Words of Hate

I still had a few hours to kill before the rehearsal, so I went home and took a long shower, trying to wash out the smell of Zero's hideout from my hair. I managed to get rid of it, but the memory of scorched cement still followed me, a disturbing feeling somewhere on the periphery of my mind.

Other than that, the only thing that got hurt was my jeans. I managed to tear them sometime during the night, probably while hanging from the museum's fence. My jacket was quite dirty, too, but it was easily remedied by some water and soap. Surprisingly, I had no bruises despite our scuffle with the locals, which was good, because I didn't want to explain to anyone how I got them.

I made myself dinner and ate it in silence, thinking over the plans we made with Mickey. They were quite simple: convince Ted to invite me to the party, find Tanya Duncan, ask her about Zero. And yet, I had a heavy feeling in my chest that made the food taste like rubber. I didn't want to manipulate Ted into inviting me. I didn't want any of them connected to that part of my life in any way, at all. The idea of all that dirt leaving a spot on Claire or Nelly or Dylan, or Ted, made me sick.

Still, I had no choice. Or rather, I've already made the choice, and I didn't like it.

I practiced on Claire's piano, learning all its kinks and capabilities. It was a magnificent instrument, more versatile and complex than I could imagine. There was too much to learn, but by the time I needed to leave, I got the feeling that I'm starting to grasp its core principles. Infinite freedom of expression, as much overwhelming as it was awesome. I could do so much, in time. My fingers felt more capable, too. I was still far away from being as proficient as I once was, but it was all starting to return to me.

I walked to the campus, recollecting Lady Despair and its melody. I already saw where I was not quite on point during the last rehearsal, and how I could improve. Or maybe even change the sound entirely, making it more techno, more surreal. I'll have to discuss this with the guys.

I was inside the lecture building and heading for the music hall when someone called out my name.

'Hey, Matt.'

I looked up, tearing myself from the music, and saw Claire.

She looked extra pretty tonight, wearing a short skirt and wool thigh highs. Her usual heavy metal t-shirt was replaced with a black tank top, and I guess she was wearing make-up, too, masterfully applied to be almost unnoticeable. I almost gulped, and then took a deep breath instead.

'Hey.'

'Man, you look like shit!'

Uh... what?

'I am?'

'Have you seen your face? It's like you haven't slept in, like, a week, dude. You should really take better care of yourself, Matt.'

'Oh... okay. If you say so.'

I made an awkward move to straighten my hair, and she smiled.

'Come on, let's get you to the music hall.'

We walked together, navigating our way through the current of students leaving their classes. She didn't seem to be angry with me. So, was the 'sure' from this morning a normal sure after all? I was about to say something to probe it further, but someone suddenly appeared in our way.

It was a tall man, probably around thirty, quite handsome in the academic sort of way. He was wearing stylish horn-rimmed glasses, jeans, a tweed vest and a fitted brown blazer, looking confident and relaxed, like a typical pseudo-intellectual asshole Mickey talked about this morning.

'Claire? How are you?'

Claire gave him a wide smile.

'Hi!'

The guy turned to me and reached out for a handshake.

'Hello... uh...'

Claire looked at me, too, and then said:

'Oh, yes. Sam, this is Matt, my friend. Matt, this is Sam.'

I shook his hand.

'You're not in my class, are you, Matt?'

'No. I'm just visiting.'

'Oh?'

'Matt is in my band.' Claire was beaming with pride at the mention of Coffee Bandit. 'We're rehearsing in the music hall.'

'You have a band now? That's great. Hey, can I steal you for a minute?'

He smiled politely and looked at me, hinting not so subtly that I should get lost.

'I'll wait for you ahead.'

I walked forward until I was out of the earshot and leaned on the wall, pretending to fiddle with my phone. But really I was looking at them with the corner of my eye, irritated for some reason.

They were talking, seemingly at ease with each other. I heard Claire laughing. It was all innocent enough, a professor discussing some routine matter with a student, but there was something off about their body language. He was standing too close to her. She was looking up at him, her smile a little bit too wide. At some point Sam touched her on the shoulder; the gesture looked more possessive than friendly.

Or it was just all in my head.

After a couple of minutes, she waved at him and joined me again. We continued to the music hall.

'Who was that?'

She gave me a puzzled look.

'Who? Sam? He's an AP. I took his linguistics class, but then dropped it.'

Don't say anything, Matt. Move on.

'What did you talk about?'

She raised an eyebrow.

'We talked about linguistics. Why?'

I shrugged.

'No reason. Just curious.'

None of us said anything after that until we joined Nelly, Dylan and Ted and began the rehearsal.

This day, we were more productive, in large part because Ted and I were more on the same wave as the rest of the guys. We worked on Lady Despair, and then rehearsed a few more songs, and then, just for fun, a couple of covers. I ran my ideas by the guys, and we jammed a little, trying out different sounds. It felt like the right sound was the only thing we were missing: we could play, we had the material, and we had the drive. What we needed was an identity, and it was slowly forming, even though it was just the beginning of our work together.

Afterward, tired and content, we went to the cafeteria again to relax and vent. It felt like the beginning of a ritual, which I liked. Rituals were a big part of how I learned to cope with the world.

After a short time spent filling our stomachs, we drifted into a lazy conversation. Ted was playing with a cigarette again, looking at it longingly.

'Hey, Claire. Did I see you with Sam Howard in the hall?'

'Yeah. Why?'

Ted shrugged.

'Just asking. This dude rocks. He read a series of awesome guest lectures to us during my first year. How do you know him?'

I glanced at him, displeased. So this Sam guy was not only pleasant to look at, but also a rock star lecturer. Great.

'I used to be in his linguistics class. What were the lectures about?'

Ted livened up.

'Linguistics, right! They were about the history of hate speech and the great extinction of intolerant words throughout the XX century.'

Once again, we weren't exactly sure what he was saying. Ted looked at us with desperation.

'Well, you know? Intolerant words? Like 'f***t', or 'n***o'?

We shook our heads.

'Never heard either of those, Ted.'

He smiled.

'Exactly! Because they're not in use anymore.'

Nelly made a questioning gesture.

'Okay, I'll explain. Do you know how on TV it's considered bad tone to call genetically altered wraiths?'

Humans. They always think that slapping a polite name on a problem makes it disappear. Throughout my life, I grew so tired of this hypocrisy. And also, how did I end up becoming friends with a wraith scientist, of all people? These topics never came up in any other company.

'Sure.'

'That's because 'wraith' is, technically, hate speech. It's a word connected to the history of persecution, violence and outright genocide. Sometimes it is used as a nomen, but mostly it's just a derogatory term, used to describe something negative. Like 'you're such a wraith', or 'she's a fucking wraith', or something.

Dylan sighed.

'We know how swear words work, Ted.'

'Great! But they're not swear words, really. They're hate words. And what you don't know, is that there were a lot more of this type of word before. Like a lot. Twentieth century was like a melting pot of different kinds of prejudices, and they produced a strongly charged vocabulary.'

'I still don't understand. Like what?'

'Well, like 'negro'. That word would be used as a derogatory way of describing someone like me, a dark-skinned person. And the other word was used to humiliate people of same-sex sexual preference.

Claire laughed.

'Come on, you're messing with us. I mean I know that our grand-grandparents were messed up people, but... really? I can remotely understand that racial thing, because race used to be associated with a culture, and culture clash is a real thing. But sexual preference, for fuck's sake? Like... who cares?

There were sparks in Ted's eyes now.

'Exactly! But everyone cared. The world was, like, a really strange place just a hundred years ago. Volatile. You wouldn't imagine what kind of crap people were inventing to hate each other. And do you know what changed all that and allowed this blissful time we live in to exist?'

'I have a feeling that you're going to tell us.'

He grinned.

'Yeah, I will. It's basically the reason why Sam Howard was giving us these lectures. The thing that led to the extinction of old prejudices, and their associated hate vocabularies, were the genetically altered.'

By that point, I was in a foul mood. I grew quiet, dissolving into the background as I usually did. But now I felt a strong urge to say something.

'How so?'

Ted looked at us triumphantly.

'Okay. So, this is possibly the only good thing that genetically altered gave humanity...'

Not counting all the incredible art, and scientific discoveries, and just simple fucking good deeds like taking care of an old lady next door that people like Mickey's dad, or my mom, had been doing for a thousand years.

'... they united us against them. Think about it, guys. Do you know the saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Before the discovery of genetically altered and the subsequent bloody rise of Purity Movement, as horrible and villainous as it was -- and don't think that I condone it! -- humans didn't have enemies except for other humans. We were slaughtering each other. But then here they were, the inhuman monsters, so scary and dangerous and not us. Someone to slaughter instead. So, we did. And in the process, we learned to value each other. Why would anyone despise another human because of the color of their skin if there are literal death bio-machines hiding under human skin somewhere nearby, hunting you both?'

Everyone was looking at him, thoughtful. Clearly impressed.

Except for me. Without thinking too much, I opened my mouth and said:

'That's bullshit.'