Resistance by Samit Basu Read Free Book Online Page B

teach in schools when the laws of physics are violated in public on the news every day? How do you prevent young people from joining any of the seventeen major superhero-worshipping cults that have sprung up in America alone? How do you prevent ordinary humans from just giving up when they can no longer dream of emulating the people they admire, when their lives’ work can be undone casually by any passing superhuman? Uzma clenches her fists; she wants to beat up the UN guy now. She pushes the coffee mug away; it’s dangerous. She realises again that she has no interest in defeating another villain, preventing another nuclear explosion or fiction-portal-crossing alien invasion. The real crisis, she knows, is that humans have become the second species. The real problem is that supers, even the Unit, have started treating humans as lower than themselves: as people who can be classified, who have a function. Fans, threats, cattle, workers, farmers, assistants, employees, agents, audiences. Backstagers. Extras who have to come up with the new stuff: the new economics, history, laws, the new journalism. Not for themselves, but to build a world sane enough to cope with supers. A world they’ll never own, and will spend their lives trying to catch up with. Aman had droned on about this for years. She hadn’t listened then. But she knows now.
    Uzma stands up.
    “Get out,” she Tells Johns.
    “So we’re launching three hundred squadrons of unmanned drones to identify unauthorised superpower-seeking flights and shoot them down— Excuse me?” says Johns as his body walks from the table to the door. He hasn’t even begun to register shock or surprise when the door slides shut behind him.
    Uzma has the Unit’s undivided attention, though. Anima shuts her game down and gives Uzma a big grin.
    “I wish you hadn’t done that,” says Ellis quietly. “They’ve been asking for your removal for a while now. I’ve had to deal with a lot of pressure.”
    “What’s the mission?” Uzma asks him.
    “The Unit needs to be seen together,” says Ellis. “It’s been a long time. There are rumours of rifts, and—”
    “What’s the mission?” Uzma repeats.
    Ellis sighs. “Rowena Okocha,” he says. He moves a finger, and a photograph of a young woman floats in the centre of the room. Mid-twenties, pretty, dark, dreadlocks, huge eyes, white coat. “AIDS researcher. Took a Second Wave flight. She was observed for several months, no change.”
    “What happened then?” asks Jason.
    “Utopic hired her,” says Ellis.
    “Captured her for their private zoo, you mean,” says Uzma. “Did they cut her up?”
    “I don’t know,” says Ellis. “But they lost her two months ago, and they want her back.”
    “What’s her power?”
    “Her blood removes powers.” Ellis looks even graver than usual.
    Wingman shakes his head. “Not another Mutant Cure treasure hunt, please,” he says. “Utopic’s playing with us.”
    Ellis swipes the air four times, and with each movement a new picture appears. On the left half of each image is a superbeing turned monstrous by its power: one appears to be made of rock, another covered in spines, the third a screaming mask of living flame, the fourth a green gas trapped in a plastic bag. On the right half of each is a human face. Each face is smiling.
    “Still seems like a hoax to me,” says Wingman. “Our friends and benefactors at Utopic are probably laughing at us right now.”
    “No,” says Ellis. “They’re worried. Of course they didn’t tell us when they found Rowena. Or how long they kept her. But since they lost her they’ve tried everything they could to get her back. And you know what they’re capable of. They wouldn’t have come to us if they hadn’t run out of options. And if this wasn’t a Unit-level problem.”
    “They were trying to mass-produce her blood, no doubt,” says Uzma. “Weaponise it. And use it on, let’s see… us?”
    “Of course they were,” says