The infant screamed in pain, it felt as though his entire body was on fire. The DNA in every cell of his tiny two year old body was being altered, and the chemistry was generating a lot of heat. He’d caught the bird-flu somehow. Most likely a result of poor living conditions near the nesting grounds of sea-birds. It was a version of the virus with the ability to transcribe genetic information between hosts - a mutanegenic virus. In this case bird DNA was being combined with human DNA. Rather than reject the infected cells, his tiny body was accepting the virally infected cells as part of his own body. He had a deathly fever for two weeks straight, but then one day his fever broke and he began to recuperate. The odds of this type of thing happening and the individual surviving are extremely remote. Tiny feathers sprouted on his scalp where his hair had fallen out.
He’d been born the son of a local fisherman. They were dirt poor, or rather stone poor; there wasn’t even any dirt to grow food with. They lived in the summer in a lean-to on the rock covered beach. In the winter they rented part of a boat-house to live in. When he was four, Kevin decided he’d had enough of the ‘bad-life’ and decided to run away. He figured anyplace could be better than the place he was currently.
In 1966 Kevin had been found running around or rather flying around southwestern Ontario. For a short while he’d been housed in a special “hospital” where there were people who were “less than human”. After the doctors and staff got to know Kevin, they realized he was more or less just an ordinary little boy with a hair problem. His condition in some ways was not unlike hyper-trichosis. They decided to allow him out of the hospital with a guardian. His guardian, Sergei, was a tough war veteran.
Sergei figured the safest place for the kid was inside a large reinforced steel container. Someone came up with the idea of using a caboose for housing, so that the housing itself could be moved quickly if need be. Kevin didn’t mind the idea. He finally had a home of his own now. After living for a few months in the caboose Kevin was told by a social worker that he’d have to attend school. They decided to place Kevin in grade one. There were a couple of “extra” rules that Kevin had to follow in order to attend school. 1) wear a wig to hide his feathered head, 2) wear a jacket to hide his feathered arms, 3) don’t tell anybody at all where he was living.
It was grade one school, just before classes started when Kevin had gotten into an argument. “I can too fly!” Kevin exclaimed. He’d gotten into an argument somehow with another student, about people’s ability to fly. As a homework assignment, the teacher had asked the pupils to come up with a list of ways that people can move around. Kevin who was almost six, assumed that there were some other people like himself, who could fly. Kevin, somewhat agitated, decided to prove it to the other student. He stood on top of a desk and removed his jacket. His guardian had told him never to remove his jacket, but Kevin was too upset to follow the rules. Kevin flapped his feathered arms as fast as he could, which was amazingly fast, then stepped off the desk and flew around the classroom. Just then the teacher walked into the room. “My God!” she exclaimed seeing a flying child. “Sit down right now !” Kevin sat down and put his jacket back on. He looked at the student he was arguing with and stated: “told you so.” To the student he’d been arguing with. Most of the students and teacher were in a state of mild shock at seeing a flying child. “You‘re coming with me to the office right now young man. Kid’s flying around classrooms is not an acceptable behaviour.” The teacher led her pupil down to the office.
Rumours surfaced about a flying child. The R.C.M.P. investigated the rumours and interviewed several people. Rumours were suppressed by the R.C.M.P. Canada’s intelligence agency at the time. The teacher, who refused to deny she’d seen a flying boy, was forced to take a leave of absence from the school. Everybody thought she was nuts.
Kevin’s actions probably led to one of the most unfortunate events of his life.
In his third year of high-school, Kevin started to wonder what he would do for a living. He had applied to the "Xavier Institute" as a place to continue his education at. He figured he would get into the institute without too much trouble given his current situation and past history. It was a small shock to him then as he read the letter from the institute: "We regret to inform you that you have not been accepted into the school." Kevin already had a plan 'B' in case he couldn't get into the post secondary education he was after: the air force.
Kevin had some sense of duty to his country, so he decided to try out for the air-force. He had already taken up flying lessons with a local instructor, and found it 'easy'. Being able to fly just felt natural to Kevin and he was an ace student.
One of the tests for potential air-force pilots was the centrifuge. If one didn't have good centrifuge results one couldn't be a pilot. Most people press the stop button for the centrifuge somewhere between two and three G's of acceleration. In Kevin's case he managed a staggering 29 G's of acceleration before he hit the kill switch. He had been determined to demonstrate his physical appropriateness as a pilot. Kevin managed to pass the centrifuge test with a classified secret score.
Kevin did well on his other aptitude testing and was accepted as a candidate into the Canadian Air-Force.
- imagine a contest taking place where flight manoeuvre's are performed and dummy targets are shot and bombed.
"What I'm saying is I'm the best there is." The pilot continued his complaint. "I should have won the contest." "That kid must have been hyped-up on drugs or something in order to be able to fly that way. It was inhuman." "I want him tested for drugs or other means of cheating." The pilot had gotten a perfect score in the contest, and still lost as Kevin had also gotten a perfect score but in less time.
The air-force kernel overseeing the contest actually agreed with the pilot. The kid had flown too well. Part of the reasons for contests was to weed out people with unusual ability.
"Kevin, I want you to report to the infirmatory for drug testing." the kernel ordered.
The next day the nurse reported back to the kernel blood test results : "There's a problem with his blood work." "It's not actually human blood. Close but no cigar." "Tested negative for mutant X genetic factors however."
Kevin had a bad feeling about what was about to happen. He was counting on being an air-force pilot for a living, if he couldn't do that he didn't know what he would do next. He'd been ordered to meet with Kernel Flakkenhead about his future prospects in the air-force.
Kernel Flakkenhead continued on: "The problem with aircraft isn't that a better airplane can't be built, it's that no-one can pilot the better plane. For instance it was possible to construct an aircraft capable of 40G accelerations during flight manoeuvres, but the high G forces would kill any occupants. This project " The kernel waved his hand over to one side of the hangar. " was deemed a complete waste of taxpayer dollars, and shelved. It's what happens when you give the tech guys the freedom to come up with whatever they can produce." "It's the aircraft capable of 40G accelerations among other things.".
"You, my boy" The Kernel was referring to Kevin "are one of a small number of people that can actually make good use of the aircraft.".