Kammi Kettu

The Emergence couldn’t have happened at a worse time, at least for me, being alone in a foreign country and all. I had flown to the States from Auckland airport less than a week ago on a holiday visa, but really I was scoping out a few job offers I had gotten. I looked down at the satchel that contained all my paperwork, including the Bachelor of Engineering that had taken the last four years of my life to earn. The last informal interview had not gone well. Turns out that showing off the square of tough card that was my degree didn’t really faze them all that much.

The day was getting cold as the sun dipped for the horizon, making an already miserable day even worse. I’d been warned about the weather here, but the oppressive clouds that had hung over the city of Penrith all day had been something else. If I’d thought Wellington weather was bad, this took it to a whole new level, the cold autumn chill far outweighing anything that the wind in New Zealand’s capital city could produce.

I shook my head. No, Callum, if you want to blend in, you’ve gotta say fall. Americans say fall, and if I wanted to get a job here, I’d have to work around my accent. Well, if skin tone didn’t lose me any job offers the moment the interviewer laid eyes on me. There was a worrying undercurrent of racism around here that was making me feel a little squirmy.

The towering skyscrapers loomed above me as I made my way to my destination. I needed to get to the bus stop and catch a ride back to my hotel before it got too dark, or worse, started pouring.

In their typical fashion, my thoughts decided that this was the perfect opportunity to go over every excruciating detail of the interview I had just left. The man who had interviewed me was a terrifyingly tall and muscular individual who looked like he could pick my scrawny six-foot body up and break it in half. You’d think someone with Māori blood in them would have a bit more muscle, all my cousins were buff after all... but nah, I just got the skin tone. 

I’d been instantly intimidated by the man, and I suspected that might have been why the big guy was in charge of meeting potential employees. His knowledge of engineering itself had seemed… lacking. Instead, he had grilled me about my beliefs and my political leanings.

I honestly wasn’t so sure I would have fit in very well at Yelmorn Industries, at least if their HR bouncer was anything to go by. It hadn’t only been the bouncer, though. After he was through using me as a sweat rag, it had been some deranged doctor’s turn with me.

Doctor Celdon was terrifying in an entirely different way to the buff dude, and what followed was the strangest conversation of my life. He kept asking me about ethics and what I knew about the rules and guidelines or whatever that science was governed by. I didn’t know shit about it. I was an engineer, I didn’t do research, I made theory into reality. Regardless, the batshit crazy old man grilled me about it anyway, then left without a word, tag-teaming with the big buff dude again.

A passing car with holes obviously drilled into its exhaust rolled past, the obnoxious sound snapping me out of my reverie. Shit, I’d walked too far or something, I did not recognise this street at all.

The neighbourhood that I found myself in was the type that usually nestles in the shadow of a major central business district. Surrounding me on all sides were ugly apartment buildings, obviously built during the’70s when every architect collectively lost their minds, building concrete and brick monoliths like it would cure their erectile dysfunction.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. When all the hopeful factory workers were moving to the city, they had needed some place to live, and that meant cutting corners on aesthetics. I just wish they hadn’t cut them in quite such a hideous way.

In the years since, the area had not aged gracefully and things looked a little run down. Paint was peeling off the store signs, and the telltale abandoned secondhand bookstore off in the distance told me that this wasn’t the greatest area. Shit, there was even a pothole on the side of the street, faded spray paint marking its location for a work crew that had never arrived.

Crap, I needed help. Who on earth could I turn to in a place like this? I glanced around at the almost empty street, seeing nothing but a bunch of thuggish-looking skinheads far down the road. The swastika on the back of one of their heads was enough to have me stepping out of sight around a corner. Did not want to deal with that shit, it was always so draining.

Thinking hard on who I could turn to, I realised with a start that I actually knew someone from this area. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I hopped into my usual social media app, Discord. It was mostly aimed at gamers, so those who weren’t massive nerds like me might not have heard of it. Lucky all my friends were nerds.

Finding one such friend in my recent messages, I sent off a text to them.

Shutty: Hey Caser, you live near Penrith right? I’m super lost and uh... yeah. Need some help navigating.

Caser: Dude I live in Pittsburgh, Penrith is like 7 hours drive away. USA isn’t like your tiny ass country.

Shutty: Lol, okay, okay… no need to get all angry about it.

Caser: Lol, it’s chill though. This enby has your back, I’ve been there a ton. Where you at?

I rattled off the nearest street names I could see so they had an idea of where I was and waited hopefully. I could really use some directions right now.

Caser: Alright yeah, I’m not 100% familiar with the area, but google maps is telling me you aren’t far from a major bus terminal. It’s down on 45th street. If you’re facing that burger joint, head left. I’ll send you a picture, shitty paint drawn lines and all.

Shutty: Thanks Caser, you’re a lifesaver.

Caser: Actually I normally play dps, but sure. I’ll multi-class for today.

Shutty: Lol. You’re such a nerd. Talk later.

Caser:

Let me know when you get back to your hotel room or whatever safe, okay?

Shutty: Sure thing

I moved to follow their directions, but my eye caught on the burger place again. The building had those cheap coca-cola signs out front that were a decade out of date, but usually that just meant the food was great and the staff were a well-oiled machine. Well, that and you were pretty much guaranteed to get diabetes if you went there twice in the same week.

Fuck it, why not? I was hungry, and I needed some wholesome caloric food to get my brain all nice and happy again. Comfort food, here I come!

The door had to be shoved just a bit harder than usual to open, but that just signaled a door well loved. I had a realisation as I surveyed the interior, with its booths and stool lined bars. I actually had no idea how to order in a place like this. Do I go to the bar and order, then sit down, or do I sit down and wait for the waitress to come and take my order?

I stood there awkwardly like a loner at a college party and tried to gauge how things were done, eventually spotting a waitress taking someone’s order, so I guessed I could just take a seat.

Sitting down in one of the many empty booths, I waited, trying to project a calm I did not feel. I was pretty out of my depth over here. Everything appeared pretty similar to back home here in the States, but that’s where you screwed up the most. Just when you thought you understood how something worked, you were hit by a rude dose of culture shock. I had forgotten to tip the first time I went to a restaurant, and boy, had that been unpleasant.

“Hello, how can I help you today, sir?” asked a very stealthy waitress.

I gave a small jump as she spoke. I hadn’t heard her approach and her polite question had sent my heart racing. Struggling to get myself under control, I glanced up at her. She was tall for a woman, with a distinctly matronly air to her. Large hips and broad shoulders spoke of a lady who was more than capable of kicking unruly customers out the door if she wanted. Maybe that was why the door stuck when you tried to open it?

“Hey, I’m not really sure what’s on the menu, but can I just grab like, a cheeseburger and fries? Maybe a coke?” I asked cautiously.

“Oh wow, you’re a long way from the UK aren’t you? And yeah I’ll get you our standard burger combo, don’t you worry,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, I’m not from the UK, I’m from New Zealand,” I said automatically. It was a fairly common mistake people made here. Accents were hard I guess.

“Oh, sorry, I’m just so bad with accents!” she said with an apologetic chuckle, her air of matronly command refusing to waver an inch.

“It’s no problem,” I said with a smile. “Happens all the time, not many people have heard my accent.”

“Well, I like it, so keep it going,” she told me with a wink. Oh, wow… okay. I think she realised that she’d surprised me a little with that one, because she straightened her apron and gave me a smile. “Well, let me go and get that food sorted for you!”

While I waited for my order, I glanced around the restaurant, curious about the other patrons. They were mostly beaten down looking salary workers grabbing a bite to eat before they went home.

My eyes fell on a group that did not fit that bill at all, and I found myself shrinking slightly in my seat. Shit, that group of nazi wannabes had entered the store. I tried to keep myself low profile as they ambled in like they owned the place. Damn, I really hoped they didn’t cause trouble, that would suck for the staff.

I watched as a woman in her forties moved from the booth next to them and over to my side. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the other patrons would have felt a bit threatened by their presence.

Glancing around, it wasn’t just that woman either, many other patrons were shifting and awkwardly trying not to stare. I should have been the most uncomfortable, but I’d always had problems with giving a shit about threatening situations and people.

It’s not like I had no emotion at all, but the thought of dying or being hurt had never really been something I was overly concerned with. Life was just life, if it kicked you down then that was what happened. If fate or whatever had decided that I’d get beat up, then whatever… it could happen. My views were probably a bit depressing and fatalistic, but so be it. I’d lived my whole life like that so far and it seemed to be working just fine.

Oh, balls. Having been lost in my own thoughts, I’d failed to stop myself from staring at the nazis for too long, and now they’d noticed me. I compounded this mistake by freezing in place, continuing to stare without the abasing manner that they expected.

The guy I’d been staring at didn’t bust his way through the bar like you’d expect from some Hollywood movie, but he did stare me down. Yikes. My eyes dove for the table, and sighting on my phone, I brought it up and pretended to be really interested in it. It was a new model, one I’d managed to snag in a deal that would require a lot of payments down the line, but it was nice to have. Especially useful now that I was alone in a foreign country where it was basically my lifeline.

With my fancy phone as an excuse, I ignored the angry stare long enough for his attention to move elsewhere, which was just in time for my food to arrive. Nothing worse than someone staring at you while you try to eat.

As promised, it was a burger big enough to put me into a coma, along with far too many fries. My waistline was not going to be happy with me. Not that I usually cared, good food was good food and I could always work off the extra calories later.

I made sure to jot down a rough estimate of the calories this would add to my day in my fitness app. I knew that the fries would be roughly 300 or 400, but the burger was a mystery. I hated being bulky, there had been a period of my life when I started university that I had let my eating get the better of me, and as my body began to get larger I had felt awful. I didn’t work on muscle mass or anything, I just kept my weight down at just above an unhealthy thinness.

The burger was delicious, meaty and not at all dry, and I enjoyed every bite… no, I savoured it. Perfect comfort food.

Outside the shop, the wind was beginning to pick up, discarded rubbish flying past the half shuttered windows of the restaurant. Better get myself into some warmer clothes. Fishing around inside my satchel, I found and pulled out my favourite hoodie.

I loved this thing, a swath of thick dark green fabric, the front of which had a stylised graphical glitch on the front. Signalling the waitress, I placed some cash on the table to cover the meal and tip, then swapped my cheap suit jacket for the hoodie. Instantly I felt more at ease, something about suits just made my skin crawl.

By the time I was outside it was beginning to rain, just small droplets each one a mote bigger than mist. As a precaution, I moved the contents of my suit pockets into my satchel to keep them dry. The thick canvas of the satchel was much safer than the thin fabric of the pants. That shit was almost see through.

With my valuables secured, I set off into the drizzle towards where I believed my bus stop was. Hopefully I could remember the way. The city looked different in the howling weather, ominous and wild, like the very universe itself was one step away from some terrible disaster.

As I pushed my way through the wind and moved through the unfamiliar city, I became increasingly lost. It wasn’t until a beat up old station wagon pulled in next to me that I realised I was truly in trouble.

The street was barren of other foot traffic, and I’d only noticed the occasional car driving past me until now. I heard the engine of the vehicle next to me sputter to a stop, a group of people taking that time to spill out of the rust heap.

When I turned to get a good look at them, I found myself locking eyes with the same man from before. He looked to be in his late twenties, with a multitude of racially charged tattoos covering many exposed areas of his body.

“You’re pretty slow for a black dude, thought you’d have made it further. You was eyeing me up in the bar back there, and I was just getting to wondering what you have against me. You got a problem with me?” he asked, his tone cocky and amused as he sauntered over to me.

“Um, no I don’t,” I told him with a weary but calm sigh.

One of his friends spoke up, a woman with some strange intricate system of braids keeping her hair close to her head, except it looked like she hadn’t redone them in a month. The style would have been cool, but now it just looked ratty and gross. “Yo just take his shit. You said you wanted his phone so fuckin take it. It’s cold as your mum’s corpse out here.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, turning to give her a stare before he turned his ire back on me, “Whatever, you heard the bitch, give me your shit.”

“I’d rather not,” I said, unable to stifle the groan of annoyance. I knew this was going to end badly, especially if I didn’t toe the helpless victim line, but I just couldn’t be bothered reigning myself in. If they’re gonna beat and mug me, maybe just get it over with? There wasn’t any hope that they would just let me go without a scratch, the phone was just an excuse.

“You fuckin’ dumb or something? Give me your shit or I’ll kick the shit out of you and then take it,” he exclaimed, and if it hadn’t been raining I reckon there would have been spittle everywhere.

Evidently still impatient, the woman who had spoken before just threw up her hands and stormed over to me, splashing water from the still forming puddles as she went.

Before I could really react to her approach, her fist was flying for my stomach in a blindingly fast underhanded jab. I was slumping to my knees before I even properly processed that I’d been hit, the concrete driving the point home by taking a layer of skin off my knees through the thin fabric of my pants. Why couldn’t I breathe? My muscles hurt so bad, and they wouldn’t move.

“What the fuck?” I said, or rather attempted to say. Nothing came out but a pained groan.

With a snort, she moved past me and plucked my satchel up off the ground, throwing it to her mate. Then she turned back and knelt, beginning to frisk through my pockets, giving an especially painful twist to my dick and balls as she passed that area.

She got a laugh from all her friends for that one. Real funny joke. My gorge rose in the usual response to abuse of those parts, my lovely burger and fries threatening to come up and show the world just how not lovely they really were. A part of me wanted to chuck it all up onto her, but instead I choked it back in an effort that strained my already bruised stomach muscles.

“Alright, he don’t have shit in his pockets, you got it in there?” the woman asked, turning to the guy who wanted my phone.

“Yeah I got it, got everything actually. Dumbass just carrying all his shit in here,” he laughed, waving my poor abused canvas bag around.

“Nice. Now let’s fuckin go, I’m cold,” she said as she casually gave a kick to my chest. I wobbled from the blow, landing flat on my back with a thump that had me whimpering. God, my body hated everything right now.

“Boo hoo, it’s coooold. Whiny bitch. I had that covered, would have done it way faster,” whined phoneboy as he threw the bag into the car.

“Just shut the fuck up and get in the car dude,” she ordered, clearly used to being called a bitch.

Continuing to throw insults at each other, the whole lot of them piled back into their rusty old car and sped off, water spraying over me as they went past.

Laying there on the cold pavement, I watched my livelihood recede into the distance with a sense of depressed resignation. Everything important had been in that bag. Everything.

The wind and rain picked up in a harsh gust forcing me to close my eyes as it lashed at my body with mercifully numbing cold. 

I lay there helpless on the ground for a long time. At first it was the pain that kept me on the ground, but after that, I just couldn’t bring myself to stand. I was screwed. What was the point anyway though? It wasn’t my idea to be in this stupid country, but my mum had plans for me. I wasn’t allowed to be, “Just another Māori boy stacking shelves in a supermarket.” If I wasn't going to be successful then I wasn't worth the effort of raising. What was wrong with stacking shelves anyway? It was more important than any of the shit my mum and all her rich white friends did.

An enormous flash of light seared through my eyes and into my brain, erasing my depressed self hate.

The entire sky had just erupted in lightning all at once, a sheet of it blanketing the sky like an enormous web. The rolling peal of thunder hit next, shaking the very ground beneath me like a titan had just struck the planet.

Then it happened.

My whole body lit up in a pain such as I had never even imagined was possible. It spasmed through me as a strange energy shot down every nerve in my body. Every physical molecule of my being began to writhe in a horrifying and eldritch way. Everything from my ears to my chest, crotch, and ass all burned with a terrifying and unknowable pain. To make it worse, my very bones followed suit, erupting in a cascade of pure agony. It was too much, my poor mind splitting down the middle. I passed out.

This event would later become known as the Emergence, the day that superpowers became real, and it changed everything.