Fresh Start

Chapter 1
What a World

It was a warm summer day, the kind of day most people lived for. It wasn’t too hot or humid, the sun wasn’t too intense and the white clouds dotting the blue sky were light and puffy. All around the city that day kids were out playing the sun, adults jogging or walking pets. But Matt Smithson wasn’t really enjoying it too much. He had too many other things going on in his mind as he headed to the Countdown supermarket on an errand for his mum.

Matt had been on a real high until a couple days ago. He was seventeen years old, but his eighteenth birthday was only a month away. He’d just finished his last year of high school and he was looking forward to a bright future at university. He’d finally get to move out and live on his own, be the master of his own fate and all that. But the thing he had really been most excited about was the fact that turning eighteen made him an adult and exempt from the treatment.

They’d invented the treatment thirty years ago as a cure for the world’s overpopulation. While that was the original intent, noble as it may have been, the process got corrupted, changed. The treatment allowed parents to halt or reverse their children’s growth. Nostalgic mums and dads often had their rebellious teens returned to an earlier, cuter age. Sometimes they decided to avoid dealing with the rebel years altogether and had the child’s age frozen in time. Of course it was controversial at first, but over the years it had become socially acceptable.

It wasn’t just the physical age of the child they changed or froze either. Naturally a teenager in a child’s body would not be happy and probably wouldn’t be very cute, so mental adjustments were necessary. And of course, as long as they were making mental changes anyway why not tinker with their personality, their habits, to make them more palatable, the cute little kids parents really wanted.

Behaving well didn’t assure escape from the treatment either. Parents with perfect little angels for kids were often the most eager to have them frozen in age or returned to perfect innocence. In Matt’s opinion it took a perfect balance between good behaviour and naughtiness to avoid the treatment. By his estimate one-third of all kids were subjected to it at least once and probably one in ten were frozen at a certain age, never to grow up. The real numbers could have been different but that was what he saw.

The teen years were the real danger period. Few kids under ten were subjected to it but from ten to twelve many parents decided to stop their children’s growth to avoid teen trouble. From thirteen to seventeen was where the bulk of kids subjected to regression came though. At eighteen parents lost the right to change their kids and Matt was getting so close.

Then, two days ago, Matt overheard his mum and dad talking about a special camp for him. This instantly set off alarm bells. It was often a visit to a strange doctor or supposed dentist that turned out to be the treatment, but recently there were stories that ‘camps’ were being used now. Matt’s heartbeat had immediately ticked up a notch when he’d heard the word ‘camp’ and he had pressed his ear to his door and spied on them as best he could.

If they’d made that decision there was little he could do. His parents had the absolute right to send him off for treatment. He’d have to run away and go into hiding until he was eighteen to escape. But even that didn’t guarantee anything. A few older teens had tried in the past. He recalled the story of one man not found until he was twenty-one. There was a court case and in the end the judge ruled he wasn’t legally an adult because his parents had changed his legal age to three and put him in stasis at that age. He was dragged away kicking and screaming, insisting he was a man with a job and they couldn’t do that to him. A week later his parents invited the media cameras into their house to show how happy he was with the treatment. Matt still recalled watching the TV screen as the tubby little toddler the man had become skipped around his front yard buck naked playing in the sprinkler.

So as Matt pulled his junky old car into the car park of the supermarket that day he had to wonder if he’d even be able to drive a car in a few weeks. He wondered if he should confront his parents directly. Perhaps they would understand that he didn’t want to be little. Of course he didn’t even know if they were planning anything and he didn’t want to put ideas in their heads.

With all these thoughts racing through his head Matt turned off the ignition and slipped his jandals on, stepping from the car. Inside the supermarket Matt grabbed a basket and looked down at the list his mum had given him. It was all the makings for a big dinner, perhaps the last meal of the condemned, he thought darkly.

Shopping at the supermarket always provided Matt with reminders of just how lucky he was not to have been subjected to treatment yet. As he walked across the linoleum floor he spotted his old friend Dave. They’d grown up together, been in the same class each year since they were six, played soccer at the same club and generally been good friends. Dave was a six foot tall sportsman with toned muscles and a deep voice who always got the girls. Matt had been happy just to be his wingman when they went out to parties in high school. Well at least that’s how Dave had been until three months ago.

Today Davey, as he was now called, was standing with his mum climbing onto the side of the shopping trolley she pushed. He was about four foot two with shaggy blonde hair and a skinny little kid body. He was wearing a bright yellow primary school polo shirt and baggy navy school cargo shorts that fell about mid-way down between his knees and his ankles. He was barefoot and as he climbed on the side of the trolley on tippy toes he showed off how tar black the bottoms of his feet were.

As Matt tried to slip past unnoticed an adult voice called out, “Well hello there Matthew!”

Matt stopped and faced the trolley his old friend was climbing on. “Hi Mrs Lane,” he greeted, forcing a smile.

“Doing some shopping for your mum are you?” she asked.

“Um, yeah,” he replied.

“Well we’re just here buying cupcake makings for Davey’s class teddy bear picnic to tomorrow,” she told him.

Matt nodded, glancing over at Davey and seeing he was grinning ear to ear. “That’s nice,” he said, wishing to escape.

“I’m bringin’ pilot bear with me!” Davey announced, still grinning like a stupid little boy.

“Oh, that’s cool Dave… er, Davey,” Matt stammered, feeling very awkward.

“Uh-huh!” he continued, unable to take a hint. “I’m gonna be a pilot when I grow up. Or a runner!”

Matt had to shake his head at his silly career goals. But Davey wasn’t done. “I’m da fastest boy in my class. I even beated some a the eight year olds! And they’re big, but I got faster feet,” he gushed, pointing at his grimy little bare toes.

“Well good for you,” Matt said without any enthusiasm.

Davey was oblivious to his false praise. He smiled even wider then got distracted by a stand of lollies shaped like characters from Despicable Me. “Ooh! Mummy, look at that, I want lollies!” he gushed.

“It was lovely to see you,” Mrs Lane told Matt, hurrying off as Davey skipped away from her towards the lollies.

Glad the awkward encounter was over, Matt continued on his shopping list. He nearly had all the items gathered and was walking down the bread aisle when he froze in his tracks. His ex-girlfriend Ashley was standing there before him. They’d been together for a whole six months back in Year 11, an eternity for high school. Back then he would have killed to see Ashley topless. He’d fantasised about it all the time. Now he didn’t have to imagine anymore.

Ashley was standing in her mum’s shopping trolley, her little hands wrapped along the wire side that came to neck height on her. She was a little two-year old girl with her thin blonde hair in pig-tails and dressed in nothing but a bulky disposable diaper. She was now indeed topless at the supermarket, though nothing in the way of what Matt used to fantasise about.

As Matt walked wordlessly past the trolley the toddler girl yelped “Hi!” in a bright little voice, waving her fingers up and down and then biting down on the metal wire of the trolley as her eyes followed him.

Matt said nothing to her in return. He knew she was just saying hi because it was a new word to her reduced little brain. She didn’t recognise him anymore, had no memory of their time together. She was just a dumb baby, nothing more. Matt finished his list and checked out, trying not to think about Davey and Ashley. He didn’t want to think about what could easily be his future.

**

Ryan mashed the buttons on the controller before him, eyes glued to the flickering screen. He was almost to the next level, a new personal record.

“C’mon kid, this isn’t your house y’know!” an angry voice bellowed behind him.

Ryan just ignored the voice. He was almost there and he wasn’t giving this up for anyone. Finally with a flicker of intense light the spaceship he was blasting away at exploded. He’d done it! He’d made it the next level! Ryan stepped back and raised his hands in the air. “Yes!” he yelled.

The angry twenty-something man in an EB Games uniform stepped alongside him, clearly pissed off. “Okay kid, you had your fun, now let someone else have a turn.”

Ryan looked behind him and saw the gaggle of little kids staring impatiently at him, wanting their try at the store model PS3. He shrugged, they were only little kids anyway. “Whatever,” he quipped to the worker, walking out of the store and deliberately knocking over a pile of games on the way.

“Hey!” the man yelled after him.

“Oops!” Ryan mocked, smiling as he left the shop and strode into the mall.

The games shop opened onto the food court and the kids play place. As Ryan sauntered past the colourful play area he wondered how many of the snot-nosed little brats in there were actually teens like him, or even older. He didn’t care to find out. Ryan never openly mocked the kids, the punishment for that was being made one of them. But he didn’t go out of his way to be nice to them either. Ryan’s plan for avoiding their fate was making sure his parents didn’t want him around as a kid for longer than they had to keep him.

Ryan was fifteen years old and he credited making it this far with his tough boy act and sarcastic tone. He’d seen goody-goody friends shipped off to little kid factories and returned snivelling little babies. That wasn’t about to happen to him. He strode through the mall with a cultivated air of disdain. Wearing his baggy black t-shirt with the words At Least I’m Not Your Kid across it and his ripped jean shorts that fell well below his knees he came across as tough even though he was only a skinny five foot six. His shoulder length brown hair was stringy and unwashed, he was barefoot and his feet were grimy. He was as un-cute as could be.

After spending the afternoon harassing shopkeepers and security guards around the mall Ryan finally decided to head home. He walked out to the footpath and caught the bus. The driver gave the dirty barefooted youth a disapproving look as he stepped on board. “What? Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he snapped, throwing his change in the till and padding to the very back.

On the seat across from him a woman of about forty was cradling a little raven-haired boy who appeared to be about six or seven. Ryan couldn’t help but do a double-take though as the boy was wearing what was clearly a Big Bird t-shirt and a large pair of pull-ups decorated in teddy bear print. He wore no pants or shoes and his mother was cuddling him and pecking kisses on his forehead and cheeks crooning to him, “Widdle Bobby is mummy’s special little boy now isn’t he? Oh yes he is! Yes he is!” while the boy smiled and giggled brightly like a toddler.

Then the boy scowled and there was a farting noise even Ryan could clearly hear. After a moment the six year old gave a little sigh and smiled again. The woman chuckled and cooed, “Uh-oh, smells to me like we have a poopy little boy!”

The kid nodded and declared, “I done a poo-poo!” without a hint of shame.

Ryan forced himself to look away. He always got a shiver when he saw one of the cases where the treatment went a bit wrong and body and mind weren’t matched up. It was uncommon, but still it got to him when he saw it. Ryan thought about other things to forget the kid. Only two more stops till he was safely home.

**

Chris was a good kid. He was well behaved, friendly and always did what his parents told him. There was no teenage rebellion for him. He remained as pliant and eager to please as he was when he was six. Even at sixteen he never talked back to mum or dad and helped out around the house whenever possible. He didn’t demand to be treated like an adult, he didn’t even ask to get his driver’s licence. He was content to bide his time.

In fact Chris did everything he could to stay cute and childlike. He had hit puberty pretty late and was still only five foot seven and skinny as a rail. He didn’t need to shave yet and his face was mostly pimple free. Chris kept his black hair cut short because he thought it made him look younger. Everything he did was the opposite of what most teens were meant to do. He didn’t cling to childhood because he liked it though, but because he feared it. His theory was if his parents thought he was nice and cute they’d never feel the need to regress him or freeze his growth.

That was why he was at the book store today, to buy another ‘young adult’ novel meant for tweens for his mum to see him reading. He had to tread a fine line, appearing cute to his parents but not too juvenile to his mates. He couldn’t very well walk around in a SpongeBob t-shirt. Today he wore a neat well-fitted red t-shirt that bore no childish characters but would have been appropriate for a kid nonetheless. His board shorts were brightly coloured, baggy and fell right at knee length. A five year old or a thirty year old could have worn them. He padded around the bookstore barefoot as usual. When not at school he usually ditched the shoes to look cuter, more innocent.

“Honey, let’s get going! We need to eat din-din!” his mum called from the store entry.

A normal teen would have died of shame from such a humiliation but Chris suppressed that emotion and yelled back, “Be right there mum,” in a cheerful tone.

He just reminded himself that all he needed to do was make it to eighteen. Then he could rebel all he wanted, demand a car and independence and there’d be nothing they could do about it. Until then he had to keep up the cutsie act.

Paying for his books Chris walked out onto the footpath where mum was standing holding his little brother Nate’s hand. Nate was the whole reason for the way Chris acted, because Nate wasn’t always his little brother. In fact Nate was twenty years old chronologically. Five years ago when he was fifteen and Chris was eleven Nate had started to rebel and demand to be treated like a grown-up, not a little kid. He wore baggy clothes and clunky sneakers, put his hats on sideways and talked in slang. It didn’t last very long.

Nate was sent away to an overnight camp for a week. When he came back he wasn’t the big brother anymore. He was little Natie, a rambunctious four year old who loved toy cars and trucks, and liked to run around the neighbourhood wearing a fireman hat and nothing else. Watching his former big brother, whom he’d so looked up to, streaking around the neighbourhood with a goofy smile, ‘watering’ the bushes as he went, made Chris resolve never to let that happen to him. He’d put away his baggier clothes, discarded his shoes and started the cute act. Half a decade later it continued.

“Did you get your book?” Mum asked with her customary smile.

“Yep, got it right here, thanks mum,” he replied.

“I gonna wead too mummy!” Nate announced, hopping up and down on the footpath.

“I’m sure you will someday sweetie-pie. You’re such a bright little boy,” she assured the boy.

Chris frowned inwardly, knowing that was a lie. The little boy holding his mum’s hand was four years old, just as he had been five years ago. Nate was under four feet tall, had a head full of very messy dirty blonde hair and was wearing fireman red bib shortalls over a white Bob the Builder t-shirt. Naturally he too was barefoot, as mum and dad thought all little ones should be.

Poor Nate didn’t care one bit though, he hadn’t got a clue. His treatment had been very successful and it had changed more than his age. He’d always been a reclusive sullen little kid, right from the get go. But after his treatment he’d come home an exuberant extrovert with a sunny smile and cheerful demeanour. He never knew that his age had been fixed, that he would never be a big boy, would never learn to read or write or count. In ten years he’d still be playing on his hands and knees with Tonka toys unable to recognise the word ‘cat.’

Mum finished doting on her little Natie and said, “Okay, let’s get home, we have some very important news tonight.”

Chris wondered what the news might be as he shuffled over the hot footpath to the car. He had no way of knowing how much his life was about to change.