The Fire In My Eyes

by Christopher Nelson

  I shrugged. “A hell of a lot stronger than I actually am.”

  “And that's exactly what your mind and body think. Putting up that shield? Nothing in your experience has prepared your body for that sort of thing. So what happens? Your body burns the amount of energy it thinks it needs. It's a feedback loop.” Shade shrugged and lifted a hand again. I saw my backpack lift into the air, then do a couple of flips. “Once you start to understand psionic power and use it regularly, your body will figure out that it isn't actually using that much energy. How many calories do you think you'd burn, picking up your backpack and flipping it around like this?”

  “Not too many,” I said.

  “It takes less to do it this way,” he said. “I'm simply manipulating it with my mind. I don't need to exert any muscle energy or even think about it too much. The more natural it becomes, the less tiring it gets. Of course, that doesn't mean you can keep it up forever. Now, how about this?” He pointed across the roof at a large concrete block. “We keep that up here for training. Go pick it up and tell me how much it weighs.”

  I walked over and pushed it with my foot, then reached down and picked it up. It was heavy, not overwhelmingly so, but I had to strain to lift it. “Maybe forty pounds? Fifty?”

  “About fifty. A lot heavier than your backpack. Put it down.” I put it down and stepped away. The block stirred, then lifted into the air. “It doesn't take a lot more effort for me to lift it this way than it does to lift a backpack. If I lifted you, it wouldn't be a whole lot harder either, and I figure you weigh close to four times that block. Why do you think that is?”

  “Because you're not physically doing anything? Everything still has weight and mass. I'm not much for physics, but it still takes a certain amount of force to lift something against the pull of gravity, right?” I walked back over to Shade and shook my arms. I was more out of shape than I thought I was. Too much sitting around lately.

  “Tell me, Parker,” Shade said. “How much energy does it take to think?”

  “I don't know. I'm no biology major.”

  “Is it more or less than the energy you'd use to walk across the roof and pick that up?” he pressed.

  “Less.”

  “That applies to anything you do with telekinesis,” he said. “You're thinking it, not physically doing it. Understand?”

  “I think so. But doesn't that mean that effectively, I could move anything? Like, say, the moon?” I pointed to the horizon.

  He laughed. “I'd love to see you try. You'd drop like a rock.”

  “Why?”

  “First of all, telekinesis isn't perfectly efficient. Even trained psions still struggle with this. It's something that only comes with experience and practice. You can know perfectly well intellectually that you could, in fact, move the moon if you wanted to.” He pointed up at the sky. “That doesn't mean it has no mass, no weight. I can't comprehend how much force you'd need to push the moon. Can you?”

  “Not even close,” I admitted.

  “Second of all, you have to be sensible regarding how far away you reach. Do you really think that an untrained kid like you can reach that far away with your mind? Hundreds of thousands of miles?” He pointed toward the horizon. “Even I can't use telekinesis at distances of more than a few hundred feet, maybe a quarter mile if I really strained.”

  I assumed that he was a bit above average in that aspect. Ripley had said he was one of their top people. “That makes sense. So, how did you shoot those beams of light at that guy? And how did you move so fast when you were fighting? And what about the shields?”

  He shook his head. “Advanced topics, but they all stem from this basic concept. Your mind is more efficient than your muscles. The more you use it, the more efficient it gets, and the stronger you get. Just like working out at the gym. Enough talk. Let's get to work.”

  “I have another question before we start,” I said.

  Shade sighed and sat down on the concrete block. “Make it quick.”

  “Ripley mentioned something about telepathy. Does that exist too?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Of course. Telekinesis, telepathy, metasensory. Those are the three general schools of psionic abilities. You'll learn about all of them, but not tonight. Don't ask.”

  “Fine. What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “We'll start with some basic exercise for the first week. Introductory telekinesis. Take a book out of your backpack.”

  I grabbed an economics textbook. “All right.”

  “Levitate it,” he said.

  I looked at him, then at the book. It weighed a couple of pounds, a thick boring text. Reading it would be a cure for insomnia. I had no idea how to lift it in the air with my mind. “Just lift it?”

  “Put it on the ground. Take a step back. Lift it as high as you can.” Shade sighed. “And don't take all night to do it. We're not leaving until you get it as high as your belt buckle, or until you collapse. I don't really care which.”

  “But how do I do it?” I said. “I mean, how do I go from thinking about doing it, to actually doing it?”

  He shrugged. “That's up to you.”

  Now that was maddening. I dropped the book and took a step back, then breathed in deeply. All I had to do was lift it. I knew it wouldn't take much to get that book up in the air. I just didn't know how to use my power. All the other times, it had just come out of a stressful situation. This wasn't stressful, at least, not in the same way.

  I pointed a finger at the book. “Up.”

  “Up?” Shade's voice sounded incredulous. “What, do you think it's a dog?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You have to match thought to action,” he said. “Think of it being done. You can visualize the book rising in the air, right?”

  I thought of the book lifting smoothly into the air, flying up to the height of my belt buckle. Maybe a little higher, just to show him I could. “I can see it, yes.”

  “Now make it happen,” he said.

  The vision vanished like a puff of smoke. “How?”

  “It doesn't matter how. You just need to make it happen.”

  “This isn't telling me what I need to know.”

  Shade sighed and lowered his head. “Parker, I can teach you a lot of things, but I can't teach you how to bring your power out in the first place. What works for me won't work for you. I'm surprised you haven't already figured out how to do it on your own. It was as natural as breathing for everyone else I've ever trained. Maybe you're just broken.”

  “How do you do it, though? Maybe it'll give me an idea.” I stared down at the book, then prodded it with a toe.

  “I command my power,” he said. “It obeys me. I don't think you have that sort of personality, though.”

  I considered what he said and jabbed the book with my foot again, then closed my eyes. My power was a part of me, too. It was something I had to control. How did I control things? A switch? I could turn it on, or I could turn it off. That was too simple. I needed something that I could adjust to give me as much power as I needed. The next thing that crossed my mind was a faucet, turning the knobs and watching the water flow from the tap.

  The more I thought about that concept, the more natural it seemed. I could tap into my power that way, turning the flow up when I needed it, turning it down to a trickle when I didn't. I could even aim it like a garden hose. I chuckled, earning another sigh from Shade.

  I opened my eyes and stepped back from the book again. In my head, I formed a visualization of a spigot that drew from this pool of power that existed in my mind. I reached inwards and twisted the handle, tapping into that power. It resisted and my temples throbbed in rhythm with my pulse. It was just like it should be, that slight resistance before the flow, the infinitesimal pause just before the water came pouring out. My body was warning me, but I knew that I could use this power. This time, I could control it.

  For a momen
t, I didn't feel anything, but then the unmistakable sensation of power hit me, just like when I manifested that shield. Shade's head snapped up. A sensation of power, of ability. The image of Nikki's face, flying through the air toward the wall. I blinked and felt a surge somewhere in the back of my mind. Pain burst in my head. My temples throbbed and I clutched at my head.

  “No! Concentrate!” Shade's voice snapped the image away from me. “It's not something you can just let run wild! You have to control it, Parker!”

  The flow of power was surging explosively, driving me away from the means of control. I ground my teeth and forced my eyes closed, trying to hold the flow steady until I could safely use it. The surges began to fade in waves and pulses, and the longer I concentrated, the easier it became to stabilize. Finally, the flow was steady and serene, something I could manipulate and control. I opened my eyes. Shade was standing close to me, but I hadn't heard him cross the roof. “I've got it under control,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Like hell,” he snapped. “You've been clutching your head for almost five minutes.”

  Had it really been that long? My jaw ached. I relaxed and kept a watchful inner eye on the tapped power. It quivered, but didn't surge. “No, really. I have it now.”

  “You're fucking dangerous, you know that?” Shade sounded as if he'd like nothing more than to toss me off the roof. “I could feel it when you manifested. Shit, the building shook. I wouldn't be surprised if we heard about a minor earthquake on the news. Alistair expects great things from you? We might not live that long. You've got no fucking control over yourself.”

  “Isn't that what I'm supposed to be learning here?” I snapped back. “You told me to learn control, right? Isn't that what you told me? How do you expect me to learn how to control it without actually doing it?”

  Shade hissed out a breath and reached forward, then pulled back. “Parker, you've got a smart ass mouth. You think you're learning control. We'll see. If you think you've got that screwed up brain of yours under control, try lifting the book like I told you to.”

  I looked down at the book. The glow from my eyes tinted the cover green. I visualized it lifting into the air, smoothly, rising up to chest level, just to prove the point to Shade. I even visualized a little spin on it. I would show him that I could control my power.

  The book shuddered, then lifted off the ground and rose past my ankles. My knees began to shake. Sweat beaded on my forehead and I took a shaky breath. I gave up on spinning the book. By the time it rose past my knees, I was sweating and shaking as if I had just run a mile. My power began to quiver again in my mind and my concentration started to lapse. It was far harder than I thought it would be, but I couldn't let Shade get the better of me. I forced the tap open a little more, giving myself just that much more power.

  The edge of the book rose to the level of my belt, then it was too much. My power sputtered and ran dry. The book hit the ground and I fell to my knees. My stomach churned in protest and sweat poured off me. I panted for breath and heard my pulse echoing in my ears. I had never been so tired in my life, not even after manifesting that shield.

  Shade stood over me, saying nothing until my breathing settled and I was able to swallow. No congratulations were forthcoming for the performance, I was sure. “I've seen better,” he said, confirming my thoughts. “But I've also seen worse. Get some rest, Parker. Eat dinner. Force yourself if you have to. You'll need it. I expect you back here after you're done with classes tomorrow. Just come to the roof. I'll be waiting.” He walked to the edge of the roof, then jumped off.

  I shook my head, spraying drops of sweat all over. If I could even make it back to the dorm tonight, I'd be happy. My stomach protested at the thought of food, but I knew he was right. I needed to eat, sleep, and then I'd be able to come back tomorrow and show him just how much of a quick learner I was.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first week of my new training regimen passed just as Shade had said. It started with lifting the book, then the book in my backpack, then the backpack filled with books. By the end of the week, I was able to lift the concrete block into the air and bring it almost to eye-level before dropping it.

  Shade offered little comment on how I was progressing. When it looked as if I was about to fail, he would taunt and mock me until I succeeded. When I finally did succeed, he would dismiss it or offer a lukewarm compliment. When I asked him at the end of the week how I was doing, he merely shrugged. “Passable. Nothing special about you, Parker. You’re just another kid fumbling around. We'll see what happens next week.”

  Each night after training, I would head to the Caf and load up on food. Healthy, unhealthy, it didn't matter too much. I was always hungry and I suspected that I had actually lost a couple of pounds since the beginning of the week. After eating, I would head back to the dorm room, work on some homework, and collapse into bed as soon as I was done. Drew was often gone. I assumed he was spending time with Lisa. Max made no comment.

  The first weekend came with a respite from training. I woke up late on Saturday to an empty dorm room. During my morning shower, I tapped a trickle of power to pick up a bar of soap, pulling it to my hand. The more I used my power, the less tiring it would get, according to Shade. I was getting in the habit of using it for little things like this when I could.

  When I got out of the shower, I heard someone knocking on the door. “Hold on,” I called, quickly pulling on some jeans. The knocking grew more insistent. Who would be knocking on the door like that? I pulled the door open and blinked in surprise. “Mom? What are you doing here? How did you get into the building?”

  My mother sighed as she took in my wet-haired, shirtless appearance. “Kevin. I see your father's lazy habits have rubbed off. He always wasted weekends away too.”

  I stepped to the side. She swept in like she owned the place. In a sense, she did, since she was paying for my room and board. “I've had a rough week. What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to show up sometime this winter?”

  She stood by my desk and tapped her fingers on it. “You need a computer, don't you? I received an e-mail from one of your professors on your behalf. Why didn't you tell me earlier that you hadn't brought your computer from home? How have you managed so far? This is 2009, Kevin. You need a computer for school.”

  I blinked. Ripley had said he'd take care of it personally. Had he contacted my mom? How did he know how to get a hold of her? “That's what got you here?”

  She sighed again, then brushed her skirt off before sitting down in my chair. Just as always, she was demanding and full of impatient energy. “I was able to finagle a short business trip here. Weekends are the best times for important meetings. No one wants to come, and since they can't leave until I say we are finished, they are very agreeable. I got in late last night and prepared my agenda for the weekend, including visiting my wayward son. Of course, since you were in the shower, it's thrown my entire schedule off.”

  “Like I said, I've had a rough week,” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Studying hard, I imagine.”

  “Yes, actually.” I pulled a t-shirt on.

  “No girlfriend?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “No, Mom. I don't have a girlfriend. I've been too busy with new classes.”

  “But you had an entire trimester before this one to think about it.”

  “I have been thinking about it, but like I said, I haven't had time to do anything about it.” I pulled Max's chair out and sat down. “I thought the point of going to college was to learn. That's what you said when you agreed to pay for it.”

  “Learning from books and professors isn't the only way I expect you to learn,” she said, then looked down at her watch. “I only have a few minutes before I have to leave. You do need a computer, right?”

  I nodded. “Some of my courses require one.”

  “So why didn't you bring your computer from home?” she asked.

  “I didn't want to bring that sort of te
mptation with me.”

  Lines appeared between her eyebrows, but she didn't ask why. I had never explained anything to either of my parents, but maybe she understood. “How have you dealt with college life without a computer so far?” she asked.

  “I borrowed my roommate's computer,” I said, pointing back over my shoulder. “And they have labs on campus.”

  “Roommates?” She looked around the room as if she expected them to come out of hiding. “I see they were awake and active long before you. You should take a lesson from them. I always told your father that he shouldn't let you sleep in so late. Weekends are very important. You can get things done on the weekend that you can't get done over the week.”

  “Like catching up on sleep,” I said. Dad had never cared what I did on the weekends. He slept in too, usually later than I did.

  She sighed yet again and tapped impatiently at my desk. “The damage appears to be done. Do your roommates have girlfriends?”

  “Max doesn't, and I'm not sure classifying Drew and Lisa as a couple is strictly accurate,” I said. “Can we get away from my personal life, please, Mom? I've got too many things to worry about at the moment. Finding a girlfriend just isn't a priority right now.”

  “Kevin, there is no time like the present to explore your options,” she said. Before I could protest, she held her hand up. “No, don't argue. Your father and I met during college. It's a good time to meet people, perhaps the best time. Work doesn't allow you much time to connect with people.”

  “I don't think you're the best example of how to connect with people,” I said before I could think better of it.

  She stared at me in silence for a long moment. Her expression stiffened, then she looked away. “I realize that I haven't been the best mother in the world, Kevin, but your father and I both agreed. We do love each other, but it's for the better that I took this job and spend time away from him.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “That was uncalled for.”