Socket 2 - The Training of Socket Greeny by Tony Bertauski Page A

of
weakness, a clue of motivation. But there was never anyone inside,
he was seamless. Pure, like water.
    I was rooted to the floor, ready to strike. I
was in the room. In the moment .
    He stepped back. Satisfied. “The Realization
Trial is in twenty-two days. If it was today, you would fail.”
    “I still don’t know the objective.”
    “The objective is simple: You must see.”
    “I see just fine.”
    “Says the blind man. The urgency to see
clearly, to act directly, is upon you. It is now, cadet. Your
preparation is not just physical and mental, it is your entire
being. You prepare to be everyone. And to be no one.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Precisely. The true enemy is within you. But
first you must see the enemy. Do you see him, blind man? Do you see
the enemy, mmm?”
    My body tightened.
    Precisely.
    Pon stepped backwards. The room transformed
with each step. The putty walls turned brown and tan. The floor
became sandy and the ceiling an endless blue sky. Boulders grew
around me, tall, sharp and dusty. By the time Pon reached where the
wall had been, it looked as if the Sonora Desert ran for miles
beyond.
    “This is a pre-Trial exercise,” Pon said.
“Defeat your enemy, cadet.”
    The sun was high above, stinging my cheeks.
Spindle looked down from one of the boulders. He was not wearing
his plum-colored overcoat. Steam rose from his silver body, the
scalding heat bending the air around him.
    “That’s an image,” I said. “That’s not
actually Spindle, right?”
    “Do not hesitate to do what life requires.
When you know the truth, action is immediate, decisive and
complete.”
    “I can’t destroy Spindle, Pon.”
    A smile touched his lips. “Spindle is not his
body.”
    “But that’s not right.”
    “Do not fear death, cadet. Embrace it.” Pon
took one last step, vanishing through the invisible wall space. His
voice remained. “For in death, there is rebirth.”
    Spindle’s faceplate was blank. His red
eyelight darkened. He had no weapons. He didn’t need them. He bent
at the knees, touched his fingers on the ground, crouching like a
tiger. I touched the evolvers at my belt.
    Do not let feelings obscure the truth.
    See clearly.
    See what is, not what you want.
    Why does that fucker speak in riddles?
    Spindle sprang to the other wall, puncturing
the stone with his fingers, gripping it like a cat on a tree.
Pebbles trickled down. Pressure was inside my skull. Defeat my
friend.
    “ It is not your enemy you fight, but your
thoughts.” Pon’s voice was in my head. “ That is the
training.”
    Dust obscured my vision. Spindle’s dark
eyelight pierced the cloud. Pressure built within me, culminating
in my chest. I clutched my weapons, braced for impact.
    Spindle would have to die.
     
     
     
Dead Battery
     
    “You want a drink?” The kid holds his
father’s hand, sucks on the straw.
    They walk across the parking lot, leave me on
the curb. When the kid turns around, his face is blank. It has a
black eyelight.
    My chest is tight.
    The parking lot is gone. The kid and his
father, too. I am pinned against a rock, sand grinding into my
shoulder. Spindle is over me, his eyelight black. His fingertips
are slowly piercing the bubble shield surrounding me, aiming at my
chest.
    “Where’s Chute?” The kid is back, holding his
father’s hand. They’re behind Spindle.
    “I don’t know,” I say. “Um, where am I?”
    “You want a drink?”
    He points the straw at me.
    Spindle hovers over me, pushing his fingers
closer. Slowly, slowly they creep toward my heart. This is a
test. It is only a test. Fail and you die .
    The eyelight is dark.
    Pressure.
    Ice rattles in a cup. The kid and his father
are halfway across the desert now. He’s sucking on the straw. I
hear him as if he’s three feet away. You want a drink?
    I just, ah… where’re you going?
    Spindle’s face flashes, his fingers an inch
away. My chest inflates. Something wants out.
    The kid tugs on his father’s hand,