Character Design - Alex

# This piece, describing the character Alex's life and growth, is my class project and part of a long novel that I'm working on. It could be regarded as an individual short story or a character design piece. More works related will be published in the future!

Whenever night falls, and I lay in bed, mother’s face emerges in my mind. “Alex,” she was frowning, “did you go out today?” “No Mom,” I mumbled, lowering my head. “Good,” she let out a long breath, turning to the dinner table. I silently went to the bathroom and wiped off the mud on my shoes. She didn’t find out, I thought, and she would never know.

Then her shouting dwelled over my ear. “How COULD you get out of this house? How could you then lie to me about it? Look at me! Dress patched, hands calloused, and face covered in dust!” She slapped me in the face and I did feel the callous in her hand. My ears rang so I didn’t catch what she said later. But I knew it all, nothing more than “I work so hard to keep you alive! And you just got past that door to the streets? You – you should be sorry for what I had paid!” or “What if you die out there? What if you get infected? I love you so much and this is how you paid me back!”

“I’m sorry Mom.” Climbing from the floor, I held my voice calmly. She blinked, and the blaze in her eyes dimmed somehow. Then, without any warning, her face was in her hands, and she began whimpering. Again. I led her to the sofa and pulled the blanket – color dying out and worn out from being washed too many times – over her body. Her cries subsided. I handed over the dinner – cheap meat, dry bread, and veggie salad. We ate in silence.

Later that night, as I crouched under the same pilling blanket soaked with her tears, I prayed to God to let such days end. God please save me free; my fingers crossed. Seven years later I was free, at which night I longed for atonement. I did not pray, though; I had stopped believing in God from 10.

There is no God, or that he had abandoned me. I had prayed to him, from 4 to 6, every day, for him to fix that awful gene mutation so that I could be “normal” so that there would be no infection, no pain, no mom and dad arguing, no piles of medicine, and no watching over the window as the only way to “go” outside – no more consoling myself that “seeing is doing”. Then I prayed to him to make Dad come back when the door whooshed and a pair of boots rushed out of the house. Mother was weeping in the kitchen, and I sat at the doorway, staring at where he left. The sky fell dark, the lights were on, the kids were called back home, and I waited. Till I fell asleep on the floor, after which Mom pulled me up and sent me to bed.

“…so the big house in which three people once laughed was transformed into a small cottage with two single beds,” I told the kids by the bonfire. “It’s like magic!” A 4-year-old says. “Well, it is magic. A swish of the wand, a subtle change in nucleotide, and magic took place – though it took 6 years to reach me. Good magic takes time.”

They giggled, then implored me to tell more.

“More? Okay, listen carefully then…”

“To begin with, does everyone know that Monster Virus spreads both in air and via blood? When you breathe, if the concentration of the virus is large enough, the viruses will enter your lungs, causing infection – that’s why the initial symptom is similar to flu and also why your parents tell you to be careful about those who cough – then flowing to the brain via blood. Till then, those infected become the monsters that you saw yesterday – the human mind lost, chasing and biting every human they can see. Those bitten will have virus entering their blood, and they will become the same monsters very soon – see, now the virus travels directly in blood and reaches the brain much faster.”

“When the first outburst occurred in Tebirth [I created some places] 34 years ago, it was really a disaster for humanity. It’s so thankful that the scientists produced the first generation of pills in five years – of course, the quality was not as good as the ones you take now. When I was born, the nine states had completely fallen under infection. The virus spread to every corner of the union. But just one year later the third generation of pills debuted, which had the increased effective period of three months and was popularized throughout the union. Even so, the researchers at Afflair Research Center still worked hard to produce more effective medicine and other treatments. Simultaneously, the UPO (Union Protection Organization) – that’s where we – me, Kyra, James, and Lee – are from. We are the Special Force that directly belongs to the headquarters at Bentro, and we are responsible for out-of-control events and extremely dangerous battles. You might also have seen other warriors who fought with monsters before. They are from the sub-headquarters of your state, Istopia.”

“By the way, all the fighters, including me, are “Special”s. The virus attacks me, but I attack no one. I will merely die in torture, with my mind clear, and this is because we – about 10% of humanity – carry another gene mutation that makes our immune system fight with the virus so violently that we die, instead of surrendering to its control and harming other people. The founder of UPO had set this rule – that fighters had to be “Special”s so that we don’t need to worry if one of us – say, Kyra – got infected, she would turn to the rest of the team. However, because of this, the fighting force is invariably limited.”

“Okay, all background settled! So now you can understand why I had to stay at home all the time - so that the virus monster would not find me – not going out to play, not running around, not even feeling the breeze, which could all bring me under its attack. Even now, somewhere as here…” I lowered my voice, “the virus could find me, flow into my body that not only fails to defend it but attracts more…and soon, the shadow of death will hover over my head. You have pills, so you’ll be fine; I also have them, but I’m still the favorite dish of the monster.”

“Why I’m not infected now? Well, it all thanks to this veil – beautiful, isn’t it? This is more than just beauty. It is the shield of justice – with it, not even one evil virus can catch me. The Bentro governor kindly made this for me, and I am very grateful. He’s such a nice man, passionate about his work and responsible for his people. It was also he who persuaded my mom to allow me to go to school when I turned 11, the legal school age. He supported me to enter the best school in Bentro, which lies in the safest region and has the best teachers and learning environments. When I graduated and joined UPO at the age of 15, he gave me this veil. He said that he once traveled to Dianade and saw some interesting alternative medical measurements – such as herbs and acupuncture – so he used some of the wisdom of the Dianade people and specially prepared this for me. Without him, I could never come to this day.”

“You wanna hear about our adventure? This is no easy “adventure”, child. It’s very dangerous fighting, so don’t get yourself into one – I know you’re brave, but you should also be smart to save your own life. Well, okay, I’ll tell you some…”

Sometimes I marvel at how I came to this day. Sitting there with kids around, admiring me and longing to hear my “heroic” stories.

When I curled on the sofa, reading for the whole afternoon, as I often did (there isn’t much to do for a child locked at home), I pictured heroes in the books fighting against the bad and protecting the good. Then sometimes I recalled how those bad people called me a freak, a jinx, a demon – and I imagined myself being a hero so that I could punish them all. I jumped off the sofa, wrapped in a bed sheet, rushing around, with leg kicking and fists clenched, only to sadly discover that a hero was useless to such a small room – even the evil wouldn’t bother to enter.

And later, when I saw their faces again through the window –only their upper faces, since everyone wore a mask - they would point at me, seeing me gaze at them and possibly their kids, then cursing at me for being the one that “brings the bad luck” or “causes the virus to get to them”. And I would stare at them, imagining that my gaze was a spell to make them on fire – and eventually, only their temper was on fire. When they were exhausted from shouting at me and walked away, I told myself: “Look how great you are! You scared them away.” Then I went to make dinner with a smile, though sometimes my mind went off, and I asked myself “why are you smiling?”

Though sometimes unpleasant, the window was one of my favorite places at home. After I did all the housework, I would kneel on the chair and peer outside for hours, seeing kids, the same age as I was, running and cheering around in sunlight. Mostly when they get out of the house, an adult was standing by the door and asking them to wear masks all the time, but soon after they started chased each other those protections will be thrust into their pockets. Their mouths wide open in the breath of the fresh, artificially cleared breeze.

One of the children, usually the shortest one with red hair, would shout in excitement about seeing a robot passing by, or about finding some lovely creatures in the trees. Once, vaguely, I heard their voices, shouting and screaming. I pressed my face against the glass – how I wished to see what happened. Annoyingly, they gathered in a circle, surrounding something, which completely blocked my view. I shifted around the room - stepping onto the chair, pulling the curtains over, knocking over a pot - trying to surpass the borderline to get a glimpse of it – and ultimately I saw nothing.

They were too distant, too obscure, as if from another world. A thin wall, a thin glass, separated us all.

I consoled myself that I still have nice things in my world, and I picked up the flowerpot that I just dropped off. The kalanchoe was blossoming; I felt much better.

The streets were always kept clean by robots that worked three times a day – 6 in the morning, 1 past noon, and 5 in the evening. The inspector – a man in a brown jacket with long dark hair – would circle the neighborhood every noon. For four of the five years I lived there – from 6 to 10 – he remained on the spot. Then he became one of those died during the regional outburst, along with many people I knew of…I didn’t like him that much – when he passed our house, he would look at me with cold blue eyes as if scrutinizing the operation of a machine rather than the life of a human. One glimpse – all operating well – the next object – operating well either – vice versa. It was the same as how doctors looked at me every time I got into the hospital. Emotionless, detached, and objective.

After the inspector died, a woman with red hair replaced his position, and her gaze was even more harsh and cold since she was terrified of another outburst taking place – as his.

Every noon, an old man in a black hoodie (perhaps as old as he was) would build a yellow tent right across from my house to sell candies wrapped in tin foil. At three, a granny in a gray sweater would walk out from a wooden cottage and stroll on the street. Sometimes she would pass by my window and leave a handful of biscuits on the window shelf.

Once I couldn’t help but open the window to talk to her. “Most adults avoid outdoor activities as much as possible because they are scared to be infected. Besides, we all have fitness machines at home for exercise; so why do you have to come out every day?”

She replied that firstly, she lived alone with her husband died of infection and her children migrated to Afflair, so she doesn’t have to worry about passing on the infection to family members. Moreover, and more importantly, she believed that sunlight helps stop the infection. “When I was young, adults asked kids to stay outside for at least 2 hours daily. I was told that the sunshine strengthens the immune system – you know the immune system? The more sunlight you receive, the stronger the power you have to fight the virus and the less likely you’ll get sick. Those were good times – you sit on the grass, swim in the river, or climb on the trees. There were no fears, no restrictions, and no killings. And it did work – I hardly got ill when I was young. You kids never experienced those good times – the golden era of humanity, we called. In this neighborhood, I was the only one remaining who remembered. Anyway, I kept the habit until this age. The God of the Sun will bless me as long as I have faith.”

Three months later, she never showed up again. A couple moved into her house, and there was no longer a kind woman answering my questions.

A five-year-old was weeping. She just lost her grandmother in yesterday’s fight. Later more kids started whimpering. “Will Jamie ever come back again and play with me?” a boy asked, in tears. Faces looked up at me with the same gaze – waiting, expecting, and fearing an answer.

“The people who died yesterday, and days before,” I said, “please remember them. You are lucky to continue your life, while they are not. They shall never return to this world again. If you miss them, take their lives with you and move on for both. As long as you remember, they’ll still be with you.”

And her face emerged in front of me. I closed my eyes. It’s nice to see you once again, Mom.

I suddenly said: “Sometimes I marvel at how fragile a human is. You get hurt, ill, burned, frozen, infected – all so easily. If you get too close to the fire – so always be careful – you feel the burning pain. When you just take a walk outside, it might be the last day of your life – before the virus reaches you. Surviving has always been a difficult thing. Living is even harder.”

Alex, she said. Live, Alex.

Yes I will, I told her. Before I had finished compensating for my sins, I added to myself. My death will become the last step of atonement when I can finally reverse it all – this time using my life in exchange for others.

She responded with a familiar smile filled with sorrow. She’s gone.

“Hey! Why so dull?” interrupted Kyra, who passed by with a pile of wood collected from the fallen houses. She threw them into the bonfire. “Look, we’re having a great night! James went out hunting, and soon you’ll have roast chicken and hare – directly from wildlife! You haven’t tried that, have you? Isn’t it fun?”

“Kyra,” I signed, smiling uncontrollably. “You’re much better at cheering up everyone than I am. Sometimes I’m so envious of this ability. But anyway, have a nice night!” She laughed and drifted away.

“Don’t drink too much or I’ll have to drag you back to bed like the last one million times!” I shouted after her. “What?! It only happened five times, okay? And it was all when I felt we were perfectly safe – right at the center! Listen, Alexandra, this is a promise: I will not touch a drop of beer tonight. And if I do~ thanks for being my mom for another time~” She sang and disappeared from my sight.

“Anyway, let’s continue,” I turned to the kids. “Are you ready to hear about the school? This will be the most exciting part.”

They hurried over to sit close to me.

“Well, those school years were the best of my life. It was there that I met Kyra – you like her, huh? You see, she’s always so energetic and enthusiastic and makes everyone happy.”

Kyra was late on the first day of school. When she rushed in, I was sitting by the wall, my eyes focusing on the blackboard and my hands taking notes on school rules. Number One, do not leave school on workdays unless you are allowed by the headteacher and accompanied by an adult once you are out of the gate; number two, the infirmary lies on the B1 floor and serves as the emergency shelter during invasion and extreme weather…Suddenly all of us heard a brisk “knock-knock” on the wooden door; my pen flew out of my hand and swirled on the plastic desk due to such a shock. Before the teacher - Miss Jane, a young woman with long, deep red hair - could speak, a clear, bright voice penetrated the door: “I’m sorry I’m late. May I still come in?”

“Yes you may,” Jane replied. The door flung inward and a girl in a bright blue jacket with fluffy brown hair walked in, her hazel eyes glanced over us, and she said “Hi”. Casually with a grin.

“Now, this Miss Late-the-first-day-of-school,” Jane joked, mocking to be serious, “would you please introduce yourself and tell us what had held your footsteps?”

The kids laughed, but I didn’t. I was scared. Would she be scolded, or even worse, be punished for disobeying the rule and the teacher? Would she be slapped in the face like what mom did to me?

The girl stepped onto the podium with an exaggerated bow – which made my classmates burst into laughter again – and said: “My name’s Kyra and I’m so sorry – but I just couldn’t stand by when a group of guys made fun of a poor little boy! So I shouted and warned them that I’d call the guard, and they started chasing after me. I ran across four blocks and bumped into the inspector who nearly recognized me as being infected because I ran too fast and he had a poor nerve – then I had to undergo a quick test to prove that I was good to be let go of. Then I came here. I’m sorry.” But I think it’s worth it, she murmured, and all of us actually heard her. Several students giggled but again, I didn’t; it was very unkind to mock someone who made such good mistakes. Also, I was still worried about what would come next, and I sneaked a sidelong glance at Miss Jane.

“All right,” Jane said softly, “it’s a good thing to stand out but pay more attention to your own issues the next time. Now take a seat as you like.”

She grinned again and said: “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Then she stepped off the podium and strode towards a desk by the window. The whole classroom – with the other 23 students reading, writing, sleeping, and clamoring – was lying between us.

My eyes were glued to her since then. I watched her jump out of her seat in classes to answer a question; tell jokes and her “adventure” stories that made two-thirds of the class gather around her; run across the playground as fast as she could to win a tin box of candies, which were soon disseminated to everyone in the classroom. I watched as she arranged for the shorter students to move to the first row when observing the virus specimen. I watched, far away, as she threw herself into her parents’ arms – her dad carrying her favorite snacks and her mom gently stroking her hair – during the Parent Visit Days. Then I turned around to meet my mom, who anxiously checked if I had any injuries or infections with her old, wrinkled hands.

Gradually, I learned her lovely smile, her active participation, and her kind acts of taking care of other people. My school life had been a chase after her. Some things in me changed, while the others were untouched.

“Kyra liked talking about the protection organization so much. She had been born to be a warrior, and she dreamed of fighting against the monsters to protect the world – of course, including lovely children like you are. It was from her that I knew so much about the organization. And eventually, I had become her teammate. Again, isn’t it like magic? We two – so different in that age – stepped onto the same path. We are still different nowadays; don’t you agree?”

They nodded.

“Me too. I’m not like her, no matter how hard I once tried.”

“But you are also nice,” they chattered. “You make me feel safe.” “You are always smiling and listening.” “I love your veil it’s pretty.” “You’re as kind as my mom.” “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

I find myself unable to hold back the laugh.

Then, after a brief silence, I said: “I’m so happy to meet you guys. I used to think I was so silly dreaming of joining the organization like Kyra would do. But ultimately I passed the test, trained for three years, and was selected into this special team and came to your village. How incredible.”

“By the way, I still remember that shock on my teacher’s face when I told her that I wanted to join the protection. Oh, that was a really memorable moment. I was 15 by then.”

Miss Jane was a nice and kind woman. She had always known that I was a “special” student, but she invariably greeted me with an equally warm hug. When I shivered in the freezing wind in winter, she led me into her office and handed me a cup of hot milk. When I failed to understand a concept, she spent hours with me to work through it with her consistent patient, soft tone. It felt as if the warmth and acceptance that were missing at home all got compensated when I looked into her eyes. Sometimes I even lingered in her office, with excuses and homework questions, to be able to delay going home. But only before I was 15. Then I had no home.

“That day she asked me what I wanted to do after graduation. She smiled at me, which made me feel so good as if all my wishes would be accepted and supported, and Kyra was laughing loudly, as she always did, at her seat by the window.”

Her face overlapped with that of Mother's. One in peace, young and beautiful. Another was sprinkled, exhausted, and covered in blood and dust. One pair of eyes was shining. The other was full of sorrow.

Was she still mad at me for not pulling her out of those monsters but escaping by myself? That she had sacrificed so much for me but I didn’t even dare to sacrifice my life to save hers?

And at that instant, the sunlight shone on the right half of her face. I looked at the woman in front of me – someone I recognized as the second mother, who was thoughtful and glamorous, who never slapped me in the face or shouted at me, who satisfied all my fantasies about having a mother – and I couldn’t help but wonder if this beautiful face would one day become as torn and resentful as my mother’s last farewell. Will I ever have the chance to protect those I loved and those who loved me?

Kyra was still laughing. And I said that I wanted to go to the protection center.

Would she scold me for having such dangerous goals, like Mom would do?

“…and at that instant her eyes widened, and her chin almost dropped. I couldn’t help but laugh out a little. I was so unkind. You guys don’t do it.”

Her gaze flickered a little, but just for one instant. Then she picked up her usual smile and said: “Do what you want to do then. I believe in you.”

My eyes were suddenly full of tears.

Suddenly, I was pulled up by a stranger. I looked around and found it had been totally dark. The bonfire was crackling and blazing on the cold concrete, with a woman adding firewood at times. The moon was shadowed by clouds, and a few stars twinkled. The neighborhood shone in firelight – six-story apartments made of steel and concrete, broken glass windows, narrow green belts on either side of the pavement, dust in air, and leaning telephone poles. Far away, the crops resembled a dark silhouette waving under the breeze. By starlight, a few farming robots stood silently in the vast farmland. It was silent.

Then an old man started chanting in a low, smooth tone, and gradually all people chorused.

“This is an old melody,” Kyra said. “I’ve seen it in a book. It’s about the elapse of youth.”

I couldn’t help but sing with them.

The melody finished, and the crowd cheered. Kids – who silently gathered around me five minutes ago - laughed and screamed and scattered everywhere. James and several other men carried the dead deer onto the fire. Kyra was dancing with a bunch of villagers. Lee sat quietly and replaced the woman’s job – adding firewood – so that she could go and dance. The glaze shone on every person’s face.

“I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, the oath and the ensuing duties: to save the uninfected and control the infected; to concern the wellbeing of civilians regardless of their wealth and status; to take care of my teammates and support their family after they passed away; to hold determination that killing the seemingly infected is protecting the health of the majority…” I whispered. The Oath written by the founder of UPO.

And it brought me back to the start of my journey.

Before I headed for the organization, I went back home for the last time. A layer of dust lay on the floor. I unlocked every door and packed all the books, old clothes, the flowerpots, the kitchen utensils – everything that I could handle. No one in this house will need them from now on.

When I walked out, they pointed at me, cursing me, declaring that I was the omen that killed my mom. “Don’t you ever come back,” they shouted, “one day you’ll kill us all!”

It felt so strange. I had dreamed of walking out, punishing them, and setting them on fire when I was locked at home. I had fantasized about becoming someone rich, famous, and powerful so they had to bow to me and ask for my forgiveness when I worked hard at school to prove myself. But now it was all so distant. I didn’t stop to greet them, and I went directly to the charity center and endowed all the packs. Then I headed to UPO (Union Protection Organization).

The door slid open automatically. I walked in, and the sound of the bell – tolling and resonant - rang in my ears.

“For life!” Kyra held the beer. “And for death.” James clinked glasses with her. Lee had a cup of water in front of him. I said that I was so happy that we had survived another fight.

“Come on,” Kyra tapped my shoulder, “We can always survive. We are the best!”

“Yes, dear Alex, and we can do it with your life intact,” James mocked, “so please treasure yourself the next time and don’t rush to sacrifice.”

I smiled and said that I would not do it again. Lee looked into my eyes. Kyra hugged me. James spilled the beer over her, and Kyra screamed, chasing after him.

No one paid attention to them. The villagers were still celebrating. A man standing by the fire said loudly: “One day we will eventually beat the virus! We humans will win the war! Till then not one single virus would have existed on this land.”

And another followed: “Definitely! I have got annoyed with taking pills, from birth to death! They must make out the vaccine as quickly as possible so that we humans can be freed.”

Too greedy, I thought. I’ve seen people who begged for one pill to survive. The more developed, the more unsatisfied.

“Wasn’t there a scientist who tried vaccination about a decade ago? She was crazy and her vaccine killed all the participants and one night there was a boom at her house with her whole family blown to dust…”

“Perhaps experiment accidents,” added a woman. “That sounds too dangerous; no wonder I’d never heard someone else experimenting on vaccines for 7 years. I’d rather take pills than try the horrible vaccination; I mean, it’s just a pill every four months. It might take longer as Dr. Brandon Jones is continuously improving it. Though not eliminating the virus, I feel content enough to co-exist with them for my lifetime.”

And the debate carried on.

A boy with golden hair dragged his mom over, who handed me a hand-made scarf. “Thank you for saving my boy. I wish you perpetual happiness.” She fluttered. “I told you, mom! She’s very nice! Look, the hero accepted our gift!” Her son shouted with excitement. I said thanks and that I loved the present, and they went back to join the crowd.

“How do you like it?” Lee asked.

“They look happy,” I replied.

“Yes they do,” he agreed, “how marvelous. The outburst happened just last morning. Some were crying this afternoon. And now they are smiling once again.”

“That’s why we survived,” I said. “When possible, your brain helped you get rid of sorrow – sometimes without you even realizing it - so that you could continue striving for life. Until something appeared that is so heavy that it made up your mind for death.”

“But that thing – though how heavy and intense it was in the beginning - does not necessarily last. It melts.” He said.

“I have to agree.” And I added another piece of wood. Vividly, the fire bounced.

Later, the cheer and dance had stopped. Children lay on the ground, asleep. Adults were cleaning. The virus in buildings would be diffused to the standard by tomorrow morning so that they could move back to the apartment.

“Look how sweet they are,” I said. “The lively crowd sometimes reminds me of those killed by us. Some still produced a word or two. Some had tears rolling out of their murky, bloodshot eyes. They still look humane. At times I wonder where the boundary between humans and monsters lies.”

“You know the Oath,” said Lee. “We have to believe in it. ‘For the health of the majority’. This is our duty.”

“It is,” I gazed at the children in sleep. “It is our duty to take the moral dilemma so that their dreams remain sweet and uncontaminated. Perhaps they’ll dream of becoming a ‘superhero’ like we are. They are just so eager to hear about my story as I had been obsessed with reading others’ in childhood. Why are people so fond of stories?”

“Because they see themselves in it,” Lee replied. “When they listen to you, they dream of becoming the savior like you when they grow up. When someone longs for love, they read the romantics and dream of themselves falling in love with a perfect prince or princess. When they become dissatisfied with their life, they read about how those poor people struggled and felt to be one of them. A story is a mirror. Moreover, sometimes, it is a pill.”

“I see your point tonight,” I whispered. “it feels as if story-telling had made a difference to me – to my mind and to my heart. However, it also made me think - as a mirror of ‘protector’, as I saved while killed, as people look at me with hope and admiration – Is this what I had always wanted? Am I feeling happy?”

Lee said: “I don’t know if you are happy. But what I know is, it will be a happy thing to have a cup of hot tea in this late, freezing night.”

And together, we sipped tea and looked up at the star-lit sky.