Strange New Feet Read online

  “DNA- Do Not Alter!”

  “ED QUACK THERE’S NO GOING BACK!”

  “Hell No, We Won’t Glow!”

  Voices are chanting in unison, “Stop-Playing-God! Stop-Playing-God!”

  Through the crowd, she sees a line of officers in full riot gear bracing themselves against the slowly encroaching protesters. Beyond the signs and up the hill are the white marble stairs glittering empty and inviting, and above that the proud museum, with its pillars and smoked glass doors and large banner that reads:

  ‘Honoring the work of Eduardo Kac: Celebrating 20 Years of Transgenic Art”

  She drops her head, a heaviness falling upon her. Honor will have no place here today. She has to do something, but what?

  To her right are a small group of exhibit supporters, but their signs are down and Safia recognizes the mounting worry passing between them.

  Just what did her mother expect her to do here? She couldn’t talk Kat out of coming and, as she looks around at the escalating bands of protesters, she knows she can’t even protect herself. The worst part is she knows where Kat is—getting her small body smashed into the riot shields up front. She lets her head fall back and stares at the milky gray sky.

  “How bout some more rain? Lightning? A Hurricane? Got anything?” She sighs at the wall of stillness above her. “Okay, just thought I’d ask.”

  A half a dozen black, box trucks full of federal riot officers make their way through the streets. Five different satellite media trucks jockey for position. She has to think fast. It will have to be something drastic, something that can’t be ignored, something disruptive.She looks over at the supporters again, mostly young college kids. They’re still rebels, fighting against the chains of society’s opinions and suffocating under rules and laws that they neither voted in nor subscribe to. What can they do against a sea of conservatives? She suddenly smiles. What indeed?

  The small gathering stared at her like she was mad at first, but then, as their desperation and sense of adventure took over, they began to nod and glance at each other like maybe they had a chance to change the tone of this thing.

  “We can only try, right?” Safia asks.

  “You’re crazy lady.” A lanky girl with thin brown hair laughs, “But I’m in.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Lead the way!”

  Safia shakes her head, wondering if she really has lost her mind. “Okay, follow me.”

  They move down the sidewalk, away from the commotion. Nobody seems to notice. When they turn the corner, Safia yells back at her thirty or so followers, “Okay, time to hustle, let’s go.” She brakes into a run, checking behind her once in a while to make sure she isn’t losing them. She leads them first down the oak shaded sidewalks of the shopping district, then through the broad lawns of Pineville College and out the back end of the college property to Fern Park. She stops in the park to let them catch their breath, allowing the few stragglers to catch up. “Just through these trees.” After a minute, she takes off again, feeling the air change and cool under the canopy of trees. She stops just before the trees, once again, brake into wide open yard.

  “Okay,” she says, “this is the back lawn of the museum. We move fast, down the hill, around the right side and onto the stairs. It will take a minute for the police to spot us because they’ll be too focused on the crowd. Any questions?”

  “When do we disrobe?” a short guy with a red face asks with a smile.

  Safia returns his smile with a little nod, “Now.”

  Everyone hesitates for a moment and then begins peeling off clothes.

  “I hope this works,” a pudgy blonde says, pulling her sports bra over her head.

  “I hope my parents will bail me out of jail,” cracks a tall red head with a freckled chest.

  Safia waits patiently for everyone to finish, trying to keep her mind off the uncomfortable feeling of being nude with a group of nude strangers. She won’t even let her mind wonder to the news cameras. She turns and peers out at the back of the museum, taking a deep breath.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  The grass is soft and damp on their bare feet as they run down the hill and around the side of the building, pressing themselves against the cool concrete wall of the museum. They can hear bullhorns being used now to try to reason with the crowd along with threats of SP gas. This is getting way too serious.

  “Ready to lighten up these old geezers?” Safia whispers behind her. Everyone nods, trying to be polite about keeping their eyes ahead. “Good, let’s go have some fun, then.”

  Safia runs out of the cover of the building, her heart pounding in her chest. Slipping on the steep slope of the terrain, she loses her balance and falls into someone running behind her, but they catch her and pull her to her feet again. Finally making it to the steel railing alongside the steps, they hop over it—some gracefully, some not—and land on the warm marble stairs. They line up in front of the doors, a wall of white and brown flesh and pink faces, and link hands. Safia stands in the middle, scanning the front of the crowd for her sister. Before she can find her, someone shouts.

  “Hey! On the stairs!”

  “Here we go guys,” Safia whispers as she spots two black helmets at the bottom of the stairs turn to look at them. They seem to be frozen for a moment before they slowly turn to look at each other. She watches the front of the crowd begin to notice them too. At first they stare silently. She watches the silence roll through the crowd until only the very back rows are still shouting and thrusting signs. As the police begin throwing hand signals around and talking into their shoulder-mounted walkie-talkies, Safia finally spots her sister. She is pressed up front as she expected, only her dark hair, waifish face and thin arms lifting up a green sign poke out of the mass of people. She is too far away to see her reaction, but she knows what it is. This is her ulterior motive. Sure, she wants to bring some levity to the situation, dispel some of the rage and fear that is darkening the opening and maybe get the protesters to laugh…smirk, be distracted, whatever. But her real motive is to get Kat out of there and if there is one thing Kat can’t stand it’s Safia stealing her show.

  A line of officers moves toward them, ascending the steps slowly, their helmets off, their shields replaced by white blankets.

  “I guess they can tell we’re not armed,” the freckled redhead says. The others chuckle nervously with him.

  Safia notes the change in the crowd, the confusion, the interruption in their momentum. Then she sees the wired men with cameras on their shoulders fighting their way through the outer bands of people. She winces. Hopefully they’ll be kind and only show their faces.

  “Sit down and put your hands on your heads!” A voice booms at them through a bullhorn. “Sit down and put your hands on your heads! We can do this the easy way or the hard way!”

  Only a rumbling murmur, like the low growl of an engine can be heard in the crowd of protesters as they watch the new drama unfold.

  “Should we sit down?” the pudgy blonde holding her right hand whispers.

  “Now, where would be the fun in that?” Safia answers calmly, her eyes still focused on Kat.

  When the officers are only a few feet away, Safia feels the group break away from her, some running past the officers, some jumping back over the railing and running in circles around the grass, laughing like they have truly lost their minds. Safia smiles, at least they are having fun with it. This causes a new uproar in the crowd, but this time it’s lighter, filled with more incredulous shock then malice.

  Safia stands still. Her eyes meet the approaching officer without apology.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Raine,” he says, throwing a blanket around her bare shoulders and pulling it closed around her body. The sun suddenly pierces the gray sky.

  She lifts her face and closes her eyes. “Yes, it is a good afternoon, Gere.”

  “Your momma’s not gonna be happy about this.”

  “She better be,” she muses.

&nb
sp; He shakes his head and, holding her arm securely through the blanket, leads her down the steps. “Wanna cover your head?”

  “Nope,” she answers, finally close enough to find Kat and make eye contact.

  Kat’s expression is dark with rage, her nose is bloody and she screams something at Safia before she turns and starts pushing her way violently back through the crowd.

  “Mission accomplished,” Safia sighs.

  Chapter 3

  At the station, Safia has her fingerprints scanned, her picture taken and is given a pair of gray prison pants that she has to hold up herself, an old t-shirt and some shower flip-flops. She sits like that in the large fish tank that is the captain’s office.

  “Your sister’s here to bail you out,” Captain Ludford says as he walks in and places a Styrofoam cup of black coffee in front of her. Then he chuckles, his swollen belly jiggling under a black uniform. “You couldn’t think of any other way to get her outta there, huh?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Safia shrugs and tastes the coffee. It’s bitter and luke-warm. She checks the wall clock. It’s almost twelve thirty. “Did the doors open?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He leans back in his chair and sips his own bitter coffee. A small smile pushes into his bull-dog cheeks. “Look, we’re not filing charges against y’all. The way we see it, that little stunt…the crowd watching a bunch of naked clowns being chased around by police with blankets, kinda took the edge off the party, settled everyone down. The doors opened. No one was brave enough to go in, but the doors are open. The protesters are straggling away and tomorrow the museum will have a good day with maybe a handful of hard core’s still out there. No force, no gas…we couldn’t have asked for a better ending. Unfortunately,” he frowns, “neither could the media.”

  “Yeah,” Safia says. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t catch the news for the next few days.”

  “You’d better warn your parents, too.”

  “Mom was going to watch it live on CBN.”

  Captain Ludford shakes his head, a small whistle escaping his lips. “Well, I guess I better get you out of here so you can make some calls.” He rises and lumbers to the door. “How’s your mom doing now days? Haven’t heard anything new for awhile.”

  Safia stands and holds her pants in a knot at the waist. “She’s working on some personal stuff. Just enjoying life.”

  He nods and walks her around the back of the station to the waiting room. “Well, tell her I said hi when you talk to her.”

  “Will do.” She hands him the Styrofoam cup. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Anytime, Miss Raine.” He presses a large silver button on the wall. The door slides open and Safia sees Kat and her boyfriend standing with their arms crossed, waiting for her. Kat gives her a once over and shakes her head when she approached.

  “Nice outfit.”

  “I appreciate you coming, Kat, but there’s no bail set and I can walk home.” There’s no anger in Safia’s matter-of-fact tone, which seems to darken Kat’s expression even more. She’s infuriated and wants a fight.

  “Well, that’s rude. We drove all the way down here to help you out and now you’re just going to dismiss us?”

  Safia glances at Reuben. His lanky arms are folded tightly to his body and his expression seems to tell her he’s just along for the ride.

  “Fine, Kat. Let’s get out of here then.”

  As Safia slides across the gray leather seat of Reuben’s silver Nex T2, she can’t help but smile to herself. The fact that Kat met him at some animal rights meeting makes it hard not to comment on his choice of upholstery. She bites her tongue.

  The car pulls smoothly away from the curb and into the streets. Kat turns in her seat to stare at her and Safia notices the swelling and blood stain beneath her right nostril.

  “Just what the hell were you trying to do? Do you know how upset mother is going to be when she sees you on the news…naked!”

  Safia watches the almost comical act of her little sister trying to find just the right button to push. She never cared what their mother thought and never would. The only thing she cared about was the fact that the protest was her show and Safia had butted in. Kat didn’t even like her sister coming to her birthday parties. Safia crosses her legs easily and tilts her head slightly, waiting for the next attack.

  “You are unbelievable! You know how important this protest was to me, we talked about this…and…and,” her pale face begins to pink in anger, giving her small features an even more childlike appearance. “And yet you just couldn’t help ruining it. I swear, sometimes I think you just do things on purpose to ruin my life.” She turns back around abruptly, crossing her arms. Safia can see her in the side mirror struggling not to cry.

  Safia sighs. In spite of everything, she really doesn’t want to see Kat this upset.

  “I’m sorry, Kat, really. I guess I didn’t understand how important this was to you.” She watches Kat roll her eyes. She knows she has to get the focus back on her somehow. “I’m listening if you want to try to explain it to me again.”

  They sit in silence for a long time. Safia watches the streets become more congested as they move deeper into the city, the sidewalks become livelier with pedestrians. The sun’s finally out and painting bright spots on the windows of the buildings. Safia glances in the rearview mirror. Reuben moves his eyes to hers. They are large and dark with thick lashes and a natural line that looks like he wears eyeliner. He seems to want to say something to her. She holds his gaze and he shifts in his seat.

  “Do you support the exhibit then, Safia?” His voice is smooth and deep, with a touch of an exotic accent.

  “If you’re asking if I support genetic engineering carried out for the sake of art, Reuben, then my answer would be yes.”

  Kat twists herself around in her seat again. “So, you don’t find it arrogant and presumptuous of us infantile humans tinkering with the building blocks of life?”

  Safia glances in the rear view mirror and smiles softly at Reuben. She knows he has sparked an open dialog for Kat on purpose. Safia will have to let her prove her point so she can feel better about the fizzled out protest.

  “I suppose you have a point, Kat. We are perhaps too young of a species to be sticking our fingers into the creation pot. But isn’t that the whole point of Kac’s work? And art in general? To get people talking about the possibilities and moral dilemmas of our time?”

  “Yeah, right,” Kat answers, twisting her small mouth sideways. “You can be so naïve sometimes, Sis. Kac and all the so called artists after him only have one purpose in mind. And that is to show us these chimera creations under the guise of harmless art to numb us to the seriousness of the genetic engineering being carried out by scientists who are messing with the natural order of things for real. It’s the same principal as violence in society escalating because our entertainment industry has taken the shock out of it, made it seem like the norm.”

  Safia studies her sister’s anger, wondering where it’s coming from. It seems like it’s always been a part of her. She knows she can’t really be this angry about things she barely understands. She doesn’t do any research for herself, she only listens to the things people in her circle tell her, and this is the one thing about her sister that truly made her angry.

  “I suppose you’re right, Kat. There are real dangers involved with genetic engineering.”

  This seems to satisfy Kat for the moment as she slumps back into the seat. She watches Reuben move his brown hand to her thigh in a show of support.

  They drop her off in front of her apartment building, turning down her offer to come in for coffee.

  Her apartment is warm and quiet. The sun pours in from the three large square windows in the living room, showing off the rich honey wood floors and dark leather sofa. There’s minimum furniture: a silver domed lamp and flat screen monitor; a small teak dining table, positioned in front of the kitchen entrance and lots of open space. Safia finds her purse and opens her c
ell phone. Two messages.

  “Need a shower first, Mom.”

  She lets the hot water run over her body until the bathroom is thick with steam, then dries off and slips into a silk robe.

  As the phone rings, she pulls an orange from the refrigerator and begins to peel.

  Grinning, she flips the phone open and sits it on the table. “Answer call.”

  Her mother’s face appears, dark almond eyes smiling back at her. “Well, that was interesting.”

  Safia shrugs and continues to peel her orange.

  “I had to improvise. How much coverage did we get?”

  “A lot. Don’t worry though, maybe something good will come out of this…like a date.”

  Stuffing a juicy bit of orange in her mouth, she shakes her head. Her mother is enjoying this a little too much. “Funny, Mom.”

  “So, Kat met you at the station, I assume?”

  “Yeah, Kat and her puppy dog, Reuben. Captain Ludford says hi by the way.”

  “Don’t underestimate him, Safia.”

  Safia studies her mom’s fading smile on the small screen. “Who? Reuben?” She swallows another bite and chokes a bit. Coughs. “Why? You’ve only met him once in the five months they’ve been an item. Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Just a feeling. Your sister has gotten very militant since she’s been involved with him and that animal rights group.”

  “Just one of her phases to try and fit in, Mom, don’t worry.”

  “You’re probably right. So, how’s work?”

  “Oh, it’s good. Fine, really.” Olivia’s face pops into her mind. Her exotic, sweet face. It’s her turn to change the subject. “Why don’t you fly in and go to the museum with me tomorrow night?”

  Her mom chuckles. “And deal with the wrath of your sister? No thanks. I’ll leave that up to you. By the way, you two are coming to my show at Winterhaven, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it, Mom.”