third time, I saw something. It was like my mind had become a three-dimensional
staging area. A reddish object appeared.
“What did you see?” the tester asked.
“An apple.”
The tester said nothing. Wrote nothing down.
But I was right. He was thinking of an apple and I saw it.
The next day, I knew how to read thoughts.
That’s right, I could look into someone’s mind and see what they
were thinking. I could even shut the thoughts out, if I wanted. It
wasn’t doing me a damn bit of good around the Paladins that had
full control of their thoughts. Opening my mind to them was like
trying to find out what a wall was thinking. But I could read their
thoughts if they let me.
“How do I stop time?” I asked.
The tester sat quietly, hands on his thighs.
“You will have to look deep inside yourself,” he said, calmly,
softly, almost mechanically. “Inside there will be a metaphorical
mechanism, a symbolic trigger, you can use to alter your
metabolism. Some experience this as a spark found in the solar
plexus.”
I closed my eyes, focused on my gut. I
remembered that sparkly feeling I had at the Rime, the first time I
sliced time. I searched this part of my being but felt nothing but
chaotic energy. I imagined I was a traveler, hunting a valuable
gem, flying through inner space. Lights blurred past, curled out of
my grasp like hyper fireflies. I went after them, one direction
then the other, but they were nothing but tiny lights. No
spark.
“You cannot chase it,” the tester said. “You
must allow it space; then, it will appear.”
So I sat there. Minute after minute went by.
Pretty soon I was thinking of lunch because the food in that place
was outstanding. I could order just about—
“Bring your focus back.”
I went back to my mid-section and let the
fireflies do their dance. They stopped running away and began
circling around me. Faster and faster they went, streaking inner
space with curves brilliant and lasting. There was a twinge. My
ears pricked with excitement. A bright light sparked. It was small
and intense, like a quasar glowing somewhere inside. I brought all
my awareness to this tiny flare.
“There.” The tester barely spoke. “Wrap
yourself arounddd…”
My hands involuntarily clenched. The spark
grew brighter. Brighter, still. And then it happened. The spark
ignited, engulfing me in a psychic blast. When I opened my eyes,
the tester was still, his mouth partially open, caught in
mid-sentence. I looked around the room for more proof, but I turned
cold. And hungry.
“You are not strong enough to sustain a
timeslice.” The tester was standing over me with the hint of a
grin. “But you found it. Nicely done.”
No one would tell me what they were looking
for when they tested. Told me nothing, in fact. Not who the
Paladins were or what they were trying to protect the world from.
Mom was the least helpful. I saw her more in those months than I
had the previous year, but she had only one answer for every
question: “I can’t tell you anything right now, Socket.”
I thought about Streeter and Chute a lot.
We’d been friends forever, like family. Chute and I were, as
Streeter put it, a girlfriend-boyfriend thing. I missed them both.
Maybe I should’ve missed her more. I tried to call them, but the
nojakk no longer worked. The Paladins shut it down. Standard
procedure. Maybe they were afraid I’d call and say You’ll never
guess where I’m at! I can stop freaking time! I probably
would’ve.
I wondered if they were worried. Not so much
Streeter, but Chute. What was she going to think when she heard I
was a freak? Who was I kidding? She was never going to find out.
She might never see me again, even if Mom said I would see her
soon. Soon . That was as specific as she got. That could mean never.
In between tests, Spindle and I played
games. We played chess with holographic pieces and ping-pong on a
table that materialized from the floor, complete with paddles and
ball. He
staging area. A reddish object appeared.
“What did you see?” the tester asked.
“An apple.”
The tester said nothing. Wrote nothing down.
But I was right. He was thinking of an apple and I saw it.
The next day, I knew how to read thoughts.
That’s right, I could look into someone’s mind and see what they
were thinking. I could even shut the thoughts out, if I wanted. It
wasn’t doing me a damn bit of good around the Paladins that had
full control of their thoughts. Opening my mind to them was like
trying to find out what a wall was thinking. But I could read their
thoughts if they let me.
“How do I stop time?” I asked.
The tester sat quietly, hands on his thighs.
“You will have to look deep inside yourself,” he said, calmly,
softly, almost mechanically. “Inside there will be a metaphorical
mechanism, a symbolic trigger, you can use to alter your
metabolism. Some experience this as a spark found in the solar
plexus.”
I closed my eyes, focused on my gut. I
remembered that sparkly feeling I had at the Rime, the first time I
sliced time. I searched this part of my being but felt nothing but
chaotic energy. I imagined I was a traveler, hunting a valuable
gem, flying through inner space. Lights blurred past, curled out of
my grasp like hyper fireflies. I went after them, one direction
then the other, but they were nothing but tiny lights. No
spark.
“You cannot chase it,” the tester said. “You
must allow it space; then, it will appear.”
So I sat there. Minute after minute went by.
Pretty soon I was thinking of lunch because the food in that place
was outstanding. I could order just about—
“Bring your focus back.”
I went back to my mid-section and let the
fireflies do their dance. They stopped running away and began
circling around me. Faster and faster they went, streaking inner
space with curves brilliant and lasting. There was a twinge. My
ears pricked with excitement. A bright light sparked. It was small
and intense, like a quasar glowing somewhere inside. I brought all
my awareness to this tiny flare.
“There.” The tester barely spoke. “Wrap
yourself arounddd…”
My hands involuntarily clenched. The spark
grew brighter. Brighter, still. And then it happened. The spark
ignited, engulfing me in a psychic blast. When I opened my eyes,
the tester was still, his mouth partially open, caught in
mid-sentence. I looked around the room for more proof, but I turned
cold. And hungry.
“You are not strong enough to sustain a
timeslice.” The tester was standing over me with the hint of a
grin. “But you found it. Nicely done.”
No one would tell me what they were looking
for when they tested. Told me nothing, in fact. Not who the
Paladins were or what they were trying to protect the world from.
Mom was the least helpful. I saw her more in those months than I
had the previous year, but she had only one answer for every
question: “I can’t tell you anything right now, Socket.”
I thought about Streeter and Chute a lot.
We’d been friends forever, like family. Chute and I were, as
Streeter put it, a girlfriend-boyfriend thing. I missed them both.
Maybe I should’ve missed her more. I tried to call them, but the
nojakk no longer worked. The Paladins shut it down. Standard
procedure. Maybe they were afraid I’d call and say You’ll never
guess where I’m at! I can stop freaking time! I probably
would’ve.
I wondered if they were worried. Not so much
Streeter, but Chute. What was she going to think when she heard I
was a freak? Who was I kidding? She was never going to find out.
She might never see me again, even if Mom said I would see her
soon. Soon . That was as specific as she got. That could mean never.
In between tests, Spindle and I played
games. We played chess with holographic pieces and ping-pong on a
table that materialized from the floor, complete with paddles and
ball. He
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