Ren: God's Little Monster

by Sarah Noffke

  He smiles slightly. This idiot loves my abuse. It’s almost no fun. “You see, after researching the neurology behind hallucination—”

  “Get to the bloody point,” I say, cutting him off, realizing that hearing him speak too much will give me an aneurysm.

  Aiden’s eager grin falls. Disappointment covers his long face. “Well,” he says, drawing out the word as he pulls something from his lab coat pocket, “Sophie’s gift disturbs the temporal lobe, creating a disruption in the equilibrium of one’s mind. I’ve deduced that what she does is similar to motion sickness. And it’s quite interesting that messing with this zone causes—”

  “What’s the fucking point?” I say.

  Aiden’s voice was growing again with dumb enthusiasm. If this guy looked in the mirror and saw his ridiculous black hair he wouldn’t be so happy.

  “If you wear this device in your ear it should protect this area, shield it from her skill,” he says simply, then he hands me a teal blue device that is shaped like an inner ear. It looks like a hip, next generation hearing device.

  “I call it the ESD, equilibrium stabilizing device. What do you think?” Doctor Dumbass says.

  “I think that if it works, then I won’t kill you at our next meeting. If it doesn’t I’ll haunt you for the rest of your ridiculous life, which regardless I hope is short,” I say.

  “You’re absolutely welcome,” he says, holding up his hand. It’s a gesture to encourage a friendly high-five.

  Aiden, I realize now, is incredibly unhappy and wants me to end him. He’s obviously provoking me. But I think he should be sentenced to live out his sorry days and so I turn and stroll off, leaving him, as Adelaide would say, “hanging.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  San Francisco is one of those overly loved cities. It’s overcrowded, has a sad homeless epidemic, and has a history that makes me disappointed to be a human. And like all things in life, I’m always forced to go to the places I loathe, to do the things that I would rather not. The Moscone Center is a sea of pencil skirts and navy blue suit jackets. Due to my superior logic, Roya left the Institute and made a week of reports in a lake house free of metal. It was the first time in months that her old intuitive power ran through her, giving her access to hundreds of future events. Clear events that weren’t blocked. And one of those events gave me the details that brought me here.

  Reflector is here. Not only is she in attendance at this IT/software conference but she’s brought James and Sophie. They’ll be located close to the main stage during the keynote address. That’s all I know, and it’s way more information than I knew on the last case. And I’m prepared for Sophie. The ESD sits just inside my ear, invisible to most. What I’m not prepared for is an attack from James, the paralyzer, or from Reflector, who I know has the skill I’ve nicknamed her for, but I’m not sure what other skills accompany that.

  I’m careful to hug the perimeter of the busy lobby as I make my way to the main conference room. The acoustics absorb the incessant chatting of the sales executives, computer nerds, and lowly interns as they babble on about something that really deserves less attention than life on other planets. I have yet to deduce why we invest billions in technology, which while I admit makes our lives more convenient, also dumbs us down more with every generation. Yes, I’m a fan of electricity but also I’m a fan of the human experience, which the evolution of technology is destroying. Soon we’ll all be pale bags of bones lying in dark rooms and hooked up to simulations that deliver an artificial experience that we forgot was much better in the physical form. I’m a Dream Traveler. I can go anywhere with my consciousness and I’m not so conceited that I won’t admit that waking life is better even with all its restrictions. The physical realm has smell and touch and a pure essence that no dream can ever truly mimic. Most will never understand this. They’ll turn their bloody lives over to soul-sucking technology.

  Although Roya observed three important details in her vision, we still haven’t discerned what Reflector is after. Our best guess is that she’s going to take out the keynote speaker. Ted Smith. He’s actually a Dream Traveler who works in Congress and has been in the front line of measures to devote more funding to private firms to develop technology for infrastructure nationwide. Automated travel systems. Self-driving cars. Smart homes. He has a solid reputation and is generally well liked but does have a horde of citizens and contemporaries who think his ideas are too revolutionary. I’m actually one of them. However, my job is to intervene in Reflector’s attack, even if it’s against someone I think should be taken down, or at least demoted to a less powerful position.

  The crowd parts in front of me. It’s enough for me to spy the girl. Sophie. Her black hair hangs loose. She’s tiny and tall. A strange combination. And her dark eyes are unmistakably on me. At this distance her hallucinatory abilities won’t work. That’s why I do exactly what she won’t expect. I approach her. Each step I notice her masked confusion break out from behind her attempts to hide it. I should be running, she’s probably thinking. Avoiding her if I don’t want to end up on the dirty carpet below me, probably swallowing my tongue from the hallucination-inducing seizure she causes me. And with each step I accept this potential fate. Do I want to die? Of course not. And in such a gross way? Not at all. But what frightens me more is her attack not killing me, just zapping a chunk of my brain cells, thereby forcing me to live like a halfwit like everyone else on this bloody Earth. And I’d know. Know I was daft. That I was operating and not like I used to, but I’d be powerless to fix myself. I’d probably off myself after three days. I have high expectations for myself and a low tolerance for losers. I’d rather be a quitter than a moron.

  When ten feet separates me from Sophie I know that the ESD is successful. Her powers aren’t working and it’s writing fear all over her face. Reflector has Sophie’s little sister. That’s what’s making this girl use her powers for evil. I don’t sense she’s inherently bad. Most people aren’t really. They are irrational with low self-control, reactionary, or motivated by something bigger than their moral and logical side. This girl has a job to do and I suspect her failing right now will prove disastrous for her sibling. And although we’d like to save everyone, we lose some taking out the bad guy, or bad woman in this case.

  When I’ve closed the space between Sophie and me so that I’m speaking distance away, the girl’s eyes dart behind her. I then notice a figure standing beside a curtained wall. Then Sophie whips around and sprints past me, running from her failure and the woman who no doubt will deliver her punishment after this, but not if I’m successful.

  Out in plain sight, like an antelope unafraid of a hunter, Reflector stands. She’s just outside the auditorium, an all too proud look on her carved face. Her hair reminds me of Marilyn Monroe’s. It’s classy with its rounded edges style that has since died out of fashion. And she sticks out like a zebra in a pack of horses in her leopard print dress, which has too many distracting elements about it. This woman isn’t striking like a goddess, but rather like a demon she has an almost luring aspect to her. And the sinister expression on her red lips seems to say “come check me for fangs, I’ll open up and we’ll see if I bite.” I approach her.

  She hooks her hand on to her hip as I near, her demeanor oozing with confidence. I grind my teeth. I fucking invented that look on her face. If she knew what I was about to do to her she’d run as fast as that ass-hugging dress would allow. Instead, the vixen extends a petite hand to me, her nails the color of her lips. I regard it with a disdainful look. Reflector obviously knows many details about me and the Institute since she had the insight to block Roya’s clairvoyance. However, maybe she doesn’t know I have telepathy linked to touch. And although she’s a deadly villain who I should probably stay away from, I’ve never missed the opportunity to get in an enemy’s head.

  A chill from her hand almost makes me yank mine away. It feels like it’s been sitting on a block of ice. And then the familiar surge of someone’s thoughts pou
rs into my head. However, it’s not just a thought, but rather a message.

  I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Ren, she says in my head, a sadistic smile on her face.

  I pull my hand away. My first instinct is to bore straight into her head and take control. Disarm her and keep her held here until the Lucidite agents stationed outside can swoop in. I made the bloody gits stay outside so they didn’t screw up my job. But before I have a chance to use my powers on her, the demon opens her mouth and says, “No using mind control on me.”

  She doesn’t quite say it, but rather sings it. Her voice is deep, but soft, hauntingly beautiful. A violent shiver tingles up the back of my neck, sending a web of shocks over my scalp. And instantly I know I can’t use my mind control on her. Won’t. No matter if I’m going to die. I can’t use it. The function is shut down in regards to her.

  “What have you done?” I say, my voice the opposite of hers, gruff and shaking. Something is wrong. She’s done something to me. Laced something into her words, like a siren. And I need to turn, run away from this woman who can control me with her voice.

  Before I can she sings, “And no mind control on James.”

  Again something switches in my cognitive center. A command in mission control has been made and I the soldier have to follow it.

  “What are you?” I say, almost stutter.

  “I’m a woman who makes demands,” she says and maybe it’s my imagination but she appears to sway like a plume of smoke in the air, move like a cobra. “Right now I have to go and punish a certain little girl. A promise is a promise,” she says. “But I want you to know that being in your presence is far more enticing than I imagined. I look forward to many, many more long hours with you.” And then she lays a single finger on my shoulder and swipes it down to my breast pocket where she pauses. I narrow my eyes, trying to determine how to proceed with an opponent who doesn’t appear to be fighting me. And yet instinctively I know I’m in danger but in a completely different way than I’ve ever been before.

  “Who are you?” I manage through a hoarse throat.

  “Your future, Ren,” she says, her lips pursed. “One day you and I are going to rule from the cliff tops.”

  “What are you talking about?” I say, trying to sound like this is ridiculous instead of an intriguing notion.

  “You’ll see. I’ve put it all into motion. You have to do nothing and there’s nothing you can do to stop it,” she says, an elegant confidence in her tone.

  I turn my head down to stare at the hand she still has splayed on my chest. “Get your hand off me,” I say with a sneer and it’s also accompanied by a fear that she’ll listen to me. Fuck! What’s going on here?

  “One day you’ll beg me to touch you. And although I could make you beg me, I want you to do it all on your own. And you will,” she says, with a wide strong smile. One that does something to me. Something wrong and also something that uncages hedonism within me.

  I’m speechless. This is obviously a dangerous situation and yet I remain staring into the dark sapphire eyes of the woman in front of me.

  “Vivian,” she says, a beautiful precision on each syllable. Her name sounds like a code. A way to unlock something. Something important. Something inside of me.

  “Vivian,” I repeat and a seductive smile spreads on her lips.

  “Until we meet again, my love,” she says, dropping her hand from my chest, and just then I feel the cold, the residual chill of her icy fingers. She turns, but keeps her gaze on me, her soul-splitting eyes searing me. Then she fades forward and prances through the sea of people who all immediately notice her as she approaches and part in a daze. I find it hard to shake my attention from her although I know there’s something important I have to do. For an instant I forget what that is and have to shake my head to clear the fuzz.

  James. I have to stop James. And yet I know that it won’t involve using mind control. I can’t. No matter how much I want to. She told me I can’t. Made it so I can’t. Somehow. My greatest weapon taken out of my arsenal.

  The doors to the main auditorium are closing. The keynote address is starting. I should have been in there already. I should have located James. Disarmed him. The man is dangerous and not just to his target but also to me. If he wants to kill me using his powers then I can’t stop him, and still I race for the room filled with a seated audience. Thousands of people. There are over a thousand people seated, facing forward. Eyes on a man in a loose-fitting suit standing at a podium. Why most men can’t figure out how to get a suit that properly fits continues to elude me.

  Ted looks about like most, not young, not old, not attractive, not horrid, not distinct, not plain. Just a man with regular colored hair and a regular face. I wonder what that would be like.

  The crowd falls still when he begins speaking, his words passing over my ears as I scan the thousands of bodies in what feels like a worthless attempt to find James. Unconcerned for social etiquette I march down the center aisle. My photographic memory takes snapshots of the people as I pass and my mind combs through the images, trying to find a positive match. I don’t stop until I arrive at the front of the auditorium and put my back to Ted, who is driveling on about the future like he’s a bloody God. Some people stare at me with mild curiosity but my demeanor of authority almost at once zaps their interests. People are hardwired to recognize authority and then feel safe in its presence. People want someone else in charge. Thankfully for them I was born.

  Unavoidably, I’ve put myself straight into James’s line of sight, which would also force me into his control. At any point I could be paralyzed and then meet a deadly end. But he has a job to do and now after reflecting on my interaction with Vivian I know I’m not it. Maybe he’d attack me for self-preservation, but he won’t do it under Vivian’s orders. For some oddly interesting reason she wants me alive.

  Any second now I expect Ted’s speech to be interrupted by the sound of him choking on his lack of oxygen. His lungs paralyzed, unable to pull in life-sustaining air. And every second James continues to elude me. Infuriatingly, I’ve scanned the crowd three times and found no one who matches my memory of him. But he has to be here. Somewhere unsuspecting though. That would be what Vivian would do, and instinctually I know that. I feel I know her well without knowing her, like now that I’ve met her a connection that was always there has sparked to the front of my consciousness.

  A man at the front coughs at my back as I peel to the right side of the auditorium, concerned now that James is stationed backstage, unseen. I whip around, sure that it’s Ted coughing, on the verge of starting his end. He’s not. He has paused though and his eyes are directly on me, a look on his face that reeks of worry. Does he know he’s in danger? Does he know I’m here to save his sorry ass? The congressman clears his throat as he readjusts his tie. Maybe if I get into his head I can prevent the cue from James that will send his body into paralysis. It’s such a horrible idea that I almost bark out a scream due to my frustration.

  There’s more coughing. Two or three people, which grabs my attention at once. That isn’t right. I scan and catch the sight of three red-faced men, all separated by different rows and seated in different sections. The one closest to me grabs his throat. He’s the victim. And the other men. But not Ted. Instinctively I know this. Know it in my core. And the men still cough, desperate for air.

  Here we go. Show fucking time. And I still haven’t located James and I’m powerless to stop him. I’m going to stand by like a bloody Middling and just watch these men die, and their death will be linked to something. Each of them is no doubt someone.

  Ted speaks in broken sentences, undeniably distracted by these men’s coughs and gasping fits. Not distracted, I realize when he pauses and stares straight at me, a strange expression on his face, and it’s definitely not one of concern. People have turned to regard the coughing men. A man slaps the one gasping for air on the back. He’s clutching his throat. The slap to his back does nothing. The man on the far side sta
nds up, tethers out to the aisle, holding his throat as well.

  “Are you all all right?” Ted says, but there’s no concern in his words. There is a strangeness to his voice, a pleased tone. I whip around to look at him. And then I’m bombarded by an idea. One that again I know to be true. My instinct is never wrong and right now it’s screaming a clear message at me. Ted is in on this. Has to be. But that’s not my concern. And then I spy it. The thinnest of eye movements from Ted, the congressman. His eyes swivel up to the balcony, far opposite side from where I stand. I shoot my focus in that direction. For fuck sake, why didn’t I think of that already? There by the railing in plain sight stands James, his face tight with concentration. How is he doing this to three people at once, paralyzing their lungs so they can’t breathe, and from such a far distance?

  I’m running in the opposite direction for the stairs when a crowd of people stand and block my path. They’re rushing to help the three men who are suffocating. One has already collapsed. A woman is administering CPR. Ted’s security hurries him off the stage, guards on either side of him speaking into ear pieces. And the chaos in front of me has thickened. Getting to James would be impossible for most. I close my eyes. Focus. Which for some it would be impossible with the chaos all around them, but I’m not most and my skills are exemplary.

  My gut rockets to my throat as my heart echoes like it’s going to explode. And although most might think they’re dying, I know that the sensation means I’ve been successful. I open my eyes to find I’m standing right beside James. We’re perched on an empty balcony. I’m guessing it was heavily guarded or blocked off altogether. Ted probably got him up here. And Vivian probably didn’t count on me having teleporting ability. Most don’t. Most don’t know Trey Underwood.