Chapter 13

A while later Lucy came out, in a nice knee length dress. Together we were both in a nice casual-formal look, and hand in hand we walked the 300 meters to the main hotel. Lucy marveled at everything, and said this must be costing me a fortune.

“Naw, not really. You see, these are run by Control, in the same way that they run facilities like this for the military. We all pay $1,000 a month to cover things like insurance, and other things that the Paladin and mutant communities need. Part of that is then spent for facilities like this. We are then charged a set amount, based on how much we make. I pay more than most because I work both as a Paladin, and run my own business. I would pay less if I was a mutant who worked at a regular job, more if I was both a Paladin and worked at say Control or at a high paying civilian job. In reality, it is nowhere near as much as it would cost if this was say the Disneyland Resort.”

“You said the military does the same thing?”

“Yep, they even have one outside Orlando. ‘Shades of Green’ is run by the military, and they also have facilities like that in DC, Tokyo, Germany, and even some premiere recreation in the German Alps. But the cost is based on your rank, so even a Private can afford to stay there, as can a four star General. Those of us with more money actually pay more, as it helps make it affordable for those who can not.”

“That’s actually rather, Socialist.”

I laughed, and shook my head. “Naw, for the military it is part of our job. As you rise in rank, part of your job is taking care of those who are lower rank than you are. Officers take care of all of us, as a Sergeant I took care of the Privates, it all rolls downhill. Go onto a base and you will find things like libraries, theaters, gyms, baseball fields, tennis courts, golf courses, some even have things like airplane rentals, riding stables, and boats. They all work the same way, the higher your rank the more you pay. And they encourage us to use them, as it is considered a better way to spend time than drinking in bars and chasing girls.”

She giggled and squeezed my hand, and asked if I did much of that when I was in. “Drinking, a little. But I come from a family of alcoholics and addicts, so never as much as many I served with. I frequently had girlfriends, but never went chasing. About one weekend a month I would go camping in nice weather, and about half the time unless I was deployed or on a mission I might have a girlfriend. But back then, I was rather serious. Career military, spent a lot of my time off trying to get more training, studying about the military, things like that.”

I held the door for her, and we decided on the buffet room that night. And the food was plentiful, and very good. And I commented on how most of Control was based on the military. “In essence, when they created the Department of Mutant Affairs and the Bureau of Mutant Control, they had one smart person involved. They patterned it off of mostly the Military, but also the VA. They provide us if needed with housing, medical care, training, schools, and even employment. In return, we pay for those services on a sliding scale, depending on income. If you worked at a 7-11 on that night and suddenly were a low level constant pyro, then you could move into housing they made for you at low to no cost.”

“Wait, low level constant pyro? Clint, what is that?”

“Oh, sorry. Low level means they do have heat powers, and can start fires and things like that. Not strong enough to be a Paladin, more like a constant lighter or campfire, not able to shoot them or anything. Temperature of a low wood fire, not able to do things like melt glass or cars. And constant means just as it sounds, they can never turn that ability off. I actually saw one that first night. It was a guy, his hair was replaced by flames. I have met him since a few times, and it never goes out. For him, he already owned his own house so Control went in and actually tore out his house and rebuilt it. Replaced the wood structure with one made of brick and cement. A lot of us do have special needs.”

I saw her look at me as she chewed, and I nodded. “Yes, Us. For me, I right away got a letter so I could ignore building codes and move behind my dojo. My trike is the same, special permitting to ignore most regular vehicle laws. I can still get a ticket for speeding without cause, but they can’t give me a ticket for not wearing a helmet. It’s not like I can just walk into a dealership and buy a vehicle from just anywhere.”

She laughed, and asked what the pyro drove. “Oh, for Mr. Spencer, they modified his jeep. The roof is never put on anymore, and he has a fireproof convertible top in bad weather. He was given a choice, much like many of us do. In essence, sign over our vehicles and they own them and do the work for free. The upside of that is they guarantee to replace them as needed, and in the event something happens they will pay our families the bluebook value of the vehicle. Kind of like a lease. But the idea is that some of this has classified technology, and they want to keep that in the hands of Control and nobody else.”

“So they own your trike?”

“Sure do! Am on my third one, actually. Or I should say, third one with them. I was on my second one I had made myself and they made me the offer. And I was already rebuilding the first into my third at the time. Those were beasts. We welded the frame ourselves, and were putting in truck engines, transmissions, and rear ends. But they were rough, rode like hell, and the lack of suspension was making the welds fail when combined with my mass. So when they offered, I jumped on it. I am now their ‘Extra Large Guinea Pig’, as I get new bikes about once a year. But I test them, and work with the team to design the next model. They are pretty good now. And for all mutants that need them, not just us Paladins. You might very well meet some while we are here.”

She told me that was fascinating, and she had just never thought of it all that much before we started talking. “Well, only a small percentage got mutated, and only a small percentage of that got what we call ‘Paladin Class’. But for those of us that grew, you also have about the same number that shrank. They have special needs also. For me, I simply bought a larger building for my dojo. It’s an old grocery store, as you have seen in the photos and TV. The back warehouse area is where I live, and in the old store area is where I teach. The one I had on that night was part of a strip mall, so was big in floorspace, but not height. The one I got now is in its own building, so it was really tall and had 20 foot of head space inside. A loan from the Co-op let me do some modifications like replace the front door with something I could actually use, and then later once it was all worked out I got a grant that paid me back. Not unlike say somebody who is handicapped getting a wheelchair ramp put in their house, then getting the money back for it.”

“They really did think all of that through.”

“Yeah, once again because it was not unlike what the military did. Did you know, they were one of the first government departments to be Americans with Disabilities Act compliant? Oh, not everywhere, but they had been dealing with people in wheelchairs, people with canes, blind, deaf, and all kinds of disabilities for decades. A lot of our barracks and buildings already had elevators in them, unless they were old.”

“Old? How old?”

“Oh, you have no idea. When I was in North Carolina, my barracks was ‘new’. That means, it dated from after Vietnam. Go to some bases, and most of the barracks date to between Korea and Vietnam. But I have talked to some who live in barracks that date back to World War I. Many of our offices are of a similar age. Camp Lejeune was built for WWII, and most of the buildings date to that time. Go to Fort Bliss, some of it still dates to when it was an actual cavalry post, with the old horse stables now offices and warehouses, and the quarters which once held people who returned from a day keeping the Indians at peace or chasing Poncho Villa now housing guys who work with missile defense rockets.”

“I had no idea, and it’s all made for people with disabilities?”

“Oh, not all by any means. And that is part of the issue, as the law states that the bathroom in say a third floor bedroom must be wheelchair accessible. In a building made for housing fit soldiers, without an elevator. They love to scream at the military for technicalities like that, meanwhile ignoring that any other building from a Company Command with say a dozen people and supporting around 125 people is. Unless it is in an obvious place where they never bothered, like out on a live fire facility in the middle of the woods. In fact, go to most bases and the top headquarters are actually in what used to be hospitals in WWII. As units got bigger and needed bigger buildings, after that war they just built larger hospitals, and turned the old ones over for that purpose.”

“You know, I never thought of that. How do you know all of this? College?”

I laughed. “Naw, living it I guess. I went in right out of High School, did it for a decade until I got injured. But there is a lot there that most people just do not know. We often joke about things like that, that we are the government employees nobody thinks about. To be kept hidden away until needed.”

I then started asking her more about her background. She was 30, and was born and raised in the Panhandle. Her grandfather had married a lady in Japan when he was in the Army. And when they came home, he took over the family farm. Which by then was mostly worked out cotton fields and trees. I looked at her in amazement, and she nodded. “Oh yes, tree lots. You take say 200 acres of sorry worked out land. Plant trees on it, fast growing kinds. Then wait 20 years, and every year the loggers pay you to harvest part of them. They even replant new trees when they are done, so in 20 years you can do it all over again.”

Lucy smiled, and took another bite. “About the time my dad was born, they took part of his land, and put in the freeway. He got a nice payment for that, and as part of the farm was on a county road, they put in an offramp. The next year gramps had the timber company harvest a 25 acre parcel on each side, and leased them to companies that put in truck stops. Then he built some strip malls, and rents those out also. And the motels, he leases to three of them.”

“So from scab farming to real estate mogul, sounds like he did pretty good.”

“Yea, and their five kids mostly stayed in the business. My mom is still in charge of future development. She pushed for the 9 hole golf course, and if it ever gets enough people there is room to expand it to 18 holes. Just not enough of a demand yet, is pretty much all locals that use it. Me, I am one of many grandkids who simply decided I did not want to enter the family business so went another way.”

“Teaching.”

“Yep, and I love it. But I do work for the family when on summer break. Mostly running errands for my mom, but it makes sure everybody remembers me. My school is about 40 miles away, so I mostly stay on the family compound during the week.”

“Family compound? You mean, like a cult?”

Lucy giggled, and rested her hand on the back of mine. “Oh, no silly. That’s the old family farm. When gramps came back, there was still a lot of hard feelings against the Japanese from the war. He served during Korea, but some memories took longer to die. They ran into troubles, mostly harassment form a few of the rednecks. So they bought a trailer, and put it in a corner of the farmstead. That was the start of what we call ‘The Compound’. The original farmhouse, and a dozen trailers, from large fifth wheels that some stay in during vacations and visits, to a triple wide my parents now lives in.”

“Well, to be honest I would not have realized your heritage if you had not told me. You almost look, I don’t know. Eastern European.”

“Yea, which they got from the Mongols and Huns. Oh, on my mom it is so much more obvious. It’s even more obvious on my younger sister, she inherited most of her looks from mom. Me, I mostly took after my dad. But the eyes, hair, and body are from my mom. And by the time I was a kid, the stories were strange to hear. Grandma would tell me about stores not letting her in, some even added to their signs, saying ‘No Coloreds or Asiatics Allowed’. By the time of my mom, that was mostly gone. By the time I was born, it was like it never existed. Heck, we are among the richest in the area, as a family.”

“So, a rich heiress and debutante growing up?”

She gave that delightful giggle again, and shook her head. “Not really. Like his dad, gramps is also frugal. Vacations were on the ‘Redneck Riviera’, not the one in France. That’s along the coast, from Panama City to Pensacola. Still some of the old resorts there, who cater more to locals than the actual tourists. Kind of like what my mom is trying to do, but we are inland. But yeah, I was popular. Considered quite a catch, but mostly because of my family. Marry me or my sister, or any of my cousins and you would be set for life.”

We finished, and decided to take a walk on the beach. We continued to hold hands, and it was fascinating to listen about her life. At one time she even commented how hard it was at times, when people would realize she was not “Really White”.

“Lucy, you think you are alone in that?”

“Well, I have seen your old photographs. With your last name, you could have said you were Clinton Lee of the Virginia Lee’s, and who would have known the difference?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Anybody who talked to my mom, Maria Margarita Isabel Alonzo Guzman. And that was the name she died with, as she and my dad never got married. Yeah, I’m half-Mexican. It shows less, as her family was proud to be of primarily ‘Conquistador stock’ and not the dark skinned ‘Mestizo stock’. But like in you, if you look at my skin, it is a bit darker than most whites before I got hairy. Hair also like yours, black and not the sandy brown of my dad. California has Mexicans everywhere, so I got teased form both sides. Enough Anglo to tell I was not ‘Pure Mexican’, enough Mexican to see I was not ‘Pure White’.”

She squeezed my hand, and said she understood what that was like. “In fact, if you look at my older photos, I looked more Japanese than I do now. And I realized that some of the guys who came sniffing after me only had Yellow Fever.”

I looked at her, and asked what having a disease would have to do with that. She gave me that delightful giggle again, and squeezed my hand. “Oh no, it’s not a disease, not really. No, ‘Yellow Fever’ is what we call a guy that, ahhh, has a fetish for Asian women. And it’s strange, as it revolts me, because it turns me into an object. Yet, I do not mind if somebody finds me attractive, and part of it is because of my heritage. I just want it to be for all of me, and not just for that.”

“OK, that I can actually get. I had one like that a while back. Met her at a kind of party with the community, and thought she was hot for me. We went out for a bit, and finally I realized she really did not care for or about me at all, she had a kink for Paladins and extreme mutants. It hurt because I thought she was interested in me for me, and invited her to the Night of Madness celebration we hold every year as my date. We had been together for maybe 2 months by then, and I thought we were really going somewhere. But once there, she actually largely ignored me and went after another Paladin.”

“Ouch, so she got what she wanted, and was ready to move on, basically. Like a groupie ready to move on to the next rock star.”