Evolution by Jeannie van Rompaey

complete? I don’t know. Keep your cool, I tell myself. Don’t let them see your fear. Be outraged, offended, shocked at the way they are behaving towards you but, whatever you do, don’t look afraid. There isn’t much I can do, naked and deprived of speech but I do what I can. My eyes flame with fury. I twist and turn, determined not to make life easy for them. I need to make it clear that their behaviour towards me, a legitimate citizen of Planet Oasis, is unacceptable.
    The scrutiny of my body is thorough and I hear little clicks as if there is a camera in the torch taking photographs. X-rays. They examine every little bit of me. When they point the X-ray camera on my back and shoulders I feel a twinge of fear. Will there be any indication that I once sprouted wings? I manage to control the tension and the torch soon passes on to other parts of my body. Whoever tipped these men off about me doesn’t know the particular location of my mutations. Not surprising. The only people who know about them are Kali, Father and the specialist staff at Hos-sat. Possibly Stella. None of them would haveany reason to betray me. Not even Stella. She wouldn’t do anything to damage Father’s reputation. Unless of course…. But that doesn’t bear thinking about.
    It does occur to me that this is a funny way of going about things. What about taking a sample of my DNA? I’ve read about how useful it was to solve crimes. Surely that would reveal if I had any mutant genes; but maybe that technology has been lost or discredited. Maybe there are people who have their own reasons for wanting it to fall out of use. Criminals or completes like me who were once mutants.
    My other peculiarities would be recognised by everyone who knew me as a mutant, my jerky walk and high-pitched voice.
    The men in suits decide to test out these characteristics. I resist at first as a complete would do and refuse to move, but when they prod me I take pride in demonstrating my manly walk and stride about.
    Once satisfied with my movements, they rip off the tape from my mouth. It really hurts but I don’t even flinch. Don’t want to give them the satisfaction. I make my voice as deep and masculine as I can and rent my fury on them.
    ‘How dare you do this to me? I’ll have you punished for your treatment of me. It’s against the law to arrest a complete human being and subject him to such humiliation. An infringement of human rights….’ My rant seems to go on forever. There is no sign of squeakiness in my vocal chords. Good old Moira, speech therapist extraordinary. If she could hear me now she’d be proud of me.
    The two men have had enough of my tirade and tape up my mouth again. They exchange looks, nod at each other and knock on the door to be let out. I wait. I suppose they are checking the X-rays. After what seems like hours, the door opens and my clothes are thrown in. A man steps inside, takes off my handcuffs and goes out again quickly. I rip offthe gag and put my clothes on. I continue to wait. The door opens, the men who brought me here enter, blindfold and gag me again and push me outside. They take me for a long walk, marching me round in circles, trying to disorientate me most likely. They stop and take off my blindfold. We’re back where they found me. They rip off the tape over my mouth and give me a shove towards the Project as if they think that is where I belong.
    I watch them as they storm off. They are only minions, obeying orders. There is something about them that makes me doubt they are policemen. They appear more like common thugs. But what do I know? I have little experience of either the police or thugs.
    As soon as they’re out of sight, I find myself shaking uncontrollably. I want to sit down there on the edge of the Project and howl my eyes out; but know I mustn’t do that. I begin to stagger home. It takes me a long time. Every landmark looks different. Surreal. The more I hurry the slower I seem to go. I lurch from