OVERGOD

"Good morning, Libertaiiiih Citayyyyyhhhhh!!!" shrieked the holographic news anchor projected by the H-TV, "As always, this is your man, Oli X from Hot News, and may The One True God smile upon each and every one of you! And now, without further ado, yesterday's news: governor Mick Mars is under investigation for alleged ties to cultists--again. The new supervirus, The Black Undeath, is coming back for more, and it's looking like a second wave, people, so make sure you are fully stocked and know the path to your closest shelter. New protests about hero brutality have exploded after the of a mutant on-"

A plate came sailing from the kitchen and into the living room. It crashed against the wall in front of me, shattering into pieces.

Following after it, came my adoptive sister, Becka, angrily walking away from our adoptive mother who was chasticing her.

“It’s my money, Mom! I’ll spend it whoever the fuck I want! You are such a control freak! I hate you!” yelled Becka.

“You’re out of line, Becka!” said mother furiously. She was tall and packed some muscle, which combined with her serious face made her intimidating, “Watch your mouth or-”

“Or what?! You’ll me like Luci?! the same “medicine” down my throat?!”

“How could you say that?! You and I both know Luci’s situation is…special. Don’t you remember what she did? What she did to you?” Becka’s hesitated, losing some of the wind on her sail. “Then you should know better than to use that as ammunition to win your argument. Besides, opening that wound is hurtful not just to me, but to your sister as well.”

“Can you two not talk about me as if I’m not here.” I cut in, annoyed and a little embarrassed to have my past aired out.

“Fine, my bad,” my sister told me, apologizing, “Getting back to the subject, I’m sick of arguing with you about this. If you want to be miserable and poor, then that’s okay, but don’t expect me to follow after you.”

Our mother was a selfless hero, to the point of martyrdom. If there was such a thing as being too good, then she was it. She gave away almost all of her income towards one charitable cause or another and lived in abject poverty. The house we all lived in had less furniture than the fingers in my two hands. Growing up Becka and I’d had at any given time less than three toys each and double that in clothes. She’d also made us accompany her when she went volunteering to homeless shelters, nursing homes, etc.

Mom shook her head, disappointed, “I just don’t get it. I showed you first hand how badly some people are doing. We have it good compared to them. Tonight both of you will have a nice meal with synthetic meat, vegetables, and sauteed mealworms: they will probably eat what they find in the trash or whatever vermin they catch.” she sighed and spoke softly, appealing to my sister’s compassion, “Don’t you remember that one time you gave that man a loaf of bread and he broke down crying in front of you from how grateful he was? And you are telling me that your perfume is more important than that?”

“That’s not my fault! It’s not my responsibility to feed them. Let the rich give them food. Why does it have to be me? I deserve to be happy! I’m tired of living like this. I can’t even bring my friends home without being embarrassed. I literally got bullied for being ‘the poor girl’”

Of course, mom did not empathize. Hard to teach an old dog a new worldview, “I’m not going to control how you spend your money, but you are going to come with me to volunteer this weekend for breaking our plates. Then you’ll tell the starving people there about how your silly perfume is more important than their needs. Only then you’ll buy what you want.”

Tears of frustration were threatening to fall from Becka’s eyes, her whole face red. I could sense things would continue to escalate, so I stepped in. “Come on, let’s stop fighting. We are already running late for school. Becka, pay for the dishes. Mom, I’ll do the volunteering for her, so please let her off this time.”

She sighed and bent down to caress my cheek with one of her hands, her face brimming with motherly love, “Why can’t you be more like Luci, Becka? She truly is almost perfect: despite her being younger, you could learn a lot from her.”

Becka gnashed her teeth, about to pop a blood vessel. “Why don’t you take her off the meds and we see how perfect she is?”

I cut in before hostilities could resume, “Okay, we have to go!” I said, kissing her goodbye and sprinting away. I grabbed Becka’s hand and dragged her behind me.

Once we made it past the door, we slowed down to a walk.

“Thanks for the save,” she said after a few blocks, “So, what do you want this time? Some of the makeup?”

While Becka openly opposed our mother and thus got into a lot of trouble, I preferred to put on the good girl act and do things behind her back, thus getting the benefits but avoiding the constant hounding.

“No. I had another growth spurt,” I answered, “I need some new clothes. You know my taste. Get me a pair of leather pants and several shirts with cool designs.”

“Fine, but I’m not buying real leather.” she complained, “I’m also not paying for anything digitized or animated, just regular old shirts.”

“Deal.”

The upway was crowded as always this time of the day, even more so than the subway. People preferred it over the alternative, since it was less claustrophobic and it gave you a good view of the city. A view I was currently enjoying as I sat on the train, looking out the window.

The light of the sunrift bathed the megacity’s skyscrapers and megabuildings in the red hue of dawn. People and cars crowded the streets below like blood cells in great arteries. In the sky machines floated: the aerial personal vehicles of the affluent, delivery drones, and other things besides. Above it all was the impenetrable darkness of The Barrier, making it seem as if Liberty City was the only thing in existence besides the clouds and sunrift, floating in some black void.

“Don’t you get tired of looking at the same thing every day?” commented my sister with her usual snark.

I was about to give her an equally snarky reply when a homeless man entered our train car, hollering at the top of his lungs about his conspiracy theory, “Wake up people! Open your eyes! The alien doesn’t exist! Is just cosmic radiation. A goddam space fart! There is nothing outside the barrier! Nothing! Not. One. Darn. Thing! They government and they 0.1%ers are tryina control us!"

The man went up to each passenger and yapped right in their faces. Of course, they all ignored him and avoided eye contact, pretending he didn’t exist.

The man went up to a young guy and slapped the phone he was holding away. "We's their workers, man!" he screamed, intimidating the young guy, "Their slaves, and they don’t wan us to leave for greener pastures! Want to keep us in their prison!"

Eventually, he made it all the way towards the two of us.

Becka was a looker. She had that rocker girl aura about her: hair dyed a trashy blonde, uniform left several buttons open to expose her bountiful cleavage, and a good amount of makeup. Predictably, the homeless man ogled at her…while completely ignoring me: I was a couple of years younger than her and had a flat chest. My neck length raven hair made it so if I was not wearing a female uniform, I could pass as a feminine boy.

“The barrier is just the metal bars of the cage! Why can’t you see?!”--spit escaped his mouth with every word, hitting us as he stared at Becka’s tits--”Why are you so stupid?! Why-”

Becka, disgusted by the spit and wiping some of it away, had enough, “Fuck off, you disgusting bastard! Nobody cares about your crazy theories! Just go away!”

Surprising no one, the homeless man got aggressive, and if I didn’t step in things would get ugly.