The New Humans

Chapter 6

The sun was already setting when Ash left school. He walked past all the identical houses of his small provincial town. At that moment, he would set those on fire. He often fantasized about moving somewhere else. Perhaps because he had grown up in a small village without opportunities and entertainment, he dreamed of moving one day to a great metropolis like Saragona, Mantix, or New Hayes.

Why stay? Ash was alone there. All his classmates avoided him, and apart from Rachel, there were no Numas his age to make friends with. In New Hayes, there were entire neighborhoods inhabited only by Numas. His parents said that there was no difference between Numas and non-Numas and that, as such, he could make friends with whoever he wanted. But, of course, there was a difference: the Numas didn't beat him.

He had to get the black ball back from Rike as soon as possible. He pictured himself with Luther's powers. He would go to Rike and crush his head until it exploded. About twenty minutes later he arrived home. He checked his arms before he went in; the bruises that had appeared after he'd banged against the bench in the gym were already gone.

He opened the door. He wanted to avoid being cross-examined by his parents; in fact, he really didn't want to talk to anyone. He took a quick look around and saw his mother sitting in front of the computer with a notebook in her hand. She was working on a book about the civil war that had kept her busy for two years. He went in as quietly as he could, but it was no use.

"Hello Ash," she said without turning around.

Ash headed toward his bedroom.

"How was the test?" she asked.

That hadn't gone very well either. How the hell had the governments of every country in the world agreed to reduce global warming?

"I'll show you later," he said.

"Should I worry?" she asked.

Ash didn't answer. He climbed the stairs and took refuge in his room. He put his school bag on the ground near the bed where there was also a pair of shoes and his baseball glove. He switched on the computer.

"Good afternoon, Ash," said Net. "Did you have a good day?"

"I've had better. Any news?"

"Forty-five notifications from your social networks, mostly cat videos. Want to watch them?"

"No, delete them all. Anything else?"

"Two emails, just advertising though. Anti-aging creams."

"Delete," said Ash.

"You look worried. Do you want to hear a joke?" asked Net.

"Go ahead."

"- Get going to school.

- I don't want to go to school!
- Why not?

- Because they hit me, they pick on me, and I don't like it.

- But you're going anyway.

- No!

- John, stop this nonsense: you're fifty years old, and you're the headmaster."

Ash scowled. "I didn't like it."

"I am sorry. Do you want me to play some relaxing music?"

"No, thanks."

He took his phone and visited Luther's social media page—the old man's words always raised his spirits at times like these. As with other dead celebrities, new content was being posted even after Luther's death thanks to the integration of software that retrieved past phrases revised according to current events. He read the latest post: "A man could mock me, betray me, stab me, deprive me of everything I care about, but I will never hate him. If I learn to hate one person, I will soon hate millions."