The Missing Link

by David Tysdale

  The professor rounded her desk, flipped through her attendance book and squinted up at the class. Her gaze lit on Carole. A warm smile spread over her face. "Feeling better this morning, Miss Sylphwood?"

  Carole looked a question at her.

  "Professor Philamount informed me that you were, how did he put it, 'a little under the weather.' A curious phrase. monobrain origin?"

  Carole nodded, hating that she was now the center of attention.

  "Intriguing, and no, Mr. Joelson." Professor Jazpur focused on a boy trying to slip unnoticed into the room. "Your being under the weather today, does not excuse you from yesterday's telepathy translation homework."

  "Could've at least given me a chance to ask," the boy muttered. He slid into a chair, amidst a smattering of laughter.

  "But I did." Professor Jazpur beamed. "Your thoughts rang out loud and clear. A chiming bell could have done no better. Remember class, true language is transuniversal, while the spoken word is merely...?"

  "Species specific." The students spoke in unison.

  "Yes, species specific. Every species thinks at some level. Even a primitive coldwater crustacean has rudimentary thoughts, mostly about finding food while not becoming food. Tap into those bubbles of thought and what need have we for words? Indeed it is my humble opinion that meaning is mercilessly mutilated, when we try to stuff thought into such limited, sharp-edged things.

  "Words!" She made a face. "Disgusting, trivial things. How can you possibly convey the essence of a Mourning Lute's spine tingling call to the hunt, by saying, 'it has a warbly, melancholic voice?' Yet here we all are, forced to communicate with the vile things.

  "No, not the Mourning Lute, Mr. Gillis. Words! We are forced to communicate with words. But you, sir, couldn't have demonstrated my point more perfectly. See the confusion words generate. Polluting the very air we breathe with noxious and noisy exhaust.

  "Make no mistake. Words are treacherous, diabolical devices, not to be trusted. Never turn your back on a word of unknown origin. It could very well be the last thing you do.

  "Of course quite the opposite can be said of thoughts. Magnificent creatures, billowing out like clouds; ever changing, ever expanding, ever inclusive. True they have a double-edged quality to them. Thoughts can lift you up or pull you down, but when in the midst of one, you always know where the thinker resides.

  "Yes, thoughts are language in its most purest form. And if true language is transuniversal, than thoughts are nothing but...?" She looked around, encouraging the class.

  "Vibration," they spoke as one.

  "And vibration is nothing but..?"

  "Energy."

  "Yes, yes, the energy of vibration, the vibration of energy. And no Miss Trudle, it is not just a confusing pile of cripcrap. In fact, as I've been trying to explain for weeks now, it's quite the opposite. Else how could I have telepathically translated your reference to a cripit's compost pile, just now?"

  "But you're you." A dark-haired girl with a ponytail scowled. "No one else can do what you do, not even the other professors. So how can you expect us to?"

  "Not true. Not true at all." Professor Jazpur spoke in a sing-song lilt. "Perhaps you do not think as enthusiastically as I, but all of you possess the ability. Still dormant perhaps, still slumbering peacefully within, but I assure you the awakening can occur at any moment. And it must occur!" Her shout caused all the students to jump. "Because if left untended, if allowed to remain asleep, in time the ability to think will shrivel to nothingness.

  "Why look at our own dear professor, Rizzo. On the surface one might easily dismiss him as a man without the slightest inclination towards telepathic translation, and yet is he not able to converse with giant cave crabs?"

  "Not very well," a boy said with a snicker.

  "Certainly you've never misread another's intentions, have you Mr. Tillspur? Wasn't there a certain young woman who shall, for the sake of propriety, remain nameless."

  Turning bright red, Ronald Tillspur, slouched deep into his seat.

  "All of us experience numerous misreads here in our very own dimension. It is part of the path of learning, and I would expect nothing less. So, when you consider that those crabs communicate by pincer snap and eye stock sway, it is a wonder any of us can converse with them at all. Telepathy translation. Professor Rizzo translated their thoughts through learning their motions."

  Professor Jazpur pirouetted about the room, flooding the air with her eye-watering scent. "Thoughts, emotions, feelings, conveyed by a look, an action, a scent; by the very vibration of one's brain. And our own Carole Sylphwood--"

  Carole jerked alert. She'd been thinking about the Dark Realm, wondering how that evil presence had been able to force its thoughts into her head. She looked anxiously at the professor. Had the woman read her mind just then? Please no, she prayed.

  Jazpur ceased her spinning and, brushing hair from her eyes, faced the class. "On your wild journeying last spring, did you not sense things? Interpret things? Were you not forced on many occasions to feel your way?"

  "Yes." Carole sighed with silent relief. "All the time."

  "Well there you have it." Professor Jazpur beamed. "What some might dismiss as simple intuition, Miss Trudle, is in reality an advanced form of telepathy translation. You take a passing bundle of energy and tease it into a form that you can understand. Remarkable. Astounding, in fact."

  "But how?" Shelly Trudle whined.

  "It might do you some good to review your class notes from our first week," the professor reprimanded gently. "However, judging by the fog of confusion filling the room, I see that you are not alone. It seems words have won again. So very quickly..."

  Professor Jazpur danced over to the blackboard and sketched the profile of a figure with a watermelon-like brain inside its head. "Now then, we are blessed with physical and energetic receptors covering our entire form. Both Mr. Mertroid. Both." She sighed, and looked towards a short boy who was in the process of raising his arm. "As our bodies are both physical and energetic, does it not make sense that our receptors would also be physical and energetic? Do you remember nothing from last year? From last month, in fact?"

  Red faced, the boy rifled through his notes.

  "Our physical receptors, Mr. Mertroid, are easily recognized are they not? Sight, touch, taste, and so on. Our energetic receptors, though more subtle, are just as easy to recognize: intuition, telepathy, prescience and the like. They might require a little signal boosting, but of course our ears do the very same thing by directing and concentrating sound waves to the eardrum." Professor Jazpur drew a circle on the forehead of her sketch. "So it is with the mind's eye, and similarly with the heart's eye." She drew a second circle on the chest.

  She pointed to the mind's eye. "Thought energies are concentrated here, and travel back to here." She drew a line from the forehead to the back of the brain, and shaded the area. "And it is the same with our heart's eye. Feeling energies travel from here-- "She tapped the chest circle, and traced a line to the shaded area of the brain. "--to here."

  "We must use both the mind's eye and heart's eye to get a complete picture of incoming energy. Alone, the mind's eye contains information bereft of feeling. Alone, the heart's eye contains feeling bereft of reason. Foreground with no background, or background with no foreground. By themselves, incomplete and confusing, but together a total telepathic picture. Total understanding! You see Miss Trudle, not cripcrap at all.

  "Energy received, concentrated, transported and translated. You might have noticed that the translation happens in exactly the same way for the physical senses." Professor Jazpur tapped the shaded area of her picture. "Our brains don't give a leaper's lunge where the signal come from. Their job is to translate the signal, and they'll do a bang up job, if you give them half a chance.

  "Through practice, Mr. Balphalar." Professor Jazpur didn't even bother to look at the boy fidgeting next to Carole. "Many of you seem to believe that I create homework assignments to be some f
orm of punishment, but truly I can think of no greater punishment than to wander through life without the ability to translate telepathically. And so, despite the grievous setback to our already tight schedule, I believe this little review has been invaluable. And for homework I shall ask you to review the entire year to date. There will be a short quiz tomorrow, worth... Oh, say twenty percent of your final grade."

  A collective groan escaped from the class.

  "You may use the rest of this period to study," the professor concluded.

  Carole flipped her notebook to the first page. She had begun to read, when an itchy sensation played across her forehead. She scratched at the spot, but the sensation only intensified. She looked up. Professor Jazpur was staring at her. The woman gave a hint of a nod, before walking over to the window.

  Carole dawdled at the end of the period, allowing the rest of the class to exit ahead of her. Professor Jazpur was reading at her desk. As soon as it was just the two of them, Jazpur closed her book.

  "I had no idea," she offered by way of apology. "Naturally from my chats with Melodious, I know more than most, but the horror you must have experienced in that Dark Realm. Battling pure evil..." Her face paled, and Carole saw tears welling up.

  "You were wise to keep such details to yourself, Carole." Professor Jazpur blinked her eyes clear. "Rekindling knowledge of that realm in today's charged climate would not serve our cause."

  Carole remained mute.

  "And your two monobrain friends, do they also know?"

  Afraid her voice would break, she only nodded.

  "Astounding. We are fortunate that those of, shall we say differing opinions, see little use in the Devilles. Regardless, your secret will remain safe with me." Professor Jazpur regarded Carole, "You have questions...but not for this time. Very well, when you are ready to ask, I am ready to answer. However, I would entreat you to be a little gentler with my dear friend Melodious. He was quite beside himself with worry after learning of your illness, though I had warned him that you weren't one to be kept bedridden for long."

  "How did--"

  "Professor Philamount sought my advice, once he was certain you were ill. As for the rest," the woman held up her arms, "it's what we are, what we do. Do not be ashamed of your abilities, Carole. Reading another's energy is no more prying than noticing the style of their clothing. That most choose to deny this reality is not your fault. Bask in your talents and learn from them, but I must also caution against letting down your guard. Professor Philamount hasn't led you astray with his concerns."

  The woman smiled benignly. "It is ironic that you, who have lived so long away from the Hub, should turn out to be more multitasker than any of us, but therein also lies the peril. Now off you go. The bell for next class is about to ring and I don't wish to be responsible for your tardiness."

  --22--

  The bell sounded before Carole reached her class, but she wasn't too concerned. The preschoolers only had eyes for Zack these days, and Professor Startling had her hands full keeping them off him. When she opened the classroom door, she saw the children standing behind a long bench that sectioned off three-quarters of the room. On her side the carpet had been rolled against the wall. On the other side, the floor was a checkerboard of blue and red paint. Wet paint, still glistening.

  This was new. Even the boys were ogling the squares instead of Zack. She walked over to the twins and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Lilly merely shook her head.

  Professor Startling began. "Okay class, today we're going to Soft-Walk for real. Begin with your warm-up exercises. It's a little bit tight so make sure you clear a space around you. That's right, turn slow circles with your arms wide. Make sure you can't touch anyone else."

  A number of the boys began to spin like battling tops, trying to knock each other over. Jo-Jo and Gerald connected solidly and tumbled happily to the ground.

  "Slowly children. Jo-Jo, over here. Gerald, there."

  Soon the class was reasonably spaced and the two boys safely separated.

  "Now close your eyes and feel the ground beneath your feet. Pretend you're a tree. Turn your toes into roots and send them deep into the ground. Feel the different textures and temperatures. Is it hot, cold, dark, light, hard, soft? Breathe Jocalyn. Even trees breathe, and they do so slowly and deeply."

  As the girl, Jocalyn, inhaled, the bright pink faded from her cheeks.

  "Now send your roots out in front of you, and follow them very slowly. Step heel-to-toe. Remember you want to know what's in the ground, what's on the ground, what's above the ground. If you sense someone in your way, give him or her time to pass. Keep your eyes closed. Jo-Jo, stop racing with Gerald! Peeking won't help you learn, Gerald, only practice will."

  Carole watched the twins. Lilly was poised and relaxed, Zack, focused and determined. The younger kids were inching across the floor, some serious, others grinning ear-to-ear.

  Closing her own eyes, Carole allowed her subtle senses to wash over the entire school. The result was predictable. Hub Central was a sea of swirling emotions. Curious about the rest of the Hub community, she extended herself further. She started, and an icy cold pierced her skull.

  She blinked in shock and rubbed her forehead. Around her the children were still practicing. Professor Startling was speaking quietly to a girl and the Devilles were inching along. She closed her eyes and tried again, first extending her senses through the school and then to the community beyond. This time she sensed nothing out of the ordinary.

  "All right class," Professor Startling said, "let's take it up a level. No doubt you've noticed the red and blue paint on the floor. What you're going to do, is Soft-Walk across the checkerboard, keeping to one color while trying not to touch the paint. Easy peasy. Oh, I almost forgot." She grabbed a bunch of scarves from her desk. "You'll be doing this blindfolded. Not that it really matters, since your eyes will be shut anyway, right Jo-Jo?"

  The children groaned and giggled.

  "Everyone take a seat on the bench, facing me. Not too close." Professor Startling warned, as students jostled each other. "We'll start at this end of the line. Sarina, you can begin this exercise for us." A lanky blonde girl jumped like a startled rabbit.

  Professor Startling tied a scarf securely around Sarina's eyes. "Okay, swing around, holding your feet up."

  The child did as she was told.

  "Good. Take a deep breath and send out those roots. When you're ready, I want you to step only on the blue squares. That's most important. If you Soft-Walk above them even better, but today we're focusing on getting the color right. Ready, off you go.

  "Quiet, the rest of you. No hints. Let's see how well Sarina does on her own."

  The girl's feet hovered over the first painted square.

  "Feel for the cool blue. Sense the difference between it and the warmer red."

  Sarina lowered her legs, not quite letting her feet touch the floor. Directly beneath them was a red square. She hesitated a moment, swung right, left, and finally split her legs wide and stood with each foot on a blue square.

  The children cheered.

  Professor Startling beamed. "Very good."

  Sarina took a step forward and then another. Carole could see that the bottoms of her feet were paint free. Sarina made her way slowly across the floor, faltering only once.

  When she reached the far wall, Professor Startling clapped her approval, with the rest of the class enthusiastically joining in. Sarina pulled off her blindfold and lifted each foot in turn, holding them so the rest of the class could see. Her left was totally clean, while the right had only the slightest blue stain on the heel.

  "That was when you hesitated," the teacher explained. "As soon as you doubt yourself, class, you sink. But didn't Sarina do a wonderful job? And she recovered beautifully. She has set a high standard for the rest of you to follow, but remember this isn't a contest. It's an exercise to strengthen your senses. So, no fretting about how well or poorly you do. Remember the Celestial Nexus.
Many brilliant and gifted multitaskers are denied that final goal.

  "So who's next? Three can cross at a time." Professor Startling held up two more blindfolds.

  A forest of arms shot into the air. She chose a boy closest to her. "Rufus?"

  The lad flinched a little, but faced the professor while she affixed the blindfold and sat him down on the bench. "You try for the red squares. Justin you go for the blue, and Bailey, you also take red." A pudgy boy reached for Professor Startling's other blindfold, while a girl went for the one Sarina still held.

  Rufus was the first of the three to start off, reaching out with his toes as if he were testing hot bath water. He unerringly touched down on a red square.

  "Wonderful, got it first off," Professor Startling said. "Now see if you can cross without touching the paint. Rufus jumped from square to square without hesitation, though he picked up a little paint on each foot. Justin and Bailey were equally good."

  The success at avoiding the paint varied amongst the preschoolers, though all landed on the proper squares. Soon only Carole and the twins had still to try.

  "Carole?" Professor Startling asked.

  Carole didn't see much point in this exercise.

  As if reading her thoughts, the teacher explained, "It's not just a matter of Soft-Walking, more importantly it's about gleaning as much information from the surrounding terrain as possible. That's why we focus on the color, more than on the ability to float above it."

  Carole sighed and accepted the blindfold.

  "I'd like you to do things a little differently. I'll call the pattern for you to follow. Try to complete the task as quickly as possible. When you're ready."

  There was an excited murmur from the preschoolers as they pushed in close. Carole crouched on the bench, tied on her blindfold, pivoted towards the checkerboard floor and nodded.