Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

I never imagined that something could be terrifying and boring at the same time.

I mean, I’m not really terrified for myself at the moment. Eh, fuck that, really, I’m not terrified for myself at all. Between being formally educated to be a badass Hero, being a Primordial Deity, having survived dozens of me dying during the battle at the walls, healing shit that the Healers tell me ’can’t heal or be healed’, and my own youthful sense of invincibility? Yeah, I might get jump scared now and then, and I’m certainly still keeping my Secret Identity on the down-low, but I’m not really afraid, let alone terrified.

But I’ve got people I care about. Loki, Sigyn, and even Isnomi are all Deities, and even with Isnomi something in the back of my head whispers, ’she bullied The Smith’. Hell, Conrad himself has been a little freaky, but no worse than having a kid who’s a different flavor of neurospicy. I don’t really get him, and he freaks me out now and then, but I guess you can’t engage Mom Mode without starting to actually care about somebody. Marie, apparently, will just up and respawn if she dies, so long as she’s properly ripped apart after? Certainly makes ’ritual Sparagmos’ a lot less scary, while simultaneously a lot creepier. Grandma Aetos... Y’know, she kinda reminds me of my own mom, even if she’s an in-law? But she’s clearly lived a long, full life. Given how she just rolls with shit, I’m pretty sure she’s got a bit of that ’everything after xyz is bonus time’ going on. If she died tomorrow, I’d be sad, but not devastated. Old people die, new ones are born. That might seem a little cold, but you get really good at speedrunning the Stages of Grief growing up in places like Camden.

Yeah, I know, that leaves just one person on the list. Okay, two, but we both know the one I’ve been avoiding. The love of my life, the one I can’t imagine life without, the one I would rip the world apart to save. The one I would do really shady shit just to see her smile. Saffron Aetos.

Part of me wants to see if I can get Loki to tap her with that ’demigod’ wand of his; if I didn’t earn him enough Glory for that beating Artemis in the one vee one, I’m pretty sure kicking the shit out of an entire Army did.

But I can’t, for the same reason I couldn’t take the Imperator job if Saffron had said ’no’.

I don’t remember where I heard the idea. Might have been in class back in Camden. Might have been something I read in those endless afternoons in the library at Eastside. Maybe in a non-fic book on philosophy of government? Maybe in a sci fi or fantasy book? At this point, I don’t even fucking know, but it stuck with me.

Immortal rulers of a mortal population are a fuckin’ abomination.

I mean, Kings and Emperors and shit, ’Nobility’? Bad enough on the face of it. The idea that somebody’s just better than somebody else because of what vagina they popped out of is pretty repugnant, especially if you’re one of the ones who popped out of a ’lower class’ hoo hah. But there’s always the thought that Death is the ultimate leveler of the playing field. No matter how bad the Big Man is, eventually he’s gonna die, and somebody else will get a try.

Make that Big Man immortal? Now you’ve created Hell on Earth. Okay, maybe Heaven on Earth. That’s a possibility, I guess. But I think you can tell which way a kid who grew up on the streets thinks that coin flip is gonna land.

So yeah, no immortality for Saffron. Not while she’s Imperator, at least, and I gotta tell you something; not only does she seem to really love the job on some level? Watching her do that shit is hot as fuck. Not only that, but I guess her being as mortal as anybody else makes sure I have skin in the game, keeps me from turning into one of the shitty excuses for ’Gods’ in the here and now.

Now, I’m sure you’re wondering, ’Tabitha, you’re funny and you smell nice and people love you, what brought on this big maudlin introspection?’

I’ve been awake since fucking Saturday, and I’ve hit the point where I don’t have to even think about it to Cure somebody. Or Assess them, really.

So it took about six hours for Rider and Rosen to backtrack Peter Pennypack’s path of Typhoid Mary plague carrying. He’s in a set of stocks the Marshall pulled out of cold storage from somewhere, sitting in full view of Drivers’. Last night somebody threw a couple shitty blankets over him. His sign has nine marks on it already. Somebody else threw rocks at him; he’s missing a tooth and one of his fingers is clearly broken, not to mention the rocks scattered around the base of the stocks. The Drivers sent somebody out to feed him.

I stood at the top of the steps, staring out at the City. Watching the line of Infected and Volunteers trudging toward me. I’d gotten two meals already since sunup, so it had to be after lunch, right? Clouds covered the sky from edge to edge, the indirect lighting giving the whole place an unearthly quality. I looked at the next batch, firing off an Assess on the next Volunteer in line. I really didn’t need to. Before they reached me, I Shaped one cure. At a distance of about three feet I hit the Infected with it, a young woman with curly red hair and freckles. She fell on her knees and thanked me while I fired another Cure at her escort. I reached down, took her hand, and unceremoniously yanked her to her feet, then gently pushed her toward Headmaster Miles. He’d moved a desk out to the landing near me, and handled the whole ’Volunteer or go back to Quarantine’ thing.

The next pair came in range. Infected an old woman this time, hair gray and thinning, wrinkled like last years apples. Cured her. Healed her just for good measure. Cured her escort. Next Infected. Kid. Boy, I think, too young to tell. Cure. Heal. Cure his escort, who’d carried him here because the kid didn’t have any shoes. Nodded the other direction, where Sister Cheryl sat with a couple runners and a stack of... stuff. Food. Clothes. Wood. Coal.

Next pair. Big guy, trying to keep himself from coughing. Lost control and hawked up phlegm all over me. Terrified. I Cured him, Healed him, shoved him toward the Marshall, Cured his escort, Healed him as well when I saw him limp; maybe he had to carry the big guy part of the way.

Someone in line halfway down the Boulevard fell over. Didn’t get up. Step. ”Stop.” World went wireframe. Cured her. Stabilized her. Healed her. Cured her escort. Stepped back up to my spot, dropped both of them towards the Marshall. ”Go.” Color returned, washed out by the eldritch light under the clouds. Cure, Heal, Cure, push. Cure, Heal, Cure, push.

Saffron?

Yes, beloved?

What’s the population of Phileo?

Around two hundred thousand people.

What about Camden?

Around one hundred thousand.

I sighed. Juggled some numbers in my head. This is gonna take fuckin’ weeks. You sure there’s no ’Mass Cure’ out there?

I’ve been working on something during my breaks. I’ll let you know if it goes anywhere, but Cure is so Mana intensive, I suspect very few mortals will be able to Shape it.

Fuck.

No time, Goof.

I shook my head to clear it, wait, did you just say breaks?

They haven’t given you any breaks?

They who? I mean, technically the Marshall is in charge of the overall effort here. I’m just Curing the Infected folks from teams whose Healer ran out of Mana to Cure people. I don’t think I’ve said much to him since this whole thing started. For a bit I got nothing but silence, so I filled in, nobody made me do it. It just needs to be done.

The merely mortal among us still need rest and sleep. Which you should be getting, too.

I shook my head, then smiled at the next person in line so they knew I wasn’t warning them off. Cure. Heal. Cure. Nudge. I’ve gotten down to about fifteen seconds per set of Infected and Volunteer.

Fifteen... Tabitha Diaz, how many people are in line waiting for you to Cure them?

I looked out over the line. Uh, lots. the line stretches at least to where the Boulevard turns.

You can’t end the whole plague by yourself, Goof.

Not with that attitude I can’t.

Suddenly she appeared, arms already out to pull me to her. I sagged into her embrace. Keeping my eyes open was so fuckin’ hard. Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave one hand toward the Marshall. Saffron ran her hand over my hair, just gently stroking it. Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave.

After I healed maybe a dozen sets, she pulled back a little. ”Oh, shit. I just realized.”

I shook my head, asking the question with my eyes. Cure, Heal, Cure, Wave.

She shook her own head, then said, ”you’ve got the teams of Freshman Cadets. Almost none of whom have someone who can Cure.”

Figure crumpled. Step. ”Stop.” Stabilize. Cure. Heal. Cure. Stepped back with them in tow. Ignored the twinge deep inside; it’s hurt so long it’s mostly gone numb. ”Go.” Cure. Heal. Cure.

Saffron blinked. ”What did you just do?”

Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave. ”Stopped time. Can’t be sure they’ll still be alive otherwise.” Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave. Saffron hugged me. My shoulder got wet; I pulled back enough to see her weeping.

”I wish you could, just once, see yourself the way I see you.”

I looked through her eyes. I looked like absolute shit. Little bits of sweat and puke and snot all over me. Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave. Hit myself with Loki’s cleaning trick. That really stung, like I’d just chugged a bottle of dry cleaning fluid. Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave. Blinked away the image of me, clean. Bruised eyes, little haggard, but nothing I could do about that. Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave.

Saffron stepped away. I heard her dictate something to the Marshall. He argued? Maybe? His voice was too growly for me to really pick up on details. Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave. Flicker of fuzzy darkness and sound died. Saffron stepped back to me. ”The Marshall will see to it that this evening or tomorrow morning the Freshman Cadets will get training in Cure Disease.”

I nodded. ”Sounds good.” Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave. She buried her face in my chest and clung to me. I put one arm around her, because directing the Mana without a free hand gave me less reach. Cure, Heal, Cure, wave.

I don’t know how long she stood there like that, but after a while she sighed. ”I’ve got to get back to Newark.”

I leaned down and kissed her, far more briefly than I wanted to. Cure, Heal, Cure, wave. ”I love you, Kitten.”

”I love you too, Goof.” Then she was gone.

Cure. Heal. Cure. Wave.