The boy swam through an inexplicable tunnel of water; everything standing in his way he liquefied. Like an ant maze, the tunnel snaked through the building up. Up was where he was going.
The tunnel ran through office rooms, conference halls, supply closets, and hallways alike, held together seemingly by nothing. Like the bowels of some monstrous alien creature, it ran through the building as the boy melted everything he encountered in his path, turning solid things into water, and working his way with ease through construction materials, power cables, and communication lines. He disrupted the infrastructure of an entire city block unaware he was doing it. He just wanted up…And so he went…up, and up, and up.
He was making himself a passageway to swim through, solely on instinct. Something like a gyroscope inside him told him up was where the sun was, and he swam for it instinctively. He'd never seen the sun in his life, and he had little idea what it was supposed to look like, but the concept of it was hard-wired into him–a fundamental, shared by all humans, stored in their genetic memory. So he was swimming towards it, up and up, his swimming skills part of his genetic memory too. And he was built to be good at it (among other things) from the get-go. He was human…Only enhanced.
Miraculously, the coiling shaft of water he created didn't spill. It held shape, pretty much disregarding the laws of physics. For as long as he was in the water, keeping contact with it, the fluid shape remained. And whoever stumbled upon it, accidentally, called it the end of their workday.
There was simply no going back to business after seeing something like this. Jaws dropped. Coffee spilled. Some went as far as wetting themselves. The lucky ones even caught glimpses of the Specimen-689 swimming through it, much to their astonishment. The swimmer himself though wasn't fazed. He didn't mind humans, as long as they weren't trying to stop him. He needed to go up, so he swam up, and up, absentmindedly.
When he finished his journey and climbed out of the pool, the spell broke and the water spilled. People who witnessed it were left wet and disenchanted. The boy was panting when he stepped onto the corrugated surface of a jumbo-sized air shaft, no less than ten feet in diameter. Finally, there was fresh air and daylight at the end of the tunnel.
The tube looked funny to him as he moved along, dripping wet. It wasn't anything like he'd ever seen before, but he liked it. It was big enough for walking. Word! It was huge. And he was alone. At the end, there was a slowly rotating turbine. Its blades squeaked continuously like an old swinging set in the park. Having shaken water off of his body–much like a dog would–he headed for the turbine. All his senses were heightened; it was exciting. He straightened up, broadened his shoulders, and walked out into the daylight…
Freedom was beyond the blades of the turbine, and he could smell it now, though it was mostly just cigarette smoke, the whiff of spicy food from a street vendor, car exhaust fumes, and someone's perfume. Good and bad, he embraced it all, drawing in lungfuls, trying to memorize everything. Without knowing why, without understanding what would be the purpose of it, he wanted to soak everything in like a sponge. It was all new to him–a brand-new world was unraveling before him. He wanted to take it all in, and keep it in–as much as possible–stow it somewhere deep inside him.
The closer he was getting to the end of the vent pipe, the more of the outside world he could sense; more smells, more sounds, various little sensations. He was able to catch glimpses of sunlight now, and it was beautiful. The prospect of finally seeing the sun made him walk faster. He wanted to see it all, whatever awaited him outside.
Despite his grown appearance (pubes and all), de facto he was only several days old. And he was really only an infant. He wanted so desperately to see what was out there because he'd seen so very little before. Having been assembled inside a box, piece by piece, he was later put into another box where an alien machine continued building him meticulously, his bones, muscles, skin, and flesh. Like sand through the neck of an hourglass, his ingredients were poured into him slowly, and he was conscious the whole time, waiting patiently to be completed. He couldn't feel much but he remembered it all. It took several days but, for him, it felt like an eternity.
Now that he was no longer in the box, he wanted to feel, hear, and see things…Everything interested him. Before, the inside of the box was his entire world. Now he was discovering the actual world was this much bigger.
When he stepped forward from behind the blades, the bright sunlight blinded him. And the brilliance of the world momentarily dazzled him. And the sheer magnitude of the city of New York left him breathless.
Whatever he thought he was going to see, it was actually much much bigger. Grander! He didn't expect the outside world was going to be like this…Huge! His jaw hung open as his fingers scrambled to hold on to something behind his back. He was standing on a ledge before an open chasm. It was going down hundreds of stories. For all he knew, it never ended down there. His head was spinning as he peered down into the darkness where light couldn't follow. A surge of wind fluttered his hair, and he had to close his eyes. He was overwhelmed.
And when he opened them again, more bewilderment followed. The sheer quantity of things had taken him aback. They were strange things too, wherever his eyes went. Cars flying, people walking, birds taking flight. Whenever he tried to focus on something, he was too late. It was gone before he knew it, replaced with something else. It was a strange new world he was discovering, and he was beginning to like it.
Before he was able to enjoy it though a squadron of police cars rose to his level from below, distracting him from everything else, making him very aware of their presence, their sirens blaring and their berries and cherries flashing.
"This is police!" a voice said over the megaphone. The boy turned to the voice. Because he didn't finish his English course, he had little idea of who they were. Through the tinted glass of their windshields, police officers watched the boy too, having no idea of who he was either, just that the government wanted him. The boy was sporting thermobandages, looking like he'd just escaped from a lab, which he did. But they didn't so much know it as they just guessed it. And that was pretty much all they cared to know.
"He has no file," one officer said to another; the face scanner failed.
"Great!" the other one replied sarcastically. He was unregistered then–an illegal alien. Apprehend him first, do a shitload of paperwork later. He sighed. Why did he sign up for this?
"Let's just get it over with," he said to his partner, who in his turn lifted the transmitter to his lips and said, "There's nowhere to go. You will slowly turn around and put your hands on the floor. Do you understand me?"
Mute as a fish, the boy stood rooted in place. He didn't know enough English to reply. He only barely understood what they were saying to him. So he just stared at them, wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights style.
"Figures!" said the officer, irked. "He doesn't speak English."
"Book him," said the other one.
"Yeah," was the reply. Buttons were pushed, dials twisted. A small squadron of police cars converged on the boy. Realizing he was being ambushed, Loo backed off, pushing himself into a wall. The darkness of the tunnel he came from didn't seem so alluring to him. He didn't want to go back there. He'd just found this new world; he didn't want it taken away from him. So he considered other options, and frankly, there weren't a lot. Without thinking much, he clasped his hands in front of him as if getting ready for a dive and–
He jumped, missing the police cars and plunging headfirst into the sea of speeding vehicles. In a matter of seconds, he disappeared from the police radar altogether.
"Whoa!" said one of the officers. The other one was too stunned to reply.