James' statements and his final question are very pertinent, as he himself had tried to explain before his work also consisting of being a headhunter of people with extra human abilities. That would explain why he paid attention to someone like me. And really, I wasn't the type who missed opportunities to know more about myself, to empower me and if possible, to make the difference! But was I really what they claimed? How to make sure of it?
"Look, Jim, I'm tired… I'm not able to think straight. I need 8 hours of sleep a day"- and had to laugh at myself giving such a simple information to a guy like that…
"Putz! That's right, girl! I do not need so many hours of sleep and I forget that many people need... Let's do like this: stay here in the cabin, sleep peacefully in bed that I get again on the couch, ok?! Rest assured that none of your nightmares will reach you here. Do you mind if I smoke a cigar? In this part, the comics were also faithful"- and took from a drawer next to the fireplace a cigar that looked Cuban.
Although I don't like this kind of thing what reasons would I have for preventing the person who saved me three times from doing what I wanted, right? I nodded and thanked him verbally, moving behind the leather curtain, finding a rather rustic double bed with animal horns on the back that had a window full of Inuit elements above; at the foot of the bed was a dark wooden chest, on top of it some animal skins and, covering the bed, just a piece of raw cotton. On the left side of the bed was also a window, but it was covered by heavy leather curtains. There was no sign of electric lighting, by the way, anywhere in the cabin… Since it was still dawn only the moonlight dimly penetrated through the small window above the headboard. Just knowing that I was no longer in the inn and that James was who he was it seems that all the nervousness passed and that "weight" on the shoulders disappeared, a total tiredness that only allowed me to drag my feet to the bed and sloppily lie down sleeping then, not even smelling the cigar he smoked with such pleasure.
I woke up redone, sitting on the bed and taking a deep breath, lowered my trunk to my feet, thanked the Universe and slowly got up, stretching my hands as high as I could feeling almost all my vertebrae snap. James's face appeared next, another cup in his hands:
"Wow, Li! You're too young to be "crunchy" like that... You didn't joke when you said you were sedentary, huh? I made a stronger coffee to start the day, is it served?"- laughing at the first sentence and offering me the cup, complete: "There's also bread and fruits in the kitchen. Feel free to eat."
"Oh! Very funny, James… It was these difficulties that I was talking about before… I already have two lumbar hernias, plus some occasional mental "problems" that make me panic in some situations…"- accepting the cup and taking a sip while sipping me stood up.
"Look, about the hernias there's not much we can do but about panic I think it's all about your intuitions or empathy, you know? If you allow it, Rosie could try to help you, I don't know… What do you say? "- following me into the kitchen and impaling an apple with the right hand claw. "It's great to be able to use my claws routinely" - in front of my face -yet- of "I don't believe…. this is very crazy!"
"Sorry to ask, but is Rosie a redhead?" - and I smirked as I buttered a slice of whole grain bread.
"Course is! I wasn't going to let those Marvel guys get over it. It's enough for me how much he suffers in those stories! I was so happy when he died!"- and let out a loud laugh, accompanied by a quick movement of cutting the apple and bite in one half.
I couldn't help laughing either, soaking my bread in the coffee and bearing a face of curiosity from James about what I was doing. I could only say, "What? I like it…" and shrugged; asking again later: "Who had the amazing idea of writing about you? Did you show up after the comics, to prove that Stan Lee was a visionary?" I asked.
"It's very hard to know… Stan was very traveled and observant. I was always in Canada, he came here a few times, to relax, always brought some draftsman and screenwriter too. But I think he really realized that mutations like that could happen before he met us... Fact is, I consider him a superhuman too. He would ask the right questions at the right times and then we had no reason to hide what it was. - sat on a stool near the fruits - Too bad he already made the big trip ... But one thing is certain: Marvel wrote about Wolverine after he met me, at that time I was single and lived in the Rockies, doing the guide times and occasionally working as a lumberjack. I considered myself an outcast, I had no one to tell, everyone I knew had already died… - James's voice was growing lower, longing - I really ran away from home when the claws first appeared. And when I smelled all those smells and heard them all at once, I thought I had gone crazy!
I ran as hard as I could looking for silence and peace, found here in the Mountains. Gradually I saw that hermit was not my "beach" and went down to seek some professional placement. I looked 15 years old… But I was almost 30! But you didn't come here to find out about my life, did you?"- he smiled again, his blue eyes aimed again at reality.
"Look, then you make a mistake, see? ... If you knew how amazing it is to be able to talk to an idol! ... I am a fan of yours, James! One more in this vast universe of fans! "- my eyes even twinkled and, lifting the sleeve of my shirt, I showed him my tattoo: three claws on his right arm, where a light blood dripped, mimicking an X-Men cape, where Logan and Jean are catching each other. "Do you understand the level of fanaticism?"
He doesn't believe it, widens his eyes and smiles sideways, again with a slight but noticeable blush: "I'm on top of what the fans are capable of! I don't spend much time looking at the internet, since these people are fans of Wolverine, they don't even know about my existence, which is very different from his! But for the little I see, there are even bigger "crazies" out there, right? See, I don't have adamantium, I'm not a catcher, nor do I ride a motorcycle so much; much less paid for a fight with a pad in school, because I'm actually a director of one…" he blurted out, almost relieved that it wasn't Wolverine.
I couldn't help but smile at the comments, pitying myself when he heard that he was not a catcher and getting very interested in this part of "school principal" as well as the "gene X", which I ended up asking:
"But does this school and these people have any genetic studies on such a 'gene X'? Science says nothing about you, in this case about us."- and smiles nervously, it was hard to imagine part of something like that.
He holds in my hand with a smile when I comment about "we" and adds: "There is scientific evidence yes, with the Genome project and how the Canadian government has an interest in us, they perform these genetic tests. It seems that many non physical traits, such as yours and Rosie's, may not appear in the DNA as really mutated, but in my case and in the ones I mentioned: girl crossing walls and boy teleporting, the genes can be found yes. But the funny thing is that trying to replicate these mutations with known 'loci' didn't result in the same mutation... - and I widened my eyes, releasing "what's that?! Experiments on humans?"- Ah! Not! They are models of artificial intelligence, as far as I know, have not yet attempted experiments on humans, aff… Continuing, it seems, is the will behind the body that determines how the mutation will manifest itself. Very crazy, right? It means that equal mutations can have totally different results depending on the person."
"I don't know about you, but to me that makes perfect sense! Since I believe in something that pre-exists after death and therefore animates the body throughout life and would be that 'will behind the body' ... I would even accept Rosie's help but I don't want to have my DNA analyzed…"- I had finished my coffee and was cutting an apple with the knife.
"Did you hear Rosie?" He said.
"Yes, my love" - she answered in our minds, not uncomfortably, but will know from when she was "hidden" there, right?...
And I, as I took the glass to wash and threw away the apple, I said, "So what's the plan, guys?"
