exclaimed Stan, his voice shaking in a way that suggested he might be close to tears. Okay, so I had picked the wrong demonstration.
“Are you crazy? We could both have been burned.”
“Stan, we were never in any danger, I swear,” I said patiently. “You have been the scientist all afternoon. I need you to be the scientist again. Take the sword yourself.” I held it out to him, and at first I thought he would refuse, but curiosity got the better of him, and he grasped the hilt, moving the blade slowly in his direction and looking at it carefully. Then he smelled it.
“I don’t smell anything combustible.”
“What did you think I did to get it to burn like that, pour gasoline on it? Do you really think I’m nuts? More to the point, do you really think I would do anything to hurt you?”
“Well, no, but…”
“No buts. Stan, you can see for yourself there is no physical reason for the sword to burst into flames like that. It just does when it is in the right hands.”
Stan spent a good twenty minutes examining the sword, making me more and more nervous about the time. My dad would be home soon, too, and he would find my mom asleep and be unable to wake her. I needed to get back home.
Finally, he handed the sword back to me. “Do it again,” he said hoarsely, almost like a command.
“Are you sure?”
“Do it again,” he said in a voice marginally more like his normal one. I held up the sword, and once more it burst into flames.
Stan clearly longed to be in a lab, but he made do with what observations he could make, viewing the sword from all angles, putting his hand close enough to feel the heat, that kind of thing.
“Show me how you can reshape the flame.” I obliged, causing the flame to jut up toward the ceiling, though I was careful to make sure it didn’t actually get too close.
“Well, I can’t explain it. Will you let me take it to a friend at UC Santa Barbara?”
At that I snapped. “Stan, I came here to share something important with my friend, not be a lab rat.” The intensity of my tone made him cringe away from me. “Dude, I almost died today. And I could be dead tomorrow. I need you to be my friend, Stan, not make me your project for the science fair.” To my horror, I realized I was crying again, tears of exhaustion and frustration, tears of fear that I might lose his friendship. Stan started crying too, but I wasn’t at first sure if he wept because he felt for me or because he thought he was alone with a dangerous lunatic. Then he hugged me, and for a few awkward moments I wept in his arms as his body shook with his own weeping.
Eventually we both pulled ourselves together. “I’m sorry, Tal, I’m so, so sorry for not just believing you.”
“Hell, Stan, I was there, and I hardly believe it myself. But now that you know the truth, maybe you can help me.”
“Sure. Anything. What kind of help do you need?”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible for such a simple question to flumox me, but it did. What exactly did I want from Stan? I had to suppress a snicker as I visualized Stan stabbing a shifter with his protractor. As potential knights of the round table went, Stan was definitely going to be combat challenged.
“Ah, I think I know,” he said thoughtfully. You had to give the kid credit for resilience. Just a few minutes ago his emotions had been riding roughshod over him. Now he was back in control and evidently several steps ahead of me.
“Yes, I know exactly what to do.”
Well, you tell me, and we’ll both know.
“Didn’t that voice tell you that your strength was being able to conceptualize things differently from the way your ancestors did, and so come up with new solutions?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“So what advantage does that give you that your ancestors didn’t have?” I started to formulate an answer, but the question was evidently rhetorical, since Stan continued almost immediately. “The voice referred to lasers. Your ancestors
“Are you crazy? We could both have been burned.”
“Stan, we were never in any danger, I swear,” I said patiently. “You have been the scientist all afternoon. I need you to be the scientist again. Take the sword yourself.” I held it out to him, and at first I thought he would refuse, but curiosity got the better of him, and he grasped the hilt, moving the blade slowly in his direction and looking at it carefully. Then he smelled it.
“I don’t smell anything combustible.”
“What did you think I did to get it to burn like that, pour gasoline on it? Do you really think I’m nuts? More to the point, do you really think I would do anything to hurt you?”
“Well, no, but…”
“No buts. Stan, you can see for yourself there is no physical reason for the sword to burst into flames like that. It just does when it is in the right hands.”
Stan spent a good twenty minutes examining the sword, making me more and more nervous about the time. My dad would be home soon, too, and he would find my mom asleep and be unable to wake her. I needed to get back home.
Finally, he handed the sword back to me. “Do it again,” he said hoarsely, almost like a command.
“Are you sure?”
“Do it again,” he said in a voice marginally more like his normal one. I held up the sword, and once more it burst into flames.
Stan clearly longed to be in a lab, but he made do with what observations he could make, viewing the sword from all angles, putting his hand close enough to feel the heat, that kind of thing.
“Show me how you can reshape the flame.” I obliged, causing the flame to jut up toward the ceiling, though I was careful to make sure it didn’t actually get too close.
“Well, I can’t explain it. Will you let me take it to a friend at UC Santa Barbara?”
At that I snapped. “Stan, I came here to share something important with my friend, not be a lab rat.” The intensity of my tone made him cringe away from me. “Dude, I almost died today. And I could be dead tomorrow. I need you to be my friend, Stan, not make me your project for the science fair.” To my horror, I realized I was crying again, tears of exhaustion and frustration, tears of fear that I might lose his friendship. Stan started crying too, but I wasn’t at first sure if he wept because he felt for me or because he thought he was alone with a dangerous lunatic. Then he hugged me, and for a few awkward moments I wept in his arms as his body shook with his own weeping.
Eventually we both pulled ourselves together. “I’m sorry, Tal, I’m so, so sorry for not just believing you.”
“Hell, Stan, I was there, and I hardly believe it myself. But now that you know the truth, maybe you can help me.”
“Sure. Anything. What kind of help do you need?”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible for such a simple question to flumox me, but it did. What exactly did I want from Stan? I had to suppress a snicker as I visualized Stan stabbing a shifter with his protractor. As potential knights of the round table went, Stan was definitely going to be combat challenged.
“Ah, I think I know,” he said thoughtfully. You had to give the kid credit for resilience. Just a few minutes ago his emotions had been riding roughshod over him. Now he was back in control and evidently several steps ahead of me.
“Yes, I know exactly what to do.”
Well, you tell me, and we’ll both know.
“Didn’t that voice tell you that your strength was being able to conceptualize things differently from the way your ancestors did, and so come up with new solutions?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“So what advantage does that give you that your ancestors didn’t have?” I started to formulate an answer, but the question was evidently rhetorical, since Stan continued almost immediately. “The voice referred to lasers. Your ancestors
Similar Books
