Parallax (William Hawk)

by William Hawk

  “Some,” said Proof, “but not all. We still have free will. We can resist our basest inclinations. We can change.” He looked at William. “Don’t interfere with that process.”

  William felt himself deflate. “You’re right,” he said, “absolutely right. But at least I’m admitting it.” One by one, he looked each of his teammates in the eye as he spoke. “I accept responsibility for what I did, even if I don’t know how it happened.” Then he pointed at Hunter. “But you, you’re not admitting any interference. Even though I know you did it, and with bad intentions.”

  Hunter made a strange hissing sound. It came out of his throat, but his lips barely moved. The hair on William’s neck stood up, as though a cobra had just reared up before him and announced itself.

  The sound caught everyone by surprise, because it was so out of character. Proof studied Hunter for a moment, like an entomologist who’d just discovered a new species of ant. William wondered what he was looking for. Nobody knew much about Proof, except that he was an old entity, acted very smooth, and probably had a deep reservoir of knowledge about the parallax that he kept hidden. And, of course, he was their only link with the Ancient Engineer.

  Hunter stopped the sound and settled back in his seat, and William relaxed once more in his seat. Satisfied that Hunter was no danger, Proof turned to Grace. “Let’s hear your side of this.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, uncharacteristically miserable. “I mean, it turns out that getting sexually assaulted is no fun no matter what era you’re in.”

  There were some low chuckles from Jeremy and Trina. Even William couldn’t resist a half smile.

  “Did you see any evidence of these guys interfering in their hosts?” said Proof.

  “I heard William’s host shout Hunter’s name,” she said. “That much is true. For Hunter, I don’t know. It’s possible that Hunter’s host was trying to rape my host without any interference whatsoever. He seemed like a pretty bad guy.”

  William tried not to roll his eyes. While not defending Hunter, Grace was refusing to throw him under the bus. He didn’t know why she wouldn’t condemn his behavior. Then he realized that she hadn’t seen all the circumstantial evidence that he had. She hadn’t been in the ger in the previous snap, to see the odd way that Hunter’s Mongol host had tried to steal the saddle. She hadn’t seen his Italian host wink either, and she probably wouldn’t have recognized it, even if she had seen it.

  It seemed that William was out on this branch alone.

  “But do you think Hunter was acting with bad intentions?” asked Proof.

  “How am I supposed to know his intentions?” Grace said. “I can’t know yours, or William’s, or anybody’s. All I can see is a person’s actions.”

  It seemed to William that was a solid point of view. A person’s beliefs or intentions were, in the end, irrelevant to the way he or she acted toward others. Our behavior was much more important. Words and thoughts just drifted up into the air like so much smoke, but actions, those crept along the earth, close to the ground, and followed a person around.

  Actions speak louder than words. He grinned to himself. Those old sayings carry a lot more wisdom than people usually realize.

  Then he looked over at Grace. She knew all of this. If anybody needed more evidence that she was more advanced than the rest of them, this was it.

  “Hunter,” said Proof, “William has just admitted his own complicity in disrupting the events of the tag-along. Would you like to make a similar admission?”

  Hunter’s face seemed to be drawn up into itself, like a plastic bag getting hoovered into a vacuum cleaner. “I have nothing to confess,” he said.

  “Nothing?”

  He shook his head. It was as though Hunter were already somewhere else. His personality had vacated the room.

  “You’re among friends,” said Proof.

  “I don’t see any friends here,” replied Hunter.

  Jeremy spoke up. “Then what do you see?”

  “People who can help me get to where I’m going.”

  “Really?” said Grace.

  “That’s how you see us?” said Trina.

  Hunter shrugged. “You can call it whatever you want. I want to improve my own powers.”

  Proof interrupted. “These are big questions, and you guys can continue this debate on your own time. Let’s finish the debriefing. Jeremy, tell me what you’ve learned.”

  As Jeremy spoke, William sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. They could advance to CA3 only as a team, and right now this was looking like anything but a team.

  CHAPTER 12

  HAT NIGHT, WILLIAM WAS WRACKED with anxiety. He felt the tightness in his upper back, the stiffness in his neck, the anger in his throat. So he did what had worked in the past.

  He went to the gym.

  The Ancient Engineer had remembered to construct a small exercise room in the team quarters, down a small hallway next to the galley. It was usually empty, though Trina could be found here most regularly, cycling or running on the treadmill. Jeremy occasionally came in to use the rowing machine.

  William rarely used the gym. He hadn’t really needed to exercise much. Participating in a daily snap was enough activity. He didn’t know exactly how it worked, but the physical activity inside another person’s body seemed to have physiological results on his own. Sometimes, after a physically strenuous snap, he’d even wake up sore.

  Today was different. He needed to release some of whatever had been building up in his back.

  Entering the weight room, he took in the equipment. A long rack of dumbbells of varying weights. A pull-down machine for the latissimus dorsi. A few benches, some inclined, some flat. A bench press. A pull-up bar. A squat rack.

  He took a deep breath and went over to the rack of dumbbells. He selected a couple of lighter ones, twenty-five pounds, and carried them over to a bench. He seated himself on the edge, his back erect, and took one in each hand. Then, slowly, William curled them up to his chest, left, right, alternating sides. He struggled to keep his upper arms still, and held them close to his side.

  On his last set, he heard a voice from the doorway. “Mind if I work out with you?”

  Goosebumps went down each of Williams’ legs. He knew that voice. He didn’t need to turn his head, but he did anyway.

  It was Hunter.

  “You can do what you want, Hunter,” he said, then dropped the weights on the floor. They bounced twice and rolled to a stop. “You always do.”

  Hunter sauntered into the room, one hand unconsciously touching his biceps, as if checking for awesomeness. William had a normal physique, but Hunter was a string bean, his limbs long, his muscles ropy and thin. Touching his own muscles was a sign of insecurity.

  Hunter read the numbers on the side of the weights that William had just dropped. “Twenty-five?”

  “Yes.”

  Hunter went to the rack and selected a pair of weights. William noticed that they were thirties. He made an annoyed face but hid it quickly. Hunter was acting like a parody of the kind of guy William didn’t want on his team. Especially, when the entire team needed to progress.

  He watched as Hunter sat down on the bench and lifted the dumbbells to his chest. The renegade team member admired himself in the mirror, nodding, even making kissy-face to himself. William noticed that his form was terrible.

  Then Hunter dropped the weights and sat there, breathing. The silence between them was thick with tension.

  Finally, Hunter turned his head. “What motivates you, William?”

  That was a strange question. It wasn’t challenging, or dominant, or anything. It hinted at a person who was authentically interested in others. William wasn’t interested in revealing his heart to this guy. He was a scorpion after all, and you carried one of those on your back across the river at your own peril.

  “Money,” said William. “I want to be rich. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I’m trying to ask you a serious questi
on,” Hunter replied.

  “Maybe I don’t want to answer.”

  “Look, I get that you don’t like me,” he replied, standing up. “But we’re teammates. Don’t you think we should at least try to get along?”

  William admitted to himself that it made sense. But there was no earthly reason that he could think of to trust Hunter with his deepest thoughts and secrets.

  “Honestly, I never thought too much about my motivation.”

  Hunter had gone over to the squat rack and was sliding metal plates onto each end of the bar. “Most people give normal answers.”

  William hit upon a safe answer. “I guess that I just really want this team to succeed,” he said. “And if the team succeeds, then we all advance ourselves.”

  Hunter positioned himself beneath the bar, his feet an appropriate distance apart, the bar pressing into his bony shoulders. “Ask yourself: What do you want to use those advanced abilities for?”

  “I don’t know yet,” said William.

  Than Hunter grunted, his legs tensing. He lifted the bar off the rack and groaned as he lowered himself to a squat, then stood up, then lowered himself, then stood up again, all with the loaded bar on his shoulders. When he reached eight repetitions, he carefully walked forward and placed the bar back on the rack.

  “I would say,” he replied, breathing heavily, “that it doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter how we use our advanced abilities?” said William.

  “No. What matters is that we become powerful. That’s self-advancement.”

  William felt a chill go down his spine, as though Hunter had just casually admitted to murder. “That sounds really amoral, Hunter.”

  Hunter shrugged and went over to the mirror, where he flexed. “All self-advancement is good. It pushes the universe forward.”

  William didn’t quite know what to say to that, but he knew that it filled him with a strange fire to act. So he walked to the pull-up bar, leapt up and grabbed it, then lifted himself up so that his chin touched the bar. Then he lowered himself. He did seven more pull-ups, before falling to the floor.

  He stood up, breathing hard, hands on his hips. “Or backward,” he replied.

  “Huh?”

  “When we think only of ourselves, maybe the universe goes backward.”

  Hunter sneered. “Who’s to say what is forward or backward? The universe is just one giant threshing machine. It chews up and spits out. It doesn’t know anything else.” He admired himself again in the mirror. “I’m going to be the one doing the chewing.”

  “Even if other people get hurt?” said William. He came over and drew close to Hunter, until they were almost nose to nose. He could smell his teammate’s sweat; it carried a note of bitterness and the tangy scent of iron.

  Hunter looked him up and down, and an amused smile appeared on his face. “Are we going there again?”

  “You influenced your host.”

  He shrugged. “So did you.”

  “The difference is that you influenced your host to do something very bad.”

  Hunter’s voice grew serious. He edged closer to William’s face. They were nose to nose now. “Maybe I did. Maybe it’s up to you to stop me, William.”

  “Nobody should have to suffer so that you can get your jollies.”

  Hunter put a hand on William’s shoulder. “Life is suffering, William. Do you know who said that?”

  William removed the hand from his shoulder. “Buddha. It’s the First Noble Truth. Do you know the Second Noble Truth?”

  Hunter kept his eyes fixed on William. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  “Suffering is caused by selfish craving and personal desire,” said William. He poked Hunter in the sternum with an index finger. “And the third Noble Truth says that to end suffering, you must kill desire.”

  The importance of those words slowly sank into Hunter’s brain. He looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Then he turned away and strode toward the door of the gym.

  Before he reached the door, however, Hunter picked up a small dumbbell from the rack and hurled it across the room.

  It smashed into the mirror. William flinched, instinctively lifting his arms over his face. When he lowered them, he saw that the mirror was shattered, a spiderweb of shards of mirror, and Hunter was gone.

  William stood there, scarcely daring to breath, for several more seconds. Then he shook it off and wiped his face on a towel.

  Some people were simply impossible to deal with, but he couldn’t write off Hunter so easily, not when William’s own success depended on their cooperation.

  CHAPTER 13

  ATER THAT NIGHT, IN THE GALLEY, WILLIAM sat alone in the kitchen, chewing a stalk of celery, wondering why anybody would eat this useless food.

  He’d been moping around for hours, obsessive thoughts floating around his brain. He worried chiefly about the interaction with Hunter earlier in the day. Going on about personal improvement no matter what the cost, no matter how many people suffer? Throwing a dumbbell at the mirror? It was egomaniacal. And it definitely wasn’t the sign of someone who wanted to work for a team. William clawed his hands down the sides of his face. This conflict with Hunter was going to get worse before it got better. He knew that much for sure.

  William went to the refrigerator and held open the door and looked blankly at the shelves. Nothing caught his fancy. He picked up a bunch of leafy greens, chard, maybe, or kale, then frowned and put it back. Cooking felt like too much effort, particularly when he had so much weighing on his mind. A chef who made their meals. Her name always escaped his mind, but she disappeared into her quarters after dinner and rarely spoke. If anybody on the team got the munchies at night, they had to find a way to satisfy themselves.

  William shut the refrigerator door and left the kitchen and shuffled down the corridor once again, the soles of his slippered feet scraping across the floor that was as black as his mood. His shoulders slumped, and his chin was tucked into his sternum.

  As William passed Grace’s dormitory room, he heard a giggle, then a laugh. He paused. Something about the way that the giggle sounded made him think that she wasn’t alone.

  He quietly walked up to her door and gingerly laid his ear against its surface. Inside he could hear murmurings. Grace’s voice.

  And a low male voice.

  Grace wasn’t alone. He knew that voice. She was with Hunter.

  William stepped back from the door, feeling the fury rising inside him. Then he fought the feeling back down. How was he supposed to spiritually advance like this? How was he supposed to feel empathy for others when he was so consumed with his own sadness, anger and anxiety? The dark sinister trio of emotions seemed to wash over him like a dark tide after every encounter with Hunter.

  He stood before the door, forcing himself to breathe in, breathe out. He felt like a yogi trying to find his inner wellspring of peace. At last he felt a calm come over him. Grace was a beautiful and outstanding girl, but she was still just a girl, a human being, one with free will. She could use that free will in whatever way she liked, and with whoever she liked.

  William closed his eyes. Stay focused on the goal of advancing to CA3. The team needs unity. Focus.

  He turned away from the door, shut his eyes, and exhaled deeply. He felt a sensation of peace immediately sweep across him. It wasn’t easy wrestling down the twin challenges of a disappointed teenage crush and an immense distaste for a toxic team member, but he did it.

  Another sound caught his ear. It was Grace again, but this time it was like a muffled scream from inside the room. Then there was silence.

  William stopped, turned around, and faced the door again.

  Hunter had attacked Grace.

  That was the only explanation that William could summon. The feeling of peace instantly evaporated. His field of vision narrowed; the world went red. He found himself charging toward the door, his leg flying forward, and his foot striking
it.

  The door burst open under the strength of his foot, and William tumbled into the room. He came to a stop and looked around. Grace was sitting on a chair at one end of the dormitory room. She was holding what looked like a small booklet in her hand.

  “William!” she said. “Is something wrong?”

  He turned his head. In a chair on the other side of the room sat another person, but it wasn’t Hunter.

  It was Jeremy, holding a similar booklet in his hand.

  “I heard a scream,” he said slowly, still trying to understand the situation, “and I thought there was something wrong in here. I thought maybe Hunter was here.”

  Jeremy and Grace exchanged looks, then both burst out laughing. “That scream,” said Grace, “was because we’re acting.” She held up the booklet. “This is a script. We’re rehearsing.”

  William felt dazed. “Oh.”

  “We’re acting,” said Jeremy.

  The red slowly drained out of William’s rapidly widening field of vision. Everything was coming back into clearer focus. He hunted around for a moment until he found the right words. “Is it for a performance?”

  “I guess I’ve made . . . a mistake,” he said.

  “Apparently,” said Jeremy. “Hey, since you’re so concerned, we’re doing this because I’ve been having trouble feeling deeply during the snaps. Proof suggested that I practice acting.”

  “As a way to build empathy,” added Grace.

  “And she agreed to help me do a scene,” Jeremy finished. “A Streetcar Named Desire.”

  William felt ridiculous. He backed slowly out of the room. “I’m very sorry to interrupt. I was just . . . worried.”

  “You have to fix that door,” said Grace.

  “I will,” he promised.

  “Hey, wait, before you go,” said Jeremy, standing up. “Grace said you were a decent actor. Do you want to read some lines for me? Show me how to do it?”

  Flattered, William stopped and thought about it. There was no harm in helping Jeremy out.