Work Text:
After leaving the transporter terminal he’d ran as fast as he could to the most desolate place he could think of. But as his destination approached, his anger and frustration still hadn’t dissipated at all, not in the slightest.
He’d run so far, and so fast that surely he should feel something. Burning or aching in his legs or in his lungs at least.
Something normal. Something human.
Once, not too many years ago he’d have felt that, the normal side effects of a good workout. But in the last couple of years as puberty had hit, it had produced a rather odd effect on his body beyond the normal.
Until this week he’d never known why.
Until this week he’d continued to hide his head in the sand. Even though he’d known for the longest time that there was something far wrong.
As he reached the water’s edge, and gazed out at the English Channel, Jules realised he could split his life into three distinct parts:
There was The Before. The murky years where they flitted between houses in London and Kent, where he attended school after school. Everything from back then was hazy, just a jumble of faces and questions that had made little sense to him.
Then there was The After. After he’d been in hospital with some illness. His mother had told him it was a particularly nasty flu and that he’d taken an allergic reaction to the medication he was being treated with. His father had, over the years, told him he’d had the Torassian Pox, the Vulcan Shetek Virus, the Andorian Measles and everything else in between. His father always liked to tell stories though so he’d always tried to believe his mother’s explanation. After the hospital however, life came into sharp focus, starting with a move to Khartoum with the twin explanations of “Your mother wants to be closer to her family” and “Your father and his family aren’t getting along very well”. They didn’t stay there more than a couple of weeks however, before they suddenly moved offworld. Their two weeks in Khartoum had been full of arguments with his mother’s family and it soon became apparent he wouldn’t be seeing either set of grandparents again anytime soon. They’d settled on Invernia II where Richard had found a good job working with the Federation Diplomatic Service. But after 10 year-old Jules had witnessed the death of a young girl, he’d begged to go back to Earth and his parents had begrudgingly agreed to his demand.
Home since that time had been Canterbury, a beautiful historic town he loved to explore both on his own and with the few friends he’d made at school.
But after The After, there had started another period of his life – The Now.
They’d had talks about puberty at school and what to expect as they grew up. Jules didn’t need the talk from the school nurse however as he’d been reading all about puberty in his spare time, eager to imagine himself as a grown-up.
But Jules’ puberty had not been normal.
As his body had began to change in the expected ways, it also began to change in unexpected ways: His already seemingly perfect eyesight seemed to get even sharper; his hearing was so good he imagined he could hear the grass grow. His reflexes had further improved and his stamina had jumped from the already impressive to the frankly inhuman.
No – they’d improved to the superhuman – he now realised.
Jules had asked his mother about it and she’d dismissed him, telling him the physical improvements were just his overactive imagination. She reminded him of how active he was and that his love of exercise was simple paying dividends now his adult strength was arriving.
He hadn’t expected his mother to be such a good liar. It was why he’d always gone to her with his worries and his concerns. Richard Bashir was a blowhard, always spinning tales and half-truths. Never telling a full truth unless he had too. It was habitual for him and Amsha had in contrast always seemed honest and sincere.
Now Jules knew they were both liars.
This evening, when they’d finally told him the truth – the actual horrifying unvarnished truth – Jules had ran. He’d picked up his schoolbag for all there was in it and fled the house. After getting to the nearest transporter terminal he’d sent himself to Folkestone – the furthest he could transport himself without parental permission at his age – and he’d set off for Dungeness, keen to be as isolated from people as he possibly could.
Dungeness had never been heavily populated. It was a large shingle beachhead jutting out from the southern coast of England. In centuries gone by it had been the site of a nuclear power station, a lighthouse and a tiny little village full of wooden houses and converted train carriages. All that remained from that time period was the lighthouse, though a small Luddite commune had re-imagined the old hamlet and now lived in replicas of those old train carriages.
On an evening like this, dull and cloudy and threatening drizzle at any moment, Dungeness felt as desolate and cut off from the human race as he, Jules Bashir, must also be. He guessed it was why it had been the first place he’d thought of to get away from all the normal people.
Normal people.
Natural people.
Not freaks, of which he must surely be one.
Finding a boulder among the shingle he sat down. Even two years ago he would have been exhausted by his run. Now after an unplanned 30 kilometer run he hadn’t broken a sweat and only felt a little tired.
It was inhuman. Superhuman. Perhaps even monstrous.
And it angered him.
Jules wanted to feel the burn, to feel his muscles working, to feel his lungs desperately pull more oxygen into his body, but his traitorous physiology was having none of it.
Despite his augmented body however, Jules was still a teenager and in a fit of rage he’d only scooped up his school bag before fleeing. He opened it, as if he’d find an answer in there somehow. Instead all that stared back at him was his PADD, an empty water bottle and some art supplies.
Jules tipped the bag out in frustration, sure he’d lifted his communicator before heading out. Even out at Dungeness he could have ordered a replidrone to arrive with a snack or something.
Was that what was wrong? Was he hungry? He must be after the run surely. But did Augments need food after exercise like normal people?
Realising he had no communicator, Jules was soon resigned to a long walk back to Folkestone to transport home. A prospect he didn’t relish.
Maybe he could spend the night here on the shingle? Just cover himself with his school blazer?
He dismissed the notion.
Unsure of what to do, not even sure if he could even process his feelings, or even vent his frustrations, Jules sat numbly on the little rock, looking at the strewn contents of his school bag, thinking about the events of the last couple of weeks and how they’d led to tonight.
“Come on Jules! A big brain like yours and you haven’t started to think about your career yet? You’ve got to start thinking about your legacy now. You’ve got to make something of yourself!” Richard chided Jules as he keyed the family dinner into the replicator.
In truth, Jules knew exactly what he’d wanted to do career-wise, but knew neither his mother or his father would ever support him.
Jules Bashir loved sport. And in particular he loved tennis.
He’d started playing it when they’d moved back to Earth and had soon been the star player at his local club. Tournaments beckoned and he started winning all sorts of trophies. His parents had initially supported his love of the sport, but as he got older, and better and better, they’d cooled off. Richard had refused to take him to Wimbledon to watch some matches as earlier promised, leaving him to attend just with his mother who had spent most of the time telling him he wouldn’t find a career in tennis fulfilling – not with a brain like his.
By the time he was fourteen his club had suggested he try and get endorsed for the Boys’ event at Wimbledon. Jules was enthused by this – the prospect of actually playing at Wimbledon made him feel giddy, but his parents dismissed the talk as “nonsense” – it would take too much time away from his studies, so they wouldn’t allow it.
Jules continued to play however, even if both he and his club were saddened that he would miss out on Wimbledon and other big events.
Now a year later, with his father telling him he really should have a career in mind, he decided to tell them the truth.
“Actually father, I already know what I want to do.”
“Oh? Please do share then my son, we’re as invested in your future as you are. Maybe even more so!”
Amsha who’d been quietly working on her PADD in the next room came into the kitchen to hear Jules’ big announcement.
“I’ve…” he stammered, “I’ve decided that I truly want to follow my passion for tennis, for however long I-“
Richard slammed a hand on the counter, barely concealed anger flashing across his face.
“For fuck’s sake!” He shouted angrily.
Amsha seemed lost for words too, but focused on Richard’s reaction.
“Richard, darling, please calm down.”
“Well I though I had a genius for a son, but it turns out he’s an idiot!” Richard continued, “You’re the smartest person we know. Perhaps the smartest person on this Earth and you want to hit a little ball over a net for the rest of your days? It’s pathetic! What a waste! After everything we’ve done for you!” Richard was close to screaming now.
“Richard, please.”
“If you go down this route you’ll regret it, and you’ll be no son of mines. With your intellect you could be running the Federation! Being a tennis player? It’s beneath you!”
“But father, I-“
“And what? By the time you’re forty you’ll be bored of playing, or past the capability of playing to win. What will you do then? Coach the kids for the next hundred years then shuffle off this mortal coil having achieved nothing? I won’t stand for it Jules!”
“When my playing career is over I have plans to go to university. It’s not like Tennis would be my entire life and I can easily have a full career or two after my playing days are over. But I want to take tennis as far as I can now.”
“I’m not having this,” Richard said quietly before getting louder again, “If only you knew just what we’ve done for you. How much we risked. How much we sacrificed! You ungrateful-“
“Richard enough!” Amsha suddenly bellowed, “You’re upsetting your son. Go out for a walk and cool off.”
Richard drew Amsha an angry, piercing look before he wordlessly grabbed a coat and stormed out of the house, slamming the door as he went.
Jules let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and watched as his mother sighed too, her brow furrowed.
“I’m so sorry Jules, we both just want what’s best for you, but your father’s not the best at articulating how he feels.”
“You shouldn’t be apologizing for him mother. He should be apologizing for shouting like that.”
There was a beat if silence.
“I know,” Amsha conceded.
“I love tennis. I’m brilliant at it. At school everything is so easy and I guess tennis is too, but I love working out my strategy as I’m moving. As I work out how to return each volley, as I work out my opponent’s tactics. As I make him dive one way as I hit another. It’s thrilling and challenging!”
“I understand that, really I do…“
“But… I sense a but coming.”
Amsha looked downward, avoiding his gaze, “I just feel that your passion shouldn’t be your career. Playing because you enjoy it is one thing – a very healthy thing. Playing to win, playing because you have to, week in week out – that’s not so healthy. I’m worried if you pursue it full time you’ll regret it. You may just sicken yourself of the thing you love. That’s an awfully big price to pay.
“Your father is also right in that you have an exceptional mind. You could do anything if you set your mind to it. You could change the world if you wanted to. The possibilities are endless, Jules while tennis – no matter how well you play – will always lead to a dead end. Think carefully about what it really is you want to do in life.”
That night as he put his headphones on to drown out the sound of his parents arguing over Richard’s behaviour, Julian had found himself caving in to his parents demands.
He wouldn’t make tennis his career.
Instead he had some other ideas, including the things he’d originally planned to do after tennis. Outside of his love for his sport, Julies had two other interests – medicine and travelling.
Both those interests hat taken root during their time living on Invernia II. With medicine it came after watching that poor girl due during an ion storm while unknowingly being surrounded by a plant that would have saved her life. It brought into sharp focus just how important medical knowledge was and just how indispensable doctors, nurses and medics truly were.
Invernia II also opened up his interest in travelling. He loved to try new foods, hear new music, speak to people from different worlds. It was so fascinating, and Jules always felt he learnt something of interest when he spoke to aliens, be it facts about their own world or society, or occasionally even an enlightening observation they’d make about humanity.
On Earth there were many options for both medicine and travel. Many people went to Earth’s many medical schools before accepting positions throughout the Federation. Others would accept positions as staff doctors with one of the many merchant fleets that traversed Federation space. Others still would attend Starfleet Academy in tandem with Starfleet Medical and then become Starfleet officers, assigned to ships or starbases. The crème de la crème tended to either plump for Starfleet, or the Vulcan Science Academy’s Earth Campus in Paris. Those who went to the Science Academy however were expected to spend a large part of their career on Vulcan, and they would often be hired as the personal physicians of notable politicians and public figures. That didn’t really appeal to Jules though.
Jules’ school was an oddity in that it was one of the few which didn’t have an official Starfleet liaison. While Starfleet was viewed positively by almost everyone, there were understandably still parents that didn’t want their children to join the ‘fleet, lest they end up fighting in a war or dying due to the many calamities that could befall a starship. Liaisons still visited during careers fairs at the school, but there wasn’t an office he could just drop into to make enquiries.
Over the weekend he’d asked one of his friends at the tennis club if there was any way of him meeting his school’s Starfleet Liaison. Bobby told him it would be fine – he’d let the liaison know and Jules could pop in whenever he wanted. Jules took instant advantage, dropping in on Monday afternoon when he had a break between lessons, taking a copy of his academic record with him.
The Starfleet liaison had been very happy to speak with him, and eager to recruit him when she saw his academic record. She sent some literature to his PADD with in-depth information about the various medical tracks available to those who wanted to join Starfleet, along with information about entry requirements, living arrangements since staying on-campus was mandatory, and details of exchange programs and expectations for time spent working in the field while one was still a cadet.
Jules took the literature home and read over it time and time again despite having memorized it, growing more excited with every read-through.
Surely Starfleet would be perfect! Surely it would make his parents proud if they had a son who was a medical officer in Starfleet. He could even end up working on the flagship if he was good enough. Jules could go out into the galaxy, explore strange new worlds and save lives. What parents could possibly be upset at that career choice?
There were so many options for medical study as well. For those who wanted to become medics they attended the mainstream Starfleet Academy as normal, taking the necessary modules offered by Medical so that they could qualify. For those who wanted to be nurses, doctors or surgeons, they would attend the specialized Medical Academy. Upon graduation they could enlist in Starfleet or go and seek regular employment. For those who wanted to be officers they would do two years at the Academy and then as their classmates went off to do field studies at the start of third year, they would transfer to the Medical Academy permanently, and attend the regular academy only for officer training. This would lengthen their study time to six or seven years, depending on their chosen area of expertise, but they would be commissioned as junior grade Lieutenants instead of Ensigns in recognition of their work.
Jules though this would be the best option. It would also let him be immersed in Starfleet so he could decide if it were really for him, and he could aim to join a ship’s medical department once he graduated as a Lieutenant.
It was perfect.
It would definitely make his parents happy.
He contacted the liaison again, hoping to meet that Friday to discuss things in more detail, and that Thursday night he sat his parents down in the living room to tell them of his plans…
How stupid he was.
How stupid he was to think that Richard Bashir could ever be happy with anything Jules did.
Jules now knew even if he somehow managed to walk on water his dad would find issue with it.
“Stop it Jules, people will find out the truth!” he could imagine him saying.
For years they’d been telling him he could do anything he wanted with his life. But now they were confessing that he couldn’t really do much of anything, lest the whole family be locked up.
No Starfleet.
No medical career.
No diplomatic career.
No legal career.
No merchant career.
No teaching career.
No veterinary career.
No corporate career.
No political career.
And certainly no sporting career.
These were all things Jules Bashir was banned from – for life.
Why had they done this to him? Well it turned out in the murky Before, filled with seemingly nonsensical questions such as “what type of cat was the neighbour’s dog?”. It transpired that Julian had actually been born with learning difficulties. His parents couldn’t – or wouldn’t – tell him what the actual diagnosis was, but by the time Jules was six he was still struggling to learn some things that toddlers could do. Nursery after nursery and school after school had recommended he go to a special needs facility so that he could be fully assessed and a learning plan developed to help him grow and learn. And time and time again Richard and Amsha had instead uprooted him and taken him someplace else, hoping a new school might be the silver bullet they were looking for to take care of their ‘problem’.
It must have been easier to blame it on bad schooling than to actually sit down and discuss the real ways they could have helped their son.
After years of denial they’d taken drastic action – Amsha was a sociologist to trade and that gave her an avenue to make money outside of the credits that were worthless beyond Federation space. Amsha began selling her research to journals that operated on associate worlds where currency was still used, and she held the money in an offworld bank account. When the time came for Jules’ “treatment” on Adigeon Prime, the money was transferred firstly to an intermediary and then straight to the hospital which would rewire Jules’ brain by illegally resequencing his DNA.
He spent almost seven weeks on Adigeon Prime. First undergoing some sort of composite procedure working both on his DNA and directly on his brain that had caused all manner of unpleasant and painful symptoms throughout his body as his brain restructured itself at great speed. He experienced burning pains and spasms as his brain worked to send out the right signals to the rest of his body. After weeks of what Jules could remember as being close to agony, his brain settled down and the rewiring was complete. Despite the pain he was in, he remembered an assessor coming in to ask him basic questions every single day – how many fingers was he holding up? What colour was this sheet of card? Who is in the room with us? The questions soon progressed to basic arithmetic and spelling and eventually on to far more advanced questions. Each day, no matter the discomfort he was in they also made him complete an IQ test.
There was still work to be done past that point however – his brain was now in tip-top condition, but his body lagged behind. It had been like putting a Warp 9 engine in and old Warp 5 hull, Richard had crudely explained. So now his DNA was further tampered with to bring his body up to speed.
This also caused great discomfort, long past his time on Adigeon Prime, as his height increased far more quickly than it would have naturally, and as his eyesight and hearing went from distinctly average to superb, leaving him at the mercy of horrendous migraines.
Most of his memories of Adigeon Prime had only resurfaced as he alternated between talking with and yelling at his parents. Now sat here at Dungeness it dawned on him that those memories had likely been so traumatic he’d just blocked them out until now.
They’d come home from Adigeon Prime during the school holidays and the family had quickly moved to Khartoum. He remembered bits and pieces of conversations and arguments at that time as one of his aunts shouted “That’s not Jules! What have you done to him?”. An uncle had also remarked more lightheartedly, “He’s taken such a stretch, I swear he’s gotten taller just while he’s been here.” There were many more arguments and Jules struggled to not hear them as his hearing grew better by the day. When they left Khartoum for good he heard his aunt shout “You’re both monsters! You’ve turned our sweet Jules into a monster just like the both of you!”
After that came Invernia where his parents quietly enrolled him in a Federation school. In all that time, he didn’t think his parents had ever spoken to any of their relatives even once. He figured they must all know what his parents had done, but speaking out would only have led to his parents going to jail, and he presumed his relatives hadn’t wanted to put him through that.
Just how much had his parents had him altered though? They couldn’t answer him directly. Richard said it wasn’t that precise – every patient was different but Jules was certainly a big success for the team at the hospital.
Jules looked again at the contents of his school bag and decided he should gather his belongings up. Looking at his supplies for art class though, he got an idea and pulled out his sketchpad. He drew a target on one sheet, with concentric rings and a bullseye and propped it up against the side of the rock he’d been sitting on. Confident it wouldn’t move from where he’d placed it, he walked several metres and picked up a rock which he soon covered in a layer of oil pastel. He launched the rock at the target and hit the centre. Jules walked a few more meters and repeated, time and time again, until the target must be about 50 metres away.
Still he hit the centre each and every time and without having to take the time to set up each throw or judge what level of force to use.
His hand eye co-ordination was far from human. In fact he could probably beat a Vulcan at archery with skills like this.
Lobbing one final oil pastel-laiden rock at the target he again hit it dead centre, letting out a loud scream of anguish as his rock hit its mark.
Jules world suddenly came crashing down as the enormity of his situation hit. How could he ever play tennis or do anything, anything normal ever again. He was a mutant! He might even be dangerous! Every child learned about Khan Noonien Singh as they grew up. Augments were murderously violent, power hungry and twisted. It’s why augmentation was banned within the Federation for all but the most severe birth defects where intervention was necessary to save a life.
But his parents hadn’t cared. They’d wanted to replace their failure of a son with a science project. One that was smarter and physically stronger than anyone else’s son. One who could hit a target at any distance with ease and could run for kilometer on end without even breaking a sweat. One who could get 100% in any exam without even studying.
They’d left him with nothing normal. What a freak he was! What would he do? How could he hide this? What if they locked them all up?
Suddenly his nerves flared throughout his body and his lungs shifted gear as he started hyperventilating. He knew enough to know it was a panic attack, but he couldn’t stop it. Within moments he was on his knees gasping for breath, convinced he was going to pass out.
Instead he began to wretch, throwing up right there on the beach, and the tears soon followed.
Jules never let himself cry. Richard had told him it was a sign of weakness. But this evening he let himself cry and wail as loud as he needed to. When the worst of his sobs began to subside he staggered back up the beach in a surreal daze to retrieve his sketchbook and bag. And once more he sat atop the rock, shivering violently and wiping at his tears.
“Are you okay love?” he heard a female voice.
He looked up to see a portly middle-aged woman standing a respectful difference away. Her accent was Northern, Mancunian perhaps?
“I…I’m okay I guess.”
“You don’t look it pet, you look a right state. What’s got you so upset? Is it exams?”
It was a convenient out and he’d take it, “Yes ma’am, I guess my exam nerves are getting the better of me.”
The woman smiled warmly, “I remember those days. I thought my exams were the be all and end all. I made myself sick with worry, quite literally a few times. Do you live locally?”
“Canterbury.”
“You got someone to pick you up?”
“No ma’am.”
She smiled again, “I’m Shirley, and I live here. Yes I’m one of those mad Luddites!”
Shirley chuckled a little at herself, “We’re harmless by the way, we just like to live a different way. And what’s your name love?”
Jules went to give his name, when it dawned on him that maybe Jules wasn’t appropriate. He’d been Jules when he was a little kid, unable to read or write. He’d been Jules when he had grandparents and aunts and uncles to visit him and dote on him. But did Jules even exist now, after Adigeon Prime? After he’d been fundamentally altered against his consent? And it wasn’t as if Jules was even on his birth certificate anyway. No, Jules had been erased by his parents, hadn’t he?
“Julian. My name’s Julian Bashir.”
“Nice to meet you Julian!” Shirley offered a hand.
Julian stuck his out for a moment before remembering his vomiting, “I…sorry I was sick earlier so I’d better-“
“You poor thing! Come to mines, we’ll get you cleaned up and put a lining on that stomach!”
It was against Jules’ – Julian’s – better judgement to go to a stranger’s house, but she was a Luddite and he was an Augment – she was probably in more danger than he was. So he followed her to her little house inside a replica converted railway carriage. He was able to wash his face and hands and have a glass of water to sooth his throat. She offered him chicken soup – real chicken soup made with real chickens.
He'd instinctively gone to reject the soup, having never consumed any real animal product in his life, when it dawned on him just how artificial he and the rest of society were. He was a fake human being who’d been eating fake chicken soup his whole life. So against his better judgement he accepted the soup.
He was amazed at how good it tasted, and it helped settle his stomach. Still he couldn’t quite reconcile eating an actual animal, so he quickly promised himself this would be a once-off.
For a while he sat and talked to Shirley, learning more about the Luddite Collective and why they eschewed most modern technology. Shirley believed that humans weren’t worthy of technology. That history had proven that humanity hadn’t evolved to a point where they could be trusted. Eugenics and nuclear weapons were two examples to her that humanity lived beyond its technological means in the past and probably was doing so again now that they benefited from technology often created by Federation species that were more advanced. The Luddites were convinced it would lead to ruin and devastation again someday.
Shirley of course was unaware she was speaking to an Augment, but Julian could see her point of view, even if he didn’t necessarily agree. Eventually she asked him how he planned to get home.
“You’re going to walk to Folkestone? It’ll be the morning before you get back there!”
“I’ll jog then.”
She screwed up her face in disbelief, “No you won’t! I’ll drop you off at the transporter terminal in Lydd, that’s much closer.”
“Drop me off?”
Julian soon found himself on the back of a vehicle known as a quad bike which Shirley used to get about
“Don’t worry about parental permission for transporting from Lydd Julian. If you’ve run off I’m sure your parents will just be happy to get you home and they’ll key in their permission,” she rubbed his back reassuringly as they entered the terminal.
“Thank you Shirley,” he smiled, grateful for their brief meeting that night.
Sure enough as soon as he input the co-ordinates to take him back to Canterbury, his parent’s ID flashed up on the screen meaning they’d given permission for the transport to take place.
“You take care Julian, and you seem a nice bright young man. I’m sure you’re worrying for nothing with your exams.”
“I’m sure I am,” he concurred before nodding to the operator to commence transport.
He soon materialized in Canterbury, and began slowly walking home. It was close to dark now, and Julian was not looking forward to seeing his parents. As his walk took him past the old city walls, his stomach grew ever more unsettled, not due to the real chicken soup, but due to the coming, continued, confrontation with his parents.
The ferocity with which Richard hurled his cup of coffee across the room startled both Julian and Amsha.
Richard seemed a little shocked at his own actions and after a moment he composed himself and walked over to pick up the pieces of his mug which now decorated the far side of the room, including a large coffee stain on the wall.
Jules and Amsha watched silently as he began to pick up the fragments. Listening as Richard began to mutter under his breath.
“Medicine and Starfleet. Medicine and Starfleet. Not one but the two. We’ll go to Jail. I swear he’ll put us there.”
At the mention of jail, Jules noticed his mother turn away from him as she stifled a sob.
“Well it’s the truth isn’t it?” Richard said pointedly, “We’re past the point of no-return now my darling.”
Jules was still reeling from his father’s outburst, but not so much that he missed anything of what was said.
“Why would you end up in jail just because I want to be a doctor in Starfleet?”
Amsha was crying now, though Jules could tell she was desperate to stop and compose herself.
“Mother…”
“I…Oh my Jules. Where do we…” she trailed off, unable to find the rights words.
“Sit at the table Jules,” Richard instructed, “We need to have a very serious talk with you. And you’re not going to like it.”
After a few minutes the mess of the broken mug had been cleared up and now mother, father and son sat around the dining table together.
“I thought you’d be happy with my decision,” Jules remarked quietly, “You’re always telling me I can change the world. If I become a doctor maybe I’ll cure a disease or something. You were always so against my passion for sport, encouraging me to use my intellect. So please explain to me how that decision means you and mother going to ja-“
“You’re an Augment.”
Richard didn’t even let Jules finish his sentence before he blurted out the awful truth.
“No…” Jules chuckled in complete disbelief, “People know not to do that. It’s dangerous and illegal and immoral. It’s what despotic governments did in the past. No-one in their right mind would ever…”
He looked at his parents, the guilt visibly etched into their features.
“No-one would…They wouldn’t right? They wouldn’t do that. You…You wouldn’t would you? You didn’t…Did you?” Jules began to babble as his breathing grew unsteady and his father’s single sentence began to sink in.
“Jules,” Amsha began, “It wasn’t like that, and don’t believe everything they taught you at school. You are our son, we love you and we know you’re a good person.”
“Bu…but it’s, I mean… Augmentation.. it’s taboo. It’s so dangerous. Augments murder people and do evil things, and that’s only when the augmentation actually goes well. I’m not like that am I? You didn’t make me a monster. Please say you didn’t make me a monster!” Jules began to cry in panic and despair, desperate for his parents to tell him this was their idea of a sick joke.
Richard began shaking his head in upset and anger, “We would never have made you a monster Jules. Augmentation …It gets a bad reputation. It’s safe and the ban’s just designed to hold people like you back and make your life a misery. It’s elitism is all. We saved you from the lifetime of mediocrity they would have inflicted on you. That’s what we did. That was all we did!”
“Mediocrity? How? How was that predestined for me?! When…how? How could you do this to me?!” Jules cried in anguish.
Amsha too began to cry more heavily and begged her son to calm down, “Please Jules…We love you, we’ll tell you everything. There is nothing to be upset ab-“
“You don’t want me to be upset? You’ve just told me you had me Noonien Singhed! It all makes sense now! I can’t be an athlete because of the rigorous medical checks they do on competitors and I can’t join Starfleet because Augments are banned from service due to the danger they pose and… And I can’t practice medicine at all can I?!”
Amsha and Richard flitted a look at one another before Amsha began to speak.
“I don’t know how much you remember Jules, but when you were very little we were so worried for you. Parents get given these charts to measure milestones. Things like when a baby crawls, first steps, first words…potty training…So many things. But... You just didn’t develop like other children. You had difficulty crawling and walking and talking. You never really smiled or giggled like the other children. When you talked everything was a jumble. You’d get so frustrated by it. The nursery said you’d be better at a special needs school, but we wanted you to socialize because you have no cousins your age and no siblings, so we said no and just asked the speech therapist to spend time with you. Soon your speech improved, at least a little, and you were walking well by that time. We began to relax…Maybe there was nothing wrong after all. Maybe we were just anxious parents. But the nursery still had concerns…and we dismissed them and moved you to another nursery. Again we thought you were fine, but the new nursery said you needed additional support they couldn’t provide. And we began to notice more things. We’d accepted you were just a clumsy child, but when the nursery had a sports day…well our hearts broke for you. You couldn’t participate in anything. You fell repeatedly in your race, which upset you, and you spent the rest of the day showing no interest in anything other than some dogs that some of the other parents had brought along.
“When you went to school things got even worse. Again they said you had additional needs and needed to be at a specialized institution. We didn’t want you cut off from your peers at such a young age, so we moved you to a new school. But it made no difference. You couldn’t read, or write, or count. You were so quiet and disengaged. And when you did try to express yourself or learn you would get so upset, often at yourself. It broke our hearts to see you so sad.”
“So why didn’t you just send me to an institution or a special needs school like everyone suggested? They’d have given me a lesson plan and sat me down with behaviour and educational specialists or anyone else that could have helped.”
Richard shook his head again, “These institutions for disabled kids…You’d think they were run by saints, but really they’re designed to keep the underachievers from success. Mark my words if we’d sent you there you’d still not be able to read or write or win a race. I wasn’t having that. Not for my son. My son deserves his pick of careers. I wasn’t going to stand back and watch you fail!”
Julian was silent for a minute, partly waiting to see what his parents would say next, and partly still hoping they’d tell him it was al a very unfunny joke. He decided instead to ask them exactly what they’d had done to him.
“Your mother saved up money for months and just before you turned seven we took you to Adigeon Prime for the procedures. We did it the best way we could. Augmentation is banned within the Federation but it’s common practice elsewhere. The specific hospital we went to had Illyrian doctors on the team and they’re absolutely the best at genetic engineering. There were also a couple of Human doctors working there and we sent them a full medical history along with samples of your DNA so they could get to work before we even left Earth. The technique they used was called Accelerated Critical Neural Pathway Formation. It basically rewires the brain to make it work around any obstacles that might be in the way. They analysed your brain to pinpoint areas that were atypical and then resequenced your DNA to instruct your body to construct new neural pathways in those areas. After that they made additional changes to your DNA to make sure your brain and body were communicating properly, since you’d have been left with a warp 9 engine in a warp 5 hull otherwise. That’s all.”
That’s all?
Was his father an imbecile?
Julian gritted his teeth and thought about how he should reply.
“You know if you’ve got a faulty shuttle or a replicator you rewire them. You rewire them because they’re tools that need fixing because they’re not doing the job they were designed for. You decided to rewire your son and what for? Because I was a little slow at nursery sports day? I mean do you two hear yourselves?! How many tweaks did they make? How much of me is really me?! Were you that ashamed of me?!”
“Julian,” Amsha cried, “We did this for you, not for ourselves! We wanted you to be happy and do what you want with your life. We didn’t ask for them to do the works on you, just fix some of the problems the team found in order to give you a better life.”
“Well the careers I want are now barred to me so that worked out well, didn’t it!”
“Jules-“
“And you keep telling me you only had some changes done because of my learning difficulties – what was my diagnosis by the way? – and my behaviour, but how does that explain how I don’t get out of breath when I exercise anymore. How I always pot every ball playing snooker, how I can lift weights with complete ease. How I run faster and longer than anyone else in my class? How do you explain these things?!”
His parents couldn’t look at him for several moments, nor at each other it seemed. Eventually Amsha spoke again,
“If we’re honest Jules, we weren’t expecting these things to happen to you either. We’re not exactly a sporting family. The physical changes in your medical brief were minimal. We wanted your hand-eye co-ordination improved because you struggled so badly with basic things like catching a ball. We wanted your stamina improved because you could never run very far or very fast…It was to bring you up to an average level, nothing beyond that. We swear that to you.”
Amsha’s explanation made perfect sense, but it also exposed that she and Richard had had little idea of what they were having done to their son, or the character of those who’d carried out the procedures. Mercifully for Jules, he realised that they might have inadvertantly overmanipulated his DNA, resulting in his apparently superhuman physicality. But things could so easily have gone catastrophically wrong. At school as part of their studies of eugenics he’d learned of individuals being rendered “locked in”, or even quadriplegic due to faulty augmentation attempts.
Jules’ parents had just got lucky. Nothing more, nothing less. And all because he must have been an embarrassment to them.
“So what now?” he asked them. After all, what was done was done. Now Jules had to learn to live with this horrible new normal.
“Now you need to remember that you can’t breathe a word of this to a living soul,” Richard began, “Not your teachers, not Bobby or any of your other friends. Don’t even think about going to a counsellor – they might sit there looking all professional and talk about confidentiality but they’ll still alert the authorities. As for your career choice I suggest you forget it. It won’t end well…”
Richard flashed a worried look at Jules for a second, before looking away sheepishly after being caught by Jules’ withering glare.
“If the world were a better place you could openly be proud of your augmentation," he continued, "You could be that excellent doctor that cures diseases and uses these gifts for the greatest good. But the world isn’t perfect, and people are so judgemental…”
“But think of all the things you could do Jules,” Amsha interjected, “You could go into social sciences like I have, or become a musician, or an artist of any sort. You could be a linguist, or a computer specialist. There’s lots of careers that are associated with Starfleet that you could do on your own as a freelancer or a consultant. Yes… there are some mild limits to what you’re allowed to do, but most avenues in life are still open to you, more so than those that would have been open if we’d done nothing…”
“But just none I have any actual interest in,” Jules muttered.
“You need to park this Starfleet idea son!” Richard raised his voice, “and don’t forget the tennis is off-limits too.”
“The sentient science project must do as instructed, I get it,” Jules said quietly but angrily before getting up from the table.
“Where are you going?” Richard demanded.
“Away from you. Both of you!” Jules shouted as he left the room. He grabbed his schoolbag from it’s hook near the front door and took off out into the street.
He could hear Richard begin to chase him but knew there was no way man could keep up with him and soon his angry shouts grew distant.
Hours later in the dark Julian trudged back up the street, dreading the conversation that was to come.
How dare they.
How dare they judge him as inadequate,
How dare they not get him appropriate assistance.
How dare they be embarrassed and ashamed of him.
How dare they arrange for unnecessary and painful medical procedures for him.
How dare they violate him for their own vanity’s sake.
And how dare they deny him the chance of fulfilment and happiness in the years to come.
The more he turned over his options and the consequences in his head, the more certain he was in what he would do.
Julian was going to do what he wanted to do. No-one was going to dissuade him or hold him back. He was angry enough right now to accept that his decision could land his parents in jail somewhere along the line, but that was their cross to bear – not his. In the corner of his mind he did genuinely worry they’d end up incarcerated and conceded that despite how enraged he was at present, he didn’t want that to happen, but Julian still knew that come what way, it would not be his fault.
Moments later though, he was tempted to call the police right there and then, such was his disgust at them both.
He talked himself back out of it for the umpteenth time as his thoughts continued to flit around in the turmoil of his mind.
As their house came into view his course of action solidified in his mind.
He knew what he was going to.
“Took your time walking home I see,” Richard’s first barb was spat his way as soon as he walked in the door.
“I took the long way.”
“Been almost an hour since you transported back to town. What the hell were you doing in Folkestone anyway?”
“Richard,” Amsha warned her husband.
“Funnily enough, I had some thinking to do.”
His parents shuffled uncomfortably as he sat down in his preferred armchair in the living room.
“Well?” Richard demanded an explanation.
“I’m going to be a doctor in Starfleet,” Julian said brimming with confidence and defiance.
“No you won’t. I will not allow it.”
“Well, I’d planned on trying to complete high school a little early father, but if I leave at the normal time I’ll be eighteen, legally an adult, and frankly there will be fuck all you can do about it.”
It was the first time Julian had ever sworn at, or even in front of his parents. Amsha looked shocked, and Richard looked furious.
“You’re risking everything we’ve built here my son,” Richard kept his voice level, “My career, your mother’s career, friendships, networks, your own prospects…We could lose it all.”
“I know, but this is all yours to lose. I am not responsible for your actions, only my own. Don’t worry, I will do my best to conceal anything that’s different about myself. I’ll even quit playing tennis at club level if it eases your conscience just a little. I’ll learn to fly under the radar.”
“If you do this, know that you won’t have a roof over your head-“
“Well when I go to the Academy I’ll have a room to myself – a perk of being a medical student – and if you kick me out while I’m still a minor, I can always go to the authorities…can’t I.”
Amsha screwed her eyes shut in pain as she processed her son’s veiled threat.
“We would never kick you out Jules, please…Your father is just upset.”
“Your mother’s right. I may have threatened that, but I would never actually do it.”
Julian nodded, knowing that Richard would never have followed through with it.
Julian sighed before continuing, “You tried to design the perfect son…You thought you had it all planned out. I would be the best of the best and you could mold me to do what you wanted. I could have become a social scientist like you mother, or the architect you always wanted to be father… But I’m not either of you. In fact thanks to what you had done to me… I’m less like either of you than I would have been, aren’t I?”
Amsha conceded with a reluctant nod, but Richard just started at him in barely concealed fury.
“You both micromanage me…I believe the archaic term is helicopter parenting. And you can call this decision teenage rebellion if you like but frankly I can’t wait to get away from this house. It’ll be worth spending an extra year at school knowing I’m guaranteed my freedom at the end of it.”
Amsha began to tear up again, making Julian regret, if only for a moment, his course of action.
“And when my training is done, and I go out into space…Maybe some good will come of your crime. Maybe I will cure a disease with my augmented brain. Maybe I’ll come up with revolutionary surgical techniques…Or maybe I’ll just spend my days treating the bumps and scrapes of clumsy engineers. Who knows. But I’ll be doing something I want to do.”
“And when you get caught – because you will,” Richard interjected.
“Then I’ll hold my hands up, lose my license and do whatever the authorities ask of me. You’ll both be punished, and I might be punished along with you. But at least I’ll have done something I wanted to do with my life, and not something I was 'designed' for.”
Three difficult years later, having enacted a planned “loss of interest” in tennis, and a planned academic crisis whereby Julian “had” to complete the whole of sixth form, he finally finished his schooling. His exam results were straight As, but even before then he’d sat the Starfleet Medical entrance exams and passed with flying colours. Amsha had grown to be supportive, resigned to whatever the future held for them all as a family, though Richard had grown ever more distant.
When the day finally came for him to pack up and head to San Francisco it had been a quiet affair. Richard had continued to work in his office as normal, while Amsha gave Julian and his friends space to talk and say goodbye as they all went their separate ways. Once his friends had left, Amsha gave Julian some presents, including cufflinks in the shape of stethoscopes, and a care package to open when he got to his dorm room.
Even as he left the house with his duffel bag and the care package to head to the transporter terminal, Richard still didn’t emerge from his office, and it was only after he’d hugged his mother goodbye and waved to her from down the street that he saw Richard at the window, his face a mixture of worry and regret. Julian felt a pang of pain upon seeing his father’s face, but pushed the feeling aside and continued walking towards the transporter terminal.
Several whirlwind hours later Julian finally got a moment alone in his dorm room to open the care package from Amsha. The gesture was more symbolic than necessary, after all he was still only a short transporter hop away and the medical students' dorms apparently had access to replicators with almost as many options as those enjoyed by senior officers.
Tearing away the giftwrap and opening the box inside, he saw a large variety of teas including his mother’s own mix – Sudanese Cinnamon Tea – her personal favourite, and a tea Julian loved to have a cup of when she made it too. He smiled at this as although he could order Sudanese Cinnamon Tea from the replicator, his mother’s homemade version was infinitely better. Included along with the tea were some packs of British biscuits – Rich tea, Chocolate digestives and some ginger snaps – along with various other snacks. Beneath this however was something he wasn’t expecting.
It was Kukalaka, his teddy bear, whom he had opted to leave at home. Julian had viewed keeping him with him as he embarked upon adulthood as being rather childish and embarrassing.
He felt a wave of irritation at his mother until he spotted that a letter had been placed on kukalaka’s tummy. Reaching for the letter, he unfolded it and noted it was his mother's handwriting.
My Dear Jules,
I know that you had planned to leave Kukalaka at home, after all you are a young man now, so Kukalaka is now in his retirement. But allow me to tell you a story about Kukalaka that I’m not certain you will remember.
Firstly, take a good look at his legs, and you’ll see evidence of an old injury.
Yes, Julian knew that Kukalaka had been torn at some point, and that Amsha must have patched him up.
One day, when we lived in Gravesend, Kukalaka and his brother Jules took a tumble down some steps in the garden. Jules’ knee was easily patched up thanks to the dermal regenerator, but poor Kukalaka lost a leg! Kukakala was also quite grubby and worn and I decided it was best for us all if we let him go.
But young Jules Bashir was having none of it.
Young Jules fished Kukalaka out of the recycling bin, found my sewing kit and of his own volition somehow managed to stitch up his bear brother as good as new, before putting him in the sonic shower because he was a bit smelly! For Kukalaka this was lifesaving surgery.
You have always been the most kind and caring son. Yes your career choice caused some issues, but you choosing to become a healer has never been a surprise, and it is something that makes me so proud of you. You had your first patient when you were just five years old and he’s still going strong.
I wonder how many more happy patients you will have, how many will remember you fondly for the help and comfort you'll give them. Do your very best my son, and never forget just how proud we both are of you, no matter what the future holds.
With all my love,
Mum
It all came back to him. The tumble down the steps, his skinned knee, Kukalaka’s innards spilling out everywhere as his leg snagged on a rough spot on the brick work next to the steps. His cries as Amsha decided to bin his beloved bear, and his cunning plan to save his best friend. What came next was months of tender care for Kukalaka. Every time something on him frayed, Jules fixed it. Every time a new hole emerged, Jules patched it. He only eventually had the sewing kit confiscated when he hurt himself on one of the needles. But for many months, he’d kept Kukalaka safe and healthy, and Amsha had continued his treatment regimen for the bear rather than trying to throw him out.
Julian felt his heart swell as he went over the implications. It meant he’d always had an interest in healing, even if it was only restuffing and stitching up a beloved toy. His mother had never forgotten what he’d done, but she figured rightly that Julian had, because so much of Jules had been lost to the procedures.
But it meant that he, Julian – and Jules - had something in common, and it wasn’t something insignificant or of little consequence. It was what Julian had chosen to dedicate his life to.
A few tears of happiness snuck out of his eyes as he grinned at his childhood friend. Despite knowing he might face ridicule from any friends or future lovers he’d invite back to this room, he put Kukalaka up on the shelf above his desk, giving him pride of place.
Sure, Julian Bashir might be a genetically engineered superhuman Augment, but once upon a time he’d been Jules – a kind little boy who’d wanted to fix his best friend’s broken leg. And while that innocent little boy might now be gone, Julian would protect his memory and his wishes forever.
And he’d become a doctor that both Jules and Julian would be proud of.