And To Dust, Return [Complete]

[Tess Abrahams]

How did you become interested in your focus area?

That was easy. Good, good - starting out with a slow pitch was the way to do things. Okay, so: well, see, it started with Mason vs Milney, back in 1995, which was a landmark case for the state of Oregon, if you didn't know -

But of course you would know. That's why you're in the big chair in the office with the view - oh shit, that sounds so judgmental and that's totally not...

Right. 1995. It was a case that my father took on and he used to come home late from his office and sit at the kitchen table with stacks of files and reference books, burning the midnight oil on coffee and determination and sometimes I would --

You're rambling. Stop rambling. Just answer the question concisely, professionally.

Whatever. Skip it, move onto the next one.


What do you envision yourself doing in 10 years?


Well, by then I hope to see a lot of reform on mutant rights acts and to have established a protective convention dedicated to the preservation of those movements and the promotion of equal responsibility within society.

But of course, it's hard to say, really. Ten years is a long time. I don't even know what I'll be doing next week, nevermind the next decade --

Which isn't to say that I'm not motivated or am lacking direction, it just. Um.

Shit.


What would you do if you didn't receive the fellowship?


... Oh my god. Oh my god.

Tess Abrahams looked up from the print-off gripped tightly in her hands, her face pale and stricken where it reflected in the window. For one terrible instant the glass became a projector screen, the culminated efforts of all the years leading up to this moment playing at double-speed and suddenly flickering and careening out of control, film bleeding together until it was all just one multicoloured blur that suddenly snapped to a halt. She stared out at the sun drenched yard.

This was a disaster.

A stifling need to get out of the confines of the living room had her leaping from the couch, bare feet slapping against the floor as she fled into the kitchen.

"Oh thank goodness!" Tess cried, divine relief flooding through her as she nearly bowled into a familiar figure on his way out. "Vipul! You're perfect!"

Before the Indian mutant had a chance to respond, she thrust the now-crumpled sheet of interview questions at him. "Okay. You are a prestigious university faculty member in charge of sifting through countless scholarship applications, a thankless job that you don't get paid nearly enough to do and as if that wasn't enough, to add insult to injury this year you've been put in charge of running the physical interviews as well. I am a hardworking, eager hopeful trying to make a good impression. Go."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

Vipul paused on the way out the door, easing the pack of Marlboro reds back into the front pocket of his shirt as he shifted his weight to face Tess. He opened his mouth to speak, a bit taken off guard, and then nervously smiled.

"Well, I think the first thing is that you should relax."

He passed a reassuring smile, then quickly scanned down the crumpled paper in his hands.

"A lot of these questions are really just to make sure you can read between the lines. This first one, you see, they're looking for not necessarily field experience, but more to the point that you at least know what you're getting into. You don't have to tell your life story, just...you know...put yourself and your field in the same box."

Seeing that he probably wasn't getting out of it with just a soundbyte, he gestured to the kitchen table.

"Sit down, please."

He opened the fridge, retrieving a jug of something that looked vaguely viscous, like buttermilk. Taking two small juice glasses from the cupboard, he eased both to the table as he sat.

"Lassi?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"I am relaxed. I'm totally relaxed. Why? Do I seem too anxious? Because if I seem too anxious then they're not going to take me seriously - or maybe it's a good thing, it'll impress upon them just how much I want this --"

She trailed off, nervous diatribe cut short by Vipul's query. The pitcher in his hand was filled with something thick and creamy. Tess didn't know exactly what Lassi was (beyond being, presumably, what he was offering) but he'd never steered her wrong when it came to delicious epicurean exploits.

"Oh. Sure, thanks," Tess nodded, sinking into one of the careworn kitchen chairs. Her knees bounced underneath the table, a rhythmic rattle piercing the sedate hum of the room. "It's just... this is really, really important. And if I'm supposed to read between the lines, isn't that what they're going to do? They want Hemingway, not Salinger."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

Vipul poured a small measure of the mango-flavored drinkable yogurt into each glass, before returning the cap to the jug and putting it aside.

"They are, yes."

Vipul sipped at his lassi, mindful not to quaff and have a nice moustache full of the stuff.

"But, the whole point of it is that you have to be aware of your own value, virtues, and skills. Think of it less as applying for a prestigious fellowship, and more that you are marketing something valuable, which you are. You're marketing yourself, and you have to do it with confidence."

[Tess Abrahams]

The sinking feeling in Tess's stomach grew more pronounced and she slumped lower in her chair, exhaling a slow breath that wobbled out in woozy circles.

"That sounds a lot easier than it is," she frowned, twisting the cool glass he set before her between her hands. "UCLA already... well, I wasn't a "good fit"," the sarcasm contained within the air quotations was palpable. "Without this grant..."

Vipul was suddenly met with a look that bore all the terrified suppositions of the young mutant woman. "There's this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that won't go away, Vipul, no matter what. Not even yoga helped."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

Vipul knew the source of her frustration, and honestly, it was a growing one. Students trying to get an education, once they were 'outed', so to speak, were increasingly finding doors slammed in their faces. There were ugly forces at work beyond the control of the students, which made him a bit angry sometimes.

"Do you have a short list of universities you're applying to?"

[Tess Abrahams]

The girl nodded, jerking up from her chair with a surplus of anxious energy motivating the motion. She disappeared up the stairs; when she returned, she carried a slim yellow Duotang, tabulated with coloured sticky notes.

"Red are rejects, blue are hopefuls, green are a go," Tess explained, slapping the file onto the table top and pushing it towards Vipul. The red section was notably thicker than all of the others.

An easy silence fell in the room as Vipul thumbed through the pages. Tess fidgeted, took a sip of the cool, sweet drink; the texture threw her for a moment but beyond that it was a refreshing escape from the still heat.

"There, that one," Tess leaned over the table, slipping two fingers between a page and tapping. "Loyola. That's the big one left. That's... that's the one that would be really great to get. I mean, really great."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

Vipul paused a moment, as if he was parsing some bit of deep thought. In reality, the network was busy at work...

...at the University of Chicago, Vipul was also hard at work. Here, he was a research assistant in the molecular biology center. Not a lot of networking in common with the general direction of PolySci that Tess was headed, but he began to put out feelers. You never knew whether a professor you put in long hours for was chummy with a humanities professor across campus, or knew a guy who knew a guy. A favor was called in, and a few phone calls were promised. It was a decent start...

...in Sacramento, Vipul was also at work, this time as what he would've called a phone wallah back home, putting calls out and canvassing for a PAC affiliated with the Democratic Party. Again, networking helped. His boss had pro-mutant sympathies, and getting the promise of at least getting to talk with the right person who might help was a good way to pay it forward...

...back at Rendecion, Vipul smiled furtively, nodding.

"Loyola's a good school, yes."

He continued to browse. He eyed the list of blue schools, continuing to see where and if he might have an angle. Some he did, and others he didn't. After a moment, he turned the list back over to Tess.

"You've given your list a lot of thought. Why don't you relax, take a moment, and try to answer a few of those questions from the fellowship for me?"

To help disarm her, Vipul reclined in his seat a bit, and reached up to unbutton one of the buttons on his shirt, to enhance the casual effect.

"Remember, relax, it's just me, you know."

[Tess Abrahams]

Tess nodded and rolled her shoulders back, willing the tension was holding them up around her ears away. Vipul was right; there was no pressure here, in this familiar place. There was only the hum of a distant lawnmower and the rhythmic whirr of clothes tumbling in the dryer, orange blossom and jasmine riding on the back of exhaust fumes in the whispering breeze coming from the window above the sink. Someone had rearranged the dwindling alphabet magnets on the refrigerator to spell MOO above an inexplicable picture of Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam on a basketball court.

She took a breath and pulled the list of questions back, smoothing it's creases against the table surface with a palm as she scanned it's contents.

Why did you apply to X University?

Loyola, her mind supplied. That was a good place to start. Tess cleared her throat and read the question aloud, substituting her mental correction in place of the unknown university. She took Vipul's answering silence as a cue to go ahead whenever she was ready.

"For as long as I can remember," Tess began haltingly, "I've been working for a cause. My father used to say that the universal purpose of life is to help others. It might sound overtly idealistic but I believed it then and I believe it now. When I was doing my research on colleges, I specifically looked for establishments which promote this same idea because it's something that's very important to me and my future career.

"You have one of the top International Law programs in the country, which is what I plan on majoring in. What's more, you have a reputation for indiscriminately recognizing your students based on academic excellence, accountability, and hard work - factors which should determine eligibility but which, unfortunately, are becoming secondary considerations. I respect that and I feel that my goals and ambition are a perfect match for what you provide."

Tess stopped and licked her lips, glancing at Vipul nervously. It had felt honest and good but maybe... too much so?

"Please tell me if I sound like a complete idiot. I won't be offended."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

"It's a very good start."

Vipul nodded, at least trying to fuss through her answer to pick out room for improvement.

"It's vague, however. Intentionally so, I think."

They both knew what was missing.

"You don't have to be afraid. Say what exactly is at stake. You have to believe in it enough to say it. If this university is worth your time, they will rise to that challenge."

[Tess Abrahams]

"Guess this is one of those big life moments, huh?" Tess dropped her chin into her hands and blew her hair out of her eyes with a loaded puff of air. What Vipul was saying was true. If ever there was a time to own up and stand tall, this was it. Otherwise it would be conceding to a force that saved it's dirtiest moves for hand-to-hand where one was vulnerable and away from the collective support of the herd.

Still, it was one thing to rehearse over a grooved kitchen table with a trusted friend and another matter entirely to point blank a stranger who held your future in their hands.

Tess worried her bottom lip, rolling a troubling thought over. "Do you think... is it ethical to hope that being a mutant will count in my favour when I don't think it should count against it? That seems like such a double-standard."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

"It's affected the way you were raised, and that is the advantage you should sell."

The Indian mutant sipped at his lassi, recalling his own personal struggle. Any time this issue was brought up, it was so easy to frame the narrative in the most familiar ways.

"It's true that some powers may predispose some of us to do better or worse in certain areas. In some way, that's not new. I'm rather good at basketball, but I don't expect to get a call from the Lakers since the only way I'm cracking six feet tall is with a pair of high heels, and that's not happening."

He smiled and gave a bit of a self-deprecating laugh, setting his glass down.

"Before there was...us, it was, you know, similar things. People getting herded off to be 'the other', because of what? Their skin color? Gender? Religion? It's the same song, but then again, it's not the same at all, is it?"

Vipul's hands clasped together on the table, trying to wrap up his point.

"This is all starting to sound like a really ghetto sociology lecture, and that's frankly not my pay grade. What I'm saying Tess, is that your best hope is to put your story on a pedestal for these people to look at. If they don't like what they see, they would've found out anyway, and they'd be stupid to not see what kind of chapter in the human story we're writing these days."

[Tess Abrahams]

The comparison was not a new one. It had been a defining argument for all sides because that was how things were understood and assimilated; by using history to define the present. That it was a predictable force,dependablein it's cyclical turnabout, provided a measure of reassurance. All of this has happened before and all of this will happen again.

She wondered at Vipul, who had stood at this very juncture once and gone on to build a path that took him on the next leg of his own personal story. Had he been able to do this, to confide in someone who had worn the same shoes and knew about all the blisters and instep aches that went along with it? Or had he arrived in the solitary way that shaped strong vessels with a sharp hand?

Things were different already, Tess knew. Her generation had the benefit of places like the Cullen Institute, the safety of Rendencion; where would they be when she was sitting on the other side of the table, facing her own children?

Tess absently dogeared the paper before her, running a finger along the crease. "You could give Tony Robbins a run for his money, Vipul - and you wouldn't need heels. Seriously, I feel like I ought to be paying you."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

Vipul gave a nervous laugh.

"I hold down about twenty-eight jobs, most of those are overtime. Believe me, I don't need another one."

He reclined in the seat a little, giving Tess something to think about.

"Talking about your roots and your narrative helps, Tess. Sometimes it's enough just to say it to yourself, because maybe you haven't before. When it happened to me, I was already a professional, you know. In Delhi. I had my degree, had my job."

A wistful smile crossed his face.

"Had a family, and a girl I very much wanted to marry. The one thing I didn't have was this."

He gestured to the house around them.

"And in an instant, in a few misunderstandings, it was gone. Have you ever read Midnight's Children? It's Rushdie, his first book of acclaim actually. Something I think might be worth your time."

[Tess Abrahams]

"No," Tess shook her head, mentally notating the title. "It was on the suggested reading list at Cullen's but..." she shrugged in a way that was not dismissive or apologetic, but a combination of the two that seemed to credit her unfamiliarity to having been young and caught up in the unimportant dramas of being a high school student.

It seemed to Tess as she listened to Vipul's CliffsNotes that they were all stitched together by the same bittersweet thread. You didn't get something for nothing and she had never met a mutant without a story kissed by sadness. There were plenty of humans who went through their lives without any extraordinary moments at all and with only the most domestic of losses to add height and depth to their experience. What a lovely, joyously boring life that would be!

"Carly Patterson took the gold in women's gymnastics in '04," Tess said, a long enough hesitation making the comment seem disjointed. "That was supposed to be me. I mean, really; we trained together for years and she was supposed to be an alternate because she hurt herself late the year before and was still recovering. We got all the way to the pre-Q's," she paused and rolled her eyes, "You know, the in-house competition where they decided who's good enough to try out for the Olympics.

"It was the end of day two and everything counted - every bounced dismount, every uneven battemonte; last beam routine of my set and I made a mistake, I miscalculated my speed and the angle and it went all wrong. That's when it happened. So Carly went to Athens where she won and I was banned from competing.

"And now we're here," Tess smiled a slanted smile as she leaned on the table, hands clasped together. "And it's not such a bad place to find oneself."

She stood, the chair shuddering backwards, and faced him with a bright-eyed, silly grin. "Let's give the ol' college handshake a try," Tess extended a hand across the table, "to our successes and our failures - and to all the ones that will surely come."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

To listen to Tess's own story was to, in a sense, reconcile with his narrative. Telling these stories had a curative effect on the whole, and Vipul was always eager to listen as well as speak.

He rose to his feet, extending a hand to Tess.

"Here's to success."

He amended, keeping his sure sense of optimism.

[Tess Abrahams]

Their palms met and firm grips bound their hands together for a companionable moment. Tess looked across the table at Vipul and suddenly it seemed to be a very great distance that strained to stretch until it was a distorted mockery of itself and -

Now she was staring from the opposite end of the room at the frozen image of herself. There was fearful ignorance in the bend of her cheekbones and a hunger in her eyes that made Tess's stomach clench until -

The room snapped violently back to order and the girl gasped, dizzy with the sharp contrast. Their hands clenched into one fist over the center of the table began to shake.

"Let go," Tess rasped, grappling to find purchase with her other hand, "Vipul, let go..."

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

A look of concern crossed his face, then of worry as he pulled his hand back, but only so far. He was locked in the embrace.

"Tess..."

This wasn't right. Something was happening. Was this some kind of latent power? It wasn't that he felt he was being gripped like a vise, he simply could not remove his hand.

[Tess Abrahams]

Her teeth clenched together as she fought against the alien sensation that thrummed through her body, bumping meanly along the knobs of her spine and careening down the length of her arm where it attached to Vipul's like a livewire.

Tess became suddenly aware of his presence beaming brightly in the spinning room, a torch in a cramped dark space. The feeling grew until it was as though he were superimposed onto her skin and the lines of his ligaments traced against her own, his bones etched onto her bones until she could no more tell the difference between them as she could the sea from the sky on a grey morning.

"You have to let go, you have to let go," Tess chanted desperately as she tried in vain to reclaim her hand. She blinked and everything froze. Silence roared in the vacuum, a tidal wave of impending impact.

Vipul had become a living pointillism portrait made up of millions upon millions upon millions of grains of sand that rippled lethargically. Tess stared, awestruck and unable to understand what was happening - what was happening?!

A colony of grains that dipped and sharpened, the place where his collarbone would be, began to crumble.

[Vipul Chandrashekar]

"Ah...h..."

Vipul looked down in a sense of dawning horror as a terrible metamorphosis began to take hold of him.

"Help....help me!!!"

The organic bonds that held the basic cells together in his body were losing their hold with each other. His body abdicated control over it's own cohesion, and like a macabre ice cream, he began to melt.