by Jacob Gowans
Sammy didn’t agree, so he shrugged it off. “So I’m good to go even though my Anomaly Eleven isn’t back yet?”
“That’s correct.”
“I thought you and your doctors were going to help me recover that.”
“You have an oversimplified concept of what you’re dealing with. Think of your brain not as a light switch that turns off and on, but as a city with hundreds of thousands of light switches. Maybe even thousands of thousands. Most people have only ten percent of those light switches turned on at a given time. When you were at your peak, you had maybe eleven or twelve percent of them. When you were tortured by Stripe, your brain had to shut off all those extra switches, plus more, in order to help you cope with the tremendous pain.”
“And now I’m dumber than most people?”
“No.” Dr. Rosmir stifled a laugh. “Not at all. Your brain is rebooting all these circuits to start turning the lights back on. I can already tell your brain’s working better because today you proved that you can do something no one else can.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think just happened in that workroom? Your brain is able to focus more of your body’s energy into a powerful blast so concentrated that it superheats the air to incredible levels. No one else can do that, and I doubt anyone else will be able to until another multiple—excuse me—a double anomaly comes along.”
“So why hasn’t my skin melted off?”
Dr. Rosmir shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s probably the same reason you don’t shoot the skin off your bones with energy blasts.”
“Why’s that?”
The answer was a second shrug. “No idea. The Tensais sure love studying the question, though.”
“Any guess on how long it will take my Anomaly Eleven to come back? Or for all the ‘light switches’ to come back on?”
“Several doctors, including me, had a big discussion about that two days ago. Everything was theories and guesses. No one knows for sure. Most of them believe it will all come back at once. A few us think it will be more gradual, like I already explained. But either way, we’re reasonably confident it’ll come back eventually. I hope that gives you some comfort, even if it means you don’t shoot back up to the top of the rankings at headquarters.”
They sat together in silence for a few seconds before Dr. Rosmir spoke again. “I’ll probably need to reevaluate you every month for a year or so. That’s standard procedure for these things. In the meantime, you’re done and can go back home. Good work.”
He waved Commander Byron into the room to tell him they were through. Byron led Sammy to his cruiser waiting on top of one of the roofs. Neither he nor Sammy said anything as they took off, but after glancing a few times at the commander, Sammy could sense that something was different. Byron’s normally stony face betrayed an emotion that Sammy hadn’t seen before: anger.
The closest thing he’d seen to this before was when Commander Byron had broken up a fight Sammy had been involved in, but this seemed to go much, much deeper. Though sorely tempted to break the silence, Sammy knew it was best to keep quiet. Byron didn’t speak at all during the flight, and when they landed on the roof of Beta headquarters, he took Sammy into the office of his apartment on the sixth floor.
Byron’s office was filled with shelves stuffed with awards, keepsakes, and other mementos. Pictures lined his walls, just like the other rooms Sammy had seen the last time he’d visited. Byron took the seat behind his desk, still bristling with a cold fury that Sammy found alarming and slightly dangerous.
“I am glad you are back,” he began, looking not at Sammy, but at an empty spot on the top of his desk. “I know my demeanor at the moment may not reflect that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“While you and Dr. Rosmir were speaking, I received a call from General Wu. Unfortunately, I have not had time to process the news.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
“Changes are coming, Samuel,” Byron said, “from powers beyond my control.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I am being relieved of my station at Beta headquarters.”
“What? They can’t—”
“He can and he did. Next week will be my last as head of Psion Beta. I’ve been promoted to Alpha Command. My new assignment will be a full-time Anomaly recruiter and head of Alpha security. I am to devote my energies and attention to investigating everything Commander Wrobel did to sabotage our systems and leak information.”
The news hit Sammy like a blast to the chest. How can they make him do something like that? “But—”
“Wait, please, for the rest. It also appears more and more likely that you will be forced to graduate early to Alpha. I tried to convince Command and General Wu that you are not ready, but they do not agree with me. Hence my—well, my promotion.”
“How—how—how long do I have? Are they going to make me go if I don’t want to?”
“I doubt it, but who knows? Nothing is official yet so try not to let it worry you. The man replacing me is Major Tawhiri. A good man, but he does things differently. He has been asked to evaluate you and determine when you should graduate.”
“Then I’ll suck so bad at everything that he can’t graduate me.”
Byron fixed Sammy with a hard stare.
“Well?”
“You need to keep a healthy perspective of what is most important, Samuel. The war is escalating. You know you are marked by the enemy because of your talents. They will not rest until they have you. Your focus has to be on training hard and enjoying whatever time you do have with your friends, not ‘sticking it to the man.’ Focus on developing control over your emotions.”
“What good will that do me, sir?” Sammy asked. “I think my emotions have helped me out—helped me live, right?”
“True,” Byron said, “but I am not asking you to become a robot. Rather, to develop mastery over yourself so your emotions do not overcome you. It will help you more than you realize.”
“Fine,” Sammy said in a non-committal tone. “I’ll try.”
Commander Byron’s expression turned into a disapproving one. “Trust me on this, Samuel. Make it a focus of your education and you will see quite a difference. Victor Wrobel went mad because he never stopped thinking about Claire’s death. He could not get past my—my mistake.”
“It’s not really your fault, is it, sir?”
Byron’s eyes went to the pictures of all the Betas on his wall. “I am partly to blame, yes. Not only for her death, but for Martin’s as well. Some of those things Wrobel said to me right before he tried to kill you and Albert rang true. I have made some bad decisions over the years. More than one of them have led to deaths. I have had to learn to accept those decisions as the best choices I could make and then move on, learning from the good and the bad. Doing that has required mastery and control over myself. You may be in a similar position someday, Samuel. Hence the reason for my encouragement to do what I ask.”
Sammy told the commander that he understood.
“Good,” Commander Byron said. For an instant, he appeared as if he wanted to say more, that there was perhaps one other thing, but he blinked twice and asked Sammy to go enjoy the rest of the night with his friends. Sammy stood and thanked the commander, then eagerly left the office to return home.
5.
Change
Monday May 13, 2086
It was just past midnight when he left Byron’s office and passed by the cafeteria on his way downstairs. The light inside the cafeteria was on, and Sammy peeked in, hoping to see Jeffie waiting up for him. Inside the room he saw his four fellow recruits, along with three people he’d never met, waiting up to greet him. Unlike a week ago, when he’d returned from Baikonur, there were no surprises, balloons, posters, or food. Sammy liked this homecoming better.
“He’s here!” Natalia cried as she jumped from her seat and ran to Sammy like a flash of pink lightning.
/> “Hi!” was all Sammy could think to say.
“Okay, Natalia,” Kawai said, “give the rest of us a chance to hug him.”
As soon as Natalia let go, Kawai gave Sammy a long hug.
“It’s nice that you’re back.”
“Thanks.”
Brickert and Sammy’s hug was shorter. Then Jeffie came up, wrapped an arm around his back and put her head against his chest in a half-embrace. All Sammy thought about was if and when he should kiss her. Before he’d decided whether the time was right, she let go with a polite pat on the back, a gesture usually coming from Al, not her.
“It’s good that you’re back,” she told him.
He gave her his best smile to tell her thanks, and then she turned away to sit down.
“Let me introduce you to my sister,” Brickert said as he steered Sammy away from Jeffie. “Strawberry, this is the guy you’ve wanted to meet for so long.”
Sammy offered her his hand to shake, but she wrapped herself around him in a tight hug. It was Sammy’s turn to give an awkward, polite pat on the back. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance,” he told the top of her head. “How come I didn’t meet you a week ago at the party?”
“We—the newest recruits—weren’t invited.”
“No one told us about it,” another unfamiliar face informed Sammy. “Antonio Otravelli. Five-time judo and karate champion of the Territory of Mediterranea. It’s a pleasure.”
Kawai covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Natalia rolled her eyes. “Really, Antonio? That’s how you’re going to introduce yourself?”
“What?” he asked with genuine shock. “It’s the truth!”
“Hey, I think that’s great,” Sammy said. “I wish I knew some martial arts. Probably would have helped me a few times.”
Strawberry laughed as though Sammy had told a real gut-buster. He watched her with mild surprise, noticing also how pretty she was, despite a distinguishable resemblance to his best friend and roommate. Her long brown hair, despite the lateness of the hour, stood perfectly in place. Her small nose and lips had been enhanced with small amounts of make-up, which seemed expertly applied.
Sammy immediately looked for Jeffie and found her sitting just behind the last person Sammy hadn’t met. He used introducing himself as an excuse to move closer to her.
“Sammy Berhane.”
“Hi. Hefani Ndumi.”
“So how was the hospital?” Natalia asked. “Tell us all about it.”
Sammy spent several minutes talking about his stay and all the tests he had to take. He looked at Jeffie multiple times, hoping she would come sit by him, but she stayed between Natalia and Kawai, listening politely. After answering every question thrown at him as best he could, the small group broke down into two conversations: Natalia and Kawai talking to Brickert, Antonio and Strawberry vying for Sammy’s attention, and Jeffie and Hefani seemingly content listening to other people.
The conversation topics stayed light. Strawberry gave Sammy a detailed account of all her struggles and successes in the sims while Antonio took advantage of every lull in the discussion to tell Sammy about a martial arts tournament he’d won not more than a year ago. He got annoyed whenever Strawberry interrupted him, and three or four times tapped Sammy’s arm to continue his story with, “So as I was saying. . . . ”
But Sammy’s mind wasn’t on Strawberry’s sims or Antonio’s trophy. He couldn’t focus on anyone except Jeffie.
“You can’t possibly be the worst Psion in history, Strawberry,” Sammy said after listening to her latest round of lamentations. “Right, Jeffie?” He tried to catch her eye, but her gaze flitted away from him after more than a moment. Whatever intimacy they had shared in his hospital room a few days ago had vanished.
“What?” she asked. “Oh, yeah.”
“Jeffie!” Strawberry exclaimed.
“I mean, no! You’d better ask Brickert.”
At that moment, Kawai let out a long yawn. “All right, people, I’m fading fast. Sleep time.” She got up and put a gentle hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re home for good. See you in the morning.”
“Yeah, I’m bushed, too,” Natalia said.
This set off a chain reaction that culminated in everyone going to bed. Brickert and Sammy walked down to the boys’ dorm with Hefani and Antonio (who still kept on about his martial arts tournaments). As soon as the door closed behind Brickert, Sammy sighed. “Man, I’m glad I’m not roommates with Antonio!”
“He is his own favorite topic of conversation, I’ll tell you.”
“What’s up with Jeffie? Did she act weird or is it just me?”
Brickert suddenly became preoccupied with something in his closet. “Uh, no. She seemed normal to me.”
“Really?” Sammy scratched his head in frustration. “I don’t know. At the hospital she was—she almost kissed me. Today I didn’t get that—what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“A vibe?”
“Yeah, I got no vibe.” Sammy caught a glimpse of his friend’s face in the mirror and knew Brickert wasn’t telling him something.
“Brickert, what do you know?”
“What? Nothing.”
A flash of dark rage came over Sammy. He grabbed his friend by the shoulder and spun him around into the closet door harder than intended. Brickert’s head smacked the wood, and he cried out in pain. Sammy let go of Brickert instantly and backed away.
“Are you okay?” he asked, shocked at his own behavior. “I’m so sorry. I don’t—I didn’t mean to do that.”
Brickert rubbed his head with a grimace. “Geez, Sammy, what the crap?”
“I’m really sorry, Brick. When I saw that look on—I knew you—I don’t know why I did that. I’m—”
“I get it. You’re sorry. It’s okay as long as you don’t do that again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Brickert’s frown deepened. “I didn’t want to say anything to you. I hoped she’d tell you herself. Jeffie’s—Jeffie’s dating Kobe.”
An invisible, icy glove reached into Sammy’s gut and twisted everything inside of him. “What? Since when?”
Brickert shrugged as he changed into pajamas. “For a while. Like weeks. Everyone’s been wondering what would happen when you got back from the hospital. The girls had this big, well, I don’t know what you’d call it, but it was in Jeffie’s room. Natalia told me Jeffie decided to break it off with him.”
“Dude, she was going to kiss me a few days ago!” Sammy protested as he felt his anger rising again. “Why—what in the world goes on in a girl’s head? Are they all this crazy?”
“Yeah, she asked me to give her a few minutes alone with you. I wasn’t thrilled about it. I hadn’t seen you in forever!”
Sammy groaned in frustration and climbed into bed. Knowing he wasn’t going to get much sleep, he let Brickert talk for two more hours about all the happenings at headquarters for the last six months before falling asleep in the middle of Brickert’s confession about his crush on Asaki and how he believed they’d almost hit it off.
The next morning, when he heard the familiar alarm chant, “Good morning, Psions. Good morning, Psions,” it took all of five seconds before the previous night’s conversation with Brickert hit him. Jeffie’s with Kobe. Again. It didn’t seem right. After all the hell he’d gone through to come home, to not get that kiss he’d hoped for felt like robbery. Then he remembered Byron’s advice. Control your emotions. He squinted open his eyes. As tired as he was, squinting was all he could do. I can still have a good day. I’m home.
That thought buoyed him. Time in bed was time wasted. He got up, optimistic that he’d be right back in the swing of things with no problems. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Two minutes into his exercises, he realized that despite the efforts he’d made during his absence, his body was badly out of shape. When he went to instructions, he selected Basic Mechanics. About fifteen minutes later, he was asleep in h
is chair. The next four hours were not so much a lesson as a vicious battle between Sammy and the Sandman. In the end, sleep and learning won an equal share of his instruction time, and then he dragged himself to lunch with visions of chicken cordon bleu dancing in his head.
Brickert, Strawberry, Natalia, and Kawai were already in the cafeteria. Sammy ordered his food and sat with them, griping about his first day back while waiting for his meal to cook. As Kawai offered words of encouragement, Kobe and Jeffie walked in together, absorbed in a conversation. As Sammy watched her cross the room to the Robochef, that familiar freezing sensation gripped his stomach and squeezed like a vice. When his food finished cooking, she was still standing at the Robochef deciding what to order.
“You gonna eat with us?” he asked her.
Jeffie turned to look at him. “Huh? Oh, hiya, stranger.”
“Hiya back.”
Jeffie half-winced and half-smiled at him. “So, um, no actually, I told—um—I told Kobe that I would eat with him. We were talking about this thing—a problem he has, and so I thought it’d be rude to not let him—to not help him. Or listen to him or whatever.”
Sammy noted how her nostrils flared four times during her miniature speech. They always flared like that when she lied.
“Okay. Have fun.” He forced a smile on his face, which he knew probably made him look like he’d just swallowed dog manure. Then he grabbed his food and went back to his friends’ table.
“Dinner maybe?” she called out weakly after him.
Sammy turned and shrugged at her before sitting down. The only thing that kept his mind off of Jeffie was his food, so he overate. By the time lunch ended, between his lagging energy and overfilled stomach, sims had no chance to be anything but a disaster. Glumly, he picked himself up and marched upstairs to his old sim room.
He chose to start with something simple to get back into his groove: a two-Thirteen sim. He had done this sim unit before and knew how the Thirteens would attack. He sensed little variation in their strategies and easily defeated them. However, when he moved up to a three-Thirteen sim unit on the easiest setting, his fatigue began to show. His injured leg grew sore, and he barely beat them. Rather than waste his energy on more sims, he switched to a weapons unit and spent the rest of his time working on his accuracy with long and short-range rifles.
