FLASH! Super Short Sci-Fi Stories

"No."

"Yeah, but can I dodge a bullet?"

That was the question I asked at orientation, right after they went through all of the big stuff. I got a couple of laughs from the guys, but the humorless lab coats just blinked at me from behind their big glasses and asked if there were any more questions.

Of course there weren't. It was all very straightforward. In a world where criminals were putting their hired muscle through gene therapy and experimental drug cycling, it only made sense that the police needed to keep up in terms of physical size, strength, and speed. And boy did we get big, strong, and fast.

There was only one problem.

I also got smart.

I'm not talking about book smart. I still don't know the capital of Kazakhstan, or why the sky is blue, or how to find an integral (that's a thing, right?). But I can just...figure things out really easily. It's not magic, it's not ESP or some psychic hotline junk. It's just straight-up logic. Suddenly, I see how all the facts add up. I understand what's happening, and what's about to happen. You might say it's like seeing the future, but really it's like seeing the present. ALL of the present. All at once.

It took some time for me to realize what I was doing. After all, it started off small, and I wrote off my understandings and predictions as coincidence. But as the coincidences started piling up around me, I knew that it had to be something more, something REAL. And, lucky me, I only just figured it out in time to see how my life was falling apart.

First, there was the girl. My girl. We were crazy about each other. I was going to ask her to marry me. At least, that's until my newfound skill told me that she was still in love with her ex...and after some clever cyberstalking, I realized the feeling was mutual. So, naturally, I did what any good person would do: I kept it all to myself, we got married, bought a house, and started filling it with children...

Ha. I wish. I actually ended up contriving a way for the two of them to run into each other. Finally, after several months of sneaking around, my girl (well, more like HIS girl) came to me in tears to confess that she was leaving me for him. I smiled and told her I was happy for them and we hugged and that was the end of that.

I didn't even cry when she left...after all, I had months of preparation for that final moment, months where I lived through that exact confession and conversation, word for word. I had already cried my heart empty by the time she actually told me. And besides, they're perfect for each other. I really AM happy for the both of them.

Kinda.

A few weeks after that, I realized that my dad was dying. That was fun. It came to me in the middle of the night, all of the pieces suddenly fitting together with a loud CLICK that woke me from a dreamless sleep. I wanted to call him right then, but I forced myself to wait until the next day. When he picked up the phone, I knew that he had just been crying...and the two of us cried a lot more over the next three hours. We rekindled the relationship that we'd broken off when I was busy being a jerk of a sixteen year old. Rekindled it just in time for cancer to steal him away from me.

The funeral was last month.

I'm sitting in a squad car parked on the street right now, and my partner is giving me shifty-eyed glances. He went through the program too, but it didn't do a thing for his mind. Ditto for the rest of them.

I'm the only one who ended up like this. Which is good, I guess. Because if they were like me, they might have found a way to keep me from realizing that they're about to kill me. You see, their newfound strength has gone to their heads in a different way. They started selling their services to the same criminals that we were built up to fight. Things had been going well for them moneywise, but someone outside the brotherhood has started figuring things out, putting the pieces together...my money is on that tiny, fuzzy-lipped journalist who somehow finds a way to be everywhere at once. Cybergenetic upgrades? Probably. No, definitely. And he's getting close to the truth...but not so close that my former comrades can't get away with pinning it all on me.

But can I really blame them for wanting to frame me? After all, I'm the one who started acting weird after the program finished. I'm the one saying strange things and keeping to himself and all that. I'm the one whose girlfriend just dumped him and whose father just died. I'm the jokester who stopped joking, I'm the guy who sits in the break room or the squad car and just stares off into the distance as his mind churns through facts, possibilities, likelihoods, definites, and more. Of course somebody's been helping the bad guys win, and it's so OBVIOUS that it's me. After I'll I've been just so WEIRD ever since...

That's how they'll spin it. If I let them, that is. I'm still in the car, I know what their plan is, I know I can disable my partner and be three states away before they even start to pick up on my trail. I know exactly what I need to do in order to retire on some beach for the rest of my life without the risk of being found.

I can dodge this bullet.

But...I don't have anyone. My girl is gone, my dad is gone. And even if they were still here, would that even matter? I'd know everything that's going to happen to them, everything that's going to happen to ME before it does. I'm a thousand steps ahead of everyone else and my power is only increasing. It's starting to extend to the presents and futures of POPULATIONS instead of just persons. I won't get into the details, but I've had to stop watching the news because I know how everything ends up...and it's all just so depressing. And the worst part is that there's nobody like me, nobody who sees the world the way that I do. There's nobody I can talk to about this, nobody who will actually understand what I'm going through instead of edging away and signaling the psychiatrists to come on in and take over.

I'm a freak. And although I haven't calculated the exact odds (I'm not book smart, remember?) there will basically never be another person like myself in my lifetime. In all likelihood, there won't be another person like me in ANYONE'S lifetime. I am Alone, with a deliberate, capital 'A'.

My partner (Ex-partner? Future ex-partner?) is sweating in his seat. I don't blame him. It's been five minutes of silence since we pulled up. He's got to be wondering what's going through my head right now.

Ha. If he only knew. If he only knew that he's going to receive a small inheritance soon, that his son legitimately HATES him, that his team will win the World Series, and that the burrito he had for lunch is going to come back with a vengeance later this evening...

...then what? What if he DID know? What if he WAS like me? Would he feel any differently? COULD he feel differently?

I sigh and shift in my seat. His hand twitches towards his gun. Just barely, but I notice it. It's a defensive move. I don't need to do anything. He won't try to kill me here. I know that. The party doesn't start until I get out of the car. And so I sit and let him stew in my silence as I ponder that first question again.

Can I dodge a bullet?

But more importantly...

Do I even want to?