Evolution

by Dave Nesbit

  “Good morning Ryan, you took a hell of a nap.” He lifted a small penlight, gripped it tightly and shone it in my eye. This was not the most enjoyable thing in the world.

  “Hold still.” He said gently and checked the other eye. “Well, your pupil reaction is fine.”

  “That’s good to know.” I managed to croak. The nurse handed me a glass of water which I sipped at. My throat felt better a few seconds later. Once I could feel my vocal cords I tried again. “Where am I?”

  “You're at University of Chicago Medical center.” The doctor replied.

  “Okay, uh, what's with the room? It seems really weird.” Trying to puzzle out what the hell was going on. My brain was having trouble finding memories of why I might be here.

  “We've got someone coming by in a moment to talk to you about that.” I looked at him with an arched eyebrow. “Don't worry, it's gonna be fine.” There was a knock on the door, and a head poked in. “Speaking of which,” the doctor said. “I'll be back in a bit.”

  The doctor and nurse left and a man entered wearing a very nicely tailored dark suit, a crisp white shirt and dark tie. His face was handsome but seemed drawn, with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He had the sort of features one might expect of a graduate of an Ivy League school, and he wore a very tasteful short haircut.

  He was, in short, the epitome of what one might call the typical American WASP.

  “Hi, I'm Roger Hamilton.” He said looking me over and extending a hand. I took it and he gave a firm grip.

  “Uh, hi.” I responded. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well that's a bit of a story. You've been out for a while and missed a lot.” He pulled up a wooden chair.

  “How long is a while?”

  “Two weeks.”

  I blinked and tried to get my head around that. I was asleep? In a coma? “How's my dad?” I asked as the events that led up to this suddenly crashed into my memory.

  “He's fine. Your mom and dad are on their way here now.”

  I let go a sigh of relief and thought about it. “What did I miss? And why does this room look weird?” I replied, pointing to all the plastic accoutrements everywhere.

  “It's going to take a little explaining.” He walked to the door. “Let me demonstrate.” He stepped out and came back with something in his hand. As he brought it in the room I could feel it in his hand from across the room like it had a physical presence.

  He opened his fingers and in it was a round rod of metal about an inch thick and three inches long. “I want you to look at this and concentrate.”

  So I did as I was told. Looking at it gave me what felt like a connection to the piece of metal. I could feel it and I felt like it was, in a way, resting on a hand I had that existed 15 feet away. Looking at it, I lifted my eyes and the rod jerked up suddenly. Mr. Hamilton backed up and let it hover in the air as I moved my eyes and made it move through the air; trying not to lose control of it and have it hit anyone or anything.

  Next I tried doing it just with how it felt. Using its presence in my mind. Moving it without moving my eyes. It was hard at first, like trying to put on a tire in the dark. You can feel the tools and tire, but you miss having a reference. With a little effort, I soon had it moving perhaps with even more control than with my eyes.

  Then I set it back down, wondering if that had really just happened.

  “There were times when you were out that your power would manifest wildly. Things would go flying all over the place. We did our best to make this room as metal free as possible and we have strong magnetic fields around this room to keep your power from damaging anything outside of this space.”

  “Damn.” I whispered quietly.

  “Something like that. You missed a lot in the last few weeks. Let’s help you get caught up.” He sat down next to me and placed a tablet computer on my hospital bed tray.

  “How much do you remember about what happened?”

  “Well the sonic boom from the comet blew all the windows out where we were.” I paused, working my memory for more information. “There was a huge explosion over us.”

  “I spoke to an astronomer who said that all the pieces had exploded in one way or another. He mentioned something about the combined heat and forward pressure on the comet chunk.” Hamilton paused, then prompted me for more.

  “Well, then my Dad grabbed me and hauled us out of there.”

  “What do you remember when you were on your way out?”

  “There was this weird smoke, except it smelled more like ice. Like I was out on the lake in January.” I said my brain working to define the memory. “It was weird though. There were things in there that seemed to be glowing.”

  Hamilton nodded. “That’s the stuff we want to know more about. It seems as though that material carried some kind of substance that bonded to a few people’s cells, and partially re wrote their genetic code.”

  “What?” Was all I could think of to say.

  “We’re still studying the effects on the people who we have had in for treatment. The good news is, you’re in much better shape than some of the people who were affected. The strange news is we’re trying to figure out why you and so many others now have these abilities.”

  Turns out, as much as I was working on recovering from what the comet and its genetic surprise had done to or for me, it could have been worse. Most people weren’t affected by the comet residue at all. The material has found no common point to match with.

  In others, the residue did find that common point and went to work. A few were physically damaged by it, almost turned inside out by the residue trying to re-write them. Still more, mostly adults, who had been bonded with the material didn’t have the physical wherewithal to handle the changes. They died of cardiac or cerebral embolisms and aneurysms. Often not knowing why.

  Some adults survived the change but there seemed to be something about the malleable nature of people under 25 that allowed them to handle the change better.

  Chapter 6

  It took a week for me to feel like I had adequate control of my new abilities. Which is what they wanted before I would be let out of the hospital. This drove me stir crazy, but with the power of hindsight, it made a lot of sense.

  A person with my ability could short out the electrical system of a building, and when that building is a hospital. Well, that creates some legitimate concerns.

  With that in mind, I learned to fold the power up into me, like a ball of light, held within a spot in my mind. A thing not to be let out until I wanted it to happen. I worked with Mr. Hamilton and a doctor named Lara Ng to help me keep this thing in check for my day to day life.

  Doctor Ng was incredibly helpful, being both a Neurologist and Psychiatrist. She was an Asian lady who was likely in her early 40's. Age had harshened her features, and she looked like a she was all business.

  She was looking me over as I put on a set of sweats and got ready for what I hoped would be the test that would allow me to leave this place and go home.

  A quick glance in the mirror was reassuring. Despite the new gifts my body had been given, I still looked like me. I had Dad’s long body, with a build less lean and more sturdy than his. My black hair was a bit shaggy but framed a face you might call handsome and others would call pleasant. It was clear that I had inherited ancestral Irish features from my Mom’s side of the family. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself.

  “All right, let’s do this.” I said to Dr. Ng, and exited the locker room with her.

  “Okay Ryan,” she instructed quietly as I walked around a gymnasium at a nearby school. “I want you to feel everything around you, but keep your power inside you, and don't let it touch any of the things you feel.”

  I did what was asked of me, walking past galvanized steel garbage cans, metal bleachers, and pieces of exercise equipment. I could feel them as though they were touching parts of my mind. But I did my best not to actually have my mind grasp anything. Which now felt more like
a decision and less like a reflex.

  I walked around there for half an hour feeling like an idiot but being observed by Mr. Hamilton, Doctor Ng, a collection of technicians, and a camera crew. All of the experiments we had done were being recorded, which kind of bothered me. It made me feel like a lab animal, a creature with no real say in his life. I also had to admit at the same time that this whole “Touched” phenomenon was so new that any and all information regarding it was considered useful.

  Doctor Ng finally called a halt to my wandering. Which for me was great. It was beginning to seem less like an experiment and more like an opportunity to make me feel like a toy on the researcher’s personal race track.

  “Well I think you can be discharged from the hospital but we would like weekly consultations. Until school opens that is.” Doctor Ng said. I looked her over questioningly. Wondering what the hell she was talking about.

  “Uh, what happens when school opens?”

  “We are starting a new program for people who are among ‘The Touched’.” Hamilton explained. “It's a school for them to continue their education. And to give them a place to learn more about their powers.”

  I decided not to add the obvious corollary. That they'd learn more about us too.

  “Right now there is a lot of concern amongst local school boards about having kids with your abilities in class with kids who don't have them.”

  “This does have a few unexpected positives for you.” Hamilton said. “You get a world class education, we have professors and faculty from Caltech and MIT lining up to work for us. And you get a stipend for coming and staying at the school.”

  I paused letting all this soak in, having a very real feeling that this decision had been made for me all ready. “Staying at the school?” I inquired, trying to get it all together.

  “Yes; it's a boarding institution.” Dr. Ng was smiling, or doing her best to. “Don't worry it's co-ed, it’s not like you’re going to an old British boarding academy.” She said with a grin.

  It's an odd feeling knowing you’re pretty much trapped into a course of action. As courses of action go it wasn't that bad. It wasn't like I was going to jail or having to wear some kind of thing that identified me as being “Touched”. Still, I wanted any level of control over who I was and what I would be doing.

  “How much is the stipend?” I couldn’t help but grin as I thought of a silver lining. I’d never really had money of my own.

  Hamilton smiled. “Five hundred a week, it will grow over time. Assuming you're interested in turning your abilities into something people can put to work.”

  You had to admire the guy. He managed to turn the the idea of being used, into a complete sentence that lessened the impact of what he was saying.

  “Tell me there isn't a dress code.” I replied. St Peter's Catholic School made us all wear black slacks and light blue shirts. This seriously crimped my desire to wear jeans and advertise my favorite band of the moment.

  Hamilton rolled his eyes. “We'd appreciate it if you dressed.”

  “I can be talked into that.”

  “Good, now let’s get you back to your folks.”

  Chapter 7

  Mom sat in the backseat with me the whole drive home. She was a short stout woman with a face that was pretty much etched by millennia of Irish genes. To put it lightly, this whole experience had thrown her for a loop. She'd been up at our home in Wisconsin when the comet piece shrieked into Chicago and exploded. Apparently she could see the flash and hear the sound from there.

  She knew Dad was okay hours later, but my little two-week nap had really knocked the wind out of her. As you would expect she hung close to me for the first few days I was home.

  Which was great in one sense. It's good to be loved and know it, but I had a new toy I wanted to play with. And if I tried doing it around her the way I wanted to, she'd probably have blown a gasket.

  By that Friday Mom finally had to go back to work. With a hug, I sent her out the door while I smiled and waved. Which was when I mapped out what I wanted to try. Well, okay, I had been thinking about this for a while but today I would actually do it.

  My parents place was in a small city on the border of Wisconsin and Illinois. Well, outside of it to be more precise. We lived in the county area. Which worked out well if you were fan of biking five miles to do anything with friends. It gave me unusually strong legs and a lot of wind.

  It also gave me a lot of space to try an experiment.

  The first part I had mastered the day after I got back from the hospital, when my parents were out at the store. I put what I learned then to use now. Taking a moment to center myself and feel the resonance of the world’s magnetic field around me as I stood in the backyard.

  Then I thought of myself buoyed up by it, held aloft on waves of energy that were both around and part of me. The feeling of the air around me, solidifying into something gel like; almost a cocoon to hold me.

  A moment later, my feet came off the ground and I was about a foot into the air with what felt like no real effort. Opening my eyes, I saw the world from a slightly higher view. Then I thought about it a bit and managed to move myself forward and backward with a bit of thought and mental exertion.

  I could feel butterflies in my stomach as I worked up the guts for the next part. With an idea and a feel of the energy

  around me I pushed myself higher and higher still. Soon I was hundreds of feet above our house and looking down. The lack of anything beneath my feet made me both scared and elated as I focused on the next stage.

  While I was airborne close to the ground I had imagined a hand of invisible force pushing me along gently. Now that I was higher I imagined a similar hand pulling me along. Fast and then faster, till I was in what I always thought of as the classic superhero pose. Flying along, arms out stretched ahead of me, hair blown back by the wind and a huge grin on my face.

  Of course there was a downside to this, the wind battered my eyes as I flew along and I pulled back the speed a bit and made a mental note to get glasses or goggles protect them. I flew at a steady rate above Lake Michigan then dove down to follow the waves, trying not to laugh out loud as I did. Man has always dreamed of flying and now I was doing it, no glider, no motor, just this new amazing ability.

  I ducked down lower over the waves; shooting past a couple of guys in a small sail boat. They turned their heads and pointed at the figure going past them. Seeing that, I gunned it toward the shore. I was so low to the waves that I reached a hand out to touch one.

  Which is when it all went horribly wrong.

  My hand hit the water, dipping into it, which pulled my arm back and broke my concentration. Just long enough for me to get totally turned around in midair and then hit the water at about thirty miles an hour, ass first.

  With that, I skipped along the waters of Lake Michigan like a stone thrown by the hand of God. I lost track of how many times I hit the surface before I sank into about a foot and half of water.

  I stayed there till my body demanded, very loudly, to breathe. With a grunt I did my best to stand. I could see people on the shore looking and pointing at me as I got back up. Of course the first thing I noticed were lot of ladies in bathing suits pointing and staring.

  Let's be honest there's fucking up, fucking up for an audience and fucking up for an audience of scantily clad ladies. I had succeeded at all three and right now my ego was at an epic low point, and all my brain could conjure up to say was “ow ow ow ow ow ow.”

  Shaking my head to clear it, I closed my eyes and extended my senses again. With a mental effort I felt the fields I needed and pushed off of them to get me the hell out of there as fast as I possibly could. The world took pity on me and managed to enact a take-off that was way more dignified than my landing.

  The air blew my clothes dry, as I did my best to recognize the road to my house from a few hundred feet up. Which is surprisingly much harder than you would think. Then focused on trying to slow down, and descend
into something that looked more like a landing and less like a potentially fatal crash.

  Setting down I let myself fold up to my knees. It had been amazing, and terrifying and thrilling and painful.

  I wanted to do it again right away.

  With all the gusto of a young man feeling out a new toy, I ran inside and looked around for a set of sunglasses or a set of work goggles. “Man, why couldn't I have gotten into Steampunk?” I thought as I looked around.

  I was deep into my search when there was a knock on the door. Suddenly, I actually remembered to think about what had just happened.

  My crash had happened in front of a beach full of people, and I bet a lot of them had cell phones.

  Fuck.

  Walking downstairs, I saw Mr. Hamilton's face at the door. Well there was no point in being rude. “Hi, can I help you?”

  Beside him was Dr. Ng. who took one look at me and pushed me aside as she walked in. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” She demanded loudly. This, to put it mildly, was a radical personality departure for her.

  I opened my mouth. Hamilton shut me up with a look and a raised finger. “We got a report of someone flying along Lake Michigan and crashing not five miles from your house. The case is circumstantial, but I bet I'll recognize a certain young man in all the videos going up on YouTube.”

  I could have tried to argue my innocence, but it would hurt my chances the next time I needed to put one over on him. So I didn't. “Admit it. If you could, you'd have been doing it too.”

  He sighed. “The problem with a young man like you getting this sort of power is that you have no idea of patience.”

  “Or that you could have gotten yourself killed doing that little stunt.” Dr. Ng added sounding exasperated.

  “Yeah but it's like they say in science class there’s no such thing as a failed experiment.”

  “Uh huh.” Hamilton answered. “This is true, but your experimentation could injure you or someone else.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have the feeling you'll be the leading cause of my grey hairs and brand new ulcer?”