Been going through some tough feels lately. Decided to work through them using Dystopia Rising as a creative outlet. So new short story. Not starring Jeanie. Just getting thoughts out on paper.
I’m a remnant. Not just any remnant but a Mutie.
See my dad comes from a line of Ascensorites. Fallow Hopes people that go above and beyond to live every aspect of what they believe so that no one can question their faith. Which is funny, cause considering their family morals, you could wonder whether or not they were Nukes. I think they lived in a Nuke town and just felt the morals fitting with their Fallow Hopes lives. My dad, despite his obsession with how “This is what was spoken of” still wants us living under those Nuke traditions. He’s the head. Mom supports him and we, his kids, should all be traditionalist.
My mom is also an Ascensorite. First in her family too. Her family is very Rover, sometimes to a strange level. Always taken care of each other. Always looking out for people and feeding them when they could. But don’t mess with them. They’ll come back to get you when you do. Mom is the first Ascensorite in the line. She’s a Sainthood and she’s pretty serious about it to. Spends a lot of time studying up on things so that she can share it with others and help improve their lives. Never asks for anything in return. Dad thinks it’s pretty honorable.
So yeah, both of my parents are Ascensorites, but I’m the Mutie Remnant kid.
Even my brothers. One got the Ascensorite Sainthood thing from mom. Complete with the combat focus from Dad’s faith. Everyone is mighty proud of him. He’s a soldier. He’s a Teacher. He’s a faithful family man. Can’t go wrong there. Meanwhile, my other brother got the Rover back from Mom. Always looking out for others. Always into working with food and helping make sure people have what they need. He’s a Sainthood too. But don’t piss him off. Break a deal with him and you’ll never work with him again.
Yeah, we’re all Sainthood, except for Dad.
But then there’s me. The Mutie. The Remnant.
With two Ascensorite parents, I’d have to be a Mutie. You’d think I’d be an Ascensorite or a Rover. That’s what’s in the family. But I’m not. So I’m not a mixed breed. I’m a change. Darwinists would call me a mutation or evolution or whatever the crap is that they’re spouting these days. Broken.
Now you’re wondering what’s my damn mutation. Everyone wonders. I can see it in your eyes, just like everyone else. Yeah, I know you weren’t gonna ask. You’re too polite for that. But you were still thinking it. Everyone does.
You can’t see my mutation. But it’s my joints. They just don’t hold themselves together well. And while the infection fixes up all the joint issues you might have, it doesn’t for me. So my joints pop and creak with every step. Confuses doctors cause they all think it must be some damn disease but they can’t find no symptoms. It’s cause it is no disease. It’s just me and my infection being a damn dip shit.
I try to make up for it in other ways. I’m a Teacher and an Entertainer. Pretty proud of my entertaining skills too. I do stories and music. Let your mind focus on something else for awhile. I promise you it makes you feel better. Made sure my skills are things that don’t worry about my stupid joints too much. But it still sucks. Especially cause I’m thinking of picking up tinker or something like that and would hate to have my joints pop if I’m building shit for someone.
It sucks. Cause I watch a lot of people walking around just fine and I know I can’t. I can’t do all the things that everyone else does and that scares me. Cause now I’m thinking everyone believes I’m worthless. I can’t fight too well. So I must be worthless. I don’t cook or work on armor (at least not yet anyway) and I certainly can’t get us any damn supplies, so I must be pretty worthless. I can calm people down for a little bit and I know stuff. That’s about it. And I know that when the zed come attacking, I’m no use to anyone.
That all fucking sucks.
I know that so many people say I’m important. They need someone doing the research on how to best help everyone. They need people calming people down. It’s important shit, they say. They all tell me I’m a shining example of a Sainthood, working to support and help others by teaching them the skills they need to get through a situation.
But all I hear is when push comes to shove, I’m the one they have to protect.
I hate being a fucking leftover.