub-society of the city. He kept away from them, hiding in the terrible gaunt carcases of forgotten tenements; on the run, shivering in the dark.
Freaks roamed the steaming tips, the rubble. One came across him as he slept; lifted aside the foul sacks that covered him; gazed at his translucent glowing beauty. The veins on his neck showed blue through pearl, pumping with life. Some people are so far gone they would do anything to eat. One more day on the planet, one more day for the fleas, the rats, the sores.
Freak lips on a mutant throat, broken teeth to tear. The mutant opened his eyes, relaxed beneath the
"Human frailty," I could not help adding. I remembered it from church.
Orien reached out to ruffle my hair. "Pretty child, yes, that too," he laughed. "Now. Tell me what you think Wraeththu is."
I was totally unprepared.
"Well?"
"I ... I don't know." It was feeble.
Orien was exhibiting that unfailing Wraeththu patience. "Oh, come on. I can't believe you haven't thought about it. Tell me what you think."
Next to him, Seel shifted his position on the floor and cleared his throat. He was either bored or embarassed.
"Well," I began, leaning forward to clasp my toes. "I suppose I think it started like a gang of boys ... I don't know . . . something like that, and then it just grew. You don't think of yourselves as human though, do you, but I'm not sure what the difference is. ... You all seem so ... so ... old. It sounds stupid .. . you look young, but you're not.. ." My mind was full of ideas but I did not have the words to voice them. I shook my head. Orien did not press me further. "Old? I'm twenty-one, Seel's nineteen, aren't you?"
Seel did not look amused. "No, twenty now, if it really is that important. "
"How old were you ..." I began, but Orien waved his hand to silence me.
"Questions later," he said. "Now, I am going to tell you exactly what you are getting into."
Years ago, in the north, a child was born. A mutant. Its body was strangely malformed in some respects.
As it grew, this child exhibited many unusual traits that foxed both its parents and the doctors they consulted in thei r concern. Their son conversed earnestly with people they could not see; some of their neighbors' dogs feared him; other children shrank from him in horror. His mother complained she simply did not like the child; he was unlovable, withdrawn. Even as a baby he had snarled at her, refusing the breast. Once, some years later, as she had prepared his dinner, all the saucepans had risen off the stove and flown at her. Turning round, a silent scream frozen on her face, she had seen him standing in the doorway, watching.
On reaching puberty, the boy disappeared from home, and despite massive police investigation (accompanied by an insidious sense of relief experienced by the grieving parents), no clue to his fate was ever found ... for some time.
Months later, officials were baffled by a bizarre murder case in Carmine City. A young man, apparently having been sexually assaulted, had been found dead in a disused building. But it was far from the simple case it appeared; such killings commonplace in the city. The young man's insides had been eroded away as if by a powerful and caustic substance. Post mortem investigation revealed the presence of an unknown material in the body tissues, something that kept on burning even as it dried on the dissecting table. Under the microscope, it teemed with life like sperm, but unlike the sperm of any creature the scientists had seen before.
A mutant runaway had come alive in the city; alone, frightened and dangerous in his fear. He had learned just how different he was. His touch could mean death to those that offered him shelter, the sub-society of the city. He kept away from them, hiding in the terrible gaunt carcases of forgotten tenements; on the run, shivering in the dark.
Freaks roamed the steaming tips, the rubble. One came across him as he slept; lifted aside the foul sacks that covered him; gazed at his translucent glowing beauty. The veins on his neck showed blue through pearl, pumping with life. Some people are so far gone they would do anything to eat. One more day on the planet, one more day for the fleas, the rats, the sores.
Freak lips on a mutant throat, broken teeth to tear. The mutant opened his eyes, relaxed beneath the
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