Superhuman

In a dystopian America, Trinity Shire, and three other teenagers are taken captive by the government to be used as scientific experiments. The scientist plan on making the "perfect human". They strive to create someone that is able to conquer anything. They spent years perfecting a chemical that could wash out the mind of a human so they can't think for themselves. They plan to build an army of mindless power machines, but will they succeed? Copyright © 2013 by Cassidy McClurkan,
All rights reserved

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7. Chapter Six

 

The dilapidated and ramshackle buildings disappear behind us. It’s like entering a new world. Slick glass buildings of the inner city reflect the light of the street lamps. Each building has a unique shape to it. Most have rounded sides and a glossy white coat. Others are completely clear; the simple designs inside the buildings are soothing and relaxing. I bet from above, the city looks like a computer chip.

            High heals click against the ground as the women stride from store to store. They all look the same, slim bodies, and slicked back hair. “This way.” Griffin says as he guides me towards a strictly silver building. The door slides open, and my eyes strain in the blinding light. I Feel so dirty compared to the white walls and floors, and well, everything.

            “Buy something nice.” He says as he lays one hundred dollars in my hand. “I’ll wait for you,” he says while gesturing me forward to all the dresses. I nod and thank him, then examine the various, and bizarre dresses. It almost feels like we aren’t on a mission right now, like Griffin has forgotten his life outside of this city, but I'm sure he hasn’t.

            I grab several dresses, none of which I am fond of. Griffin follows me to the dressing room and waits outside. I guess he doesn’t want to be left alone in this store looking like he does. I watch him slide down the wall then relax against it while I go into the small room.

            I watch myself enter the room, because I am on every wall. Mirrors enclose the area, and not a single strip of  dry-wall is visible. First, I hang the dresses on a silvery hook. I slide off my tattered rags and toss them to the pristine floor. A loud sigh escaped my lips. I always hated shopping. I know, how unusual for a seventeen-year-old girl, but I just cant bare it.

            I try on the black dress first. It’s strapless and plain. The leathery top squeezes my chest and compresses my ribs; it’s almost like another layer of skin. The fabric quickly forms into the shape of my figure. The rim rides up my thigh exposing my toned legs. Too attractive... especially with Griffin around.  I laugh to myself as I struggle to rip the fabric off my body.

            The next one I try on is a full-length silver dress. I pull it over my head then secure the collar around my neck. It’s made of diamonds, and has a V shape to it. It travels up my neck and rests under chin. The satiny fabric cascades under it like a silver waterfall. I frown in disapproval, though it is beautiful, it's just not me.

            The next one, and the final one, is a small red dress. The hymn goes up to my knees, and one strap swings over my shoulder. It exposes the form of my body, but not too much. I feel my heart lift a little, and I rush out the door to show Griffin. Immediately he jumps to his feet to greet me. His eyes travel up and down my body before he says anything.

            I can tell by the smile on his face that he approves. His ears turn red, as he looks me in the eyes. “Wow,” he mumbles under his breath, “You look great.” I smile at the compliment, and retrieve my old shirt and jeans from the room. I follow him to the check out where we purchase the dress, a pair of shoes, and a purse.

            “You go get your hair done, or whatever girls do, while I get a suite, okay?”  I nod and head deeper into the store feeling anxious without him.

+++

            Once my body is cleaned, I sit in a bright red chair. I often find my legs bouncing with uneasiness as the lady messes with my hair and fiddles with my makeup. Her eyelashes are exceedingly long, and around them is a thick shade of eyeliner and eye shadow. Her skin is flawless, and there is no wrinkle on her face. My eyes flicker open as she brushes a pencil across my eyelids. It feels like I have been sitting in this chair for hours when she finishes. She clasps her hands together and admires her work. “I did the best I could. You were nearly impossible to work with.”

            If there is one thing I know, it’s that the people around here are beyond snobs. She probably has had so many procedures to perfect her face, that I feel almost sick looking at her. I roll my eyes and brush off the comment.

            “You ready?” Griffin asks from behind.

            “Yes.” I say almost to quickly. I glare at the woman and leave with Griffin. His hair is styled, and he wears a dark suite.

            “Never thought I’d see you wearing something like this.” I tease as I elbow his arm.

            “I could say the same to you.” He replies as he lifted my chin to examine my makeup. I’m sure I blend in with the other women now. Bright lipstick and heavy eye makeup seems to be the thing around here.

            Amongst all the laughing and teasing, Griffin slips a small pistol into my purse, “Just for safety.” He says with a wink. I slide my arm though his as he leads me to a white building.

            A man dressed in a waiting suite stands properly at the entrance. “Reservations, sir?” he questions in a rather stuck up voice,and curls his nose like he smells something potent.

            “Yes, Saylor for two.” Griffin says in his most polite voice. I try to act like he talks like this all the time, but I fear I am not hiding the surprised expression on my face well enough. He chuckles and looks down at me. “I talk like this all the time.” He said squeezing my hand playfully.

            “I do believe so, sir.” I reply enthusiastically.

            We follow the man though a maze of white tables and orange chairs. I can see my reflection in the glistening white walls. In the center of the room is a circular stage that is hovering above the ground. Couples and business associates sit and discuss matters of the economy, or the latest news.

            “Did you hear that Alton is speaking tonight?” Asks a woman to her date.

            “Yes, I heard. It’s amazing what he has discovered. Wouldn’t you say?

            Who is this man they are talking about? I ponder. The name Alton seems to be floating around the room tonight. What’s so great about him?

            Somehow, all the talk about him doesn’t comfort me. In fact, it disturbs me. Anything the high-class citizens talk about can't be good. The waiter pulls out a chair for me. I stare at the bright rose sitting idly in a clear class. My ears try to listen in on all conversations going on around me. I can tell Griffin is doing the same.

            “This will change the world for sure.” Says one man.

            “A revolution.”

            “The new era.” Says another

            “We’ll take the special.” Griffin announces eyeing me. Whatever he has heard isn’t what I have been hearing. The waiter nods in dismiss.

            Then the muffling sound of a microphone buzzes though the entire room. The bright white lights dim, and all eyes are focusing on a slim stranger to our right. A man wearing a white tux taps his finger against the microphone. “Ah, welcome!” his voice echoes. The crowd jumps to their feet and clap wildly. Griffin pushes his chair behind him, and glares at the man. His skin has translucent. Blue and red veins run up and down his arms. There is something all to familiar about him. I remember the way his delicate fingers followed the vein down my arms, just like the way he tapped the microphone. I remember who he is.

            My hand reaches into my purse, and my fingers now delicately cradle the handle of the pistol. 

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