The Mezoi

Akela catches wind of a possible case to track, and rushes back to check in on the office before running off again.

     “I saw it! I promise!” the boy cried. His copper-toned skin was flushed with anger, his black hair wild from the number of times he had run his hands through it in frustration. His mother tried to straighten it, but he pulled away from her, shaking his head in defiance.

     Akela smiled to herself and moved slowly down the aisle of the gas station store, looking for something with sugar in it. Not chocolate �" she didn't feel like it. She didn't like candy, particularly not the hard sort, or gum, either. At the same time, she was watching the boy on the edge of her vision. He was moving toward the check-out counter, and another couple of seconds went by before Akela came to the conclusion that nothing here would fulfill her desire and gave up. Things just weren’t the same here in the country as they were in the city. Different brands, and different ingredients, as though she were halfway around the world. Major brands were restricted to major cities. Things had changed in the last two centuries.

     She picked a cooler, and slid her card through the lock. It clicked, and she opened it to pull out a nameless soda. There had been a pack of candy by the register that had caught her eye as she walked in, so she went to stand behind the little boy and his mother, both dark-skinned and black-haired as she was. The mother had a round body, worn and slumped, and the boy was no less than twelve years old in age, short for twelve, but powerfully built and lean, as if to make up for his stature. Both were Hispanic, through and through. And only someone like her who worked in areas like this would know something like that . . . the thought was amusing enough to bring a little grin to her face. The city folk rarely distinguished each other by race, anymore. People in the country often thought she spoke Spanish, but her family was from Hawai’i, and people in the city assumed she spoke English and didn’t care where she was from, as long as she was human.

     “It was real, Madre! I saw it! It chased me all the way down the �"“

     “Gonzalo, that is enough!” the boy's mother said, her eyes rolling toward Akela, embarrassed by her son and misinterpreting Akela’s grin, “Just a nightmare . . . sometime he think it is real.” The woman was trying her best to ignore him.

     To this, Akela smiled pleasantly and gave an understanding nod. But she was watching the boy as she picked up the candy and set it down on the counter with her card, only taking her eyes off him long enough to sign her receipt.

     “Madre!” the boy whispered in a choked sort of way, mortified.

     His mother took him roughly by the arm and steered him out the door. Akela watched the boy get in his mother's car, an old but functional faded blue 21^st century Honda four door. Most auto companies had taken up selling refurb models like that, to cut back on waste. Bad parts were recycled, good parts were restored, and new parts were added. Many other companies had followed suit, particularly construction and electronics.

     The boy, Gonzalo, pantomimed something, his fingers arched like claws. He was bent over, his teeth bared like a cat's. His mother pointed at the door and said something: a command to get in the car. He straightened and shouted at her in final attempt to get her to listen. Akela picked up her candy and walked out the door. She could read the words on his lips before she even walked outside to hear them: It had a tail!

     She opened the door and heard him clearly, now: “It had a long, scaly, brown tail!” He stomped the ground, fists balled tightly in anger.

     “Get in the car! Now!”

     Akela pretended to ignore them, but rolled her head and shoulders, in pretense of shaking stiffness out of her neck, and looked about the wooded country highway. She had seen it a thousand times, and cast a glance at the departing mother and child �" particularly their license plate, imprinting the number on her short-term memory easily. She took note of which direction the car went �" east, opposite the city and away from her �" and got into her truck, a state-issue refurbed red Toyota pick-up with a hooded bed, and wrote the number down on the back of her receipt.

     Then she started up her truck, cranking the key a few times before the thing grumbled back at her in acknowledgement. The power button and the proximity key were both long useless; but for a good price, she had gotten a standard key ignition installed. It was faster than waiting for the state to replace the digital components, and she liked to torque the key and feel the transmission hum back at her. She headed west, towards the city.

     It wasn’t long before the massive concrete outer wall of the city loomed above her, pine trees reaching for it with rough, spindly arms and bushy, pin cushion hands. There was a thirty-foot clearing between wall and forest, but below the pines, live oaks bent towards it, gnarled branches spreading over the grass to reclaim that lost ground. All in vain, as it wouldn’t be long before the state had them cut back again.

     The city was split off into two sections, the outer one surrounded by this fortress-like wall, and only accessible through an automated gate. When she reached the metal framework of the gate, with electrified wires running throughout, she got out of the truck and walker over to a small scanner set into the wall, which had a black panel underneath a horizontal card slot. She fed her ID card to the slot, and pressed her left hand to the panel, until the panel vibrated in acknowledgement and gave her back her card. The gate opened, followed by a second, equally wired gate, which opened automatically, and she drove through to the suburbs.

     At first, there was little change from the outside, with the exception of the occasional licensed cat or dog on the sidewalks. Then she came to the houses. They were normal, but smaller than the country homes, for the most part �" old houses, some dating back to the beginning of the century, or even beyond that. Once in a while, she would see a house from the twentieth century. This was where people lived when they had money to spend on it. Her father had been a satellite technician, and her parents lived in the suburbs on the other side of town. The inner city didn’t have many houses at all except in moderate residential neighborhoods, like the one she lived in, in a well-built single story house of modern compounds, recycled from ritzier suburban homes, with a modern, A.I. security system.

     She drove up to the main city gate, a smooth, thick metal wall with electric wires strung across both sides, two inches from the metal, to make sure nothing got through. But here in the suburbs, in the outer city, creatures were ordinary creatures. Cats and dogs, though occasionally someone would lose their gecko or their python (not very often, though. Exotics were registered, and the fines were severe enough for even the wealthy to balk at.).

     The gate through this wall was maintained by a young man with pale skin and short, reddish-blond hair. Standing beside him was an older being the likes of which could only be found within the Inner City, except with special permission to enter the suburban perimeter. She was about six feet in height, with a long, round snout and graying, medium-length brown fur with big, black stripes that had faded with age. She almost looked like a furry mix between a bird, a lizard, and a man, only the darkness of her fur giving any hint as to her gender.

     The furred being held out her hand for Akela’s ID. Akela held gave her not only the ID card, but a briefcase that held official copies of all her citizenship documents, and the being, an advanced sort of dinosaur, took it. Her soft, scaly palm brushed against Akela’s hand, and the feel of it, so soft, like those of a certain someone else in her life . . . that touch reminded her to stop and talk to him after she was finished speaking to her employer. Not that she needed much reminding. He might just find her instead. He wasn’t one to let her get away and forget to check in with him.

     They were more properly referred to as mezoi. The word came from the dinosaurs' era, the Mesozoic, though most, if not all, took great offense to “dinosaur,” as many were not of dinosaur origin; even those who were of such ancestry had evolved and advanced beyond such mean terminology. For those who were not mentally advanced, but still animals in every sense of the word, the mezoi had devised the word “cambos” from the word “Cambrian.”

     The mezoi handed back the briefcase after a cursory glance, and passed back the ID card, her musical voice intoning, “Welcome back, Tracker 5-6-5-9, to Nahuatl City, Georgia. Thank-you for your cooperation, Ms. Akela Iolana.”

     The phrase was standard, but the way the mezoi said it, the sincerity of her lovely tone and the silken, proper enunciation of Akela’s name made it so much more personal. “Tracker” referred to Akela’s job, which was to hunt down mezoi and cambos to be brought back to the city by the proper authorities.

     “Not a problem,” she said.

     The young man leaned forward, and spoke to her conversationally, “Nice to see you again, miss, though I didn't think you'd be back so soon. I thought you’d gone on vacation. There haven’t been any reports. What's up?”

     “Oh, no, I was working, I just didn’t think I’d be back so soon, either. It’s nothing too big,” she said, and ordinarily, she’d have left it at that, but she went on in a low undertone, “Not other than a suspicious report I'd like to look into.”

     The mezoi gave a dry snort, “Now, don't go prying into things that don't have to do with you. Last time, you created a bit of a stir among our kind, you know. Even if it is said half of us have ought to have forgotten by now . . . I have not, nor have many of my compatriots.”

     Akela had to wonder for a moment just how the mezoi knew about the incident . . . it was not supposed to be publicized. It wasn’t �" not publicly, anyway. She supposed she would never find out just who spilled the water dish on that one.

     She didn’t let the wonder show; instead, she covered it by laughing, “Don't worry yourself. It'll be fine,” besides, mezoi and cambos running around where the law said they didn't belong was her business, “the thing �" no offense, it was a cambo, not a mezoi�"“ the mezoi female nodded “�"tried to kill me. What did I do to deserve that? I was doing my job, and the critter �"“

     “Was only a dumb cambo,” the mezoi emphasized, “If I recall correctly. You said it just now yourself. And you went running to the quarantine office. You made a scene. They’re there to help us, just like you are, so you just let them do their job.” She paused to make sure there wasn't any traffic being blocked �" there wasn't �" and returned to talk to Akela, who wondered at how the mezoi remembered the case. “Cambos can no more intentionally cause harm to a particular person than they can tell the difference between one side of a wall and another. You have a degree in zoology, if your identification is correct, and I should hope that it is.”

     Akela sighed, that thing had scared the living daylights out of her, “It is, I �"“

     “Did not act rationally, I know. Humans get their minds the least bit off track and they ‘fall apart,’ so to speak. Just try to keep your mind, okay? Don’t wield your gun like a cowboy just because someone rushed you and you’re suddenly scared for your life. There are kinder ways to handle a situation �" and threatening a quarantine officer isn’t exactly a good idea, either.”

     “Yeah,” she snorted softly, “keep my mind. That’s what I’m paid to do, isn’t it? Now, how did your people know about . . . how did anybody. . . . It wasn’t publicized!“

     “It was. The media was paid to keep it quiet, I believe, but they weren’t paid to be silent. I remember the article. It was a month ago last Wednesday, in the local newspaper in a little box on the bottom right-hand corner of page D7.”

     “You people and your memories. . . .” She had nearly forgotten. Some mezoi could have a memory twice the capacity of that of most humans, or more. It was no wonder the state had her working in this box nine-to-five.

     “I remember most everyone who comes through here within a month �" longer, if I have something to remember them by. And I can remember most of the article. Not word-for-word, but I remember what the case was about and I remember your name and what happened. So I’m just warning you to be careful and use better judgement, Ms. Iolana,” she smiled, “and I have quite a lot to remember you by.”

     Akela nodded and the mezoi and the young man went back to their job. She was just setting her foot to the pedal when the mezoi suddenly spoke up once more, “Oh, and Akela?”

     She stopped at the sound of her first name.

     “Speaking of memory, I nearly forgot . . . ,” the female worked her jaws silently for a moment, as though unsure how to make this next statement. Finally, she sighed, shook her head, and said wearily, “Say hello to your partner for me �" ack, my daughter. My daughter . . . please . . .says hello. To him.”

     Akela smirked, and she nodded, “I’ll let him know,” and then she drove on as the female slumped back into the gatehouse with a heavy sigh, muttering darkly. Her companion snickered uncontrollably.

     The mezoi were very prevalent in the city. There weren’t as many as there were humans, but they were definitely everywhere. Unfortunately, there was a problem with letting people outside the city know about the mezoi and the cambos, and with letting these beings outside the city limits. The government did not feel the rest of the world was ready to know about the non-humans, and it was said that the outside world was toxic to them.

     This was true not just for Nahuatl City, but for all major cities. Outside a city was an uncontrolled environment, and not nearly as much technology. They were all, mezoi and cambos alike, very closely watched by the city to be certain that they did not harm anyone and no one harmed them. This just wasn’t possible outside. When Akela had been looking for the cambo a month ago, it was supposed to be a mouse-like creature that had escaped when an antenna fell over and provided the creature with a bridge over the wall. Akela’s job had been to track it, but it was more like a beaver than the mouse her supervisor had described. More like a cat, actually. It had huge teeth and talons like an iguana’s, and it leapt at her like a tiger. There had been no justice in it, and she wanted to blame the whole thing on her supervisor. As to the incident with the quarantine office. . . . She had acted on a growing suspicion, and had been caught in the act. So she did something stupid.

     As she pulled into the parking garage and parked her truck, she noted a tall, dromeosaurid figure waiting for her. He had yellow fur over his entire body except for his pure white belly and throat, and wore a formal suit and tie for his job. He adjusted a thin silver chain about his neck that was almost hidden by his fur. Taji. She’d been right: he’d found her before she could get to her supervisor’s office. She might as well check in and do things properly before she went home. She’d been planning on just working from home, and calling her partner from there, once she was sure what she was doing.

     “Need help with anything?”

     “No,” she said, “Why? And where’d you get that necklace?” She laughed at the way he wrinkled his snout in disgust as he surveyed her filthy jeans, boots, and t-shirt.

     “Well, we didn’t expect you back so soon. I got this from my cousin, and, no, the boss didn’t say anything. You’re in muddy country clothes, so you really can’t say anything. . . . You know, the least you could do is call. We really weren’t expecting you. I saw you coming, and I told the boss, and he looked pretty surprised.”

     Akela rolled her eyes and said, “Apparently, no one was expecting me. What’s the problem?”

     “Nothing, it’s just that there’s . . . well . . . there hasn’t been a report, and we didn’t actually expect you to find anything. If you asked, me, though, you’ve been gone far too long.”

     “There is now. I’ve got a report I want to look into. Some kid at a gas station just outside of town was telling his mother that he was chased down the street by something with brown scales and a tail.”

     “You make me so jealous,” Taji went on, apparently not even listening. He didn’t care �" Akela hadn’t expected him to. He’d been restless lately. Irritable. There was nothing like looking up into the multitudinous, sharp little teeth of an irritable mezoi.

     “Don’t say it, Taji, I get to leave. Yay me. I get to go out there and deal with people who just don’t know that there’s a bit more to life than politics and nationality. People who see something with a long neck and tail and say ‘dinosaur!’ “

     “Point seen,” said Taji, but he didn’t sound remotely convinced. So much of their lives had become about lies. The things they had to say, and the things they wanted to say. She really didn’t care about the politics and ethics of the outside world �" she just said the first thing that came to mind. Officially, she was not supposed to empathize with her coworker, any more than he was supposed to come out and talk about his desire to leave the city.

Author's Note

Have fun with it. Rip it apart. It's old, and it loves your commentary. I personally don't like how rushed the introduction of Taji is. He is one of my favorites of all the characters I've come up with, and he deserves better than that. And ... I don't know *where* in the world the word "Nahuatl" came from. I mean I must have seen it on the Internet somewhere, but knowing what it means makes it feel really cheesy to me. ...The kid makes me cringe. I guess he's okay...I knew a bit of French and Spanish when I wrote this...it's just a very old piece. That's what it is. I keep it because I love writing about the mezoi.

- Fixed it up, but the kid and his mother need to speak real Spanish. :p

Thank-you all so much for you comments!

Reviews

[Demauscian]

You've seen Dinotopia I'd hope. This reminds me of that (loved those movies despite the cheesy nature of them). I am wondering, did these dinosa- uhh... I mean mezoi always exist but were hidden from the general public or are they a recent Frankenstein-esk creation... How is something of that magnitude able to be hidden, especially if they seem to escape a lot.

suggestions:
Grammar, Spelling and Punctuation! Do not forget these poor fellows three...

"she got out of the truck and walker over to a small scanner" watch for typos, they can distract. (paragraph 10)

"occasional licensed cat or dog on the sidewalks, and always, they were licensed." well...duh, you said the same thing twice, try to cut out pork like this. Too much 'stuff' bores the reader. (paragraph 11)

Sometimes your quotation marks got weird and I could not tell what was quote and what was not until I'd reread it.

The boy's dialogue at the beginning seemed a tad unnatural (not that yelling about being chased by dinosaurs is exactly natural).


Well... that's all I've got for you for now. Keep them coming, and don't forget to read what others have written! ^_^