Identity

by E. J. Mara

  “I said, you’ve examined a flat surface under a microscope at some point during your studies, correct?”

  “Yes, sir. In your class.”

  “Oh, good. You took my class.” He adjusts his glasses. “Then you know that upon examining a supposedly flat surface under a microscope, you’ll find that it isn’t, in fact, smooth. Instead, it’s riddled with numerous ridges and imperfections that are invisible to the naked eye. Well, Nathaniel, time and space are comprised the same way. Understand?” Dr. Lyles looks at me expectantly, so I nod.

  Karen crosses her arms and I glance at her.

  …speaking of time, I wish we could go back in time and stop all of this from happening…

  I slide my hand next to Karen’s and open my palm. ‘Whatever happens,’ I think as our eyes meet, ‘I’ll be right here with you.’

  She places her hand in my palm and whispers, “Thank you.”

  “What was that, Karen?” Dr. Lyles asks, turning his attention to her.

  She shakes her head. “Nothing, Dad. Go on.”

  “Good, okay.” Dr. Lyles continues his lecture, completely unaware of the tears Karen’s trying to blink away. “This concept can be difficult to accept because we’re trained to think of time as a continual entity, something constantly moving forward, and space as something visible to the naked eye. But time and space are one and the same, first of all. And they exist with imperfections, or “wormholes,” if you will, that are accessible under certain conditions. Got that?”

  “Yep, got it,” Esther pipes up.

  A tear slides down Karen’s cheek and she wipes it away with her free hand. I give her hand a squeeze.

  “Esther can,” Dr. Lyles goes on, “at will, produce these conditions within herself and fan them out to include everything she touches. The conditions she produces last, for Esther, for about five to eight seconds, but for those of us outside of the wormhole through which she passes, only a fraction of a second goes by. All we see is Esther disappearing as she accesses the wormhole, and then reappearing on the other end, which is usually somewhere less than a quarter of a mile from her original starting point.”

  “I think I get it,” I say with a nod. “She’s basically Azazel.”

  “Oh, God, I hope I’m not that bad.” Esther laughs.

  Dr. Lyles and Karen frown as they look from me to Esther in confusion.

  “What’s an Azazel?” Karen asks with a sniff.

  “He’s a character from a comic book,” I explain, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. I glance at Dr. Lyles and he’s staring at me like I’ve just found the Holy Grail and smashed it to pieces. “Uh,” Thinking fast, I release Karen’s hand, sit up straighter, and say, “so, I have another question about Esther’s ability. You said time and space are one in the same. Does that mean time travel is possible for Esther?”

  That does the trick. Dr. Lyles brightens and brings his hands together in a clapping motion as he exclaims, “That is an excellent question to which I believe the answer is yes!” He points to me and, arching an eyebrow, leans forward. “However, we have no proof of my being correct in this. Yet …”

  While he goes on, I glance at Karen. I’m glad I finally found the courage to tell her how I feel. If I hadn’t shown up at her house when I did, she’d be on her own in this. Her dad’s here, and I know he loves her, but he doesn’t always see what she needs.

  I look at Dr. Lyles and he hasn’t even noticed that I’m no longer listening.

  I return my attention to Karen as she bites down on her bottom lip and stares straight ahead. Yeah, I’m glad I found the courage to be here with her. Now all I can do is hope we’re able to get Tessa out of I.T.I.S. before it’s too late.

  After only about twenty minutes of flying, Nathaniel and I grew sleepy and now I wake to the sound of his heartbeat, a comforting and steady rhythm in my ear. His chest rises and falls with the deep breaths of sleep and thoughts from his dreams dart from his mind to mine. I must have been really tired, I don’t even remember falling asleep with my head on his chest. I scoot closer to him and wrap my arms around his torso. Still asleep, he grunts and one of his scattered thoughts drifts into my mind, ‘… I think it’s a raccoon …’

  I chuckle softly, so as not to wake him. When he’s awake, I’ll have to ask him what he was dreaming about.

  Directly ahead, Ms. Greenich’s pilot seat is empty, and behind me, random thoughts like, ‘… where’d I put that? I hope I brought it …’ drift in and out of my mind.

  Before I fell asleep, I heard her say, “Iris, continue your present course on auto pilot.” So I’m guessing she’s in the locker-room behind us, looking for something, while Iris takes the wheel.

  Esther, meanwhile, her safety harness undone, lays crossways in her seat, her eyes closed and her feet draped over one of its arms. She must be as tired as we are. I wonder if my dad’s asleep somewhere in the back of the ship. I hope so. He’s going to need his rest before going into I.T.I.S. headquarters with Esther and Ms. Greenich. Sighing, I tighten my embrace around Nathaniel.

  …Why is Karen cuddled up with that boy?...

  I roll my eyes. Well, now I know where Dad is.

  As Dad’s thoughts grow louder in my mind, I sit up and unwrap myself from Nathaniel, who twitches in his sleep. Dad’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, startling me. I turn around and he’s looking from me to Nathaniel, his eyes narrowed.

  “What is this?” he demands, his hard-of-hearing voice louder than ever.

  I steal a peak at Nathaniel and unfortunately, he’s definitely beginning to wake up. “Nothing,” I hiss, trying not to speak too loudly. “Can you please not be weird about this?”

  Dad’s eyebrows go up and he takes a step back, like I’ve said the most shocking thing he’s ever heard. “ ‘Not be weird?’ Karen, you’re only fourteen and look at yourself!”

  “I’m sixteen, and there’s nothing wrong with falling asleep next to my friend.”

  Deaf to what I’ve said, Dad runs a hand through his messy hair and exclaims, “How well do you even know this boy?”

  Does he have to talk so loudly? I slide out of my chair and face him. Lowering my voice so as not to wake Nathaniel, I ask, “Can we not do this right now?”

  “What?” Dad shouts. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

  Bringing my finger to my lips to shush him, I try to direct him into the nearby hallway. “Can we at least talk over there?”

  …oops, sorry, Karen… I glance at Nathaniel and his eyes are wide as he looks from me to my father.

  Great. Nathaniel gets to witness yet another embarrassing moment involving me and my dad.

  “Fine. Have it your way, Dad.” I shrug. “Go ahead and yell at me.”

  “I’m not yelling!” he exclaims. “I simply don’t find it appropriate for you to be so …so familiar with a boy you barely know!”

  “A boy I barely know?” I shout, enunciating my every word. “Nathaniel’s been one of my best friends since ninth grade, and if you don’t know that, that’s your fault.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms.

  “Just because you claim to remember my first day at gymnastics doesn’t mean you’ve ever really been there for me or Tessa.” I’m shouting, but I barely know what I’m saying. It’s like the words are just coming out, uncontrolled. “Mom was ...,” I falter, shaking my head as Mom’s face comes to mind. My thoughts drift to the video she made for me and Tessa, and overwhelmed by how much I miss her, my eyes water. “Mom always thought about us, she was there. Not you. So, don’t yell at me for not knowing who my friends are. It’s not my fault you never cared enough to find out.”

  Dad’s face falls and his thoughts creep into my mind … she’s right. All of this is my fault … He takes a step back and shakes his head like he doesn’t know what to say.

  I don’t know what to say either. My heart plummets and guilt settles down on my heart like a fog. “I can’t do this right now,” I mumbl
e before scurrying away to the hallway behind us.

  …that was kind of cold…

  The foreign thought brings me to a stop, and I pause in the doorway, turning back to my dad. Nathaniel rises from his seat and says, “Sorry, Dr. Lyles, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. We were talking and we both fell asleep, uh …sir.”

  Dad looks at Nathaniel, not a word leaving his lips. If I weren’t so upset, the scene would be funny; my dad, at least three inches shorter than the six foot tall gymnast he’s staring down, has somehow earned alpha status in this exchange. Nathaniel’s shoulders are hunched as he nervously stammers his every word.

  “And, um, and,” Nathaniel falters, “and I know Karen looks up to you, she’s always talking about how smart you are. What she said just now, I think she’s …with everything that’s happened, she’s confused. She didn’t mean any of that.”

  Before Dad can reply, I slip away from their conversation, my throat tightening. Confused? I’m more than confused. I’m a jerk. I just screamed at the only parent I have left and made him feel like a failure. What’s wrong with me?

  Ms. Greenich is a few feet away, her back to me as she rummages through a duffel bag that’s partially inside of, but mostly hanging out of, one of the wall’s metal lockers.

  I close my eyes and lean against one of the metal walls.

  “You alright?” Ms. Greenich asks. I open my eyes and stand up straight as she crouches beside the locker and half-contained duffel bag. “Actually,” she says, tilting her head as she assesses me with a frown, “no need to answer that. Come here, help me sort the weapons. I’ll show you how some of them work.”

  I head her way and drop to the floor beside her. “So I’m in a bad mood and you give me weapons? Is that what guidance counselors are doing these days?”

  This earns me a smile and she says, “I trust you.” Reaching into the duffel bag, she retrieves a small, black, tubular something or other that looks like a fat ink pen. I recognize it as the device Esther was holding when I decked her in the school parking lot. She had it again when she appeared in my room and rescued me from Roy. Ms. Greenich holds it up for me to see. “Esther’s ability comes from the Triphylamonal-based cells you, she, and Nathaniel have. I’m not like that, my ability comes from this.”

  I look at her in surprise. It hadn’t even dawned on me that Ms. Greenich might not have any powers. “What is it?” I ask, taking a second look at it. It doesn’t look like anything other than an obese ink pen.

  “It’s called the Blackbird. Your father made it back when we worked for I.T.I.S.” Ms. Greenich glances at me, pausing before she continues. “The way it works is you press this button here.” She points to a circular button in the middle of the device. “And when you do that, the Blackbird’s ‘wings’ open. They’re not real wings of course, they’re automated extensions that wrap around your arms and legs, giving you the ability to fly.”

  My mouth falls open. “The ability to fly?”

  She smiles, her eyes sparkling. “Cool, isn’t it? Your dad’s a genius, Karen.”

  “My dad made this?” I ask, my eyes not leaving the sleek device.

  “Yep.”

  Guilt, stealthy as a ninja, inches its way into my thoughts. Once again, I’ve blinded myself to something that’s right in front of me! My dad is amazing and I’ve never bothered to notice. I called him out for not knowing who my friends are, but, over the years, how much have I bothered to learn about him?

  “And as if flight isn’t enough, your dad added an extra feature, using some kind of technology that I honestly don’t understand at all,” Ms. Greenich goes on. Curious, I meet her eyes, listening as she says, “When the Blackbird’s activated, it produces a force field around its wearer. The field shrouds them in, not only invisibility, but in a protection that allows them to move at unfathomable speeds. So when I’m wearing this, I can fly through fire, through brick walls, through basically anything.”

  “It lets you fly through brick?” I chuckle dryly. “And I used to feel sorry my dad because I thought he’d never invent any of the things he imagined.”

  “Did you?” Ms. Greenich sounds surprised.

  “Yeah …” I say, my cheeks and neck warming with embarrassment. “So why’d my dad decide to call it a blackbird?”

  “Ah, good question.” Ms. Greenich attaches the Blackbird to a tiny holster within the utility belt at her hip. “So, this is what you’d call a ‘smart’ object. When you want to fly, it reads the directions of your hands to figure out where you want to go, and it’s smart enough to figure out whether you want to pick up a solid object or move through it. Your dad said that blackbirds, much like his invention, are incredibly intelligent, so he named it ‘Blackbird.’ I couldn’t be Unseen without my Blackbird, that’s for sure.”

  Ms. Greenich retrieves a miniature aerosol spray can from the duffel bag and pushes it towards me. “This is Lyxaum, if point five milligrams of this stuff is inhaled, which is the equivalent of spraying it once, it’ll put a full-grown adult right to sleep. It’s what I use on criminals during robberies. I’ll have on the Blackbird, so while I’m invisible, I approach them, spray the Lyxaum, and they’re out. For the especially big ones, we have to spray it a couple of times to knock them out, and for people with Trip-based abilities point five milligrams will work, but the sleep effect only lasts about sixty seconds. For example, you probably remember Esther using it on Roy and …”

  While Ms. Greenich goes on, I look down at the aerosol, wondering if it’s yet another one of my dad’s inventions. He must have made all of this stuff for I.T.I.S. and then given it to Ms. Greenich…

  My gaze goes to Ms. Greenich’s duffel bag as a picture slips out and onto Iris’s metal floor. I frown down at the snapshot and recognize it as the framed photograph from her desk at school, the one with her and her daughter.

  “…and you’re not listening to a word I’m saying,” Ms. Greenich says, following my eyes to the photo. “Oh. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be going back to Peake after this, so I brought that with me.”

  “Not going back to Peake?” I exclaim. “What about school? And Nathaniel’s gymnastics training?”

  Ms. Greenich’s eyes soften. “Karen, after we do this, I.T.I.S. will be looking for us. We’ll have to go into hiding.”

  “But we can’t.” I shake my head. “Nathaniel can’t just leave. I mean, honestly I don’t care about leaving, but Nathaniel will. This isn’t fair to him.”

  …she doesn’t understand the depths of this…Ms. Greenich looks at the picture and picks it up. “You’re right, it isn’t fair. But, I.T.I.S. isn’t fair, Karen. There was a time when I had the opportunity to run from them, and I didn’t. ” Tearing her gaze away from the photo, she meets my eyes and asks, “Did your dad tell you the truth about my daughter?”

  The truth about her daughter? I shake my head.

  “A long time ago, like your father, I worked for I.T.I.S., and I thought they were this great company that was devoted to serving humanity.” She sighs and lowers her voice. “So when one of my coworkers, a girl named Betty, insisted that I.T.I.S. had used her as some kind of test subject by ‘stealing her ovaries’ …”

  “Stealing her ovaries? What?” I frown.

  “Yeah, exactly.” Ms. Greenich nods. “It sounds ludicrous, not to mention virtually impossible. So of course I thought Betty had completely lost her mind. But when one of my department’s best researchers, a man named Dr. Reams, also began to claim that I.T.I.S. had done something similar to his wife, I took Betty more seriously, and it turned out that Betty and Dr. Reams were right.” Ms. Greenich says, disgust in her expression. “Dr. Ream’s wife was pregnant with their first child when I.T.I.S. found out and decided to use the unborn child as a guinea pig to test one of your father’s serums.”

  “But Dad didn’t know. Right?” I ask, my heart pounding. “He wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

  “Of course I didn’t know.” Dad’s voice startles me and I turn aroun
d to find him standing behind me. “Jayne went behind my back, I had no idea what I.T.I.S. was doing with my research,” he says, nodding to Ms. Greenich, “until Nancy told me. That’s when we decided I’d talk to Jayne to try and convince her to put an end to what she was doing.”

  There’s no anger or resentment in Dad’s expression and ‘…I hope you’ll forgive me…,’ drifts into my mind. I look down at my hands, a frog in my throat. I should be the one asking him to forgive me for what I said.

  …Karen? I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?… I look up and Dad’s watching me with the saddest look in his eyes.

  “Of course,” I nod.

  Relief lifting his features, he exhales.

  “Right,” Ms. Greenich says, oblivious to our exchange. “Being that he was so close to Dr. Mire, we figured he’d be able to talk some sense into her. But before he was able to confront her, I screwed things up.”

  I glance at Ms. Greenich and she’s looking at the picture of her daughter, her expression darkening.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Nancy.” Dad says.

  “Oh, it was,” she says and turns to me. “I’d assumed Dr. Mire’s plan revolved around your dad’s Autism Reversal serum. I thought her ultimate goal was to gather people with autism and, upon injecting them with the serum, use them as super-soldiers who’d follow her every command. But that’s not all I.T.I.S. was doing.”

  Dad lowers himself to the floor and sits beside me as Ms. Greenich continues. “The day before your father was supposed to talk to Jayne, I stumbled upon one of her secret labs and I was so upset by what I found that I decided to confront her on my own.”

  “What did you find?” I slowly ask.

  Ms. Greenich bites down on her bottom lip. “An awful I.T.I.S. project called “The Novus Initiative.” It involved stolen fetuses and when I saw, with my own eyes, that they’d gone so far as to steal unborn children, I couldn’t keep silent for another twenty-four hours. I lost it. I went straight to Jayne and told her that if she didn’t stop her experiments I’d contact the police, the FBI, the news, everyone.”