Change the World: Part One

by Thomas Wilde

Chapter 1: Announcements and Admissions

July 4th, 1999 New York City, New York

"I have a dream."

The man speaking today in Central Park was not a very good public speaker. In point of fact, he was stone terrible. His hands were in his pockets, he kept fidgeting, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses. His tone of voice was more suited to yelling orders over a battlefield.

That didn't matter. He could have been in the fetal position, muttering the speech from behind a pacifier, and it would still have been riveting. He had chosen his words carefully, and that was keeping his audience, all five thousand of them, glued to their patches of grass.

"Those are the words that the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. began another famous speech with, thirty-odd years ago. I've chosen them deliberately.

"We are living under an old Chinese curse, ladies and gentlemen. The times around us have never been more interesting. We have split the atom, journeyed to the stars, and unlocked some of the mysteries of the universe. The quality of life for us here in America has never been higher. We have heroes, both big and small--" His hand indicated the police watching the event, then drifted towards Four Freedoms Plaza, barely visible through the trees. "--to keep us safe.

"Don't get too nationalistic. The speech gets cynical in a minute."

A warm wave of laughter rose from the crowd. The speaker smiled, and moved on.

"Our problems don't come from any of those sources. They come from within.

"Racism is still with us, of course. America was founded with it on our shoulders, and I doubt very much that we will see it end within our lifetimes. The same is true with sexism. The law sees the sexes as equal, but the law is blind; judges and juries are quite often not. Homosexuals--" the crowd started to mutter to itself, "--let me finish--homosexuals are the target of prejudice for something as meaningless, to the rest of us, anyway, as who they choose to love.

"I'm here to add a new name to that list of shame, ladies and gentlemen.

"Mutants."

The crowd's reaction was immediate and drastic. A hundred arguments sprung up inside it in the blink of an eye, and some people gathered up their blankets and left in a huff.

The speaker sighed. He'd known that would happen.

"You might as well get it out of your system. If I'd wanted a nice, non-devisive topic, I would've spoken on abortion."

The joke got some of the audience back. Arguments still persisted, but in a quieter tone, and some of those who were leaving turned back to listen. They didn't sit back down.

"Mutants can be anyone, black, white, gay, straight, poor, or rich. They are the new minority of the 21st century, because of their inherent diversity. Only homosexuals--there I go again--can stake a similar claim, and they don't quite get the press mutants do. After all, gay people can't bench-press small cars. Usually."

There were some smiles on that, but more frowns. The speaker hurried on.

"The United States of America is the only country in the world that treats its genetically advantaged citizens in this way. In Europe, depending on the nature of the mutation, the young mutant is given therapy and, if possible, trained in the use of his powers. In Japan, being a mutant is a badge of pride, a great gift from one's ancestors or the Buddha or God, depending on one's beliefs. Britain, while leery of its mutant populace, doesn't treat them with the fear and anger we Americans do.

"In 1998, one thousand two hundred seventy-one Americans between the ages of twelve and twenty were killed or maimed, in some cases by their own parents or teachers, because they were thought to be a mutant. In *none* of these cases did the victims exhibit potentially harmful powers, or attack their assailants with anything save themselves, in anything save self-defense."

He let that sink in. The statistic had come from the main database of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and was not supposed to be public knowledge. Some of the faces in the front row visibly paled.

"All of this in America the Beautiful. Land of the free. Home of the brave.

"This has to end.

"The United States of America stands for freedom, justice, and equality for *all* people of *all* races, no matter their race, creed, religion, color, sexual preference,... or SPECIES!" He hammered the podium with one hand. The shy, awkward public speaker had evaporated, leaving in its place raw anger.

The speaker produced a quarter, and flipped it into the air.

As it reached the apex of its arc, he flipped up his sunglasses, revealing eyes that boiled within their sockets, and sent a beam of scarlet energy towards the flying quarter.

The quarter jumped in mid-air as the blast punched through its center, putting a hole through it no larger than the end of a cigarette. The speaker caught it in his left hand, clenching it tightly.

The audience did not move; the surreality of watching a man blow apart a coin with his eyes sunk in, turning the speech into a fever dream. Running never occurred to most of them.

Fear was in some eyes, awe in others, shock, hatred, envy, distaste... *These are who we were fighting for,* the speaker thought, and allowed himself a wry smile. *These are the people who feared and hated us.*

"My name is Scott Summers. Until earlier this year, I was the leader of the team of 'superheroes' known as the X-Men. I am now retired.

"I have a dream that did not begin with me. I dream that one day, mutant and human, black and white, gay and straight, all of the children of America will be able to meet together without fear or anger.

"It is in the spirit of that dream that I am declaring my candidacy for the governorship of New York."

Silence overtook Central Park.

"I will be holding a press conference later this week. Thank you." Scott Summers, formerly the X-Man known as Cyclops, climbed off the stage laboriously, favoring his left leg, and got into a waiting limousine.

"What are they thinking, Jean?" Scott asked, pulling off his tie and looking at it irritably.

*They're in shock,* Jean Grey replied, sitting demurely across from him in a peasant blouse and long skirt. *Did you expect anything else?*

"I had hoped... but no." Scott flung the tie across the limo. "The only good thing about that superhero outfit was not having to wear a tie." He looked out the back window of the limo. The crowd of humans was still a crowd, sitting and standing in the field.

*They're confused, Scott.* Jean smoothed her long skirt. *They expect mutants to dress in spandex, rip up the street, and fight with other mutants. The idea of one wanting to do something as normal as run for governor is totally foreign to them.*

"They'll get used to it soon enough." Scott slumped back in his seat. "Thanks for coming, Jean. I know--"

"You do know." Jean's mouth was crooked in a half-grin. "It doesn't pain me to see you, Scott. It never has." She didn't look him in the eyes. "I just can't be..."

"'...married to you,'" Scott finished. "The press will have a field day with that. 'Mutants Have Higher Divorce Rates.' Film at eleven."

Jean said softly, "I think they'll have other things on their mind."

July 4th, 1998

"...and in our top story, there's a new face in the race for governor. Scott Summers has declared his candidacy. Mr. Summers has been in the national spotlight for quite some time... as the mutant superhero Cyclops, a member of both X-Factor and the X-Men at various points in time. Mr. Summers received the key to the city from Mayor Koch in 1988 for risking his life to save hundreds of people when New York was attacked by Apocalypse. This is Trish Tilby in Central Park, reporting."

[next part]

back to Thomas' stories | Cyke and Logan archive | comicfic.net