The Elders

by Dima Zales

  I’m not standing where the crate is; I’m standing a foot away from it.

  “Let’s make a note of that,” George says and phases us out again.

  The next crate goes to the new place my body ‘chose’ to phase into.

  After he pulls me in, I show up three feet away from the last place.

  “So I show up in different places,” I say on the fourth crate. “How does this teach me Teleportation? Cool term, by the way.”

  “You’re already Teleporting on a subconscious level,” George explains. “What else could be preventing you from showing up with your legs inside these crates? Let’s keep doing this and see what happens.”

  I have noticed that showing up in the Quiet always had a convenient quality to it. In a crowded room, I always showed up in an empty spot rather than inside someone’s immobile body. I never gave it much thought, though. Maybe I should have.

  I let George continue with the lesson, if that’s what this is. With each crate, I show up elsewhere. Ten crates later, I’m ending up around fifteen feet away from my frozen body. It’s a record of sorts, but it by no means gets me closer to controlling the skill.

  “Let’s move on to the next phase,” George says. “Kate, would you be so kind as to help?”

  Kate looks me over, then reaches for her sword. Weapon unsheathed, she walks around the crates in a random pattern. She stays within a tight six-or-seven-foot radius.

  “I’m about to pull her in,” George says. “She’ll continue walking aimlessly with her sword in the Mind Dimension. If you show up in its range, you’ll be made Inert. Good luck.”

  “Wait,” I say, but the world goes silent again.

  I look around. Kate is in the distance. She stops waving her sword when she sees me. My frozen self and the pairs of Georges and Kates are a good twenty feet away from me. The animated version of George smiles at me as I cross the distance.

  “Your range is increasing,” he says when I reach him.

  “But I just randomly showed up there. I didn’t control it.”

  “This is how it starts,” he says. “If you do this sort of thing for a while, you’ll learn to control it.”

  “About how long before I can actually do something useful with it?” I ask.

  “The distance you can travel and how fast you can master this skill all depend on your Reach.” At the mention of Reach, George looks as uncomfortable as I do when I say hello to someone at work and that person just keeps walking past me. I guess even among Ambassadors, the topic of Reach is outside polite conversation.

  “Look over there,” Kate says, pointing at something in the distance.

  A group of about a dozen people are approaching us, though they’re currently frozen in the Quiet.

  “Some kind of welcoming committee?” George asks.

  “That’s strange.” Kate frowns in their direction. “Why not just pull us in?”

  “Let’s find out,” George says and walks over to his frozen self.

  The sounds come back, and the three of us wait for the approaching people to reach us. They’re wearing the same grayish potato-sack garments as George. They all appear to be mostly in their mid-thirties, except for one older guy who might be fifty or so. Even with that guy, they all seem too young to be dubbed the Elders. Considering they’re walking barefoot, their pace is brisk.

  “Martin,” George says when the people are within earshot, “to what do we owe this warm welcome?”

  The balding, white-haired big man takes out a gun and unceremoniously aims it at me. A woman to his right also takes out a weapon and points it at me, and then another does the same and another, until finally, the entire crew is aiming weapons at me.

  “I am sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” the guy—Martin—says. “We are here on the behest of the Elders.”

  Chapter 8

  “Before you get any ideas,” Martin says calmly, looking at me, “there are snipers hidden in the trees. You will be shot if you show us any hostility. Trying to Split to make anyone here Inert will be interpreted as hostile.”

  Ignoring the hammering of my heart, I stay quiet while Kate just stands there, tapping her foot on the grass as though she’s bored.

  George says, “Martin, this is overkill. With Kate beside him, our unarmed guest poses no threat.”

  “You think I have nothing better to do than to be here?” Martin says. “I have my orders.”

  What the hell is going on? George seems to understand what these people want, and their presence doesn’t seem to concern him, which is reassuring. So why am I being treated as though I’m dangerous?

  Before I can analyze this further, I find myself about ten feet away from our belligerent hosts, who are now frozen in place. Someone pulled me into the Quiet, and I guess due to my recent training, I showed up at a random location farther away than normal.

  I look at where my frozen body is. Kate and George are standing near their frozen selves. I must have been pulled in last.

  I look at the new person on the scene as I close the distance.

  The guy is only slightly older than me. Instead of the hippie outfit, he’s shirtless and dressed in a pair of swim trunks. He’s wearing a pair of those ‘barefoot’ shoes in lieu of actually walking barefoot, as everyone else seems to be doing. I’ve seen this specific brand of shoes, Vibram’s Five Fingers, on Bert’s feet the one and only time we ever went to the gym together during lunch.

  It’s not the guy’s clothes or his lean muscular frame that catch my attention, though. It’s his eyes. As I approach him, I hold his gaze for a moment. His eyes make George’s seem like those of an infant’s.

  “You must be Darren,” the strange guy says, his voice too melodious for his buff body.

  “Hi,” I say unimaginatively.

  “I noticed you Teleported when I pulled you in. That was unexpected.”

  “I’m sure it was a knee-jerk reaction,” George says, giving me a look that says, Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.

  “I desperately hope what George says is true,” the guy says, “and that you’re not considering violence. They will shoot you if something happens to me. That wasn’t a bluff.”

  “Darren,” Kate says, “this is Frederick, and I assure you he isn’t bluffing.”

  “Great,” I say. “Nice to meet you, Fred. I wasn’t thinking of doing anything violent just yet. But keep threatening me, and we’ll see about the future.”

  Kate cringes at my words. Maybe I could’ve been more diplomatic. I think Mira’s rubbed off on me. There goes my promise to be all charming.

  To my surprise, Frederick doesn’t look mad. If anything, a subtle smile touches his weird eyes. After a pause, he says, “If I insist you call me Frederick, it will just make you want to call me Fred that much more. So please, call me Fred.”

  “What are you, a shrink?” I ask.

  My shrink, Liz, has never tried anything like this to deal with my love of pushing buttons. Grudgingly, I notice my desire to call him Fred has lessened. Then I decide to do it anyway; I bet he’s double-bluffing me.

  “I wonder whether I was like you once,” Frederick says to no one in particular. “So carefree, almost a blank slate.”

  “Are you high?” I look him over. “Is smoking grass part of the shtick? It sure would match these outfits.”

  “Frederick is one of the Elders,” George says. “He really means it when he says he can’t remember the time when he was your age.”

  “I know I look as though I’m your peer, but looks can be deceiving,” Frederick says. “For each day of Unencumbered existence, I receive at least a century of experience in the Mind Dimension.”

  I’m not sure why, but I believe him. My head spins when I try to imagine it. A hundred years in a single day? I know it’s theoretically possible. I could, at any given moment, phase into the Quiet and, in theory, spend a long time there. By my last estimate, that time is at least twice my age, so forty-two years. Of course, I never reached the tr
ue limit of my Reach, so that time estimate could be anywhere from two to ten times greater. But let’s just go with forty years. I’ve been alive for twenty-one years, and it feels like a long time to have existed. What would I be like in forty years? I have no clue. What would someone be like after a hundred years? I have no idea either. But here’s the kicker: a century is a single day for this guy.

  “Surely that’s a lot to take in,” Frederick says. “I sincerely hope you understand why we have to be so watchful when it comes to our safety.”

  “No,” I say. “Not really.”

  “Because we have millennia of life experiences to lose,” he explains. “Does that answer satisfy you?”

  “I guess.” I frown at him.

  “Good,” he says. “We best go. Leave your weapons here.”

  Kate takes out her sword and drops it. George pulls out a knife and a gun and places them next to her sword. I don’t have anything, so I just look at them and shrug.

  Satisfied, Frederick says, “Follow me,” and walks toward the trees in the distance.

  For about five minutes, we walk through the woods in complete silence, but when I spot white marble statues standing between the trees, I have to ask, “What are those?”

  “Ah, that,” Frederick says. “That’s something my brother, Louis, made a long time ago.”

  They are so well made and so detailed that they remind me of people frozen in the Quiet. They look as though they might come to life. Maybe that’s the effect they’re supposed to have.

  “Wait, that’s you,” I say, pointing to a statue on my right.

  “That’s actually my brother. I am over there.” Frederick points to a statue off to the side.

  “Are you two twins?” I ask, unable to tell the statues apart.

  “Indeed,” Frederick says. “The only identical twins among the Elders.”

  “And these are the rest of the Elders?” I ask, looking the statues over. They’re all interesting-looking people, varying in age. What really stands out is the fact that only a few of them could be considered elderly. Frederick’s youthful exterior is not the exception, but the rule.

  “Indeed they are,” Frederick says. “My brother wanted to immortalize us in marble. I think he was subtly trying to taunt me.”

  “Are these real?” I ask. “I mean, do they only exist here in the Mind Dimension? Did he create them—”

  “No,” Frederick says. “Louis had one of the Ambassadors convince a dozen sculptors to relocate here, to the Island. He then worked on these statues for decades in the Mind Dimension, which of course was less than a second for the sculptors and the rest of the world. When Louis was happy with his Mind Dimension creations, he Guided each sculptor to recreate one of them. When our Mind Dimension session was over, the sculptors got to work in the real world. I’m part of the minority who think the originals in the Mind Dimension were much better.”

  I let my imagination run wild as we walk farther.

  After about ten minutes, the tree line abruptly ends. We’re at the top of a hill. I look down to take in the sight.

  “Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Frederick says. He probably noticed my eyes widen at the view.

  I nod. ‘Breathtaking’ doesn’t do it justice.

  To our right is a beach that stretches for miles, but that’s not what caught my attention. The white sand and the clear blue water—all these things are amazing in a ‘perfect vacation postcard’ sort of way, especially frozen as they are in the Mind Dimension. But I’ve seen the surf and the white clouds frozen like this during my visit to the Cayman Islands.

  The large village to the right is also not it, though under different circumstances, the strange and colorful homes would be fascinating. Again, you can witness something like this in some European countryside, as I have.

  It’s not even the variety of plant life—the palm trees by the beach, the giant pine trees that make up the forest east of the village, or the tropical flora to the west. Though I’ve never seen this combo in one place before, I have seen these things in isolation.

  No, what Frederick’s talking about is the castle. Except it’s not really a castle.

  ‘Castle’ is just the first word to come to mind.

  This thing looks as though someone asked a fancy modern architect to build a medieval castle. Think about those cool buildings all over New York, like the place I plan to move into on 8 Spruce Street. Now imagine a Disney castle built in that style. The towers are done using some warped geometry. Some of the walls are glass, while others are made of some sort of futuristic-looking bricks. Other parts are made of different-sized metal plates that fit together like an eccentric jigsaw puzzle. The more I stare at it, the more mesmerized I become.

  Realizing Frederick is waiting for me to comment, I say, “I’m rarely at a loss for words.”

  “This place is sacred. That’s all there is to it,” Kate says, her often-teasing tone reverent.

  “It’s meant to impress,” George says, “and that it does.”

  “Make sure you all tell Gustav how impressed you are,” Frederick says, that sneaky smile touching his eyes again. “It will give him pleasure.”

  “An Elder built this?” I ask.

  “Yes. In the same sense as the pharaohs built the pyramids.” Without further explanation, he hurries down the dirt path that leads to the castle.

  “Does this thing have a name?” I ask, fighting my awe.

  “Outside the Island, we call it the Elders’ Keep,” George says. “But here, it’s just the Castle.”

  Kate follows Frederick, and George gestures for me to follow her.

  I take a mental snapshot of the place as I hurry down to the valley below.

  As I get closer, the sheer size of the structure hits me. The Castle dwarfs some of the skyscrapers we have in Tribeca.

  “George,” I say over my shoulder, “how can this place be secret?”

  “The Elders have their ways,” he says, sounding almost mischievous.

  I’m not sure what impresses me more: the architectural achievement or the Elders’ ability to keep such a thing secret.

  Standing right under the Castle, I feel small and insignificant, and I wonder whether that’s the intended effect. The gates are wide open, so I follow everyone inside.

  The fountain in the center of the courtyard is frozen in the middle of a majestic water display. In general, splashing water looks very cool when stopped mid-air. In this fountain, the effect is emphasized, making the droplets look like multifaceted diamonds.

  Surrounding the fountain are over a dozen familiar-looking people. Some are sitting on the edges of the marble fountain border, while others are just standing around. I recognize them from the statues I saw earlier.

  They must be the Elders.

  Every one of their ancient eyes is on me, staring so intently that I fleetingly wonder whether they have powers I haven’t yet dreamed of, like X-ray vision. After what I’ve seen, I’d be only mildly surprised.

  “George, Kate, feel free to pull in any friends you’ve missed since your last visit,” Frederick says, clearly dismissing them.

  Silently, my companions leave.

  The stares continue long after George and Kate are out of earshot. They seem to be allowing each other the honor of speaking first, a condition I usually call a ‘politeness deadlock.’

  “So, Elderly ladies and gentlemen,” I say, deciding to break the silence. “What’s up with all those guns your people are pointing at me outside the Mind Dimension?”

  Chapter 9

  “It’s a rather unfortunate situation, for sure, but our safety demands it,” says an older-looking Elder. He appears to be in his mid-fifties, but his bushy salt-and-pepper beard might be adding a few years.

  “Gustav is ever diplomatic, whilst I am not,” says a woman with a face whiter than the marble of her statue. She’s stunning, despite being at least ten years older than me in biological years. Just like with all of them, her eyes betray a much
longer lifespan. “We know what you are.”

  My heart sinks. I can guess what she’s talking about, but I still ask, “What do you mean, what I am?”

  “Victoria, dear, please refrain from any xenophobic remarks,” Gustav says. “What he is has nothing to do with our precautions.”

  “If I may,” says Louis, Frederick’s identical twin. “Victoria is not entirely wrong. There’s a correlation between his nature and our concerns.”

  “I see a correlation between life experience and verboseness,” I put in.

  Frederick’s subtle smile returns, and his brother actually chuckles.

  “You’re right, lad,” says Gustav. “Let me get to the point. We know that your father was a Leacher. That, in and of itself, is not why we took precautions. If anything, it’s why we have taken the risk to see you at all. We took precautions because we know you visited the Leacher compound in Brooklyn, New York, on several occasions.”

  “Twice,” Frederick corrects. “That’s not exactly ‘several.’”

  “Right, but the compound was, until recently, run by a man named Jacob—a man who hated Guides with a passion,” Victoria adds and gives me a sensuous smile.

  Everyone goes silent for a moment. They also avoid eye contact with me, creating a pretty uncomfortable situation.

  I can’t believe how well informed they are, especially for people who live on an island that’s who knows how far from New York. I’m tempted to tell them that far from being in league with Jacob, I was instrumental in his downfall, but I don’t. That information is intimately linked with Kyle’s death, and the person who used Kyle as her puppet might well be in front of me now.

  “The others are being polite, but I will come out and say it: we need those guns in the likely case that you work for the Leachers,” says the one Elder who doesn’t look much like his statue. His statue made him look as though he were in his late twenties, but in person, I’d guess him to be a decade older. He’s also much thinner than the statue, and without the hat the statue had on, his bald head is on full display, with small tufts of long, mousy hair tucked behind his ears.