The Right to Belong: Kawokee, #2

By Stacy Bender and Reid Minnich

Born to human parents, Max has never seen another Kawokee. Hungry for acceptance, he steps out into a world where he is seen as a dangerous animal because of his foxlike appearance and the virus he carries. Encouraged by finding a friend, he ventures into a public place and is almost killed. The incident thrusts him into the social spotlight where he becomes both villain and a hero. Between these violent titanic forces, he must fight for the right to belong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Byrnas Books
• Release date: Jan 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393851912

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Max’s phone rang. The familiar ringtone announced that his one and only friend was attempting to contact him. Max covered the speaker in an attempt to mute the already low volume and rushed back up the stairs. Before he closed the bedroom door, his mother called from downstairs.

Don’t answer it. You have to leave soon.

Did she see him, or did the soft pads of his feet make too much noise on the uncarpeted steps in his haste to get to his room? Max’s shoulders tensed, and he struggled to keep the anger out of his voice. It won’t take long. He shut the door, hoping his mother would not barge in on him in the middle of talking to Wayne. It would not be the first time Max had to deal with her embarrassing persistence.

His desk was in the far corner of the room. Max scurried over to it and dropped the phone into the conversion cradle. Force of habit had him checking that the tape was tight over the camera before accepting the call. The holo of Wayne’s beaming face and torso emerged. Dark haired, gangly, with hints of an attempted beard, Wayne looked like the typical exuberant human teenager. Underneath Wayne’s image the usual banner advertisements scrolled.

You’ll never believe it. I’ve got a full scholarship in pre-bio, even a few off-world offers. My parents are bragging to everyone they know.

Max’s small delicate fingers flew over the touch pad. He typed almost as fast as the synthetic computer voice could speak. It was the best program available, but it didn’t fool people for long. The pronunciation of certain words never came out right, and if Max mis-keyed something, the conversation would get awkward. That’s fantastic, Wayne. I knew you’d get a diefer spot.

So, what about you? I’m sure you’ve got a free ride at every uni on the planet.

No offers here, he typed.

Wayne’s eyebrows pulled low over his eyes. I don’t believe that. The kid at the bottom of the class gets a huge scholarship, and you get nothing? I didn’t even apply at some of the places that made offers. How could you avoid it?

Max wished he had lied. He could have said anything, and Wayne would have believed it.

The holo image of Wayne crossed his arms and scowled. There are too many weird things with you. We’ve been streamed together since K levels. We’ve been friends for two years, and I’ve never seen your face or heard your real voice. Most of the class thinks you’re stuck up. I know you better than that, but it wears on me. Why are you hiding?

Max’s ears flattened to his head as the familiar flood of gut clenching fear mixed with the shame of his existence. There are reasons. 

Wayne uncrossed his arms, and a mix of both curiosity and concern crossed his face. What reasons? Are you that ugly? Are you unable to speak?

Max had mixed emotions on the ugly question. He hated having fur and a long muzzle, not that normal humans looked better to him. Speaking’s an issue. It was partly true. His speech therapist could not help him pronounce R or CH. The problem had something to do with the shape of his jaw. For a while, his mother considered taking him to a cosmetic surgeon to fix the issue, but no reputable doctor would take his case, stating there was too much risk. Not to mention the cost of the surgeries to reconstruct his jaw could feed an entire third world planet. Luckily, his father had refused, or Max would have spent his childhood drugged up and lying in a hospital bed. Instead, he spent it on his computer circumventing the blocks his parents put on movies and information they considered too sensitive for him to view.

Wayne’s eyes widened. Unable to talk? Really? Like your face is messed up or something? His eyes narrowed. Then show me your face. He crossed his arms again and waited.  It’s been two years. I don’t care how bad it is. Doctors could have repaired anything by now.

The advertisement banner changed, and Max glanced at the bright red words scrolling across the bottom, Castoff United – Fighting for Equality.

The tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. There was no point in dragging this out. If anyone could get past this, it was Wayne. Fear made his hands shake as Max pinched the end of the tape that covered the camera. The faint spark of hope of being accepted for what he was had yet to be extinguished. With an expectation of disgust and horror, Max peeled the tape from the lens and stared at the pinhole camera.

Wayne’s holo image leaned from one side to another, examining Max’s holo image. 

This is the weason I don’t speak or use the camewa. Max’s ears twitched, and he cringed at the sound of his own voice. The humiliation of his handicap brought him nothing but ridicule from both adults and children. The memory of one such adult asking his mother why she had not aborted him still haunted him, along with people mistaking him for a pet and demanding he be on a leash or removed from a building.

Max studied his expression with apprehension until Wayne grinned. You’re a Kawokee.

Stunned, Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yo’awe not angwy?

Wayne sat back. I think it’s cool. My friend is a real Kawokee.

He was elated. My voice doesn’t bothaw you?

Not really. You’ve said about six words to me. You’re hard to understand, but I think I’ll get used to it.

Excitement replaced fear, and Max sat straight in his chair. He wanted to kiss Wayne. You think the west of the class won’t mind that I’m a Kawokee?

Wayne looked down and shrugged. Maybe some. It might be better to leave things the way they are. He raised his head and gave him a thin smile. I don’t think it’ll be you they won’t like. It’s, well—

I don’t like the sanctions either. Max’s ears flattened to his head with the unconscious reaction of emotional pain. A memory surfaced of angry pedestrians assaulting him for no other reason than being born Kawokee. It’s not like I asked for anything. My pawents awe the ones people should be angwy with. Max immediately regretted his statement, and he turned his face away from the camera. Sure, he was angry with his parents, but he shouldn’t demonize them to anyone. There were plenty of people who were already doing that.

Max blurted, Would you like to meet sometime? His desire for social contact warred with his fear of rejection. He should have waited, planned how to not sound too desperate. There was nothing he could do now but wait for Wayne’s response.

Sure. Term ends in a few days. We’ve got a long break, and we like the same games. We should hang out together.

An involuntary yip escaped Max’s throat. Wow. I’d love it. Your pawents won’t mind?

They know I can’t catch anything from you by hanging out. But you’re in the capital, right? That’s twelve hours away.  My mom would worry if I stayed with you. She acts like I’m still a baby. Maybe you could stay overnight here.

Max, you have to go now.

Max closed his eyes and growled as his mother’s voice echoed up from the first floor. If he did not move fast, she would barge into his room in a matter of seconds.

I know the feeling. Let me awange a few times, and I’ll get back with you. Talk to you later?

Okay, bye.

Max pressed the disconnect button, grabbed his phone, put on his shoes, and hurried out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

You’re already late.

Another growl escaped his lips as Max ran through the house. The door off the kitchen led to the garage where the podcar waited.

I’m going, Max snapped. Once in the garage, he threw himself into the pod and closed the dome before his mother could reply, let alone chase him down to hug and kiss him before he left. There were few things he hated more than these weekly appointments. Keeping his temper under control had not gone well this week and his mother, no doubt, would record this incident of defiance.

Destination Dr. Abercrombie’s office.

The podcar hummed, and the dashboard lit up before it rolled out of the garage. Familiar advertisement banners popped up on the dash before the blocker Max devised for the podcar kicked in and blacked out the word, Castoff. The group had either spent a lot of money on advertising or was somehow targeting him. Max swore he could recite verbatim every commercial.

Once off the estate and down the side road connecting to a main artery of travel, the pod accelerated to link up with others going in the same direction. Max swiped a finger across his wristband and brought up the document with the questions he was supposed to be answering during the week. After the first month of sessions, he waited until the last minute to scrawl quick answers. The wording might change but the issues remained the same. Today, he could not concentrate on the doctor’s questions. Many things were screaming for his attention. He scrolled to the bottom of the document and wrote his own question.

The podcar shuffled between two other vehicles in the long train of cars rushing to unknown destinations and picked up speed. Max thought about how he would ask his parents’ permission to go see Wayne. His age was the only thing they might bring up of any legal value, but they couldn’t hold that against him since he was graduating O levels. What possible reason could they have to say no? He knew his mother would come up with a list. Whether it would be void of logic or common sense was anyone’s guess.

The podcar shifted quickly into slower lines of vehicles and broke off on its own. It stopped at the entrance to the medical office building. When Max got out, it buzzed into the underground garage to park. There it would wait for the retrieval code to take Max back to the house. The sliding doors failed to detect Max’s heat signature until he raised his hand over his head and placed his palm as close as he could to the sensor.

The holographic receptionist would wave him through, but only after he stepped on the identity scan plate on the floor and said his name.

Maxwell Carlton Stanborn the second. Max only had a vague memory of his grandfather. He hated having to say his full name, but his attempts at shortening the title always failed with the computer hologram and its redundant programs. Max would have loved to gut the thing and reprogram it with a more congenial personality. Unfortunately, doing so would cause legal issues for both him and the doctor. Without sufficient documentation, Dr. Abercrombie would not be able to turn away patients that actually needed help.

The doctor will see you now.

Max let himself into the office, crossed the room, and dropped into the chair opposite the doctor. Hello, Dr. Abercrombie. 

Hello, Max. How was your week?

Max considered telling the doctor about Wayne but decided it would only make the meeting longer. The man would want to pick apart and analyze every detail until it became a meaningless gesture between two organic machines. Besides, Wayne was his friend, and Max had no desire to share that friendship with anyone, especially Dr. Abercrombie. Same as last week. Max swiped at his wristcom and opened the file. Why must we do this every session? My answers haven’t changed since I wrote them months ago.

It is a standard part of the therapy. You can’t see it now, but when we start to make progress, you will know it because your answers will change.

Seriously? Max kept his voice even, but his ears betrayed his irritation. And when will we make progress? When I lose all my hair and grow another half meter or so?

The man did not even crack a smile at Max’s smartass remark. Your progress depends on you. It has always been up to you. There’s nothing anyone can do for you if you’re not willing to move forward in your own recovery. The doctor leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tented his fingers.

In other words, this whole charade was nothing but a pile of crap. These forced sessions his parents had him sit through would have been easier if Abercrombie did not have his head stuck so far up his backside. Max had no doubt his parents had chosen him by the amount of degrees he had attached to his name and not his bedside manner. He knew from experience that protesting would only get him extra sessions with the doctor and the man’s overrated ego.

The hairs on his back stood straight up, making the shirt he was wearing feel tight and uncomfortable. It was an unconscious reaction every time he walked through the doctor’s office door. If the fool ever noticed and realized this was not Max’s natural state, he gave no hint. Max tried to take comfort in the annoyance Abercrombie had to feel by him shedding all over his pristine furniture.

Fine. Max read the document in a monotone. What do others think about Kawokee? He read the bullet points under the question without inflection. They’re stupid, disease-carriers. Which he had to admit was true.  The virus his mother carried re-engineered his DNA and made him look like a walking fox. It was transmittable and incurable. People avoid walking past me like breathing the same air might infect them. Strangers have attacked me and called me a dangerous wild animal. They don’t care that I was born of normal human parents.

Max paused to see if the doctor wanted to rehash those incidents yet again. When he didn’t move, Max moved onto the next question. What do your parents think about the Kawokee? That they are noble savages. That’s the term he heard his parents use. Max had no idea what noble savage meant other than the ridiculous definition in the online dictionary.

He hurried to the next question, afraid the doctor might ask him to elaborate. What do I think about the Kawokee? I’ve never met one. I know nothing of how they are on the Kawokee planet except what I’ve read in the articles from Dr. Char. All the other publications are full of misinformation.

Dr. Abercrombie sat, unmoving. Max rushed through the remaining questions. Do others see me as human or Kawokee? Answer: Kawokee. There’s no getting past the fur. Do my parents think I am more human or Kawokee? Answer: Normal human. Or at least they wish I was.

He raised his eyes from the screen. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here talking to you. Do I think I am more human or more Kawokee? That question makes no sense. Kawokee are human just like the Foy are human. We’ve been re-engineered for a purpose and like the Foy, sticking us back into the general population causes major issues. But unlike the Foy, whose offspring, if they survive, have severe genetic issues, Kawokee stay Kawokee no matter what.

For all Max knew, the doctor was asleep. Max was quiet, content to let his time run out without having to talk. This hope died when Dr. Abercrombie opened his eyes. I’d like you to add a question to your list. Do you trust that your parents want what is best for you?

Max obediently wrote the question down.

Dr. Abercrombie spread his hands. Well?

Max read the question again before answering. They want me to be a normal human. A Norm. Whether that’s best for me or not doesn’t matter. If you’re asking whether I agree that seeing myself as a Norm is best, I would say no. That would require I adopt a Norm expectation of what would make me happy. Will I be happy if I have a Norm wife, a Norm job, Norm friends? He stopped at the thought of Wayne, but hurried on, afraid of losing his train of thought. Can I ever be happy living in a society that hates me?

The doctor spoke as he typed notes. Your parents love you.

My parents love a Norm. They’ll never be satisfied until I’m furless like them. I wish they hadn’t brought me into this world. They could have terminated me at the last minute and still got the organic material needed to start the business they’ve gotten rich on. Maybe they just screwed up and didn’t believe what they were told about the accelerated gestation period. Because it certainly would have been better if I was never born, at least for me. They think I should be grateful to live in a big house on a prosperous world, but I’m not. They didn’t do it for me. They did it to avoid government penalties for infected couples. My dad did it to get rich off my DNA. Max took a breath and forced his ears upright. Yes. I’m angry with them about it.

Dr. Abercrombie typed furiously. And you have no friends who know you are a Kawokee?

Just Wayne. Max wanted to kick himself for the slip. He doubted the doctor could help him keep this one friend and hoped Abercrombie had not heard him. No such luck.

Who’s Wayne?

Max thought about ignoring the doctor but a quick look at his wristcom told him there was still plenty of time left to the session. Cursing his own stupidity, Max gave up part of the information with the hope of detouring the doctor onto another subject. Wayne’s my study partner. We’ve known each other for a long time. Today he found out I’m a Kawokee.

This was the first time Max saw Dr. Abercrombie smiling. It was not a smile that said, I’m happy for you, but the sanctimonious smirk of someone calculating their winning points.

So, you still have no hope that people will accept you?

Max wanted to wipe the smug look off the doctor’s face. Psychiatrists weren’t supposed to nark on patients to their parents. Max would not put it past Abercrombie to leak information for a price and file it under hypothetical possibilities so as not to lose his license. What could he say that would get the doctor off his back and still keep Wayne as a friend?

More like exhaustion.

Exhaustion?

The confused and deflated look on the man’s face made Max want to smile. Yeah, I got tired of him pestering me, wanting to know what I looked like. We will be graduating soon, so it’s not like he has time to change partners, and if he blabs to anyone else... Max shrugged. I’ll leave him to do all the work. It was not true. Wayne was smart. With all his being, Max wanted to believe Wayne wanted him as a friend, but believing meant keeping Abercrombie at arm’s length. There was no way this puffed up narcissist was going to write a paper about his crowning achievement of Kawokee integration into human society. Max knew about the paper. For all his arrogance, Abercrombie was too cheap to bother with updating his security system. A little computer know-how and sheer determination was all Max needed to break into the records and find the doctor’s manuscript. The next time he tried to copy the file, the worm Max implanted would delete the manuscript and every note and record that contained his name. Unlike Max’s parents, Abercrombie was not going to profit off him.

Abercrombie leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed for some time before he spoke. It will take time before the public comes around.

I have to live in the present. I’m the one who has to live with the hate and rejection. The fear that the next person on the street is going to try and kill me.

Can’t you see the progress being made? The government accepts you and puts harsh penalties on anyone who violates your rights.

Maybe the penalties will be enough for my funeral. As to my rights, Max felt his lips curl, and it took effort to relax the muscles in his muzzle. A low almost grating growl escaped his throat. I’m mentally, physically, and sexually an adult. This has been documented by the Char reports. But I have to wait another ten years before I have any rights. And even then, I’ll have restrictions on where I can live and what jobs I can take, all because of the virus I carry.

Dr. Abercrombie folded his hands and leaned forward on his desk. Kawokee are new in society. You are unfortunately one of the first. People need time to adjust, and you need patience. What you learn will help others like yourself later on. They need you to struggle through these issues.

Max recognized the quote from Dr. Sandusky’s recent paper dealing with Kawokee anger issues and chose to ignore the topic. You’re not asking my parents how they feel or think. You don’t think they might be part of the problem?

For now, I’d like to focus on you. We need to build a trusting relationship.

Max gave into the urge to mimic the doctor. He tented his fingers but only half closed his eyes. He wanted to see every tick and movement in the man’s body and face. It helped that the desk was a clear plastic and metal monstrosity, and like the rest of the doctor’s office, style reigned over comfort. "Agreed. I’ve answered all your questions completely and honestly. So, answer me this. What do you think of the Kawokee? Are they filthy, stupid savages?

Of course not.

Liar. The word screamed through Max’s mind as he watched the telltale signs ripple through Abercrombie’s frame. The averted eyes and muffled cough screamed his discomfort. Even the doctor’s feet could not keep still.  Max wanted out. If he had to stay in the office for another minute, he was going to lunge across the desk and... do what? Hit him, scratch him, bite him? The thought of infecting the pompous ass had its appeal, but was it worth the effort? Five years ago, he would have been put down like a rabid animal and put out of his misery, but civil rights activists changed that. What were the new penalties, imprisonment? Would he have to wear a muzzle