HOME | DD

Wait... — Description
‘Yes.’ Linda grumbled as she opened the door a crack. The persistent knocking had finally driven her to slip on a bathrobe and seek out the source of the racket. Peeking thought the slit she had kept the deadbolt chain firmly in place and was prepared to slam the door shut in a moments notice.
‘Ms. Linda White.’ The man on the other side of the door spoke, it was not a question. Linda’s fingers tightened around the door, before she could close it though he continued. ‘I’m with the Governmental burrow of En-

‘Oh God.’ Linda groaned, her shoulder slumping. ‘You people again.’

‘Now mam-‘

‘No I am not interested in undergoing another set of treatments.’ Linda cut him off again. ‘No I am not interested in going back, and no, I am not going to open the matter for discussion.’

She was on the verge of slamming the door again when he cut in again, all formality dropped as he called out.

‘Mam, you misunderstand – I was just sent to deliver a message!’

That gave Linda pause, several black and white features of New York gangsters flashed in rapped fire through her mind. Her free hand, moved to her cell phone, only to realize she had left it in her bedroom when she had gone to answer the door. Cursing herself, she let out a sigh.

‘A phone call, a letter, any of these would have sufficed.’

The man on the other side fidgeted with his sleeve, nervous fingers tugging at the white shirt underneath. ‘Yes, mam. You see we tried to contact you. But we never got a response back.’

Biting back a sarcastic remark, a few pieces fell into place. Over the last few months she had been getting letter from the GBE, that number had spiked in the last week. She had promptly shredded them, not bothering to open any of them, regardless of the stamps they bore. ‘Highly important’ and ‘Open immediately’ all had met the same fate in the mini shredder she had purchased. There was something cathartically satisfying about shredding the documents from that organization that made her smile.

Still, they had not stopped there, her phone had been beseeched by constant unknown numbers, until she had finally thrown away her old one purchased a new model, and, changed her number. That had helped in the short run, but she still had to block multiple numbers and play complete ignorance of anyone who called looking for her.

Of all the abilities to inherit, mine had to be the panda Linda groaned.

Emails were a little easier to deal with, she had created a spam account and simply never bothered to open it. Her real email had held up a little longer, but like all things that dwell on the internet once one person discovered who she was, she had to get a new one. Blocking unwanted emails was the equivalent of trying to stop a flood with an eye dropper, for everyone she would block a few hundred more seemed to surface. Some of those had probably been from the GBE, she had never bothered to read them, just blocked and moved on.

And now, they had finally sent someone in person to deal with her.

Letting out a deep sigh of resignation Linda tightened her bathrobe and fixed her green eyes on the man. ‘What can I do for you.’

‘May I come in?’ He asked, hand still tugging at his sleeve.

It was an innocent enough request, but two years dealing with the public at large had taught her the dangers of letting strangers into one’s home, regardless of their credentials.

‘We can talk here.’

A bit taken aback, the man rocked backwards onto his heals, clearly not expecting that response.

‘Yes, well – yes.’ He stuttered. ‘You see, I was sent her to deliver this.’

From his pocket the man withdrew an orange envelope with several governmental seals decorating it.

‘Great.’ Linda muttered, her eyes flicking over the familiar words, Classified, sensitive, priority. The government loved to use those in almost everything it dealt in. ‘And this is?’

‘Well mam, you see – there was a recent discovery regarding your treatment and exposure in regards to the GBE program.’

That caught Linda’s attention, her eyes flared, even as she tried to hide her sudden interest. The man, it appeared did not notice but continued on, pulling out several pages of lengthy texts from the envelope.

‘You see, we recently discovered a clerical error. The, SI34-7445, the ‘Hero Program’ strain if you would, was administered to you and several others on-‘

‘Please.’ Linda let out another sigh. ‘Get to the point.’

Taking a moment to recover, the man shuffled the paperwork, clearly not used to someone interrupting his findings.

‘Yes, well, you see – while your colleagues were exposed to strain SI34-7445, it seems there was a mistake and you were exposed to strain SI34-7448. A simple mist…’

What he said next rolled over Linda in a haze of nondescript noises, her brain processing the new information that had just been presented to her.

‘…You mean.’ She began slowly. ‘That all this. Her hand moved down to take in her fur covered body. ‘And this.’ Her hand came up to rest upon her chest. ‘All this. Was due to a ‘clerical error?’

‘Um…yes.’

Time drifted out of focus.

Linda did not remember sinking to the floor, or propping her back against the now closed wooden door that she rested against. The world had just shattered around her and her mind could only register one fact.

An accident.

A clerical error. That is what had destroyed her life, changed everything. And while her friends had gone off to become legends, she had been quietly sent to work at a dinner as a server. Her heart was beating unnaturally fast in her chest, she felt sick.

An error.

Fleeing from the door she sprinted across the short distance to the bathroom, falling to her knees and retched. Her hand gripping the porcelain edges of the bowl as she heaved again. Her stomach rebelling, knotting, and twisting at the sudden news.

It had all been a mistake, she, she could have been –

She retched again.

Two years.

Tears welled in her eyes, as she crawled away blindly, her shoulder touching the edge of her bed, she pulled her knees up. Black furred stockings rising to meet her black and white face. It was all a mistake. A mistake.

A mistake.

Quietly, Linda wrapped her arms around herself and wept.