a hand on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes and let the air out of her lungs. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Well, things have been breaking. Plates, holo-bars, her younger brother’s toys flying around.” The mother explained symptoms reminiscent of a classic poltergeist.
“I found it online… Sometimes this happens around twelve or thirteen with girls.” Mr. Greene’s eyes bulged ever so slightly from his skull. “Most times it goes away, but it’s only getting worse.”
The daughter shuddered, her body language apologizing for her existence.
“It’s just as common for boys, Mr. Greene. Girls are just more sympathetic in movies. Where is your son?”
“He’s at my mother’s.” The woman spoke up. “He was not taking the disturbance well. Before you ask, no, it did not stop when he left.”
Kirsten approached the daughter. “Hi, sweetie. Can I bother you for a minute?” She turned to Mr. Greene. “Shall I assume if she is psionic you’ll no longer want her and I’ll be taking her back to the dorm?”
The girl burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.
“You can assume if the son of a bitch does that, I’ll be taking my daughter to a new apartment, without him.” Mrs. Greene put an arm around the girl who leaned into her, glaring up at her father with hurt eyes.
Kirsten liked Mrs. Greene.
“Alexis. Will you please look at me?”
Alexis Greene wiped her cheeks dry, swallowed, and did as asked. Kirsten gazed deep into her soft brown eyes, past the all-too-familiar shame. The young girl’s surface thought chatter swelled and faded as she dove deeper, probing for the telltale signs of psionic ability. Dorian waved his hand past the girl’s face, getting no reaction whatsoever. After a few minutes of concentrating, Kirsten straightened up and turned to face the parents.
“Well, there is a problem. But it’s not Alexis.”
“What is it?” Both parents asked at once.
You’re a miserable excuse for a father.
She forced a neutral look. “She is not psionic in the least. That means you have an actual spirit in your house.”
Mr. Greene flashed a broad smile at his daughter. Alexis glared, having none of it.
Dorian wandered around the garden, standing behind the women of the family, smiling at Mr. Greene.
“A spirit? Like a ghost?” Mr. Greene’s voice went up in time with his eyebrow. “You don’t honestly expect me to bel―”
Mr. Greene turned into Mr. Grey.
Kirsten looked at the streams of color-lit water in the fountain, trying not to laugh in front of them. By the time Mrs. Greene and Alexis turned, Dorian had ceased his manifestation. Mr. Greene walked without a sound to take a seat next to his wife, staring into space.
“I could help you with this issue, but, seeing as you don’t want psionics in your house, I suppose I’ll just go back to the station.”
Mr. Greene raised his hand. “Wait. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the daughter you were ready to throw away for being different.”
Dammit.
Dorian winced.
He looked up with a numb expression. “It’s been crazy.”
“Don’t make excuses, make amends. You realize you basically just told me that I am a sub-class person.” Kirsten turned, took two steps, and stopped. “Which one’s your apartment?”
Mrs. Green pointed; her husband studied the ground.
Kirsten walked to the door, tapping a police override code into the holographic display above her forearm. A chime came from the panel on the wall and the doors slid open with a soft squeak. Dorian went in first, smiling back over his shoulder.
“You handled him pretty well. Are you okay? That seemed a little too close to home.”
The living room had a few items out of place: a small vase on the ground leaking water, holographic picture bars knocked askew, and a spilled bowl of decorative nuts. The kind of irregular and strange-looking objects people leave in bowls on tables to look nice, not for eating. Carvings
She closed her eyes and let the air out of her lungs. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Well, things have been breaking. Plates, holo-bars, her younger brother’s toys flying around.” The mother explained symptoms reminiscent of a classic poltergeist.
“I found it online… Sometimes this happens around twelve or thirteen with girls.” Mr. Greene’s eyes bulged ever so slightly from his skull. “Most times it goes away, but it’s only getting worse.”
The daughter shuddered, her body language apologizing for her existence.
“It’s just as common for boys, Mr. Greene. Girls are just more sympathetic in movies. Where is your son?”
“He’s at my mother’s.” The woman spoke up. “He was not taking the disturbance well. Before you ask, no, it did not stop when he left.”
Kirsten approached the daughter. “Hi, sweetie. Can I bother you for a minute?” She turned to Mr. Greene. “Shall I assume if she is psionic you’ll no longer want her and I’ll be taking her back to the dorm?”
The girl burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.
“You can assume if the son of a bitch does that, I’ll be taking my daughter to a new apartment, without him.” Mrs. Greene put an arm around the girl who leaned into her, glaring up at her father with hurt eyes.
Kirsten liked Mrs. Greene.
“Alexis. Will you please look at me?”
Alexis Greene wiped her cheeks dry, swallowed, and did as asked. Kirsten gazed deep into her soft brown eyes, past the all-too-familiar shame. The young girl’s surface thought chatter swelled and faded as she dove deeper, probing for the telltale signs of psionic ability. Dorian waved his hand past the girl’s face, getting no reaction whatsoever. After a few minutes of concentrating, Kirsten straightened up and turned to face the parents.
“Well, there is a problem. But it’s not Alexis.”
“What is it?” Both parents asked at once.
You’re a miserable excuse for a father.
She forced a neutral look. “She is not psionic in the least. That means you have an actual spirit in your house.”
Mr. Greene flashed a broad smile at his daughter. Alexis glared, having none of it.
Dorian wandered around the garden, standing behind the women of the family, smiling at Mr. Greene.
“A spirit? Like a ghost?” Mr. Greene’s voice went up in time with his eyebrow. “You don’t honestly expect me to bel―”
Mr. Greene turned into Mr. Grey.
Kirsten looked at the streams of color-lit water in the fountain, trying not to laugh in front of them. By the time Mrs. Greene and Alexis turned, Dorian had ceased his manifestation. Mr. Greene walked without a sound to take a seat next to his wife, staring into space.
“I could help you with this issue, but, seeing as you don’t want psionics in your house, I suppose I’ll just go back to the station.”
Mr. Greene raised his hand. “Wait. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the daughter you were ready to throw away for being different.”
Dammit.
Dorian winced.
He looked up with a numb expression. “It’s been crazy.”
“Don’t make excuses, make amends. You realize you basically just told me that I am a sub-class person.” Kirsten turned, took two steps, and stopped. “Which one’s your apartment?”
Mrs. Green pointed; her husband studied the ground.
Kirsten walked to the door, tapping a police override code into the holographic display above her forearm. A chime came from the panel on the wall and the doors slid open with a soft squeak. Dorian went in first, smiling back over his shoulder.
“You handled him pretty well. Are you okay? That seemed a little too close to home.”
The living room had a few items out of place: a small vase on the ground leaking water, holographic picture bars knocked askew, and a spilled bowl of decorative nuts. The kind of irregular and strange-looking objects people leave in bowls on tables to look nice, not for eating. Carvings
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