1
“The only value of this world lay in its power - at certain times - to suggest
another world.” - Thomas Ligotti
If you are reading this then you are safe. The worst is over. You can relax.
Apocalypse. The end of the world. Blood, death and darkness. We were all there. We
can't unmake the past.
I know you have questions. Hoping to hear the real story from the source. My account of
what happened. It's probably going to disappoint you. There's a lot I don't know. Probably a lot
that no one knows.
Since this is my version of the story I'm going to start at the beginning. My beginning.
And it's probably going to take a while. I apologize in advance.
But relax. Really. Relax. Then let me tell you a storyAs I stood in front of the student housing supervisor and turned first white with horror
then red with rage. Dreams of college freedom dashed in seconds by a few dozen words and an
official seal.
“The Enhanced dorm? You have a dorm for Enhanced students? You're segregating us?”
“I think you're looking at it the wrong way.” Smiling like a toothpaste commercial, “Think of it as
an opportunity to meet other students like yourself.”
I lobbed a few insults at her terribly smiling head. No effect. Tried pleading. Then
begging.
It was useless. My only weapon, my otherwise undefeated charm, has no effect on
women. Head hung low, I slunk away, defeated.
That woman, that paper, was the beginning. Because of them I came to know the man
who would later be known as the Golden God.
The “Enhanced Dorm” ended up being quite a distance from the housing office and other
main campus buildings. It was a squat concrete structure that looked like it had been build to
survive a nuclear bomb blast.
“Do they think we're terrorists?” I muttered to myself, shocked.
At the time it seemed ludicrous, clearly unreasonable. But with the events not even a
year later, I wonder now if it was a sign that the government at that time knew more than they let
on.
At the age of thirteen I learned two problematic facts at the same time: that I was gay
and that I was a Mind. As first crushes go it was fairly stereotypical. A particularly muscular gym
teacher with a penchant for tight shirts and a shaggy beard. I spent a decent amount of time
denying it to myself, catching occasional illicit glances from the corner of my eye while the other
boys bounced various balls off various things, but nothing particularly obvious.
Then one day he motioned to me from the sidelines. Took me into his office. A setting
that I found intimately close. I sat, shaking, avoiding his eyes.
“Now then, Calvin.” His eyes were cast nervously aside, “Do you know why I called you in
here?”
That made me look up. Look deep into his eyes. At that moment I knew without a doubt I
wanted him. That's when it came.
“That look. Definitely a fag. Don't know how the school expects me to deal with the swishy
bastards. If I had my way-”
“I'm not-” I jumped up, blushing. Saw the look of shock on the teacher's face. Then I knew that I
had Heard for the first time.
If I'm honest, I'm not sure which realization terrified me more. But why, you ask?
Learning you were a Mind, that you had the potential to be an Elite. That much have been at
least a little bit thrilling.
But even at that time I knew my chances at Elite status weren't good. Over 90% of Elites
were discovered before the age of five. Often so powerful that they had to be taken from their
parents for their own safety.
No, I knew immediately that I was destined to be a Reject. Forbidden from any
government or military work, marked as Enhanced in such a way as to make any employer
nervous. A terrifying unknown in romantic relationships that were already made more
complicated by my now apparent homosexuality.
Still I went for the tests. They stuck me and probed me and ran me through machines to
watch my brain tick. And in the end the technician just shook her head pityingly. Showed me a
psy score so shockingly low I hadn't known it was possible. Even as a Reject I was pathetic.
Not to say that it's completely useless. It has one consistently beneficial use. It took me
quite a while to be sure, but I now know that it is 100% effective for one purpose: knowing
whether or not a guy wants to have sex with me.
The inside of the “Enhanced Dorm” wasn't much more appealing than the exterior. Stark
dark hallways with grey tile floors. Only a few bare lightbulbs lit the nearly entirely windowless
interior. At this point I openly gaped in horror at my new home.
Then I saw him. An angry blond streak that hit me like a train. I went sprawling, his body
covering me.
He was warm. Large. As he lifted himself off of me with his muscular arms I locked onto
his blue eyes and Saw-
An angry man. Older. Shouting something. Intense panic and arousal and“-sorry are you okay?” Looking down at me with those bright blue eyes of his.
“Ah. Ha. Fine. I'm fine. Just a flesh wound.” I jumped up. Brushed myself off. Extending my
hand. “Hi, I'm Calvin. I've been assigned to live in this Nazi death camp with you it seems?”
“I'm not staying here.” Flat, icy tone, voice shaking. “They can't do this to me.”
“I already tried arguing-”
“I don't argue. I demand.” His entire 6'4” frame was suddenly very evident. He loomed over me
menacingly.
“Look, if you go looking for a fight they-”
“There's no bed in my room! No desk. No chairs. Just this-” Face contorted with rage, “This foil
everywhere. This isn't a dorm, it's a damn prison!”
“They certainly didn't make much of an effort, I'll admit.”
A girl stood in the doorway. Short, with bright orange hair. She smiled so that her teeth
showed, but it didn't reach her eyes, giving her the look of an African jungle cat.
“It's inhumane.” He pushed past me and I staggered away, “My father's a lawyer. We'll sue.”
“It won't work.” She shook her head, “The precedent in Culver v. the State of New York was that
Enhanced represent an unknown risk and that segregation was therefore acceptable as long
as it didn't measurably cause us harm.”
“Well it's causing me harm! There's no windows! There's no anything! It makes me sick.”
Hyperventilating, the whites of his eyes showed.
“I don't think I'm a risk to anyone.” I laughed. “Generally I struggle against a strong wind.”
“This isn't funny.” The blond turned on me, “How can you joke about this? First my scholarship
now-”
“Ah, you're Jacob Walker.” She nods knowingly, like she just solved a particularly satisfying
puzzle.
“Why the hell do you know my name?” His hands balled into fists and I thought for a moment he
might hit her.
“When they told me I would be here with you guys I Looked at your files.” She snorted, “They
put us in a lockbox but despite my talent being written right in front of her the woman at the
housing access gave me full access to all your information.”
“So you're an Eye?” I asked.
“Yeah. And you?”
“Mind.” Self consciously.
“Ha! We are a dangerous bunch.” She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head,
“You might tell someone what card they're thinking of and I'll read a book over their shoulder.
Now Jacob here is another matter. He's a damn Sp-”
“Don't call me that.” Teeth gritted.
“Spark?” Innocently.
“I'm not-”
“File says you are.”
“It only happened one time and-” He shook his head, looked away. “And it won't happen again.”
“They said you tested extremely high on the psy scale. Feds wanted you bad but daddy-”
“I said, it won't happen again.” He turned and threw open the door. “You two have fun in hell. I'm
going to fix this.”
With that he was gone. My heart was beating fast in my chest. There was just something
about him. A presence.
My talent has come in handy on many occasions. Awkward, obsessed with long dead
authors, outed both as gay and as a Reject, my life in high school was pretty much hell. And as
is usually the case my biggest harassers were generally the members of the school football
team.
But after several iterations of being beaten to a bloody pulp I started to notice something.
A rugged cornerback who always pulled his punches. Who often hung back from the crowd
altogether.
And one day, when the team was really going at it, calling me 'Fag' and shoving me, I
looked up and saw him looking down at me. There was something in his eyes. And just like that
I Heard him, or rather I SawAn incredibly vivid image. Both of us naked in the locker room. Steam swirling around
our bodies. Him moving close to me. Kneeling down. Leaning in andAnother punch brought me back to my senses. The cornerback's eyes had gone wide.
Somehow he knew I Saw.
I didn't say anything. Continued to be beaten until the team got bored and wandered off.
Waited until after school to go looking for him. We kissed. It was lust at first sight.
And that's the story of how I lost my virginity. As you might expect, the cornerback was
never really comfortable with his sexuality. After a few hot hookups we broke it off.
However I met several others by the same method over the years. Like I said, 100%
effective. And lucky for me, since my type are muscular man mountains who'd likely murder me
for hitting on them if I was wrong.
I became comfortable with the fact that I was a Reject whose powers were only useful
for getting sex. After a while no one seemed to notice I was Enhanced at all. I started to forget,
to blend into the background.
“Anyway.” The redhead turned to me, “A Mind huh? So you’re Calvin then.”
“Yes. And although you apparently know quite a lot about me I think I still haven't had the
pleasure of learning your name?”
“Patricia.” She tilted her head to the side, “Or Trish. Or just Sha if you like. Several good friends
call me Sha.”
“Really?”
She smiled the tiger smile and said, “No.”
“Fine. Trisha then.” I peered down the dark corridor, “I'm afraid to look.”
“I went in mine earlier. There was a bed. Sounds like they really went all out for Jacob.”
“Well, a Spark can be destructive, I mean-” I blushed, “Not that it makes it right.”
“Right.” Trisha narrowed her eyes, “'First they came for the Sparks and I did not speak out', that
sort of thing.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” She shook her head, “Clearly you're not reading my mind anyway.”
“I'm a Reject I'm afraid.” Shrugging, “If they had negative psy values I'd be one of those.”
“Really I'm not much higher than you. Two or three psy points tops.”
“That is abnormally low for an Eye. Can you only Look at something if it's two feet in front of you
in large print?”
“Close to that actually.” She flashed her teeth again, “My range is about five feet and I can only
See something if it's not obstructed by an opaque object.”
“Wow.” I laughed, “Sounds useful.”
“You'd be surprised.”
The door slammed open and I jumped. An African American kid stalked inside, looked at us
briefly, and continued past us without stopping. After a minute we heard the sound of another
door slamming.
“Friendly.” I noted.
“Peter.” She shook her head, “Poor kid. Black and a Mover.”
“How many more of us are there? I mean, there aren’t that many Enhanced in the world, right?”
“Five. The ones we met so far and then Thomas.” She shrugged, “It seemed like a lot to me too.
Maybe that's why they went crazy and put us in here? They think it's a conspiracy or
something?”
“Maybe it's a conspiracy by the university. Get us all in one place and experiment on us.”
“Cheery thought.” Her eyes became distant briefly, then cleared, crinkling with mischief, “You
should go Out with me.”
Discussing this with people now, I tend to get a lot of the same questions.
1) Why didn’t the government acknowledge the threat the Enhanced represented
sooner?
I am baffled by this one honestly. In the year 2035 the Enhanced made up 0.01% of the
population. An extremely small minority. And at that time there had already been several federal
cases denying us basic rights in the interest of public safety. The only way the government
could have acknowledged the threat any more clearly would have been to put us all into
concentration camps and slowly murder us all. Historic precedent shows how that sort of thing
usually works out.
2) When did you learn about Project Bloom?
Honestly I still don’t know much about it. The effect became obvious over time. I think I
probably heard the term ‘Project Bloom’ right around the time of the second Reckoning. At the
time we were all still innocent college undergrads worrying about normal undergrad things. And
considering how the Enhanced were being treated at the time, it didn’t seem that strange to us
that they’d try to keep us isolated from the other students.
3) Do you believe there was a conspiracy between the government and Alden Co.?
Everyone really wants to believe this one I think. It makes everything so neat and tidy. I
was and am close friends with Steve and Patricia Alden and I can say with 100% confidence
that they had no idea what was happening. By the time anyone knew anything it was already
too late.
I froze, mouth open, made some noises of negation. She just laughed, eyes more
demonic than ever.
“Not like that. Out. With this.”
She reached into her backpack, pulling out something covered in randomly distributed
wires. In the center there was a light that swirled and occasionally blinked.
“No way.” I reached toward her and she pulled the device back, smile flashing teeth.
“Yes. It’s my little Jumpy.” She stroked her fingers over the wires, “We’re very close.”
“How do you have that?” Trying to act cool but unable to keep the awe out of my voice.
“Dad always has three or four lying around. He doesn’t mind if I play with a few.”
“Your dad just has port jumps just lying around? Are you-” Suddenly it all clicked. My head
began to spin. Holding the wall for support I asked, “You’re- you’re Patricia Alden.”
“Shh.” She lifted a finger to her lips and smiled, “It’s not a big deal. And you didn’t answer my
question. Do you want to go Out with me?”
“Is-is that thing safe?” Eying the lose wires swirling around her hand.
“Perfectly safe. I used it to get here.”
“I’ve never seen one that wasn’t behind a security fence with a guard.”
“Paranoid overkill.” She rolled her eyes, “It’s perfectly stable with the standard containment field.
Look.”
With that she reached into the wires, grabbed the light and pulled. I gasped, throwing my
hands up in front of my face. When I failed to be completely annihilated on the spot I slowly
lowered them.
“See?” The light was sitting in her palm, suspended between two metal prongs attached by a
metal bar, “Very stable.”
“They say those things have the destructive power of a thousand nuclear bombs.”
She rolled her eyes, “Well technically so do you. Matter is energy, you’re made of
matter, therefore you are very dangerous.” She held the little light up to her cheek, stroking it
lovingly, “But my little Jumpy would never hurt anyone, no he wouldn’t.”
I think a lot of people forget that at that time we were unofficially in the middle of our
second Cold War. Territory grabs and energy dominance by the Chinese and Russians in the
2010s and 2020s gradually morphed into the Sino-Russian alliance. They had over two thirds of
the world's population and more than half the world's gross domestic product, and everyone
was rightly afraid they would want it all.
Even before the Enhanced existed there were rumors about new technologies,
advanced weapons research that they were keeping to themselves. Nanotechnology and
robotics both improved by leaps and bounds in that time. People lived in fear of a supervirus
being unleashed on the population at any moment.
It's a miracle that extra-dimensional transport, or 'porting', was discovered in the United
States first. The news was all about the end of the energy crisis and space exploration. Real
'Yay Humanity!' stuff. But of course, shortly after porting there were the port bombs, which lead
to a new international arms race. We were always seconds away from destruction.
So of course they wanted to turn us into weapons. They were afraid of what the
Enhanced were ultimately capable of, and they weren't going to let the SRs find out first. We
were all expendable when the fate of the world hung in the balance.
“How does it work?” My fear was slowly being replaced by curiosity and excitement. Human
teleportation at the push of a button has its appeal.
“Hmm.” She froze for a minute, fingers twitching, biting her lip. Then she smiled and said,
“Nope. Too complicated. Let’s say it’s magic. ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is
indistinguishable from magic’ and all.”
“I’m not an idiot.” I was livid. One thing I never tolerated is condescension. “I understand the
basic idea of temporal relativity.”
“Good then. Then I don’t have to explain it to you.” Smiling again, “So are we going or what?”
“Fine.” I was way too excited to say no, but I kept my voice neutral because of the slight.
“Cool. We’re going to go see my dad.”
“Wait, wh-”
Before the words were out of my mouth the world inverted. It was unlike any experience
I’d ever had at an ED transport terminal. There it was almost like getting your picture taken, a
flash of light and then ‘Boom!’ off you go. This was more like being sucked inside out by a
vacuum cleaner and then ejected upside down.
“Are you alright?”
My head was spinning and I stared intently at the ground, trying not to vomit.
“Fine.” I managed in between deep breaths.
“Ah, do you get motion sick?”
“A bit.” The dizziness was beginning to recede.
“Sorry about that. I should have warned you…”
“Patricia, is that you?” A deep male voice called somewhere nearby.
“Yeah dad, just getting some more of my stuff.” She called back.
“Who’s that with you?”
“Just a weird kid with psychic powers I met in school.”
“Oh.” There was a mild crash, followed by some cursing, followed by a wiry dark haired man
appearing in the doorway. He kicked something on the floor back into the room he had just
exited, extended his hand and said, “Hi. I’m Steve Alden.”
“I figured.” I said politely, trying not to stare at his half unbuttoned shirt and randomly stained
pants.
“I haven’t had a chance to meet many Enhanced persons besides Patricia.” He gave a cold
eyed smile reminiscent of his daughter’s, “What is it that you do?”
“He’s a Mind.” Trisha’s voice was muffled, as she had wandered away into another room at
some point in the exchange.
“I’m talking to your friend dear, don’t be rude.” He shook his head, “I tried to civilize her, but after
her mother died-”
“The car accident.” It was a well known fact that Mary Alden was killed by a teenager who failed
to stop at a red light. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was more than ten years ago.” His lips thinned to a line, “And I’m still fighting to make sure
what happened to her never has to happen again. If the government would just-”
“Are you complaining about the government again Daddy?” Patricia reappeared as suddenly as
she had disappeared, as if by magic. And since she had her own teleportation device ‘magic’
was a possibility.
“Ah, Patricia, you were gone so I didn’t show you.”
He waved his hand toward the wall and a internet video started playing, “-have
confirmed an increase in security at ED transport terminals after the recent terrorist attacks. The
suspects used transdermal implants to bypass the scanners and create dangerous port
resonances. A failsafe in the device was activated, but several employees at the facility were
injured by the initial-”
Angrily he closed his fist and the video disappeared. “Increased security! A few people
were injured. No one was killed. The failsafe worked. There have been zero fatalities in the last
year. Zero. Compared to thousands of fatalities from car accidents per year. But still the
government-”
“Is stupid and dumb and blah, blah.” Trisha waved her hand and another video popped up. It
was a kitten chasing a cleaning robot. “I like this one better.”
He shook his head. “You see how she is? Completely untameable.”
“I got that impression.” The cleaning robot in the video sprayed water on the kitten, making it
yelp adorably and run away, and the video ended. Mr. Alden just stared angrily off into space.
“Oh, also daddy, the school put us in some kind of bunker so I am taking my 3Desire.”
“Wait, what?” For the first time his eyes focused and he seemed truly present in the room.
“Patricia, do you need me to-”
“Ungh, Daddy, no!” She rolled her eyes, “Don’t get all power trippy about this. It’s fine. Anyway
Jacob’s already run off to tattle.”
“And who’s Jakob?”
“Another psychic kid with a rich lawyer father.” She put her finger thoughtfully to her lip, “His
psych profile says he has issues with authority.”
“Meaning you already read all his files.” He sighed and turned toward me, “Again I apologize
profusely for my daughter’s behavior. She’s-”
“Untameable.” I agreed.
“Did you-” His face paled, “Did you read my mind?”
“Ah, No. I-”
“He’s not that good of a Mind, Daddy.” She said, smiling sweetly.
There were warning signs though. Over the course of ten years the Enhanced
population grew dramatically. The number of Elites also grew, as well as the relative number of
Elites. All this information was freely available. It wasn’t like anyone was hiding it from us.
And of course there were the Oracles. Like many of us they couldn’t use their powers on
command. Still, of all the Enhanced they were the most likely to be dismissed as crazy, or to be
outright committed.
After the psy score was developed, people finally started to believe in their powers, but
nobody believed everything they said. The things they saw, they seemed impossible. Deluded
visions out of insane nightmares.
But of course they weren’t. If anything the visions understated the horror that was
coming. Or maybe the Oracles who saw the whole truth went too mad to tell anyone about it.
Trisha and I spent the better part of the next hour back at the dorm, printing various
things with her 3Desire. It was one of the nicer models. Unlike any that I had previously seen, it
could print electronic components. So we experimented with different things like clocks and hot
plates in addition to simpler decorations and furnishings. Decorating was therapeutically
soothing after spending time in the chaotic Alden household.
“Still no Thomas.” Trisha remarked casually, as we were hanging some curtains over the bare
windows of the common area.
“Maybe he’s not the orientation type.” I focused intently on my curtain, not wanting to encourage
her mischief.
“You know he was committed.” Smiling, knowing I couldn’t ignore such tantalizing bait.
“Oh.” I was determined that I wasn’t going to give in.
“Come on! You can’t pretend you’re not curious.”
“I’m sure if it’s important he’ll tell us himself.”
“You are the most boring Enhanced person ever!” She flopped into a blob of foam and it formed
itself into a chair around her. “Is your power reading only the most boring of boring thoughts?”
“No.” The curtain was a little sticky on the top, but if I didn’t fix it in the window it would become
firm, or worse, adhere to a random surface. I began carefully lining it up with the windowsill.
“He’s an Oracle.” She continued, ignoring my indifference, “And everyone knows they’re all
crazy.”
“If you believe everything they say about the Enhanced, then all of us should be in cells.” I
growled.
“Sorry. No offense.” For a moment she almost looked contrite, and then mischief filled her
green eyes again and she smiled. “I guess I touched a nerve.”
Suddenly the door popped open, narrowly missing me and my nearly complete curtain.
There was a flash of gold and those beautiful blue eyes. I was too overwhelmed by his presence
to mind that he’d nearly flattened me.
“Pack your things.” He gestured at all of the 3D printed items we’d been working so hard on,.
“We’re leaving.”
“Did you tattle to your Daddy and get them to give us a new dorm?”
He turned the full force of his gaze on Trisha. Her smile faded, and for a moment she
looked legitimately scared.
“No.” He turned and strode purposefully toward the rooms. “My father made arrangements for
us to rent a house nearby. Temporarily. While he works on our case.”
“So we have a case now?” Trisha couldn’t help but be snarky, but her smile still hadn’t returned
to her face.
Ignoring her, Jacob began knocking on the doors in the short hallways. When he got to
Peter’s room the door flew open with a force that made my near flattening seem tame.
“What?” Peter’s face was like a thundercloud before the storm.
“Pack your things. We’re not staying here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Tension thrummed between them like electricity.
“Let him stay if he wants.” Trisha called, turning the force of those eyes on herself again.
“Anyway Thomas still isn’t here. Someone should stay to tell him where we went.”
“Fine.” Jacob conceded grudgingly. He and Peter shared another angry look and then he turned
back to the others.
“Follow me.” He said simply, and then strode purposefully out the door.
“Charming.” Trisha grumbled.
“Isn’t he?” I sighed.
“If that’s what it takes to get your interest, I’m glad I don’t have it.” Her voice was sharp but there
was no real sting to it. Still it grated.
“He got us out of this hell hole, didn’t he?” I pushed past her, “You could try to be a little
grateful.”
“Peter might have the right idea. ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’ and all that.” Despite her
words she followed me out, carrying the 3Desire with her.
“I don’t think Jacob is Greek.” I joked. And for once Trisha had no come back.
So we narrowly escaped spending our freshman year of college in a concrete box.
Knowing what I know now I’m sure it was full of surveillance equipment and other things to keep
track of us. And maybe in the end if we had stayed there it would have prevented some of the
things that happened. But at the time all I felt was relief.
Sometime in the late 2020s, with the advent of widespread nanotechnology, and the
growing robot workforce, homelessness and poverty functionally ceased to exist in the
developed world. Materials and labor were cheap. Time had become the valuable commodity.
The result was that even the simplest homes were luxurious by the standards of the
twentieth century. Everyone had food on demand, some kind of vid screen, and at least one
personal robot for cleaning or even child care. What had been a crazy dream became the
expected reality overnight.
This is important context in order to understand how impressive the house Jacob’s father
rented for us was. Neither Trisha nor myself came from a lower class background. But when we
saw the house all we did for several minutes was gape in awe.
It had an underground garage. An indoor swimming pool. Eight bedrooms and six
bathrooms and more than twice as many robots as were needed to clean them all. A study, a
library, a common room, a game room(with full virtual reality set), a small personal gym and two
kitchens (one on each of the upper levels). I think there may have been a helicopter pad on the
roof, but I never saw anyone use it.
The basement was also furnished and for whatever reason that is where Jacob decided
he wanted his room to be. Later I found out that it was actually not only a basement but also an
official fallout shelter. It was kind of funny after Jacob had so strenuously objected to the
‘bunker’ that the university had chosen for us.
My bedroom was on the second floor, near the library. Trisha, for whatever reason,
chose to take two bedrooms, one on the first floor and one on the second, because “why
wouldn’t I take two rooms?” Honestly I don’t know why the rest of us never did.
After the initial shock of the house wore off, Trisha and I were sitting in the common
room. She was casually flipping through cat vids on one wall while I watched news on another.
The U.S. president was flying to China for some kind of important diplomatic meeting. Various
internet personalities injected their opinion about the situation, occasionally also with cats.
“It’s not over you know.”
I jumped a little, not expecting any conversation. A dark silhouette stood in the doorway.
He was the one who had spoken.
“The school messing with us. Those rooms, that was only the beginning.”
“What-”
But he was already moving. He pushed past up and moved down the hallway.
“Thomas I guess.” Trisha said absently, still focused on her cats. “Told you he was crazy.”
2
“Most people learn to save themselves by artificially limiting the content of
consciousness.” - Thomas Ligotti
I used to keep a list of things that Thomas would say. I jokingly called it ‘The Prophecies
of Thomas the Creepy’. I started calling him that early on, since his name was Thomas Crespi,
which sounded similar, and because he really was creepy.
The first entry in ‘The Prophecies’ was the first time I saw him, after that brief first
meeting. For a while after that he kind of disappeared. No one saw him around the house. Then
one day I walked into the common area and he was sitting there, writing in his notebook.
Thomas was a very Oracle looking Oracle. Dark sunken eyes, pale skin. A penchant for
black clothing that hung off his emaciated frame. He looked a bit like an animated skeleton.
“Hey.” I tried to inject friendliness into my voice even though honestly walking in on him
unexpectedly had actually given me a pretty bad scare.
His eyes flicked up from his notebook. They were pale grey, and seemed to be looking
at some far off point in the distance. It seemed more like he was looking through than at me.
“I guess you’re pretty busy.” I smiled in the placating way someone smiles at a bear they
accidentally meet in the woods, “I’ll just-”
“Calvin, puppet master.” His voice was deep, cold. I think the word is ‘sepulchral’. It suited him.
“Actually my name’s Calvin Harrison.” I started backing away. My stomach felt like a heavy
weight. “And I really should-”
“Your wicked tongue will cause you trouble.” He stood, abandoning the notebook on the coffee
table, “The puppets dance to your songs but you cast them aside to burn in the flames. When
the music stops your mouth will fill with ash. You would do well to be careful what you say.”
“Thats- good advice.” I hit the door to the stairs and gasped. The hair stood up on my arms. It
felt several degrees cooler in the room.
His eyes flicked from my face, to the floor, then away. There was no emotion in his face,
just a perfectly blank mask. If I hadn’t heard him speak I would not have believed it was possible
for his face to move from its perfect bland flatness.
We stood like that for a minute. Me watching him. Him looking off into the distance.
Saying nothing.
Then I turned and fled up the stairs to my room. Needless to say I avoided Thomas after
that. Unfortunately he had a habit of turning up when I wasn’t expecting it.
In my first year of college I was an incorrigible flirt. My power took away all the
uncertainty in terms of attraction. If they wanted me I knew. And for a while I was satisfied with
taking sex wherever I could get it.
After a while though, I got bored. So I invented this game. I had a stable of pick up lines
that I’d honed from years of hooking up, and they worked a large fraction of the time. So
instead, I decided that I’d only sleep with guys that I picked up using lyrics from popular songs.
I know. It’s cheesy. And dumb. But it was fun. And surprisingly a lot of guys were really
into it.
If someone comes up to you and tells you, “Your eyes are like endless pools that I want
to sink myself into.”, you pretty much know they’re full of shit. Of course if you’re horny you may
not care, but no one really believes that kind of hokey nonsense.
I’d go up to them and I’d say, “Hey Mickey, you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my
mind, Hey Mickey.” and invariably they’d crack a smile. It was a great icebreaker.
It didn’t hurt that we had gotten a bit of a reputation. After Jacob pulled his stunt and got
us moved off campus there was a total media shitstorm. Even if I’d had any interest in attending
the few classes I had that weren’t entirely online I would have struggled. We literally could not
get out the door, there were so many people.
Luckily, unlike the bunker, our house was fully equipped. We had cleaning robots,
3Desires in each room, and a top of the line ComplEat. It gets a little old eating nothing but
ComplEat RealMeals for an entire week, but we weren’t exactly suffering.
Peter probably suffered a lot worse. The press was really interested to know why he
didn’t choose to come live with us, and what that might mean. So they bothered him just as
much as they bothered us. And after Trisha took her 3Desire the bunker was basically empty. I
don’t know what he did for food. He eventually gave up and moved in with us anyway, after all
that.
Anyway, all of that attention turned out to be good for picking up guys. So good that I
barely had time for anything but sleeping, eating and having sex. For the most part I avoided
bringing them to our apartment, even when they seemed really interested. Didn’t want them to
get too attached.
One day I was hanging out with this guy I’d picked up with a line from one of those
infinite sampling songs, where they get some phrase from an internet video and it just repeats
over and over. It was, “couldn’t we-couldn’t we-couldn’t we-learn to-love-love-love-”. Just the
most inane thing ever. Still in this case it worked pretty well.
I don’t really remember his name. Probably wouldn’t have spent so much time with him
except it turned out we both had the same English class. That was one of the classes I was
actually required to attend every so often, you know, since I was majoring in it and all. Right up
until all of us were officially banned from taking real classes forever anyway.
Since it was a real class of course there was almost no one in it. Maybe thirty or forty
people. But for some reason the professor always went out of his way to ask me annoying
questions.
“Mr. Harrison, what is this character’s motive?” And other inane questions were very common.
I’m sure he saw me in a video somewhere, after all the publicity. He knew I was one of
the Enhanced kids. But that wasn’t the only reason. Jacob was also in my class and he never
asked him a single time.
No. I’m positive it was because I was gay. It was public knowledge, some of the vids
mentioned it and he knew.
I had learned he and his husband had been happily married for almost twenty years. My
theory was that he was one of those old school gays who really hate guys like me. They feel like
if we don’t settle down, if we sleep around, that we’re just perpetuating gay stereotypes. It’s
hypocritical. They wanted the freedom to love who they wanted but they want to deny me that
same right.
I think discrimination is like energy. You can change it from one kind to another kind, but
in the end, it never really goes away.
After Peter moved in, he and I actually kind of bonded.
One day I was leaving my room and I passed by the library. I heard the sound of some
old documentary vids playing so I poked my head in. Peter was sitting there with two different
vids playing on two different walls. He must have had a different ear bud in each ear or
something. I don’t know how he could concentrate on both, but he clearly was, and that wasn’t
the only time I saw him do it. The kid was definitely smart.
The vids caught my eye. There are some uplifting historical documentaries about war,
but these weren’t that. These were very graphic. Lots of images of bodies and explosions.
“Cheerful.” I commented, mostly to myself. With two earbuds in I assumed he couldn’t hear me.
“People try to ignore the unpleasant things.” He turned toward me, “And that’s why they’re
weak.”
“If graphic violence is what you’re into, there are some pretty terrifying vids of the fighting in the
South China sea-”
“This is not a joke!” Peter removed his earbuds and the vids stopped. “Do you know anyone
who has been to war?”
“No one goes to war anymore.” I was officially getting annoyed with his condescending tone.
“We just send robots and nanites to kill people now.”
“If no one goes to war anymore, why is the government collecting Elites?” He actually rolled his
eyes. I was livid.
“They aren’t collecting them. A lot of Elites chose to work for the government because they pay
so well.”
“That’s what they want you to believe.”
“Who’s they? There’s no-”
A vid started playing. He didn’t even wave his hand. I have to assume it was a
manifestation of his power.
It looked a lot like the documentary he had been watching, but it was clearly more
recent. Instead of gunfire and explosions there were nano clouds and drones. The people also
tended to explode in showers of blood instead of writhing in agony on the ground. A sort of
progress I guess.
This played for a while. I was getting bored and about to ask what I was supposed to be
seeing when it suddenly became very obvious. Everything, the people, the drones, the nano
clouds, flickered. Then suddenly vanished. Nothing left but rocks and dirt.
The camera got wobbly for a bit, like someone or something was backing away very
quickly. A figure appeared in the corner of the frame. It was a child, no more than six or seven
years old.
The child turned. Seemed to notice something. They raised their hand andThe video ended.
“That video’s clearly been altered.” I said, once I got over the initial shock.
“I know for a fact that it wasn’t.”
“You can’t possibly know that.” I was basically yelling at this point.
“I do!” Suddenly he was standing in front of me, and I saw that we were almost the same height.
“I know because they took him too!”
“They took who?”
“My brother.” He looked at the wall. “The government took him. ‘For his own protection’. Like
they’re always saying. He’s the one who sends me these vids.”
“You mean- your brother’s an Elite then?”
“My brother is someone with powers who wasn’t smart enough to keep them hidden and whose
parents didn’t have enough money to correct that mistake.” His voice was a low growl. “When
they tested him they tested me too, and if my psy score hadn’t been so low, I’d be there now.”
“It’s impossible, what you’re saying.” I shook my head. “If the government was taking people
against their will we’d hear about it. People wouldn’t put up with it.”
“You’d be surprised what people will put up with if it means they can go on living their lives.”
Another video came on. People being tortured during the Spanish Inquisition. Another
video. Artist renderings of slaves packed into slave ships. Another video. Emaciated Jewish
prisoners in World War II death camps.
“Okay, okay. I get it.” I waved at the wall and the videos stopped. “So what? How is watching all
these old documentaries going to help your brother?”
“It won’t.” His hands clenched into fists. “I can’t change anything. All I can hope to do is to learn
as much as I can, and convince as many people as I can, until finally there’s enough of us that
they can’t ignore us anymore.”
Peter had this insane intensity on the subject of his brother. I decided early on that even
if I didn’t really believe in his conspiracy nonsense, it was probably better to play along. Never
mess with a true believer. Anybody who can believe in something without question is clearly
dangerous.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m convinced I guess.” I shrugged noncommittally, and smiled.
“Though I don’t really think I’m that useful to your cause.”
“Are you serious?” His eyes were wide, then wary. “Don’t joke about this.”
“No I believe you. After what happened with the bunker-” And with Thomas, I thought, though I
didn’t say that, “I am starting to understand how the rules of the world don’t really seem to apply
to us.”
“Thanks. That means a lot actually.” He reached out his hand. I smiled again and took it and for
the first time since I had met him he smiled back.
Anyway, back to my last actual real university lecture. For whatever reason, that day my
English professor was really laying into me. “What is the main tension in this story?” or “Can you
explain the symbolism in this passage?” Just an endless series of questions.
So I was pretty annoyed. And I couldn’t really control my power very well, I really
couldn’t. But I was really building up this irritation, and wanting to get back at him, and it just sort
of happened. I SawThe professor was down on his knees. Tied up. Gagged.
I stood over him. Pulled sharply on his ropes and kissed him.
“Please master.” He begged.
“No.” I taunted.
My fingers reached out. Grabbed a nipple. Pulled.
“Mr. Harrison?”
His voice pulled me back into the present. A smile slowly spread on my face.
I admit what I did was childish. If I’d had a few minutes to think about it I probably
wouldn’t have done it. But a cute guy was sitting next to me and I was feeling kind of cocky.
“Symbolism, you said, right professor?”
I leaned forward in my seat in anticipation.
“That’s right.” His voice wobbled slightly. Uncertain.
“I think all these questions symbolize how badly you want me to tie you up and spank you like
the bad boy you are.”
The room erupted in laughter. The professor flushed bright red. His mouth opened and
closed a few times, but no sound came out. My cute guy was grinning a cute guy grin at me that
made it all seem so perfect.
Of course, since we were all famous, the class knew I could read minds. And from the
professor’s reaction, it was obvious I’d hit a nerve. And of course he must have known how it
seemed, and that just made him turn even redder.
“C-Class dismissed” He stammered.
The class burst into applause. It made the professor blush even harder. Then, clumsily
picking up his stack of old books, he stormed out.
The laughing continued for quite a while. Then people started slowly filtering out. Soon it
was just me and my current fling.
“So.” His voice was a seductive whisper, “Do you want to spank me?”
“I don’t know. Have you been bad?”
“Very bad.” He smiled and I pulled him in for a rough kiss.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. I glanced quickly in that direction. Saw
Jacob standing there, watching us, turning a similar shade of red as the professor had
previously. Except it was clearly not embarrassment he was feeling.
Like I said, I was feeling cocky. But even so what happened next was very, very, stupid.
Impulsively I broke the kiss and called out, “Want to join us Jacob?”
First there was a blinding light. Then a wave of intense heat. Then a loud siren started
beeping insistently.
“Crap!” I tried to stand. Fell back as my kissing companion rushed past me. The smoke was
very thick and I couldn’t see, only feel the tremendous heat. I tried to stand again, and again I
fell back, buffeted by a wave of flames.
It turns out that chair cushions catch fire really easily. And these weren’t even the new
nano-material chairs, which will put themselves out. No, the university believed in tradition, and
that includes old fashioned padded chairs in the lecture halls.
Just as I was beginning to really panic I felt arms around me. A glowing, naked man
looked down into my eyes. His body was perfect in every way, like a statue made of gold.
He lifted me up and immediately the feeling of heat disappeared. It was then that I
recognized Jacob. His broad shoulders, his face - and those eyes. Even glowing gold he had
the same intensity in his eyes.
We moved through the flames like it was water. I tried not to think about it, keeping my
eyes on his face. It would have been hard for me to look away anyway.
A small crowd had gathered outside by the time we exited. There was no sign of my cute
guy. So much for learning to “love-love”.
Jacob gently lowered me to the ground. His eyes closed. In a flash the gold was gone.
He swayed. His body collapsed on top of mine.
I can’t say I entirely minded him being on top of me. All that muscle is a little heavy
though.
After initially seeing so much of Trisha, we barely spoke in the first few months of our
first year of college. I would see her sometimes wandering the halls but then if I looked around
later she was gone. It is hard to keep track of someone who can literally be anywhere she wants
at any time.
At some point I started to notice that the study was filling up with a lot of equipment and
things. Old laptops and circuits, ancient technology like that, but some new stuff too. Cans and
cans of nano spray, robot parts, even what looked like some complicated stasis field equipment.
Then one day I walked by and she was actually there. She had a bunch of tools
suspended around her (a wasteful use of a stasis field generator, but she did also carry port
jumps like they were pocket screens), and was spinning a screwdriver between her fingers. Her
red hair was sticking up wildly around her face. It looked like she hadn’t brushed it in a while.
“What is this all for?”
She jumped at the sound of my voice, dropping the screwdriver.
“Don’t scare me like that!” She reached out and tapped something inside a nest of random
wires. “These things are very delicate.”
“Should you just poke it like that then?”
At that moment the stasis field chose to spark and stop working. All of the previously
suspended tools fell to the ground with a loud crash.
“Oops.” A nontrivial amount of smoke was coming from the generator pack. “Stupid black
market stasis generators.”
“Why do you have a black market stasis generator?” I waved at the smoke around my face
absently. “Couldn’t you easily afford a real one?”
“My father could easily afford one.” She smiled one of her evil smiles. “And there are some
things I don’t want him to know about.”
“Do these things threaten your safety or the safety of the other members of this house?” When
the smoke cleared I noticed that there was a decently large scorch mark on the floor that hadn’t
been there before.
“Probably-” She squinted her eyes and rubbed her chin thoughtfully, then smiled, “Not?”
“Where are you even getting all this stuff?” Now that I was standing in the room I noticed several
more terrifying items. A one touch welder, portable manipulator, even some taser balls for
whatever horrifying reason.
“I worked it out with my professor’s in the physics and engineering department.” She waved her
hand vaguely at the junk, “I showed them some of the stuff I was working on and convinced
them to let me do independent study instead of coming to class.”
“You-you can’t do that. Why would you do that?” The whole point of in person lecture classes
was that you couldn’t get out of them. One on one time with the professors was why people paid
to come to college at all (besides the drinking and parties of course).
“To get access to all of this stuff?” The tone in her voice indicated that I was clearly one of the
stupidest people on the earth for not understanding this obvious point.
“I don’t believe that a professor gave you this-” I kicked the stasis pack with my foot,
“Questionable black market technology.”
“Well-” Trisha squinted her eyes again, turning her head a bit one way, then the other. “I guess
technically I did not get all of it- legally.”
“Are you or any of us in danger of going to jail because of this?” The volume of my voice
surprised even me.
“You worry too much Calvin.” Trisha turned her attention to the stasis pack. She had gotten the
screwdriver back from somewhere and was busily unscrewing the top. “Some rules were meant
to be broken.”
“Well, when the police show up here we’ll know who to blame, I guess.” And then I shook my
head and walked away.
Of course I was wrong about that. When the police showed up the first time it was
because of me.
“Go away.”
“You can’t ignore me.” The box slipped. I adjusted my grip, “I brought pizza.”
“I said go away.”
“Look. What happened wasn’t your fault. I-”
There was a loud bang as something hit the door, hard. I stepped back, nearly dropping
the pizza box again.
“You don’t scare me!” I kicked the door, “I nearly burned to death today and you are trying to
scare me with that?”
“Damn it!” The door swung open as I was preparing to kick it again. The slippery pizza box
wobbled but did not go down. My pizza handling skills are excellent.
“Thank you.” I handed him the pizza. “Can we please talk?”
He looked down at the pizza. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Then back at me. “It won’t
happen again.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that one before.” I pushed past him into the room. “But I’d rather that
the next time it ‘doesn’t happen’ that I don’t almost die.”
“Will you stop saying that!” The pizza box crumpled in his hands, spewing little pieces of meat
onto the carpet. One of the cleaning robots began industriously vacuuming it up.
“Stop saying what? That I almost died?”
“I carried you out. It was fine.” The last part was almost a whisper. His eyes were far away,
empty of their usual intensity. He almost looked small.
“Can you at least acknowledge what would have happened if I hadn’t told them I started the
fire?”
“No one believes that you did it.” He sat down heavily on one of the plush furniture balls, and it
molded itself to his body.
“It doesn’t matter. The university can’t prove you did it, and I said I did it, so I did it.”
Jacob’s little fire ended up gutting the first floor of the English department. It was pretty
noticeable. As I lay on the ground, being suffocated by Jacob’s body, a sizeable crowd had
already gathered to watch the destruction. By the afternoon it was on every major news station.
Oops.
A half dozen firetrucks and some angry campus police showed up eventually. I gave
them my report. My irresponsibility when showing off had started the fire. But instead of telling
them about Jacob I said that it was one of those finicky black market stasis packs.
I guess I had Trisha to thank for the idea. She was a consistent source of plausible fire
hazards.
Anyway, the story spread pretty fast. Basically there were three camps of people.
1)
The people who thought the whole incident was funny and that burning down the
English department was a good joke on my part
2) The people who thought that Jacob did it, that both of us were dangerous, and that he
and I should both be kicked off campus permanently
and 3) The people who thought that Jacob and I should both be taken by the government ‘for
our own safety’ and/or killed
The university seemed to settle somewhere between 1) and 2). We didn’t get kicked out.
However after that all of us were banned from attending classes in any of the lecture halls on
the grounds that the Enhanced were clearly an ‘unknown element’ and that the university was
taking ‘all necessary precautions’.
The police came and questioned us all. In the end they didn’t find any evidence that we’d
planned anything. Miraculously they didn’t ask to search the house, and so they didn’t find any
of Trisha’s contraband.
We were all assigned new special one on one classes with our professors. Special
classes in special facilities to meet our special needs. Monitored at every possible opportunity to
make sure nothing bad would happen again.
It meant that from then on I would have all my English classes in a tiny room. Isolated
from the other students. With the professor that I had humiliated. Yay.
Despite that I felt like we’d gotten off pretty lightly. I felt bad for the others though. When
Trisha found out that she had been banned from the science and engineering buildings she
howled for several hours.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s not like it really made a difference.” I took the pizza from him. Helped myself to a
slice. “But anyway, it really was my fault. I mean-” I paused, chewing, carefully considering what
to say. “When I met you, I Saw something in your memory. I mean, I knew-”
“You Saw that?” Jacob shot bolt upright. A little gold wind whipped around his body. The
temperature in the room went up dramatically.
“Almost nothing! Barely anything!” I clung to the wall, hiding behind a curtain.. Everything in the
room was nano, unlike the stupid lecture hall.
“Sorry!” The wind died down. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry-”
“No. It’s okay.” I slowly came out from behind the curtain, “I think this proves it.”
“Proves what?” The temperature in the room did not change but his face burned crimson.
“That this thing can be controlled. I mean, just now you didn’t even singe my hair.” I ran my
hands through it dramatically to demonstrate.
“Oh.” He looked away, “I thought you meant-”
“That I thought you were gay?”
That time the temperature did go up a bit. However there was no wind. Progress.
“I’m not gay.” His voice shook, “I like girls. I enjoy having sex with girls.”
“There’s no reason you can’t enjoy both.” I made quotes with my fingers. “It’s called being
‘bisexual.’”
“Nooooarrghh.” Collapsing on his bed he smothered his face with a pillow and moaned.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.” I rescued another piece of pizza from the
abandoned box.
“If I can choose either men or women,” Jacob’s face protruded only a little below the pillow,
making him look like he was wearing a strange fluffy mask, “Then why can’t I make the right
choice?”
“The right choice?!” My pizza fell from my fingers and messily splattered on the ground. The
cleaning robot gave a ding of dismay and fled the room to find reinforcements.
“Ah.” The pillow slid off his face as he quickly sat up, “I mean-”
“It is pretty clear what you meant!” Three little robots were now busily whirring around my feet.
“No, you don’t understand! The first time this happened I burned down someone’s house!”
The statement hung in the air for a few minutes. Jacob looked away, his face pale and
drawn. Then slowly the words started to pour out.
“It was a friend of mine. We had a few classes. Played on the same soccer team. He was
always hanging around me. I had a lot of other friends though. And we all hung out all the time. I
didn’t think anything of it.”
He paused. Shook his head.
“There was a party at his house that night. His parents were gone and everything. I got way too
drunk. I tried to take my keys and drive home and he wouldn’t let me. Made me stay on his
couch.”
His voice got higher. His eyes wide.
“I woke up and he was touching me. It wasn’t like that, I mean, I-I vomited on myself I guess.
And he took off my shirt and was cleaning me and-”
He started shaking.
“I was still pretty drunk. He was in his boxers. I didn’t think. I just reached out and I-I touched
him. Lightly at first, and then when he didn’t say anything, a little more. And then-”
Tears formed in his eyes. He looked down.
“We were kissing. And he was touching me and I was touching him and it felt so, so good and
then-”
He looked up at me.
“Then my father was there. I guess he called him after I was vomiting or whatever. I’m not
certain. But he was there and he pulled me off of him and he was screaming and-”
His body was visibly wracked by sobbing.
“He was so angry and so-so- disappointed!” He began slowly rocking, “And I felt so ashamed, I
felt like I would die from it and then-”
The sobbing stopped. Jacob looked down at his hands. Held them up in front of his
eyes. Looked up at me again.
“Then the fire came. And it all burned.”
Jacob looked like a puppet with its strings cut. The light had gone out of his eyes. He
looked lost.
“Oh. My. God.” The words were so inadequate. Words are often inadequate in the face of true
human emotions.
“I burned down his house. I was lucky his parents weren’t there. Lucky that they both got out
alive.” He choked on the words, looked moments away from breaking into tears again.
“Jacob.” I felt close to tears myself. “it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my fault! It was my fault because I made the wrong choice! My father-”
“Your father is an asshole.”
“No, you don’t understand,” He sighed, pinching his nose, eyes regaining a little of their usual
intensity. “In my family there are certain expectations. We set high goals and we achieve them.
And one thing my father expects is-”
“You care too much what your father thinks.” A cleaning robot had begun washing my leg, but I
think I managed to sound pretty angry.
“My father is one of the greatest men who ever lived.” His eyes shone when he said it. He
meant it.
“Okay. I get that your dad means a lot to you.” I walked over to the bed and sat down, “But
whatever he expects, being in denial about this is clearly not an option for you.”
“Damn it!” He flopped backwards and covered his face with the pillow again. Then more quietly,
“Don’t you think I know that.”
“I think I could help you.”
The pillow retreated slightly, revealing a single eye and mouth. “Help how?”
I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively, then smiled.
He threw the pillow at me.
“I just explained what happened to you! There is no way I am doing anything-”
“I wasn’t trying to seduce you. Trust me, you would know if I was trying to seduce you.” I
wiggled my eyebrows again.
“Okay.” He was still cautious, like I was some kind of gay snake trying to bite him, “Then what?”
I reached over, touching his hand. As he watched I moved my hand up his arm. Letting
myself enjoy the feeling of him.
He gasped. A burst of golden wind pushed me backwards. His eyes had gone
completely gold.
“Jacob, Jacob, it’s okay, I-”
And then it dissipated. He shuddered, then looked up at me angrily.
“You said you wouldn’t-”
“And I wasn’t. I didn’t do anything.” I held up my hands as if I were under arrest, “I’m pretty sure
even in Mississippi that isn’t considered sex.”
“You really wouldn’t-” He looked away. Blushed. “You really don’t want to do that with me?”
“I promise I won’t.” I couldn’t tell him I didn’t want to sleep with him. That would have been a lie.
“So that’s it? Your plan is just to touch me until- what exactly?”
“It’s not touching. I flirted with you. Clearly what is triggering you right now is just flirting.” My
face split wide open with a grin. “And as it turns out that is my specialty.”
I never told any of the housemates about the first time that I heard a prophecy from
Thomas. Still I talked to Peter and Trisha on several occasions and they mentioned he said
things to them sometimes. Nothing overly specific. Just ‘eerie Oracle crap’ according to Peter
and ‘oogie boogie nonsense’ according to Trisha.
“One time he said something like-” Trisha did a good impression of Thomas. She’d make her
face very flat and droop her eyelids just right. “ ‘You see many doors, and you think they will
lead you to the information you seek. But beware. Behind every door is the lurker at the
threshold.”
I laughed really hard at that one. “Who even says ‘Beware’? It’s like something out of an
old horror movie.”
“I know!” We both almost died laughing about that.
3
“Nothing belongs to us. Everything is something that is rented out. Our very
heads are filled with rented ideas passed on from one generation to the next.” Thomas Ligotti
Red. I remember how red it was. The human body contains a surprising amount of
blood.
“We have to call an ambulance.”
“No, you can’t. Don’t.” Her protests were getting fainter.
“Who did this to you?”
“No time.” She reached out. Began writing something on the floor in her own blood.
“Why won’t you let me help you!” I was covered in blood. It was everywhere. My clothes, my
hands, even my face where I’d pressed it to her chest.
“No one can help me.” Her head lolled to the side. “It’s too late.”
The light went out of her eyes. I could feel it. Until then I didn’t realize that I could feel
people’s minds. Not until I felt one disappear forever.
“No.” I pressed my face against her. “Why-”
“Calvin.”
It felt like I had swallowed a block of ice. I looked up. She was standing in the doorway.
Standing there, looking down at her own corpse.
“How-”
“No time for questions. What did I say to you?”
“You-” It was hard to get the words out. My mind was rebelling, trying to deny reality. “You were
writing something.”
“Writing? Where-” then she saw the bloody letters, “Oh my God. I know what happened.”
She turned and walked out the door. I looked up. Looked back down at the body.
And then it just vanished. Blood, body, everything. I was left, sitting by myself, crying,
staring at nothing.
That was the first time I saw Trisha die.
I think there are some things that are very basically necessary for human health and
happiness. Food, shelter, all of that of course. But on top of that, we need to be able to interact.
Humans need other people to listen and respond to our thoughts in order to make sense of the
world.
And of course there’s sex.
After the school forbade us from attending classes, that suddenly became very hard.
We weren’t allowed within a certain distance of most of the buildings. Some people would
actively avoid us if they saw us on campus.
Worst of all, it got really hard to hook up with guys without taking them back to our
house. My plans to help Jacob with his powers definitely didn’t include taking the chance he
might randomly walk in on me with some guy again. Rather than deal with the mess that would
have caused, I just started going out into the city.
Skirbeck is pretty close to the university anyway. I heard that the university was even
originally founded there, way back when, but it burnt down. So because people a few hundred
years ago were playing with fire it takes about ten minutes to get there now, if you go by stasis
car. And, as much as Trisha’s father hated them, our underground garage was fully stocked.
That’s when I first started to hear a lot of rumors. A bunch of big unsolved crimes.
Fighting in the streets.
Sometimes the guys I dated like to bring it up because they thought I’d be interested.
One guy even claimed to have seen it first hand.
“I was walking down State Street and I saw someone lift a bag. The woman just started yelling
her head off like, “Hey! Stop!” and everything.”
“They must have had some black market nano because the bag didn’t even try to go back to
her. Or maybe they used their power somehow? I don’t know. So of course everyone was
flipping out and like, grabbing at themselves to keep anything else from being lifted right? But
things were flying out all over. I lost a pocket screen I think. Not one of those cheap Yallo ones
either. A nice new Gabbo.”
“But then there was like, this flash of light? And all the stuff that hadn’t already disappeared kind
of crashed to the ground. Then this girl ran by, covered all in black. She yelled ‘Sorry’ and
dumped a bunch of the other stuff on the ground and then, like, disappeared.”
“So yeah. Things are totally crazy with the Es in ‘Beck right now.”
So that is how I first found out about what what they call the ‘mask phenomena’.
Otherwise known as ‘superhero and supervillain wannabes’. Basically people who decided that
because they were Enhanced, the laws didn’t apply to them.
Or basic fashion sense. Nobody looks good in spandex.
Going out to the city wasn’t my only source of social interaction. Jacob and I still had our
class together. Needless to say I wasn’t enthusiastic about it. I was however far more
enthusiastic about the excuse to spend time alone with Jacob.
My experiments in casually flirting with him had met with mixed results. I saw Jacob
walking down the hall from the shower one day. Water dripping off his massive, firm body. Lips
parted and eyes still heavy from sleep.
I decided to be daring. We were safest in the house, where basically everything was
nano, and he was already wet. Pretty much as fire proof as possible.
“I would love to hold you down and lick the water off of you.” I purred.
He froze. At first I thought maybe it hadn’t worked. Then his eyes looked up into mine.
Solid gold.
“Damn it, Calvin.” He growled. But his eyes were already changing back to their usual blue.
“You know you like it.” I smiled my wickedest smile.
He pushed past me without saying anything. Heat poured off of him. His body and the
towel were both completely dry.
So the next day he was avoiding looking at me as we walked to class. It was driving me
a little bit crazy. On top of that he was wearing this tight black shirt that didn’t leave much to the
imagination. And, high off the success of my previous attempt, I was feeling a bit overconfident.
We were standing outside of the building where our class was assigned. A hulking
concrete monstrosity similar to the bunker they’d originally given us as dorms. The professor
had the only key so there was nothing to do but wait by the door until he showed up.
Jacob was leaning against the wall. His blond hair was blowing around his face, and he
had crossed his massive arms over his chest. I was standing there, watching him and being
ignored by him.
And then, impulsively, I closed the distance. I pressed my body against his body. When
he didn’t react, I leaned in and whispered in his ear.
“You can pretend you don’t want me, but your body gives you away.”
A force knocked me backwards. Then I felt the heat. The grass around me smoldered
and blackened.
I looked up. Gasped. Jacob’s body had gone fully gold again.
“Jacob-” I began, “It’s okay, I won’t-”
“Grraaaughh!” Jacob’s body contracted. He fell to his knees, gripping his head. I felt another
surge of heat.
Little flakes of gold peeled off and fell to the ground, smoking a bit and then dying out.
Jacob shook his head and the pieces dripped off of him like rain. There was still a tremendous
amount of heat coming off of him, and I didn’t dare try to get closer.
“Jacob, are you-”
“What is going on here?” The angry voice of the professor made me turn. He looked at me and
then down at the prone figure of Jakob. “Are you going to try to convince me that this was
caused by a ‘black market stasis pack’ too?”
“We were just practicing.” I towered over the much shorter professor. “Nothing burnt but some
stupid grass.”
“Are you trying to frighten me Mr. Harrison? You should know that you are on very thin ice and if
I report you then-”
“Please.” Jacob croaked. “Please, don’t. It wasn’t his fault.”
“You, Mr. Walker, need to understand that this-” He waved at himself and then the building,
“This arrangement is contingent on the fundamental requirement that you can keep your, your
abilities, from endangering your instructors and school property. You can’t-”
“I promise, it won’t happen again.” Jacob put up his hands in a placating gesture. After a
moment the professor nodded grudgingly, then pushed past us to unlock the door.
Jacob glared at me, and I didn’t even try to argue. I deserved it. My impulsiveness had
almost gotten us expelled for the second time.
Given the long cultural history of superhero fiction I guess it is more surprising that it
didn’t happen sooner. Like most kids I was into the old superhero moves from the early 2000s.
There probably wasn’t a single kid born after those movies who didn’t wear a cape for at least
one Halloween.
Still, crime was basically non-existent. The problem of food and shelter was solved. No
one had to steal to survive. And you were never more than five feet from some sort of recording
device, so it was pretty hard to get away with crimes at all. I mean, at that point many people
were starting to get them embedded in their bodies.
So we didn’t really need superheroes. At least, not until we started to have super villains.
The first major incident I heard about in Skirbeck was a month or so after we all got
banned from classes. A large area of downtown was completely blocked off by the police for
several days. Of course that just made people more curious, and soon everyone knew someone
who had snuck in, but no one really knew what was going on.
Then all of a sudden the news was everywhere.
Like many major cities, Skirbeck had a large financial district. In old movies the criminals
would always break into a bank and steal a bunch of paper money or gold and run away. But
paper money had become all but obsolete. The wads that people sometimes hoarded under
their mattresses were still honored, but for the most part it was being slowly phased out by then.
Most financial information, like most everything at that time, existed as data on the
internet. And unlike the initial, terribly unsecure data of the early 21st century, our financial
information was coded to our handprint, and was therefore incredibly difficult to steal. And all of
the financial information and security details were stored on massive computers with
complicated layers of encryption and top of the line nano-security.
So then, when people started saying someone had robbed a bank, we all thought they
were crazy. We couldn’t even imagine what that would mean. Even if, by some miracle, you
could get into the building, how could you decrypt the information you stole? If you decrypted it,
how could you ever use it without being able to reproduce the person’s handprint?
And then it was on the news. The director of the bank had to come out and admit they
had lost over a million dollars and they had no idea how it happened. All they had was security
camera footage of a person dressed all in black standing next to the server rack. For five
minutes the person stands there with a notebook and a pen. And then they’re just gone. No idea
how they got in, no idea how they got any information when they were there.
Of course everyone knew it had to be an Enhanced person. No normal person could
have done it. But it didn’t fit any of the known powers, and a thorough scan for genetic material
did not find any matches in the Enhanced database.
The crime went unsolved. Soon incidents involving the person in black were being
reported on a weekly basis. A little internet community sprung up, dedicated to recording
sightings. They called her the ‘Spectral Lady’. Skirbeck’s first official supervillain.
“Man cannot survive except through his mind. He comes on earth unarmed. His brain is his only
weapon. Animals obtain food by force. man had no claws, no fangs, no horns, no great strength
of muscle. He must plant his food or hunt it. To plant, he needs a process of thought. To hunt,
he needs weapons, and to make weapons - a process of thought. From this simplest necessity
to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and we
have comes from a single attribute of man -the function of his reasoning mind.’
My head was drooping, listening to the professor drone on and on. Of all the worthless
no talent authors the one I can least tolerate is Ayn Rand. Not only is her prose dry and
pompous, not only are her characters flat and unbelievable, but even her philosophy is
hypocritical. She wanted people to ‘depend on nothing’ but she died taking money from the
government. There is nothing I hate more than phoniness.
“Mr. Harrison.”
Since there were two of us in the class it was harder to judge him for calling on me. Still I
felt like he hardly ever said Jacob’s name.
“Yes, sir?” I was being obnoxiously overly polite. It was obviously annoying him, but he couldn’t
exactly get me in trouble for my being too nice.
“You seem bored, Mr. Harrison.” The smile on his face was closer to a sneer, “Can you explain
to me why a work of fiction that has influenced our society so heavily is not worth a few minutes
of your time to listen to?”
It was so condescending. The tone implied ‘Can you explain to me why you are so
stupid Mr. Harrison?’. So in my anger I let my tongue get away from me again.
“It is more accurate to say that Nietzschean philosophy was so influential that it inspired Ayn
Rand to write a mediocre novel.” The words came boiling out of me. If I’d had Jacob’s power the
professor would have been incinerated on the spot.
“And I suppose that Nietzsche’s ideas were formed in a vacuum?” There was a tremendous
thud as the professor slammed his paper copy of The Fountainhead on the desk. “He had no
influences?”
“Ayn Rand took an interesting idea and made it boring.” I was staring right into the professor’s
stupid beady eyes. “Nietzsche makes a statement about morality, that the idea of ‘good’ and
‘evil’ are judgments that are made in order to control human society. He shows us this new way
of thinking and he says here, this is what you should strive for, strive to get meaning from your
own struggles and don’t worry about morality.
I was really angry now, practically shouting. “And Ayn Rand takes this idea and gives us
Howard freaking Roark, her messiah, the perfect embodiment of ‘good’. And people love it,
because everyone wants to think that they are special, and that they have found the ultimate
belief that will make them better than all the rest. People want to believe that suffering is
something that only happens to ‘bad’ people who deserve it, and not to the perfect
‘ubermensch’.”
The professor was turning red again, but I wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. “And that’s not
what Nietzsche meant at all! It is an idea as old as time, and it is stupid, and it is boring! And
that is why I have no interest in hearing you read this terrible book to me.”
We just sat there for a minute. Staring at each other. Not saying anything. Then he broke
the silence.
“You are quite the expert on Nietzschean philosophy Mr. Harrison.” The smile on his face was
too deep, wicked, deep lines standing out dramatically.
“I did get a high school diploma and everything.” I was beyond livid. Incapable of seeing the hole
I was digging for myself.
“Well then, you and Mr. Walker can write me a twenty page paper on the similarities and
differences between Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead and Thus Spoke Zarathustra.” Manic glee lit up
his eyes. “By next week.”
“What?” Jacob was standing up now, “I didn’t-”
“And that will hopefully teach you, Mr. Walker, that you should speak up every so often instead
of letting Mr. Harrison always speak for you.”
“I-” Jacob began, but then he looked away. I would have paid a lot of money to have been able
to read his mind at that time.
“I think I’ve taught you both enough for today.” The professor started walking out, but as he
passed Jacob he added, “And I promise you, that if I see anything like what happened before
class again today, no one, not Mr. Harrison, not your father, not God himself will keep you from
being expelled from this school.”
Jacob turned completely white. As soon as I heard the sound of the door slamming shut
I rushed over to him.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just an old, idiotic faggot who-”
“Just shut up!” He covered his eyes with his hands, “God damn it Calvin! Why can’t you ever
shut your damn mouth!”
I just stood there. Not saying anything. There was nothing to say.
“I can’t write a twenty page paper in a week.” Jacob sobbed, “I don’t know anything at all about
Nietzsche or Ayn Rand or anything.”
“I’ll help you.” I tentatively reached out, touching his shoulder. Jacob flinched, and lowered his
arms. It was the most upset I had seen him since the English building burnt down.
“Like you helped me before?” He shrugged off my hand. “Just leave me alone Calvin.”
Then he left.
That first bank robbery seemed to spark something. There was a sudden dramatic uptick
in the number of crimes in Skirbeck. And not just those committed by new Enhanced
‘supervillains’. Seeing that the system was fallible inspired criminal minds of all kinds.
I hooked up with the guy a few more times after he told me the story. He was the one
who told me about the Spectral Lady. Everything I described I learned from him and some other
guys several weeks after it happened.
“You say you saw her?” Most of the time I wasn’t very interested in talking. The guys might talk
but I never started any conversations. But that day the sun was shining and we were laying on
his bed under the skylight and I didn’t feel much like going anywhere and it sort of happened.
“Saw who?” He asked. His eyes were slightly glazed. I think generally he was always on some
kind of substance when I saw him, but I never asked about it.
“The Spectral Lady. You actually saw her?”
“Oh yeah man.” Suddenly he was full of energy, excitement overriding whatever he was on,
“She was so intense. Just appeared out of nowhere and bam, bam, bam, everything happened
at once. Like she could be in more than one place at a time.”
“You said she stole your pocket screen?”
“No. No, no, no. You don’t get it man.” He waved his hands dismissively. “She’s not like that. My
pocket screen got lifted and she saved it.”
“The same person who stole over a million dollars also decided to charitably protect you from
pickpockets?” The conversation was starting to bore me, but I saw the shape of a contradiction
and I felt like pursuing it. He wouldn’t have been the first guy I’d slept with to lie to me in order to
impress me.
“Why? You think because she stole from some rich guys she couldn’t ever do anything good?”
He reached over and pulled out his pocket screen. “Look man. I have proof. When she saved
my pocket screen it got a picture of her. One of those auto captures they take every few
seconds and send to you if the nano gets screwed up.”
Then he touched the screen and it was suddenly filled with blackness. A perfectly black
mask. Nothing showing except two mischievous green eyes.
“Huh.” I reached for my pocket screen. “You mind if I copy this?”
“It’s a free country.” He leaned back, long dark lashes closing over his eyes, lush mouth slightly
parted. The long tan lines of his stomach beckoned to me.
I got distracted after that. But I still kept the picture.
The book report ended up being very irritating. I hadn’t read Thus Spoke Zarathustra in a
while. It was longer than I remembered. That was why I was sitting in the library at three o’ clock
in the morning one night.
There was a crash. Not very loud, but loud enough to jolt me out of my reading. I turned
my head toward the door and almost shouted with terror.
“What-What do you want?” I asked the dark figure in the doorway.
“Nothing.” Thomas walked toward me, inspecting the text I had pulled out of the library records
onto my pocket screen.
“What was that noise?”
His face was as blank as ever. Nothing moved but his eyes, reading the words in front of
me.
“You know it’s impolite to ignore someone when they’re talking to you.” My voice shook when I
said it. Being around Thomas was unnerving.
“Were you saying something important?” Anyone else would have smiled, or scowled.
Something. But his face was the same blank mask.
“Do you like Nietzsche?” His eyes still hadn’t left the screen since he had walked in.
“No.” Something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes.
“I would have thought with your penchant for flowery language that you would identify with
Zarathustra.” Irritation made my voice stronger.
“The things that I say are actually true.” For the first time he turned from the book and looked at
me.
“You don’t agree with Zarathustra then?” It was the longest conversation I’d had by far with
Thomas and I was sort of curious where it would go.
“‘Be of good cheer; what doth it matter? How much is still possible!’” Thomas quoted in his cold
dead voice, “The opinion of a short sighted man.”
“So much better to be negative all the time, I suppose.” I refused to flinch, even those his eyes
were like dark voids.
“Better to see the world the way it really is than to comfort oneself with lies.”
“Why?” I quoted the next passage, “‘What hath hitherto been the greatest sin here on earth?
Was it not the word of him who said: "Woe unto them that laugh now!"’ Why see only the worst
in the world when there are songs to be sung, and drinks to be drunk and men to seduce!”
His eyes became very serious. “The longer it goes on the more darkness piles up. It’s
always worse the longer it goes on.”
“But even if we pay for every ounce of joy with a pound of suffering, doesn’t that just make the
joy more valuable?”
“I wonder if you will find the price that you pay is too high.” There was something like an emotion
in his face. He looked legitimately curious.
“What-”
But he was already walking away.
I never did find out what caused the noise.
Since I was up late I dragged myself into the gym the next day later than usual. I’m not
that big on exercise really, but I like to keep up my appearance. Otherwise I’m naturally skinny
to the point of nearly skeletal, and no one wants to go to bed with a skeleton.
The treadmill and I were good friends. It had an embedded entertainment system that
knew my eclectic musical preferences. I got a decent number of my pick up lyrics while working
out.
The door opened. Jacob’s massive body filled the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of
running shorts. He looked up and saw me. Then he turned and walked out again.
My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest. I turned off the machine and ran out of
the room. At the sound of the door opening he turned and snarled. Started to say something,
but I cut him off.
“No. Let me speak.”
“I told you to leave me alone.”
“So now you can’t even look at me.” My voice cracked a little.
“Don’t pretend you care.” He was still snarling but some of the heat had gone out of it.
“Everything is just a game to you. You don’t care who you hurt if you get what you want.”
“That’s not true. I-” I tried to think of a rebuttal. Some redeeming act. And I couldn’t. My stomach
sank.
“Have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?” His voice wasn’t angry now. It was almost
sad.
“Yes.” I said firmly. That much I was certain about.
“What do you want Calvin?” His eyes were closed, head turned away.
“I don’t want you to hate me.” I said honestly. It surprised me. Honesty wasn’t really my thing.
“Ha.” He laughed. A little at first and then gradually a loud guffaw.
“Why are you laughing?” Usually when it comes to talking I feel in control. For the first time in a
long time I felt lost.
Suddenly he closed the distance. Pressed me against the wall. His breath was warm
against my neck. I gasped.
“How do you like it?” He grabbed my arms and held them above my head. His lips stole tastes
of me as I writhed, helpless.
“Jacob. Please-” I sighed.
Then he pulled away. I was shaking uncontrollably. It felt like he had lit me on fire from
the inside.
“I don’t hate you. I’ve spent the last few days trying.” Jacob looked down at me, smiling a bitter
smile. “And you know what? I don’t know if I even can. I close my eyes and I see your face. You
know how hard that is? Knowing someone doesn’t give a damn about you and not even being
able to hate them?”
“Jacob-”
“Why do you do this to people Calvin?” He shook his head. “Just tell me why.”
“I-I just wanted to help.” My mind was still pretty foggy.
“Don’t lie!” He growled.
“Because I could.” So much honesty in one day. “I just wanted to see if I could.”
“Well you can’t” He turned away from me.
“Jacob, don’t go.” I reached out. Grabbed his shoulder. “I was a dick. I admit it. Let me make it
up to you.”
“I told you, I don’t want your help.” He shrugged away from my hand. “The price is too high.”
“Seriously. I was up all night reading Zarathustra. I know you didn’t read it yet. There’s no way.
Let me help you.” I sighed. “Please? And I promise that afterwards I will never, ever bother you
again.”
He stared at me. Narrowed his eyes. “You promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Fine. And for now you’ll leave and let me use the gym in peace?”
“Yes. Done.” I hurriedly agreed.
“See you later Calvin.” He said casually, as if nothing had happened, and pushed past me.
“See you-” I watched the massive mountain of his back disappear behind the door. “Later.”
I only saw the message that Trisha wrote for a second. At the time it didn’t mean
anything to me. It would more than a year before everything clicked for me all at once. But of
course by then it was too late.
Just four words. One of which was gibberish as far as I knew.
‘The Shoggoth are free’.
4
“Officially there are no fates worse than death. Unofficially, there is a profusion
of such fates. For some people, just living with the thought that they will die is a fate
worse than death itself.” - Thomas Ligotti
Fear has a smell. It’s been scientifically proven. Human beings excrete pheromones in
their sweat when they’re afraid. And on top of that, when other human beings smell fear, they
become afraid. It’s contagious.
I’ve been afraid a lot in my life. Growing up with just me and my mom, an Enhanced gay
kid, there was a lot to be afraid of. There was a point in my life where I thought I’d forgotten how
to be afraid, I’d just gotten so used to it.
But then I experienced it for the first time. The smell of fear. And not just a little fear, but
the overwhelming fear of a crowd.
It made me understand a lot of things. I think it might have even saved my life. Because
once you’ve smelled fear you recognize it. You get a sixth sense for when something really
terrible is going to happen.
I fully intended to keep my promise to Jacob. I really did. Unfortunately events conspired
to make that completely and utterly impossible.
I mentioned that everyone in the 2030s was terrified of port bombs. However, a port
bomb had never actually been detonated on the earth. Several were tested on asteroids and
even some moons. There was however only one incident on a human occupied territory.
People in the early 21st century were mostly really gung ho about going to Mars. They
made some plans and built rockets and even wrote some books and movies about it. It made a
lot of sense at the time, since it was physically closest to the earth. Still no one believed we
could even get there in their lifetimes, let alone build colonies.
Teleportation changed everything. Even in the early days of teleportation, when basically
nothing could be teleported by anyone but the government, they were already teleporting things
into space. In a short time scale you deposit enough port hubs on or near whatever object you
wanted to get to and make it accessible. Then jumping around on the hublines was trivial.
Suddenly we had full access to a wide range of planets and moons. Mining of the earth’s
moon, Mars and the asteroid belt became popular. Then we moved on to the moons of Jupiter
and later Saturn. Soon people were starting mining colonies. Humanity was haphazardly
scattered throughout the solar system by the late 2020s.
But of course, where you have port hubs you can have port bombs. The defenses of
these new small colonies were inevitably sparse. They were focused on quick profits early on
and then later they had built up a false sense of security.
In 2031 a port bomb was dropped on the largest city in Ganymede, Galileo Regio. It was
an early prototype and the scattering width was a few feet instead of a few inches. Initially the
damage was almost invisible, just a few holes in a few places. Still, given that the city was still
relying on artificial habitation in the sparse Ganymedean atmosphere, the result was a nearly
instantaneous 100% fatality rate.
That was also when the majority of the public learned about port chaining. The
government had tested a variety of port bombs and must have seen the effect before. What
happened on Ganymede was a large part of the reason that commercial teleportation was so
heavily regulated, despite Patricia’s father’s protests.
The initial devastation was not the end. In the days following the bombing, monitoring
satellites continued to record the settlement. Bits and pieces of the habitation would disappear.
More disconcertingly, pieces of human bodies would sometimes appear. They would even
sometimes give the illusion of motion. Disembodied legs walking in and out of the habitation.
Disembodied heads floating around by themselves.
Then one day, about a week or two after, the entire habitation and the surrounding area
imploded. A large crater was formed, several times larger than the settlement. Similar to the
habitation, as the satellites continued to monitor it, bits and pieces of earth would appear and
disappear.
Incidents like this continued for almost a year. Some catastrophic implosion would
happen, following by steady fluctuations. The crater ballooned until almost 10% of the mass of
Ganymede had been lost. And then finally, when some people had begun to whisper that the
devastation might never end, that it might spiral forever until it consumed us all, it stopped.
No government or group ever stepped forward to take credit for the bombing of
Ganymede. There wasn’t any obvious reason for someone to have wanted to specifically
destroy that colony, which consisted of greedy members of most of the world’s countries. No
one profited from the annihilation, and in fact colonization of Ganymede was completely halted
by the event. Therefore the incident was frequently referred to as the ‘Ganymede Accident’.
After the ‘Ganymede Accident’ internet vids from the government were continuously
posted. They were generally scientists explaining that port hubs and port jumps were stable and
that there was no reason for widespread panic about a port chain event. A few of the videos
directly addressed the Ganymede incident, and gave some ‘tips’ on what to do in the case of
another port bomb ‘accident’.
The advice was amusingly similar to the old concept of ‘Duck and Cover’. In fact many
internet vids were made to compare the two and make jokes. However, the advice in the case of
port bombs was to lay down flat against the ground.
As in the case of ‘Duck and Cover’ there was some logic to this advice. There was
evidence from Ganymede that the port explosion spread out in a sphere. Therefore outside of
the initial blast radius anyone laying flat on the ground would be least likely to be affected.
Things might still collapse on top of you, but you wouldn’t get the brunt of the explosion.
But like ‘Duck and Cover’ this advice would be completely useless to anyone actually
caught in the initial port bomb explosion itself. And, as I would later discover, it was absolutely
no defense against port chaining.
Anyway, there was a yearly drill where an alarm would go off and we would all practice
getting flat on the ground as soon as possible. In high school we all kind of enjoyed these drills,
since it inevitably meant less actual class work. The only net result of these drills for me, as far
as I can tell, was that I instantly recognized the sound of the port bomb alarm. Three shrill tones
followed by the quiet sound of a woman’s voice.
“Take cover. Lie flat on the ground.”
“Take cover. Lie flat on the ground.”
“Take cover-”
We were all in our beds, sound asleep, when we heard the siren. My first woozy thought
was, “It’s strange to have a drill this late at night.”
Then all at once I understood. Not a drill.
I don’t know how to describe existential fear to anyone who hasn’t experienced it. It isn’t
like normal fear. With normal fear there is some rational part of your brain that whispers
soothingly to you, even as you shout or even run. A voice in your head that is still in control.
Real existential fear completely shuts that all down. If I had never had those drills in
school, I would probably have stayed in bed, not moving. But because of those drills I did what
my body had been trained to do. I jumped up and plastered myself against the floor.
“Take cover. Lie flat on the ground.”
My entire body was stiff as a board. Outside I heard crashing and screams. People
shouting things at each other.
“Take cover. Lie flat on the ground.”
Three tones. My heart felt like it was trying to jump out of my chest. My mind was as
blank as a piece of paper. Completely empty with terror.
“Take cover. Lie flat on the ground.”
The soothing voice seemed almost a mockery. Like someone calmly smiling while slowly
cutting into one of your veins.
“Take cover. Lie flat on the ground.”
Tone. Tone. Silence.
It stopped. One minute a terrifying siren, the next nothing.
There are very few true silences in the modern world. Generally wherever you go you
are surrounded by some ambient sound. Passing cars. People talking on their pocket screens.
A human induced cacophony.
At that moment it was deathly silent. The kind of silence that makes you wonder if you
are the only person left on earth. For a while I just sat there in shock. And then in that silence
my mind suddenly screamed with a stream of terrified thoughts.
I jumped up and waved to activate one of the windows. Outside a bunch of cars were
stopped in a random pattern on the road. There were people too, some still laying flat against
the ground. A few were now standing and looking around like me.
From my view at the window there was no obvious sign that there had been a port
bomb. I waved at another wall and started some vids from one of my news feed channels. I had
to flip through several before I found any that were actively streaming. Most were only a
disconcerting blackness that filled my veins with ice.
“-reports from all over of a PBS siren. So far there has been no confirmed sighting of any port
bomb explosion. The mood of our panel of cat judges is currently ‘cautious optimism’ but their
little tails are prepared for terror.”
The screen filled up with a bunch of kittens rolling around together. I turned off the vid.
“Calvin? Peter?”
I heard Trisha’s voice and activated the door. She was standing in the hallway wearing
footie pajamas which made her look like a human cat hybrid, including ears and a tail. It was the
first time I had seen her night time attire and I laughed a little. There is also a certain absurd
edge to fear that makes strange things funny, and my mind had not quite recovered.
“That is an impressive outfit.” I commented.
“Have you seen Peter?” She crossed her arms, ignoring me. I saw that the tail actually moved. It
was twitching irritably now.
“No, but-”
“What the hell is going on?” Peter suddenly stormed out of his room, his angry scowl even
angrier and deeper than usual.
“Calm down okay.” Trisha’s face was very serious, something extremely uncommon. “Dad says
there was a sudden spike in port resonances across the country but that so far there is no
evidence of any actual bomb.”
“How could that happen? All the ED transport terminals are secured against resonance
generators… This isn’t some, some moon, with no defenses!” Peter was glaring at Trisha as if
somehow she was the one responsible for everything.
“It shouldn’t be possible.” Trisha frowned. “It is very worrying.”
Seeing Trisha be distressed was very distressing. Typically her only mood was manic
optimism. If she was upset, then something had gone terribly wrong.
“The darkness will breed darkness.”
Thomas was standing in the hallway. His face was blank as usual. If he was upset he
didn’t show it.
“You and your meaningless jabber are not wanted here!” Peter seemed eager to have a target
for his rage.
“Bad news comes in threes. You will lose more than your temper. The one you seek will find
you, but the reunion will be short lived.”
“I said, shut up!” Peter stalked down the hall. But Thomas was already gone.
“Well.” At some point during the tirade between Peter and Thomas Trisha had gradually started
smiling her mischievous smile. “At least whatever it was, it’s over now.”
Of course it wasn’t.
Shortly after I learned that I was Enhanced, my mother decided that I should see a
therapist. I’m not entirely sure it was for my benefit. She wanted to feel like she was doing
something for her weird, defective son, and that was what she apparently settled on.
“I’m worried about the effect this Enhanced thing will have on your impressionable teenage
mind.” There was a kind of weird, nervous smile that my mother usually wore. Like someone
was holding a gun to her head and forcing her to smile.
“I’m fine.” At that time, despite having my own official psy profile I hadn’t actually had any
psychic incidents besides the first time. People at school made fun of me, but they had always
made fun of me and I was used to it.
“Calvin, you don’t want to end up like your father.” She lectured for the millionth time. “It’s
important to be in touch with your feelings.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t bothered Dad so much about his feelings he wouldn’t have left.” I thought. I
didn’t say it though. It would have been pointless. My mother had a way of not hearing things
that upset her.
For some people this would be the beginning of a heartwhelming story. They would meet
with someone who they connected deeply with and then really learn to love life and humanity.
Or something like that.
The story of my first therapist doesn’t go like that. I punched him. Pretty hard. And after
that he didn’t want to see me again for whatever reason.
“Calvin.” My mother said calmly as she was driving me home afterwards. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” The calmer she was the more it irritated me. Like I wasn’t even worth getting angry
at.
“If you won’t talk to me I can’t help you.” She was using that tone she had, like I was a five year
old that she was going to have to spank.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” I cried. It’s embarrassing, but I was still pretty young at
the time.
“This has clearly upset you a lot, dear.” Whenever she started calling me ‘dear’ I knew I was in
for a speech. “You’re feeling a lot right now and that makes perfect sense. It seems like you and
Dr. Simmons didn’t get along and I understand that, I really do. But I think you should give this
therapist thing another try, and that means that we need to find someone that you will get along
with. Now, can you please tell me why you punched Dr. Simmons, Calvin? Please?”
“He just wouldn’t stop asking me questions. It was stupid.” I was still crying.
“What kind of questions?” She sounded a little confused and I felt a little thrill that I’d finally said
something that threw her off balance a little. Something that wasn’t in the perfect script inside
her head.
“Just questions. How is school? How are my friends? Family stuff-” I trailed off.
She was quiet for a minute. “Calvin, is this about your father?”
I didn’t say anything. Just continued crying softly from the passenger seat. We had one
of those intense silences.
“I should have told him you were sensitive about that.” The stiff, overly cheerful tone was back in
her voice. “It was inevitable really. Next time I’ll be careful and it will be better.”
For a moment I thought that maybe she had understood. That we would finally talk about
it. But of course she hadn’t. The gap between us was already pretty large at that point.
She was right though. The next therapist was better.
“All of you are to remain in this house until further notice.”
“What?” Jacob was incandescent with rage. I hadn’t seen him this angry since the first day of
orientation.
After my arrangement with Jacob he started spending the majority of his nights outside
the apartment. Every so often I would see him bring a girl over. I ignored it. We had a deal.
Then there was the port bomb scare. Following the national PBS alert the news was
silent for a while. No one knew what happened. And then all at once there was a target on our
backs. The Enhanced in the country were being put under surveillance. Lockdown basically.
“You don’t have the right-”
“This is a matter of national security.” The man at the door was wearing light nano armor and a
visible weapon. Probably some kind of military.
“So now we’re, we’re prisoners? In our own home?” He towered menacingly over the gun
carrying man.
“This is only temporary. If you cooperate it will be easier for everyone.” His fingers strayed
visibly toward his gun.
Jacob deflated. He turned and stalked toward the door to his room. Probably going to
call his father.
“Excuse me, but is there any explanation for why we are not allowed to leave?” I asked politely.
Politeness will sometimes get you surprisingly far.
“That’s classified information.” And sometimes not.
“It’s just-” I smiled at him. Sometimes flirting will get you further than politeness. And then of
course there’s threats. “I think I might be able to calm down my friend and his extremely wealthy
and powerful lawyer father if you could give me just a little explanation.”
The man hesitated. He lowered his voice and said, “They’re looking for someone. An SR
terrorist. Just keep your heads low and this will all be over soon.”
“Thanks.” I said, still smiling. Politeness is very important.
It wasn’t really surprising information. The internet was buzzing with rumors about the
lockdown, and of course everyone suspected the SRs. The military man hadn’t really told me
anything I didn’t already know.
In the end he was right thought. The lockdown was over quickly. But what followed was
worse.
“Calvin, huh? Are you named after the kid with the tiger?” The second therapist was a middleaged man, probably in his late forties or early fifties. His brown hair had distinguished wings of
grey. He was just overweight enough that I didn’t find him physically attractive.
“No. I’m named after a DJ. Calvin Harris.” My parents met at a party. My father’s name is
Harrison. I guess ‘How Deep is Your Love’ was playing. That’s the whole story. It’s kind of a
weird thing to obsess over, but that’s my mother for you. It’s not even his real name.
“Really?” He laughed. I sat for a moment in stunned silence. Laughing at a kid about his name
doesn’t exactly seem like typical therapist behavior.
“Look. I know you probably don’t want to be here.” He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t like to take
cases like yours in general. Usually more of a problem with overprotective parenting than
anything wrong with the kid. Am I close?”
“Uh.” My mouth hung open in shock. I’d never met anyone who spoke so openly in my life. I was
a little in love with him at that moment.
“I am not really sure what you mean by ‘Uh’” He joked, and laughed again.
“Uh- I mean yeah.” I nodded dumbly, still a little overwhelmed. “My mother, she’s crazy. She is
always making me do stupid stuff.”
“What kind of stupid stuff?”
That first session I probably talked about my mother the whole time. And he would just
laugh and agree with me that it was ridiculous. It was so good to have an adult I could talk to
who actually seemed interested in the things I was saying.
It wasn’t until the second session that the topic of my power finally came up. “Mom used
to always tell people I was sick. She’d make me cough and everything. I think she always
wanted there to be something wrong with me so people would feel bad for her. And now that I
found out I’m Enhanced-”
“Ah, right.” He flipped open a stack of papers that I hadn’t seen until that moment. “A Mind right?
Pretty cool.”
“It’s alright.” I blushed. My initial admiration of him was developing into a full blown crush.
“So, can you tell me what I’m thinking?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No. I’m a Reject. And it only ever even happened that one time. My mother-” And then I went
back to complaining about my mother.
I saw the therapist a lot that summer. In truth, I think he was probably my first real friend.
Trisha was sitting in the common room when I walked in. She had been sitting in there a
lot lately. Often one of her signature cat videos would be playing but every so often I caught her
watching something serious. This was one of those times.
“Any updates?” I asked.
“Suspected terrorist at large. All of us are to remain in our homes, blah, blah. The same thing
over and over.”
“It doesn’t seem to make sense.” I plopped myself down on one of the furniture blobs. “Why
would the SRs want to set off every PBS alert in the country but not actually destroy anything?”
“You can’t spell terrorism without the ‘terror’” Trisha turned and smiled at me, then became
somewhat serious. “The better question is, how could anyone set off every PBS alert in the
country?”
“The government knows more than they’re letting on.” Peter walked in, settled near the wall
where the video was still streaming. “They say it’s terrorists. But it’s like Ganymede. No one
stepping forward to take credit. You can’t make people afraid of you if they don’t know who you
are.”
“So maybe it’s the SR, messing with us. I mean, we have been killing a lot of their guys in the
South China Sea.”
“That’s disputed territory. Not like we’ve been bombing the mainland or anything. And even so, if
they wanted to retaliate they’d retaliate. Not just scare us by setting off some alarms.”
“This conversation is going in circles!” Trisha folded her arms. “I don’t care if the government did
it, or terrorists did it, or the SRs! I just want to know how they did it.”
“Well, you keep telling us it’s impossible right?” I put on my best Trisha imitation. “You can’t
cause a significant port resonance without knowing the right combination of frequencies and
that information is encrypted and impenetrable and all that.”
“Maybe it was the Spectral Lady.” Peter joked. “She didn’t seem to have any trouble stealing
encrypted information before.”
Trisha’s eyes got wide and she was suddenly very pale. “No. No, that’s not possible.”
“It was just a joke.” Peter was instantly back to his usual irritable demeanor. He looked over at
the other wall and another video started playing. One of his war videos.
“Ugh. Could you not watch that please?”
“Why do you care?”
“You always want to fight about everything. Can’t you just-”
“Hey! Chill out you guys.” Now they were both glaring at me. “This situation totally sucks, but we
are going to have to deal with each other for the next few days, so we should try to be civil.”
“He started it.” Trisha stuck out her tongue.
“You try being civil with a small child!”
Since reason hadn’t worked I decided to go with distraction. “Ah, Peter, I saw you a
couple times turn on the vid screens without moving. How does that work?”
“Huh?” He was still scowling, but he turned in my direction. The distraction seemed to work. He
frowned, then shrugged. “It’s my power. I can control nanites.”
“Really?” Suddenly Trisha was interested. “It didn’t say anything about that in your profile.”
“That’s because they don’t know.” He smiled, but it was a dark, vaguely crazy smile.
“So you lied on your psy test?” She didn’t seem angry. Her head was tilted like a cat inspecting
an interesting bug.
“They didn’t ask. At the time I had never actually manifested.” He shrugged again. “They only
tested me because of my brother and it was positive. That’s all.”
“But it says you’re a Mover.” She was looking far away, like she was remembering something.
“So you must have told them something.”
“No.” He shook his head. “That was because of- an incident.”
“What happened.”
Peter looked away, then back up at Trisha. Seemed to come to a decision. “Well-”
He never completed that sentence, because at that moment there was a sudden
explosion.
“Calvin, can I ask you something?”
It was a few months after my initial therapy appointment. We’d gotten into a kind of
rhythm that I was used to, where I’d talk and he’d occasionally comment on what I said. The
sudden question kind of shocked me.
“Uh.” I hesitated. “Sure, I guess.”
“I’ve been seeing you for months and you always complain about your mother. Why do you
dislike her so much?”
“I mean-” I couldn’t even understand the question. After all the times I’d complained about her it
seemed like he should understand what was horrible about her by then. “She just annoys me, I
guess.”
“I think it is more than that.” He leaned forward in his chair, looking straight into my eyes.
“People don’t obsess about someone the way you do with her if that person just ‘annoys’ them.”
“Well, she-” The word annoying kept popping into my head. But what he said was true. The kids
at school annoyed me. Most adults annoyed me. Still the one I always complained about was
my mother.
He leaned back. “What are you thinking Calvin?” He laughed. “I’m not the one who’s a
Mind, remember?”
“She-” It hurt a little, once I started to think about it. There were little flashes. Yelling. Crying.
“What Calvin?” His voice was very gentle.
The world was spinning. I felt like I was losing my grip on something. Something I had to
hold onto. The feeling grew, became overwhelming and then I Heard:
“So close. I hope we’ve built enough trust to broach the subject. The file says he is very
sensitive about talking about it. Children from domestic abuse households often side with the
abuser. It gives them a sense of-”
“No!” I jumped off the couch, holding my ears. “Stop it! Don’t say that!”
“What Calvin?” His face was white. “What did I say? Did you- did you Hear me? Just now?”
“I-” The room felt uncomfortably tight. Like it was closing in. “I have to go. You can’t make me
stay!”
“That’s fine.” He held out his hands in a placating gesture. “You can leave at any time. I’m sorry
for whatever you… Heard, but I never meant-”
“I have to go.” I stalked out the door, slamming it behind me. Everything was a blur. Suddenly I
was outside.
I sat down heavily on the sidewalk. Everything narrowed to a pinprick. I focused on the
cracks in the sidewalk as if they were vitally important lines on a map that would lead me to
freedom.
Then it cracked like an egg. Emotion washed over me. My body started spasming.
I was still sitting there, crying, when my mother finally came to pick me up.
“-live from Arkham.”
“-report that a building has been-”
“-police and military are investigating the area-”
“-footage of the suspect. A young African-American male, seen here fleeing from the wreckage
of the abandoned Arkham Asylum after the incident. The current whereabouts-”
The three of us sat in the common room in stunned silence. Multiple vids were
streaming, all showing the same incontrovertible fact. The equivalent of a small port bomb had
been detonated in Arkham. Barely a half hour drive away.
And it wasn’t a port bomb. It was an Enhanced person.
“-failed to consider the magnitude of the danger. Enhanced-”
“-can’t control them! The government knew how dangerous they were and yet-”
“-this level of devastation, and we are supposed to believe that the government doesn’t know
anything. Their program of-”
On one side, I felt this bone deep terror. Knowing someone with this power existed. That
someone could unleash the kind of destruction we saw on Ganymede with only their mind. A
person who was standing a scant tens of miles away from where I was sitting. That there could
be more like him. Or even more powerful.
On the other side I felt a weight in my stomach. Thomas had been right. None of the
things that had happened to us before would compare to what was going to happen after this.
There were already vids calling for our blood, for a complete and utter massacre.
None of us said anything. Our eyes were glued to the screens.
“There is no sign of a chain yet, but it was several days until we saw anything at all on
Ganymede. We can’t-”
“-and he’s still out there. There have been reports of smaller explosions in the Arkham area.
Residents have been advised and an evacuation has begun. It is yet to be seen if-”
“-here in our reenactment of the initial incident. Mr. Fluffkins here represents our terrorist. Now,
when the other kitties approach-”
I heard footsteps and turned. Jacob was standing there. His face was expressionless.
He knew as well as we did what this would mean.
“-just in we’re-”
“-we’re getting reports-”
“-sources are reporting-”
“-another explosion in the center of the town-”
My heart beat out of my chest. The footage they were showing was impossible. It
couldn’t be real. If it was real we were all going to die.
“-with a scattering width a hundred times smaller than Ganymede and an initial range ten times
larger-”
“-described the explosion as ‘the world turning to a thousand grains of sand and blowing away’.
When Arkham-”
“-have witnessed the complete destruction of Ark-”
“-explosion of collosal magnitude in Ar-”
“-in A-”
“-that Danvers has barely escaped destruction-”
“-are saying the explosion nearly hit Danvers but-”
“-a near miss. Luckily Danvers-”
My head was spinning. I heard a strange kind of ringing. There was something in my
mind that didn’t make sense. Arkham? Like some gibberish word in a book or video game.
I opened my eyes and everyone was staring at me. Except Peter, who was still staring
intently at the vids.
“What happened?”
“You were freaking out.” Jacob pointed at one of the vids. “The town of Danvers nearly got
destroyed.”
“But-” I weakly protested. The ringing and the strange word were starting to fade.
“We got lucky.” Trisha shook her head. “They already wanted to kill us after he blew up an
abandoned building. What would they have done to us if he destroyed a town?”
“Right.”
I shivered. The room felt cold.
When I looked up I saw that Thomas was standing in the doorway. He was smiling.
My mother tried to get me to go back to therapy for a while after that. I made excuses at
first and then just started refusing. But soon her nagging got to me and I relented.
I remember watching the pocket screen as she dialed the therapist’s office. A young
man’s smiling face appeared and said, “Hello, how can I help you?”
“Hi. We’d like to schedule an appointment. Calvin was in before to see Dr. Hart and-”
“Oh.” The smile wilted. “I’m sorry. Dr. Hart no longer works here.”
“Really?” She looked over to me, then back at the screen. “May I ask what happened?”
“I can’t really give you that information. I can set you up with an appointment to see a different
therapist.”
My heart sank. He was gone. It was irrational, since I’d worked so hard to avoid him, but at that
moment all I could think was, “How could he leave me?”
Something must have shown in my face. I saw my mother’s mask waver. There was a
glimmer of wetness in her eye.
“No. Thanks very much.”
“Your welcome, ma’am. Have a nice day.” He smiled again and the screen went dark.
I never saw another therapist again.
5 “It's fascinating, you know, how an obsolete madness is sometimes adopted and stylized
in an attempt to ghoulishly preserve it. These are the days of second-hand fantasies and
antiquated hysteria.” -Thomas Ligotti
When I was a kid my mother used to take me to the mall sometimes, back when there
were still malls. By then they were already half abandoned, three quarters of the shops dark and
covered in boards. Sometimes you could walk the entire length and not see another person.
Like you were the last people on earth.
Mom would smile and point at the mannequins in the shop windows. I think she saw
something else when she looked at them. Maybe some previous life where the mall was
bustling and the shop windows were overflowing with items to buy. Not the sad, pathetic
mannequins that I saw, covered by one or two pieces at best. Or crumpled up into a pile of
misshapen body parts at worst.
In general I disliked these trips, but there was one thing I hated the most, and that was
the carousel. I think my mother thought it was great, that this mall had this big carousel. And she
really seemed to think I’d be excited about it, every time, even though my reaction was always
the same.
We’d be walking and I would start to hear it. A far away merry tinkling sound, distorted
by the empty corridors. Echoing. I’d try to pull away but she would just start pulling me.
“Don’t be a brat Calvin.” She’d say, or something like that.
Then it would appear in front of us. Ancient lightbulbs flickering. An army of cartoonish
horses marching around in a circle, with wide, terrifying grins on their faces. Spinning around
and around in sickening repetition.
My mother would march me over to it. She’d smile at whoever was standing guard,
usually an old man with milky white eyes. He’d smile back and look down at me, not quite
seeing me, his teeth half rotten and uneven.
When I was younger I’d usually start crying at this point. That would save me from the
worst of it. Mom would yell at me for being a brat and finally, when I refused to stop, she would
reluctantly turn and go.
But as I got older the embarrassment of crying in public, even in front of a single old
man, was too much. At that point it got much worse. Then I actually had to ride it.
The filthy, greasy feeling of the horses. The unbearable droning of the music. Forced
cheerfulness drilling into my skull. Being surrounded by those gruesome smiles as we spun and
spun.
It magnified the horror of the mall. Showing me the sad lonely figures of the mannequins
over and over. My mother’s hollow smile next to the corpse-like guard. A series of endless,
empty corridors.
Those carousel rides stuck with me. I still have nightmares where I’m trapped, spinning
endlessly in circles, forever.
But sometimes I wonder. What was it about the carousel that made my mother so
determined to take me? What story did she tell herself? And was that story worth all the
suffering that it caused?
I have always hated waiting. It’s like someone rushing in to tell you something important
and disappearing mid-sentence. If I can do something or know something immediately I’ll
choose that every time. I don’t even procrastinate.
In the week or so after the Danvers bombing I was a wreck. We knew something was
coming. People all over the internet were demanding that something be done about the
Enhanced threat. Like we were some kind of insect or disease.
There were reports about assaults on the Enhanced. Some people were badly injured.
Many vids argued that it would be safer for them and for us if the Enhanced were segregated
from the general population.
Nothing had changed, but everything changed. Trisha still had her room full of junk, but
a lot of the more questionable items vanished mysteriously. Peter stopped his usual habit of
watching war vids and just started watching nothing but reports about Danvers. Jacob and I still
had class together, but when we walked together in our enforced silence the other students just
stopped and stared.
All those eyes were the worst. It felt like the entire world was turning to look at us.
Whispering dark secrets to each other that I couldn’t hear but knew anyway.
I wanted to run. To fight. Something. Anything. Anything but endless waiting.
But there was nothing.
I tried to distract myself with sex. It didn’t help. Waiting was casting a dark cloud over
everything.
So for me, when I heard the insistent banging on the door, when someone shouted,
“Open up. This is the Skirbeck police.” all I felt was relief. Because no matter what happened to
me it was better than waiting.
They lead us out to a large van. It was solid black. One of those standard self-driving
police vans with no windows.
None of us resisted. Not even Peter. He looked almost bored.
Of all of us Jacob came closest. I saw the rage flicker on his face. But they had guns and
taser balls, and there were more of them than there were of us. He could do the math.
There were others in the van. Kids. None older than ten. One girl had her arms around a
little boy who was crying. Possibly siblings. The others were all alone, sitting in little huddled
balls.
The door closed, locking us into darkness. I closed my eyes and couldn’t tell the
different. There was a soft whimper.
Stasis cars are almost completely silent by design. The police van was like a tomb. The
momentum absorbers were also set extremely high so we could never tell if we were moving or
not. Just every so often we would stop and the door would open and another person would
come in. And then it was back to the eternal, silent darkness again.
No one spoke. We didn’t have anything to say. Any words would have sounded
ridiculous as soon as they came out of our mouths.
It’s maddening to lose your sense of time. In everyday life we don’t realize how
dependent we are on things like the angle of the sun or clocks to dictate the rhythm of our
thoughts. I felt adrift. Like I was floating out of myself.
Then there was the crying. The sound of human suffering, when you can’t do anything
about it, is almost irritating. Especially if you feel like crying, or screaming, and you can’t.
Because you’re an adult and you know that crying and screaming don’t help.
My legs became stiff from sitting. I was very thirsty. The need to use the bathroom was
also becoming more pressing every moment.
And then the door opened one final time. A terribly bright light blazed into the dark of the
van and I was blinded for a moment. I blinked, blinked again, and then saw it.
It was the old mall.
In the end there were probably about twenty people in our van. We filed out one by one
and the police herded us forward like sheep. At some point we’d picked up a few teenagers.
Some maybe about my age.
All the windows in the abandoned mall had been boarded up, and now they were
covered in black like the windows of the van. There were large, bright spotlights on the roof that
lazily scanned the ground around us. That was what had blinded me before.
Besides the police there were several robotic units. Quadrupedal giants that were taller
than me and about three times as broad. They stalked around the perimeter of the mall,
occasionally turning to look in our direction.
At the entrance of the mall there was an official looking woman in a suit standing next to
a series of racks filled with packages. As we passed she smiled and handed us each one.
Inside was a suit of grey pajamas and some shampoo.
“We hope you understand this is a temporary measure. Please cooperate so we can all do our
best to make this country safe.” Her smile didn’t waver. “Inside you will remove your clothes and
hand them to the attendant. They will lead you to the showers where you must scrub and wash
your hair. After that you will be processed and given your identifying tag.”
My heart felt like it was trying to climb out of my throat. It was such a combination of
terrible things. Everyone around me was frozen in shocked silence, and the guards pushed us
with their guns to get us to go in the mall. But no one complained. The imminent threat of death
was there and it held our minds in its icy grip.
The water was lukewarm. I washed as quickly as I could, with my eyes closed. It was
bad enough to have to shower in a line of naked children. I didn’t want to have to feel like a
pedophile.
The grey pajamas were scratchy. Very cheap fabric. It had been a long time since I’d
worn anything that I hadn’t printed myself. I had forgotten how uncomfortable it was.
The processing room looked very familiar. It had the same apparatus as the testing
facility they took me to after I first manifested my ability. Next to the machine there were racks
covered in rings of various colors. As I watched a child entered the machine, it beeped, showed
a low psy score, and they were handed a light green band.
Jacob was already ahead of me, standing in line by the machine, and I saw him stiffen.
Still he said nothing. Just continued moving slowly forward as they processed the children
ahead of him.
I saw him go in. He closed his eyes, refusing to look at the attendant. The machine
whirred to life and then began frenetically beeping.
It was a ludicrous psy score. Extremely high. The attendant moved down the line of
collars to the end and extracted the last one. Black.
Jacob was visibly shaking when they put it on him. The guard had to push him forward
again. Still he just stood there in the corridor on the other side of the machine. Staring off into
nothing.
He looked right through me, not seeing me. Not seeing anything. At that moment I
wanted to talk to him so badly. For him to forgive me so I could try and wipe away the hurt and
fear on his face. The separation between us felt like a real physical wall.
Someone pushed me forward. I was hooked up but I barely noticed. My mind was on
him, thinking only of him.
There was a shrill shrieking sound. The attendant near the machine gasped. I looked
over and saw the output on the screen for a moment before it refreshed. A dramatic rising spike
in psy score that rose to almost ten times what I had seen for Jacob’s.
“Sorry.” The attendant waved their hand apologetically. “Sorry you guys. Just a malfunction. It
happens occasionally.” They pushed some buttons and the screen refreshed.
My eyes were fixed on the screen, heart in my throat again. But after a second the same
reassuring line appeared. My terribly low psy score.
The attendant reached over and took a light green band. It snapped snugly around my
neck. Probably contained some kind of nano.
Jacob was looking at me. He must have started when they were testing me. But when
he saw me stand he immediately turned and walked away. After a moment of staring at his
retreating back I sighed and walked silently after him.
The corridor was long. Probably originally one of the wings of the mall. All the shops
were boarded up. Not even a single abandoned mannequin.
My memories kept trying to intrude. I could almost feel my mother walking beside me.
Could almost see her empty smile.
There was a repetitive noise ahead of us. A robotic voice like a chiming bell. I was so
lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize what it was actually saying until too late.
“41, Walker.” I heard a buzz from Jacob’s collar. “And 42, Harrison.” Then felt my own collar
buzz. “Your bunk is in Area C. Please follow the yellow line-”
“Shit.” I could already see Jacob’s rage building.
“Why are you following me!” Jacob wheeled around and I didn’t hear the rest of the
announcement. “You knew this would happen! I told you to leave me alone!”
“I wasn’t following you! I didn’t know-”
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t think this changes anything!” Then he stalked off.
I froze. My knees felt weak and I started shaking. There was this vast emptiness in the
pit of my stomach that was radiating outward. Dizzy, I leaned against the wall for support.
The corridor stretched out in front of me. I could almost see the end. Little flickering
lights.
I forced myself to take a step forward. And another. The sick feeling in my stomach got
stronger and stronger as the lights got closer.
“No, no, no.” I heard, then realized I had been speaking out loud.
I felt like I was sleeping. Everything was far away and covered in a thick haze. The
tunnel was closing in on me. But the only way out was toward the blinding lights.
The sound of my own footsteps was almost deafening. My heart felt like it would beat out
of my chest. I was gasping. It felt as if the air had turned to soup.
The lights got brighter, and brighter, and brighter. I realized that I had been looking at my
feet for a while. Forced myself to look up.
They had gutted the carousel. Where it had been there was a large empty pit. It was
covered in graffiti that was still visible despite the tape that had been placed around its edges.
A rainbow of colors extended outward into the other corridors. I looked down and
realized that there was tape leading out of my corridor too. A long black string of tape, almost
invisible in the darkness, disappearing into the giant dark maw of the pit.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Visions of milky white eyes filled my head and I almost
screamed.
“Calvin!” Green eyes flashed, followed by a familiar mischievous smile. “There you are. You ran
off so quickly.”
“Trisha.” I almost hugged her, I was so relieved. But luckily some vestige of sanity remained
though, and I simply said, “I was trying to get away from all those annoying crying children.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, I think you’ll probably find more of them here anyway.”
She tugged at her collar, which was light green like mine. “I guess I’m in the yellow area. And
you?”
“Also yellow.” I almost mentioned Jacob but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.
“Well, ‘it’s not safe to go alone’ and all that.” She wrapped her arm around me. “So take this. We
can follow the yellow brick road together scarecrow.”
“It is very mean of you to make fun of my skeletal thinness like that.” I complained, but I was
smiling. She smiled back and we went on together.
“-remain in your bunks. If you leave your bunks at any unauthorized time your collar will beep,
flash, and contact the central control. For everyone’s safety it is important that you stay in your
area.”
There was a pause, then the voice began again. “Please remain in your bunks. If-”
The bunks had been set up inside an old shop at the end of the corridor. Our yellow
brick road ended at the doorway and was replaced by a bright yellow tarp that had been spread
across the room. Old fashioned metal bunk beds were set up against the wall, with mattresses
of some unidentifiable material. It was black and had a vaguely oily appearance.
In the center of the room there was an old ComplEat. It was obvious that it was one of
the older models because it had been programmed to speak. Nothing very complicated, just
asking for requests and responding in a subservient manner. Everyone had universally found
the talking ComplEat’s creepy and all subsequent versions were silent.
This one was currently in use by a small child, maybe seven or eight years old. It looked
like they were trying to get a drink out of the machine, something that was notoriously difficult
with the old version. Something about the programming meant that any drink request tended to
result in the same unpalatable brown sludge.
The previously mentioned sludge was being dispensed by the machine as Trisha and I
walked into the room. As it finished the machine beeped and in it’s tinny overly cheerful voice
said, “Share and Enjoy.”
Unfortunately what little joy the child might have had before attempting to use the
ancient ComplEat was certainly gone after they saw the contents of the cup. They started crying
immediately.
“Here.” Trisha wandered over to the child and took the cup. “You can get water out of the
machine too. You just have to push these buttons.”
On closer inspection the child turned out to be a little girl. She looked small and fragile
but her collar was light red. I felt a spike of fear thinking about what she might be capable of,
and then immediately felt bad about it. If I was afraid of this little girl with her light red collar,
somehow it made it seem like what they were doing was right. Protecting us from dangerous
little girls.
I looked around the room at all the tear stained faces with their multi-colored collars. A
warm feeling of anger rose up in me. It pushed the fear back, like a fire beating back the
darkness.
“Calvin, do you want some water?” Trisha was holding up a cup, and I took it.
“Thanks.”
“You looked a little pale.” She was tilting her head in the usual way. Somehow the fact that
Trisha was still so much herself despite everything was comforting.
“I’m fine.” I sipped the water. It was flat tasting, but cold. Not objectionable. Significantly better
than brown sludge.
“What’s your name?” Trisha was kneeling down next to the girl.
“Phoebe.” The girl looked down at her water. Shy.
“Hi Phoebe. I’m Trisha. I’m an Eye.” Trisha made circles with her hands and put them over her
eyes like glasses. “I see things but only if they are very close.”
Phoebe laughed. “Everybody sees things that are close.”
“Well, I see things better than most people.” Trisha extended her hands out and then back in
again, wiggling her eyebrows. Phoebe laughed again. “What about you Phoebe. What do you
do?”
“Oh. I-” Phoebe blushed. “I can fly- a little.”
“That is so cool!” Trisha jumped up and Phoebe smiled. “That is way better than what I do. Can
you show me?”
“Umm. Sure.” Phoebe scrunched up her forehead. “But don’t laugh okay?”
“I promise.” Trisha crossed herself and held up her fingers with the thumb and pinky crossed.
Phoebe extended her arms to the side and closed her eyes. She started spinning slowly,
then faster. I was so mesmerized by watching her spin I almost didn’t notice when her feet came
off the ground.
Trisha was clapping. Phoebe smiled, eyes closed, still spinning. I just stood there,
watching her. Suddenly I almost felt like crying. Just an overwhelming surge of emotion.
Only a moment before I had been afraid of her. But her power wasn’t terrible. It was
beautiful.
Not everyone in Yellow was a kid. A group of teenagers had gathered against one of the
walls. They were talking loudly and making aggressive gestures.
I walked past them on the way to my bunk. The numbers were screwed into the beds on
large metal plaques. As I inspected the uninviting mattress I overheard their conversation.
“It’s not fair. None of us did anything wrong. We aren’t dangerous.”
“What are they worried that we’ll do?” One of the teenagers pointed at their light green collar.
“Most of us are Rejects. Everyone knows all the really powerful Elites end up working for the
government.”
“They told us it was safe. That they knew what they were doing with the Elites.” He shook his
head angrily. “And now, when one of those overpowered jerks goes crazy, who gets hurt? Us
innocent Rejects.”
At that moment Trisha and Phoebe walked by. Phoebe was smiling and holding Trisha’s
hand.
“What are you smiling at, red collar.” One of the teenagers walked up to them. “Don’t think that
you’re going to get whatever you want because you’re stronger than us.”
Phoebe’s smile vanished. Her eyes sparkled with tears. Trisha pushed in front of her,
giving Phoebe the chance to quickly run away. She glared at the teenager, daring him to try
something.
“Leave her alone. She’s just a kid.”
“Nobody with powers is ‘just’ anything.” He gestured around. “They put us in here because of
kids like her. They get so much power so young and it turns them bad.”
“I said, leave her alone.” Trisha stepped forward so her face was just below the teenager’s. She
was really short, so the effect was not entirely frightening.
“Who’s going to make me? You?” He pushed her and she stumbled backwards. “I’m not afraid
of you Tiny. We’re both Rejects and I’m pretty sure I could take you in a fight.”
Trisha’s eyes narrowed. Her body was tense like she was about to jump. But then a
larger body appeared in front of her, blocking the light and covering her in shadow.
“You hate Elites?” Jacob fingered his collar. “Then pick on someone who’s actually an Elite. And
not a third your size.”
The rest of the gang of teenagers jumped up from their spot on the wall. Their eyes were
fixed on Jacob. Probably they outnumbered him more than five to one.
“They should just kill all of you Elites.” The first teenager said, stepping close to Jacob. This time
he was the one who had to look up. “Nobody can control you and you can’t control yourselves.
You just endanger everyone.”
It happened so fast I didn’t see it. The kid was just suddenly lying on the ground, nose
bleeding. Jacob had gone slightly gold, and the air hissed around him. The temperature spiked
and started rising worryingly fast.
“Jacob, don’t!” I said without thinking.
He looked at me and the gold dissipated. Seeing an opening, one of the goons jumped
on him. Jacob was knocked over and the kid was punching him over and over. The other
teenagers started cheering.
“You. Don’t. Deserve. To. Live.” He punctuated every word with a punch.
Jacob was disconcertingly motionless. Blood poured from his nose.
“Stop it. Stop! You’ll kill him.” I yelled, but the kid ignored me and continued.
Trisha suddenly slammed into him. They went flying a few feet and she wrestled him into
some kind of prone position. He struggled but she managed to hold him.
“Hey! Let him go!” One of the other kids moved in her direction. Then suddenly he stopped,
clawing at his throat.
“What is this?” It was Peter. His collar was dark red. He looked down at Trisha and Jacob’s
prone bodies with disgust. “Are we animals now? Fighting in the dirt.”
The teenager was turning purple. His eyes bulged. Peter walked up to him and touched
his collar.
“They collared us like animals, but that is not an excuse to behave like animals.” Suddenly the
teenager started gasping and color returned to his face. “Now, tell me what happened?”
“You-” He gasped again. “You’re dangerous.”
“Everything is dangerous. Life is dangerous.” He pointed down at the teenager. “You have seen
what happens when society decides to label people as dangerous and then do what they want
with them. But apparently you still didn’t learn anything.”
“But-” The teenager shook his head, then glared at Peter obstinately. “If it wasn’t for you
dangerous ones then we wouldn’t be here.”
“No. Your logic is wrong. They caged us all.” Peter fingered his collar. “We have this in common.
Focusing on our differences can only make us weak. To fight this we have to band together and
be strong.”
“He’s right.” One of the others interrupted. “We’re not enemies. The people who put us here are
our enemies.”
“Yes.” Peter stepped backwards, pointing at Jacob’s body. “This is what they want. They want
us to destroy each other. To prove to them that we don’t deserve to be treated like human
beings. But we won’t give them what they want, will we?”
“No!” A few of the teenagers agreed this time.
“Who do you think you are?” Trisha had apparently released the teenager she had pinned, and
now he walked up to Peter, snarling. “Acting like you know everything. Trying to control us. You
think because you have a red collar you are king of this place?”
“No. These collars, they chose those for us. I refuse to be defined by their hatred.” He held out
his hands, indicating the room around them. “We are all the same. Prisoners in Yellow. There is
no king.”
“Yeah.” There was a general chorus of agreement now.
Peter smiled and looked back at the angry boy. “I have some ideas. Those of you who
want to do something useful, follow me.” Then he turned and stalked off.
Four of the boys followed immediately. The last looked down at Jacob, then at Peter.
Then, after a moment, he reluctantly followed.
Trisha stood and quickly checked Jacob’s pulse. Seemingly satisfied, she walked over to
me.
“He’s okay. Just unconscious.”
“I wasn’t prepared for this.” I looked at a point just over Trisha’s shoulder, not able to look at her
eyes. “I couldn’t do anything. I don’t know what would have happened if Peter hadn’t shown up.”
“Don’t be too thankful.” Trisha shook her head and looked in the direction where the teenagers
had gone. “Whatever he says, Peter doesn’t consider himself equal to anybody. He wants to
rule. There will be a King in Yellow, you just wait and see.”