This aspect of the story is inspired by Neil Gaiman's short story "Changes" from the book Smoke and Mirrors. Can't recommend the book highly enough, though it is very dark, definitely a T and even M at some points. This won't get nearly as dark, though it's heading towards a tiny bit of angst at the end.
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Nikola had been in that blasted office for 5 minutes and he was already bored. Plus he was a bit hungry. Not that the he actually needed to eat, but he liked to, more than sitting around listening to Henry talk with Professor… Ok, so he hadn't been paying attention enough to catch the guy's name.
Wolfgang wouldn't shut up about all that computer science and electronics, and Helen sends him to talk to the guy who taught the only anthropology course the boy took. Not fair.
He had stood up and walked out as soon as they'd started talking about some annoyingly boring region in Tibet. No one questioned him as he had continued exploring the halls; for once, his usual outfit of an Oxford shirt and vest allowed him to blend in. He was almost tempted to walk into a seminar and start talking, just to see if anyone noticed he wasn't a professor. Maybe even try to make some students think they'd forgotten some crucial piece of homework. Oh, the possibilities...
Finally finding the exit, he wrapped himself in his coat and scarf and stepped out into the bitter cold of mid-February. He had spotted a nice café around the block when they first arrived, so he wandered over there. In a sleepy college town like this, no one would be selling wine at lunch hour, which was a massive disappointment, but there had to be something decent to nibble on.
In a half hour he was back on campus, settled on a bench with a halfway decent roast beef sandwich. He sat back and was attempting to think through his most recent failed experiment when he realized that something was off. He couldn't place his finger on it, which bothered him almost as much as Foss' exuberance about this place, but something was stopping him from blocking out his surroundings and focusing.
He began to look around and could not figure out what was causing his unease. This place was the epitome of typical college life. Students running about and tacky fliers scattered on the grounds advertising this club and that fundraiser.
Nikola did have to admit there was a charm to this place, one that had been missing at Oxford. He loved his time there – it was where he had met Helen and all the other members of the Five. Here, however, the student body was all here by choice, not obligation to their family and/or social status. Men, and women, were seeking out their own individual futures with passion and resources that he could only have dreamed of.
But they were all so normal. So much wasted potential. They shuffled from class to class in giggling groups, discussing TV shows or what a cruel grader they'd had for that last exam. Each looked straight out of a catalogue, the epitome of a typical boring human teenager.
He sat straight up with a jolt.
That was it, that was exactly it. They were the epitome of typical humans. Every single one of them.
They were all wearing name brand coats, the same sneakers and snow boots, all with normal colored hair and no piercings beyond their ears. They all walked at a similar relaxed gait, all smiling to show mouths of white, perfectly aligned teeth, as they all chatted about the same generic topics. They belonged in ads in magazines or on TVs.
As he looked closer at a group of students standing near him, he began to notice more and more discrepancies. They were all done to the nines; each girl had perfectly done makeup, with earrings that matched their nail polish, and each guy had just enough hair gel to achieve that whimsical mussed look. One he accomplished without any gel at all, thank you very much. They did not talk too loud, were not arguing, and were all getting along just wonderfully.
Scanning the whole campus again, he could spot the odd student who did not fit the pattern. A few had bags under their eyes; some had the odd freckle or a bad case of acne. But overall, they were all just perfect examples of human normalness.
What the hell is this, Stepford University? How did Foss possibly not notice this?
As dumb as Foss was, he couldn't believe this hadn't even pinged the boy's radar in two years. He took another look at that nearby group. With his enhanced senses, he could spot a glint in their eyes. Almost none of them ever touched their faces except near their ears, carefully touching at some localized annoyance. A few of them wore the most high tech watches on the market today, the ones that monitored heart rate and much, much more.
He was not Sherlock Holmes, but he had been his friend. He was not clueless to the art of abductive reasoning (or, as the rest of the world liked to call it, incorrectly, "deduction"). So, what did he see?
The glint of colored contacts.
The itch of the edge of a delicate prosthetic.
Constant monitoring of one's biometrics.
He knew what Henry saw in this place, though he wondered to what extent the boy was truly aware of it. He knew why Helen had insisted he come.
These weren't boring normal college students. They were Abnormals. Abonrmals hiding in plain sight.