Basis for Comparison
Written for Genarti for Yuletide 2007

He remembered a time when he thought that he might have been going crazy.

It had happened during the fall of his eighth grade year. Doug's father, always the type to lavish expensive gifts upon his family, had announced that they were going to spend Doug's holiday break in Hong Kong. "It will be an educational experience of cultural exchange," as he had explained it to Doug's reluctant mother. "And it will be good for Doug."

At the time, Doug had been torn between being excited about visiting a foreign country, versus being disappointed that he apparently wasn't going to see his grandmother over Christmas. But, nevertheless, in a fit of preparatory enthusiasm, he had bragged to all of his friends at school, bought a Hong Kong guidebook at a used book store, and finally borrowed a simple Cantonese phrasebook from the school library.

It was when he opened the Cantonese phrasebook for the first time that Doug's world first started to crumble.

He read nehih ho ma and he thought Oh, "hello." After reading a few more phrases, he figured that it probably wasn't doing him any good to keep looking at the English translations beside each expression. (He had to have been reading the English translations, of course. That was the only explanation for why he could understand the words that he had never seen before. Of course he was accidentally reading the English translations, even though he was trying not to.) Then Doug started covering the English translations with his hand. And he kept reading. And he felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach.

Eventually he flipped to the back of his phrasebook, where Cantonese expressions were written in Chinese characters with transliterations provided. Doug covered the transliterations with his hands and fingers. And still he read. And eventually he had to put the book down because his hands were shaking so badly.

He spoke to his mother about it that night. "Hey, mom."

"Mmm?"

"Have I ever studied Cantonese before?"

His mother gave him a funny look. "That's... That's an odd question, Doug."

"Well, I was just thinking," Doug said quickly, "No, uh, wondering, I was wondering, if maybe when I was a baby we had any Cantonese TV or videos, or maybe if one of my babysitters spoke Chinese or--"

His mother was now giving him a very strange look. "No, Doug," she said. And then, "Why do you ask?"

"I, uh... I've been studying a little bit, and, I don't know, it's just... It feels a little too easy." That was the first of many lies that Doug was to tell his mother in the years to come. It feels a little too easy.

Doug's mother, however, looked relieved to hear his explanation. "That's because you're brilliant," she said.

"I know," Doug mumbled.

The trip to Hong Kong was a nightmare. Every time somebody would speak Cantonese to Doug's father, Doug would watch his father floundering and mangling the phrase Nehih sik m sik gong ying man a, while Doug had to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. He could understand every word that he heard. And the few times that he opened his mouth to ask How much is this? or Where is the bathroom?, he had to stop himself from getting the tones too perfect. The words were ready to flow from his mouth as naturally as if he had been born speaking them. He could feel it. And it terrified him.

When they returned to America, Doug holed up in his room for days with his Christmas presents and his computer, throwing himself into writing programming code and doing his best to push every memory of Hong Kong and his cursed Cantonese phrasebook out of his head.

The human mind is a powerful thing. Doug wanted to forget, and eventually, he did.

Doug did not let himself think about that strange incident, not for an instant, for a long time. It was not until Sam Guthrie showed up in his bedroom one night several years later that Doug finally let go of his last hope that he might just be plain old normal Doug Ramsey after all.

That he wouldn't have to be one of them.

"Frienddoug."

Doug snapped out of his reverie when he realized that a pair of inhuman golden eyes were regarding him with what he now understood to be concern. "Observation: Frienddoug is positioned to accomplish homework yet is not. Slack facial muscles, unfocused gaze, scans indicate lower level of endorphins than usual. Query: Is Selffrienddoug experiencing melancholy?"

Doug leaned back in his seat. "Yes. A little."

"Recommendation: Cookies and hugs."

Doug laughed. "I could use a bite. Shall we--?"

"ERROR!" Warlock suddenly shouted in that odd way of his. Doug jumped a little in his seat. Then Warlock bowed his head - Doug wondered whom he had picked up that gesture from - and said, "Self wishes to apologize to Selffrienddoug. Self has neglected to inquire as to source of Selffrienddoug's melancholy."

Doug stood up and pushed back his chair. "I was thinking," he said.

"Self had observed as much."

"I was thinking that I'm a lot luckier than anybody else here, because I still have two parents who love me." He stood over his desk, picked up a photograph, and handed it to Warlock. "I haven't talked to you about them, have I? My parents, I mean." He pointed at the photograph. "Those are my parents."

"Self observes two humans present in this photograph'. Mature man and woman deduced to be Frienddoug's progenitors. Query: Superficial similarities are the result of inherited genetic material?"

"Basically."

"Selffrienddoug's mutation is also genetic. Deduction: Selffrienddoug's progenitors are also mutants."

"...No." Doug sat down at his desk again, but turned his chair so that he was still facing Warlock. "The mutant gene can be dormant in a generation or two. I inherited the X-factor from my father, but he's not a mutant. In fact, he... Uh... I don't know if he even likes mutants. He might not. Sometimes I think that he doesn't."

Warlock's eyes, as much as they could be understood to be eyes, seemed to light up. "Selffrienddoug experiences melancholy because Selffrienddoug's progenitor dislikes mutants, therefore dislikes Selffrienddoug." Warlock formed the lower part of his body mass into a seat that directly mirrored Doug's, and slumped down into it dramatically, a gesture that Doug suspected he had picked up from Roberto. "Self can sympathize," Warlock said.

But Doug shook his head. "No, Warlock, I said that I don't know whether my father likes mutants or not. But even if he didn't, my father still wouldn't dislike me. Because he doesn't know that I'm a mutant."

Warlock leaned in close toward Doug. He was uncannily good at imitating human gestures, Doug thought. "Self was not aware that Selffrienddoug's progenitors were not aware that Selffrienddoug was a mutant." Warlock's golden eyes flashed with understanding. "Selffrienddoug does not wish to reveal his mutation to progenitors for fear of potential rejection from progenitors."

Doug was impressed. "You seem to understand quite well," he said.

"Selffrienddoug has taught Self much about human emotions. Although Self does not understand how or why one would feel emotional attachment to progenitors. Perhaps it is because Self's progenitor has no capacity for emotion, therefore is incapable of..." Warlock trailed off, agitated, as if he weren't sure how to continue.

" Love'?" Doug ventured.

"Correct. That is the correct word. As Selffrienddoug had informed Self two minutes and forty-two seconds previously, Selffrienddoug's progenitors love' Selffrienddoug. But Self's progenitor is different."

"That's terrible," Doug said, softly. He looked at the photograph of his parents again. "Yeah. Like I said. I'm lucky. A lot luckier than a lot of the students here, I think."

"Self has deduced, through interaction and observation, that many of Self's friends have progenitors who are inaccessible."

"Or dead."

Warlock made a noise that meant that he did not understand.

"Dead," Doug tried again. He could feel the mutant part of himself flexing, projecting his translation abilities as much as he could, trying to convey the full meaning of the word to Warlock.

Warlock just stared at Doug with his not-eyes. He clearly did not understand.

Doug frowned. Warlock's species surely must have a word or concept similar to death. Otherwise Warlock wouldn't be so terrified of facing his father. "Of course you understand death," Doug said, a bit impatiently. "It's the thing that your father will do to you."

Warlock recoiled. Doug instantly felt bad, but couldn't take back his words. "Oh gosh, Lock, I'm sorry..."

"There is no need for Selffrienddoug to apologize. Selffrienddoug has succeeded in explaining a concept to Self. Self is grateful. Self has learned much today."

You're also learning how to lie, too, Doug thought ruefully. He had heard the hurt and puzzled tone in Warlock's voice even as he had insisted that there was no need for Doug to apologize. Doug looked up at Warlock and said, "You're becoming more human by the minute."

"Query: Statement meant as compliment?"

"I don't know. It was just an observation." Doug stood up and stepped toward Warlock. "Do you want to become more human?"

Warlock was silent for a long time. Then he finally answered, "Self does not know."

He remembered that there was a time when he had first understood the concept of "insanity" and had thought that it might apply to him. But this had been a long time ago, before he even started labeling himself as he and him (Doug had introduced this conception of himself during their merge in the Mojoverse), when he had still been a fleshless sexless it, when he had first been informed of his filial "duty." When he had refused to do what was expected of him. When he had felt the first stirrings of horror and fear in his mind, and had been unable to process these concepts. When all he had been able to do was scream and run.

Warlock had always understood the concept of normal because he had always been not-normal. He had been not-normal among the Technarch, and he was still not-normal among the organic beings that he called his friends. But the latter was a completely different type of not-normal, however. He had selffriends who accepted and even loved him, despite the fact that he was not-normal. Warlock knew enough to know that they would continue to accept and love him, no matter how not-normal he was.

But...

At the same time...

Warlock ran over the question again and again, processing it endlessly through his synapses, as the rest of Xavier's mansion slept through the night. Do you want to become more human?

Warlock wondered what it would be like to be human. To be normal.

Frienddoug could ask that question, because Frienddoug had been normal once, and thus had a basis for comparison. Warlock did not.

Warlock recalled the image of the photograph of Frienddoug's progenitors. He recalled the things that he had felt and experienced when he had merged with Selfsoulrienddoug. In Frienddoug's head, progenitors and normal and longing were all mixed up together. To Frienddoug, his progenitors represented his normalcy, and he was apparently quite afraid of being rejected by his progenitors, and thus losing his last claim to any sort of normalcy.

Warlock was very pleased with himself for this profound insight.

Ah, Frienddoug, he though, Frienddoug would be proud of Self. Self is understanding more and more.

Warlock felt that on that note, it would be prudent to shut himself down for the night. In the morning, he would be able to further pursue this prospect of becoming more human - and becoming more normal. He wanted to learn more. He wanted to understand more. Maybe he could ask his teammates about their progenitors. Or maybe the headmaster. Warlock suddenly wondered what sort of humans Headmastermagneto's progenitors had been.

Maybe if he asked, though, Headmastermagneto would...

...What was the term that Friendsam liked to use?

Yes. "Bite his head off."

But Warlock did not predict that Headmastermagneto would want to eat any of his own students. Although, if Headmastermagneto were to eat one of his students, Warlock deducted that he would be the most likely candidate, due to the whole Asteroid M incident. But ultimately, Warlock calculated that Headmastermagneto's residual anger over the loss of his asteroid would likely be outweighed by his observed desire to not consume fellow intelligent beings for nourishment purposes.

Reassured by this deduction, Warlock slipped into what for him passed as sleep, his final synapses firing thoughts of normalcy and humanity.

He wondered if, like Frienddoug, he would ever have any normalcy to fear losing.