The half-forgotten
Other half of my short life
In short story form

 
Powers Over Gravity
7-25-04

"Get him! He's translating the Qu'ran!" That's what I heard someone shout as I myself ran down the newly drizzed city streets. That's when I spotted the Muslim tearing at a building sign. I was in a hurry, doing my morning jog, and tried to keep going as I passed by, but the law enforcement nabbed me along with several other people--due to our proximity to the crime--and took me to the courthouse.

There I waited in a line so long it went out onto the street. There was some mud on the ground, but they made us hold our shoes in our hands anyway. One after another I watched each suspect go up to the judge, who read off a sheet of paper to confirm vital facts about the person before letting them go. I got bored and paced around a bit, losing my place in line.

One particular guy had a pistol-sized squirt gun on him. The judge pointed a gun at a girl in line and told him to prove his gun wasn't real or he'd kill the girl. He's like, "Nah," but the judge doesn't kill her anyway. The girl calls him a jerk, and he fires a stream of water out of it. The judge says, "Aren't you forgetting something?" I finally got a good view of him, a large fat Jabba-looking guy. That's when the guy squirted the judge with his water pistol and left.

When I finally stood in front of the judge, I was prepared to answer the simple questions regarding my name and so on, but when he read my name, it was wrong! I contested, and he said, "Oh really? Then why are you soaking wet?" I explained that it was raining earlier, and that they were making me stand outside in the mud. Translators cause rain, after all, so clearly I was guilty.

"Translation is a serious crime," the judge said. "We need to preserve our precious American culture." Others in the courtroom nodded seriously, patriotically. "It should only be performed by certified professionals. If we let just anyone translate anything, it would pollute our culture, and we need to remain pure." At this I saw a girl get giddy, glancing at her man, who was probably in school to obtain his prestigious translator's license. It wasn't just doctors and lawyers anymore. I wanted to defend myself, tell them it couldn't have been me since I just GOT here to this time. I was from the past, couldn't they see that? But no, they'd only think I was crazy.

As they escorted me outside, where they would take me to be jailed and/or excuted, some fellas in the courtroom saw me and wailed, "NO!!" It distracted my escorts just long enough for me to fling my shoes into their faces and run. I busted out the door and into the streets, taking a left and disregarding traffic. The city was like a huge building, all gleaming metal and clean, and yet at every other intersection it was raining.

Was I causing this? Heck if I knew. I wasn't from here. I only knew I had to make it back to what I thought was my apartment. Perdi was there, I was sure, and the authorities only had my face, not my name. They'd never catch me if I got away now.

I glanced back and so no signs of pursuit. I ducked into what turned out to be a gym, bounding up several flights of stairs to see people on exercise bikes. Others sat in bleacher-style seating, watching. A black girl--a personal trainer--asked me to please take my seat. I thought I heard her say my name, so I asked her if she knew me. She said, "No, but I'm sure somebody does," and followed it up with a wry smile. "No," I said. "NOBODY knows ME." I decided it was time to leave when she got a call on her call phone, in case it was the police calling around town, giving everyone my profile.

I went back down the stairs and saw two security men walk by the exit door just before I pushed it open. I took a right down the hall, passing another security guard who was walking into the building. He didn't notice me as I slipped outside.

I ran some more, holding a blue plastic binder over my head to help protect myself from the rain. "I need to disguise myself," I thought, "Change my posture or ditch this jacket or something. Why am I carrying this binder?" By now it was nighttime. Not sure where the day went.

I came out of an alley to the sounds of gunfire. I cringed but then saw noone was shooting at me. A bunch of punks in homes across the street were having a shootout with the homes on my side. I ran across the street into a back yard and stopped when I saw a Mexican with what looked like a flamethrower. He turned it on and a short but thick stream of electricity came out and buzzed around some bushes, trimming them. Ah, just the gardener.

I went to the hospital and talked to a doctor behind the counter there. I explained my situation and presented my evidence: a plastic bag containing a length of intestine, a foot, and a penis. A nurse stopped over out of morbid curiosity. "I'll call you in a couple days with the results. Can I get your number?" The doctor was treating me like just another patient. "No, I don't have a phone number. I don't have an address. I...do not...EXIST. With the exception of this precise moment, I am invisible."

"Well let us run your name through our database anyway," said the nurse. What came up was a third person image of a lawyer detective running down the sidewalk yelling, "I must save the clients!" I took his point of view and ran toward a group of people, pushing them and hurling them across the terrace with my mind. A force bubble grew out of my body and enveloped the surrounding area, obliterating everyone. The nurse was impressed, "That would be useful for getting Kevin out of bed." I guess she was making a joke. I said, "My life changed when I realized I had powers over gravity."

posted by Phlegm at 9/30/2004