Short Story : TAG, You're It

Professor Gurudeva Mahajan had spent decades trying to recreate the human genome, and all of his peers thought he was crazy to even try. His experiments had led to nothing but abject failure, with none of his creations ever reaching term, and many of them just disintegrating in their test tubes before they could even start to develop.

But those decades had not been spent in vain, not in Professor Mahajan’s eyes, for in his thirty-eighth years of experimentation, he had finally found success when, after nine months of careful nurturing, he was rewarded with a healthy, almost human little girl.

He named her Aja, which meant unborn in his native tongue. An appropriate name as she had indeed not been born but instead created in a laboratory, though the rest of the scientific community chose to call her Tag, a name which stuck with her throughout her life, though Mahajan always called her Aja. Tag was a much more scientific name as, of the four nucleobases of DNA, she only possessed three; thymine, adenine, and guanine, and did not possess cytosine. Professor Mahajan had found that the pairing of cytosine and guanine had led to instabilities in the embryos development and more often than not the cytosine strand had mutated into uracil, a side effect which he had not been able to correct. So, by excluding cytosine from the cell structures and replacing it with a double dose of thymine, he had been able to bypass this issue and eventually reproduce a viable embryo, thereby completely recreating the very building blocks of creation.

This difference made Aja unique as far as humanity was concerned, and that unique quality may well have spelled her downfall if it hadn’t been for one tiny little thing...

She was amazing.

Even at a young age, everyone who came into contact with her was entranced by her personality and enthralled by her looks. She was a beautiful child who learned to speak full sentences in her first six months, and even more impressive had been able to walk after less than six weeks out of her incubator. Professor Mahajan could not have been prouder of his work.

Or of his daughter, as he preferred to call her.

Professor Mahajan encouraged Aja to interact with children of her own age, but by the time she was two years old she had already far surpassed them in terms of maturity and knowledge. No one in the scientific community could explain quite why she was so intelligent, but Mahajan was just happy that her intelligence had come with an empathy for others that remained childlike throughout her youth.

At the tender age of six, Aja was intelligent enough to attend university, having already surpassed her peers and those more than a decade her senior. For most children it would have looked strange for a six year old to be attending university, but Aja had grown tall in her short time, and although she still had a child’s physique and a child’s biology, she had the height of a slightly below average teenager. Though flat chested and yet to go through puberty, this simply made her appear lithe and athletic to her peers, with many of her tutors encouraging her to take part in athletic events such as gymnastics and long distance running. Obviously, being the prodigy that she was, she excelled in every sport she tried.

And obviously, being as beautiful and athletic as she was, she drew attention from those that didn’t understand just how young she truly was.

A boy named Troy Templeton set his sights on Aja. As the captain of the University football team, and with Aja having used her gymnastic abilities to rise to the top of the cheerleading squad amongst other more competitive groups, their coupling should have been as natural as anything. But Troy was eighteen, and in spite of appearances Aja was still only six years old. Professor Mahajan, who Aja thought of as a father, warned her against getting involved with boys.

“They only want one thing,” he told her as he puffed on a cigarette.

“And what thing is that, father?” Aja asked innocently.

“The thing you keep private,” Professor Mahajan told her, gesturing with his cigarette at her genital area, “Your private place that is not ready for anyone to visit yet.”

Aja looked confused, “From what I have read it is natural for boys at the university to want such things.”

“But you are so much younger than them,” Professor Mahajan warned her, “You must not allow any boy to convince you otherwise. You may be tall for your age, and you may be mature enough to understand more things than any of them ever will, but you are not ready for a sexual relationship.”

“I understand, father,” Aja said, though deep down she did not.

Privately she had read an awful lot about sex and the things it entailed, and she found it more fascinating than anything else she had ever studied in her short life. She had easily bypassed her father’s security settings on her computer and had discovered all sorts of videos and picture galleries that showed her the wonders of sexual congress. People would dress up in costume, only to remove those costumes and perform what her father would have called lewd acts upon each other.

When she watched these videos, she found it hard to turn away.

So, in spite of all of Professor Mahajan’s warnings, when Troy asked Aja out on a date, she happily accepted.

Their first date started off innocently enough, with Troy taking her to a movie and then a meal afterwards. They talked about university life, and what they thought of the movie, and what they thought of their meal, but soon the evening was drawing to an end.

“You look beautiful tonight, Tag,” Troy said, using the nickname that everyone but her father used.

“Thank you,” Aja blushed, “and you look very handsome.”

“My parents won’t be home until late,” Troy told Aja, “would you like to come back to my place for a while?”

Aja smiled, “I would like that very much.”

The two of them headed back to Troy’s place, and it wasn’t long before they were kissing on the sofa in his living room.

“Wow!” Aja smiled between kisses, “I’ve never kissed anyone before. I think you are very good.”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” Troy continued to kiss her as he reached his hand between her legs.

Aja flinched as Troy’s fingers pushed her panties aside, “I don’t think I’m ready just yet,” Aja said, scooching away from Troy’s probing hands.

“Of course you are,” Troy moved closer, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, “You even shaved.”

“I haven’t,” Aja said, “I don’t have hair... down there yet.”

Troy leaned closer to her, “All the better,” he said, kissing Aja harder as he lowered his trousers.

Aja didn’t know what to do. All the reading and movie watching in the world hadn’t prepared her for this. She wasn’t ready, but Troy was forcing himself on her. In desperation she sunk her teeth into his lip in the hope of stopping him.

“Ouch!” Troy yelled, backing away from Aja, “You don’t have to be so rough.”

“I asked you to stop,” said Aja, pulling her legs up to her chin ina defensive stance.

“That’s just part of the game,” said Troy, moving back towards her and forcing his mouth onto hers.

Aja bit him again, this time much harder. Troy screamed as Aja’s teeth sunk deep into his lip, this time separating flesh from flesh.

Troy screamed, pulling away from Aja as he frantically clutched at his bottom lip that was no longer there.

“You crazy bitch!” Troy yelled, “What the hell have you done?”

“I asked you to stop,” Aja replied, tears welling in her eyes, “You wouldn’t listen. I begged you.”

As Troy writhed in agony, clutching at the missing part of his face, his parents arrived through the front door.

“What the hell is going on?” they screamed, seeing the two blood soaked children sitting on teh sofa.

“This crazy monster bit my lip off!” Troy sobbed, nursing his face which was dripping with blood.

Aja looked at the parents, her own mouth covered in Troy’s blood and bits of his lip still present in her mouth.

“He wouldn’t stop,” she sobbed, “I begged him, but he wouldn’t-”

“You’re that genetic experiment, aren’t you?” Troy’s father observed, “I knew having a gene freak at the university would be a mistake.”

“You mutilated our boy, you beast!” Troy’s mother cried as she comforted her disfigured son, “Michael, call the police.”

Michael picked up the phone and dialled for the police, “Hello?” he began, before Aja knocked the phone from his hands.

“Please, don’t call the police,” she sobbed, clutching at Michael’s arm, “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Get off of me,” Michael screamed, writhing in agony as Aja clutched his arm ever harder, “You’re hurting me.”

“Please, just don’t call the police,” she begged, squeezing his arm until blood started to soak through his shirt. Then there was a cracking sound as his ulna and radius snapped under the pressure. Michael screamed.

“Get off of him!” Troy’s mother yelled, jumping up from the sofa and rushing at the girl.

“Keep away, Deborah!” Michael weakly warned. Aja turned to Deborah and swung her free arm into her face. There was a cracking noise as Deborah’s head swung unnaturally on her neck, and she collapsed dead to the ground.

“Mum!” Troy screamed, “What did you do? What did you do!!”

“I didn’t mean to,” said Aja, still gripping Michael’s arm which was starting look like a deflated balloon, “She came at me.”

Troy ran from the room in tears, and Aja turned to his father, “Why didn’t you just leave me alone when I asked?” This didn’t have to happen.”

Troy returned, wielding a handgun he’d retrieved from his father’s desk, “Let go of him, you... you thing!” he sobbed, his hands shaking as he pointed the gun at Aja.

“Put down the gun, son,” Michael warned his boy as the shock of his broken arm started to make him feel woozy, “Just... put it down.”

“She killed mum!” Troy wept, slipping his finger into the trigger guard, “And she’s hurt you, dad.”

“Don’t do this, son,” Michael said weakly, “Just please, put the gun down.”

Everything happened very quickly then. Troy pulled the trigger, and defensively Aja swung Michael in front of her. The bullet tore into the back of Michael’s head, showering Aja’s face with fragments of skull and brain tissue. She screamed as Michael’s dead body collapsed on top of her and she fell to the ground.

Troy dropped the gun to the ground as Aja pushed Michael off of her and clambered to her feet, and then the front door burst open. The line to the police had stayed open, and they’d managed to trace the call to Troy’s address.

“Don’t move!” the first police officer through the door warned.

“She killed them all!” Troy coughed, holding his hands in the air as blood continued to trickled down his chin, “She killed my mum, and shot my dad!”

“I didn’t shoot him,” Aja said, “This was all a terrible mistake. I asked them to leave me alone.”

Aja sobbed as another police officer snapped cuffs on her and dragged her out to the waiting car, “You can explain what happened at the station,” she said, guiding Aja into the car and driving away.

When Professor Mahajan arrived at the station, he found Aja locked up in a cell on her own.

“You can’t arrest her,” he told the police, “She’s only six years old.”

“Nice try, grandpa,” the officer on duty laughed, “but that ain’t no six year old.”

“What happened?” Professor Mahajan asked Aja through the bars.

“He tried to, to...” she sniffed, “I asked him to stop.”

“Did he rape you?” Professor Mahajan asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

Aja shook her head, “I stopped him before he could.”

Professor Mahajan breathed a sigh of relief.

“The boy is telling a different story,” the duty officer told Professor Mahajan, “and from what I heard about the crime scene, it looks like she massacred them.”

“She doesn’t understand how strong she is,” Professor Mahajan tried to explain, “she’s six years old and he tried to rape her!”

“I don’t think that story’s going to wash,” the duty officer shrugged, “Plus the boy’s taken pretty sick.”

“Sick?” Professor Mahajan looked confused, “What’s that got to do with Aja?”

“He says she made him sick,” the duty officer said, “You should see his face, it’s a mess where she bit his lip off. And now he’s got lesions spreading out from the wound. He’s a mess. She better not be infectious – she bit me when she came in here – look!”

The officer held up a discoloured finger. Professor Mahajan widened his eyes in fear.

Mahajan ran to the hospital where Troy had been admitted and raced to his recovery room. He was on the cancer ward, and the professor suspected he knew why.

Aja had been designed with a double thymine layer in her DNA, and in nature this could sometimes result in thymine dimmers. In many cases these dimmers could lead to melanomas, and if Troy was exhibiting these symptoms it could only mean one thing...

Aja was infectious.

When he saw Troy, he couldn’t believe how quickly the infection had spread. Ninety per cent of his body was covered in lesions, his skin bubbling like it was being heated in an oven. Troy was unconscious but stable, plugged into life support to keep him alive, but Mahajan didn’t know how long that would last.

If Aja was infectious, she had to be isolated from other people before the infection spread. If this mutated strain was catching, then the officer and hospital staff that had come into contact with Troy, or even with Aja’s blood or saliva, would now be just as infectious. Mahajan knew how these sort of infections worked; if left unchecked, it was only a matter of time before the whole town was infected, and it wouldn’t be long before it spread further afield.

“I’m sorry,” Mahajan said, turning up the oxygen in Troy’s tank then backing out of the room. The oxygen hissed as it filled the room, and Mahajan pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and opened them, retrieving the lighter he kept inside.

The only way to stop the infection was to burn those infected, and he had to start somewhere...

On his journey back to the police station Mahajan picked up a canister of petrol and marched through the station liked he owned the place.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” an officer asked as Mahajan walked into the holding cells. He answered by swinging the canister into his face and knocking him unconscious to the ground.

As he approached the cells, Aja ran to the bars and reached through them for him, “Father,” she sobbed, “Have you come to set me free?”

“In a way, my beautiful girl,” he told her, splashing the petrol on her face.

“What are you doing?” she screamed, “Father, what are you doing?”

“I wish it didn’t have to end this way,” Professor Mahajan wept, pouring the remaining petrol on himself and holding out his lighter, “but I can’t let my experimentations with the building blocks of life be the death of what God once created.”

And he flicked the flint on his lighter one final time...

Originally Posted 22/6/2015

Result - Joint 1st Place