Page 8 of The Pacifist
Mason lit up and explained the seven obstacles. Pointing to the last one, he said, “I can climb that tree in less than twenty seconds.” He threw a nod to the two soldiers. “I’m even faster than Kal-El and Neptune.”
My eyes grew wider. “Did you say Neptune? Like the planet?”
The guard in question spoke up, “No, I’m named after the Roman god of the sea. Why are you shaking your head at that?”
“My apologies. It’s just that you Nmen never cease to amaze me with your names.”
“I’m named after Superman,” Kal-El said with pride.
“Is that another mythological god?”
Kal-El, looked away and muttered, “Something like that.”
When Mason snickered, Neptune explained, “Superman was a cartoon character that could fly.”
“He was much more than a cartoon character. Superman was a bad-ass from outer space, all right?” Kal-El defended himself, but that only made Neptune shrug.
“If you say so, but being named after a god is way better. Nobody messes with a god.”
My eyes fell to his injured hand, which looked to be wrapped in a layer of bone accelerator. “So, I assume that’s self-inflicted then?”
It was clear to me that Neptune wished I hadn’t noticed. He moved his hand behind his back and offered no explanation.
“Anyway, as I was saying, I can beat them and they’re grown men.”
“And I’m not?”
“Yeah, but you’re a grown Momsi, and that’s different.”
“Mason!” Mila’s tone was reprimanding. “We don’t use the term Momsi.”
“Sorry, I meant he’s a grown Motlander.”
“That I am. But surely, where I come from shouldn’t determine how fit or athletic I am.”
Kal-El and Neptune, who both looked to be in their mid-twenties like me, exchanged a glance while Mason said what they were all thinking, “It kinda does, ’cause everybody knows that we Nmen are much stronger than men from the Motherlands. It’s a genetic thing.”
“Then let me ask you this, strong one.” I hid my smile. “Are you sure you want to race me? Sounds like I have nothing to lose and you have nothing to win. Think about it. If I beat you, what will people think? It sounds like losing to a Momsie man would be embarrassing to you.”
Mason snorted and pushed out his chest. “There’s no way I’ll lose against you. Are you in or not?”
"I’m not exactly wearing my running gear."
"You’ll be fine. Those sneakers and loose pants will work great."
"If you say so." After rolling my shoulders and jumping up and down a few times, I took off my thick sweater and left only my long-sleeved t-shirt on. “Okay, then let’s do it!”
Mila reined in her three dogs to avoid their chasing us, while Kal-El gave Mason some last-minute advice.
“Remember to breathe and find your balance before stepping onto the beam, and this time – fucking duck your head when the balls swing at you.”
Mason was eager and exclaimed, “Can I go first?”
I swung my hand in a grand gesture and smiled. “Show me how it’s done.”
We all cheered for Mason and I was impressed how athletic he was and how well-coordinated his long lanky body was. In the middle of the course, he got knocked down by a large ball swinging from side to side.
“I fucking told you to duck,” Kal-El shouted to Mason, who pushed back up from the ground. Placing a hand on a rib on his left side, Mason’s face distorted in a grimace, but the other guard, Neptune, cheered him on, “No time for pain, just get your ass back up there.”
