Zero Sight

by B. Justin Shier

“Forward, grubby,” she teased. “We voyage to them-there buildings.”

  As we approached the towering building at the center of campus, I started to get anxious. There were more people here, and my Sight kept flaring. Waves of curiosity coursed over me. It felt like I was being poked and prodded. I double-checked the fly on my jeans. The attention was making me paranoid.

  A guy that looked like he belonged in the NFL caught my eye. His huge frame was hunched over a little clay man, and he was laughing and waving his hands about. The clay thing was making its way through an obstacle course constructed of stuff borrowed from someone’s desk. I watched it jump up and down on a stapler like it was a diving board. It looked like the clay thing was getting ready to leap over the adjacent in-out box. Mr. Super-Jock broke away from his work to watch Rei and me walk by.

  “Aw, shit…she managed to escort him without snacking?” His voice was a freakin’ gravel factory. “Damn. There goes my beer money.”

  The muscular blond crouched next to him frowned.

  “Roster, do you always have to be such an asshole?”

  “Sorry, shug,” Roster said, bursting into another round of laughter.

  The little clay man splattered to the ground.

  “Oh, damn!” Roster shouted. “Man Dough ate it on the front summersault. Medic!”

  Roster and the blond busied themselves re-attaching appendages. But while Roster might have lost interest, the other students hadn’t. His comment had opened the floodgates. A kid ran around chasing a girl using his fingers as fangs. The other girls pointed and chuckled. Growing bolder, he drew his dark grey outer garment around him like a cape.

  “I vant to suck your boobs!” he shouted.

  I imagined ripping out his trachea.

  It would be simple. Just dig the ‘ole fingers in, wrap them around the tube, and yank.

  I wiped off the beads of sweat beading up on my brow.

  Whoa, I thought. When the heck did I ever think like that? I dropkicked the thought out of my head with a nervous chuckle. Only then did I notice Rei’s hand wrapped around my left arm. She might have looked calm, but her jaw was taut. I tried to focus on something else. I made busy identifying buildings.

  In front of us, at the edge of the lawn, was the main one. It was an ancient looking three-story stone monster. It looked just like it did on the brochure. It was called Central Hall and was where most of the classes were held. To the right of Central were the large circular auditorium, cafeteria, and student lounge. I could see throngs of students eating, studying, and relaxing inside. On the other side of Central sat the massive library. A trickle of students made their way in and out its large bronze doors. Strange…

  I checked my watch. Near midnight. Vegas was a 24-hour town, but wasn’t it a bit late for rural Connecticut?

  I knew that Elliot’s living communities (aka dorms) were behind Central Hall, but we weren’t headed there yet. Rei led me into Central and up three massive flights of stairs to a door labeled Administration. To my surprise, the whole place was buzzing with activity. A number of well-dressed men and women hustled about the office.

  The receptionist stood to greet me, but her pleasantries were cut short when she caught sight of my escort.

  “Oh…” the old spectacled lady said, her earnest smile growing forced. “Hello, Ms. Bathory. Good to see you decided to return for another semester. I respect your…tenacity. And this must be the famous Dieter Resnick! Goodness me, I’ve heard a lot about you! My name is Betty Strouse. I manage this little madhouse.”

  It occurred to me that Ms. Strouse’s make-up looked like cake batter.

  Rei stifled a giggle.

  I walked over to shake Ms. Strouse’s hand. It was coated in sweat.

  “Nice to meet you Ms. Strouse.”

  “Please have a seat, you two,” Ms. Strouse said, retreating to her desk. “I’ll page Dean Albright.”

  Rei and I sat—awkwardly. Rei had taken on a formal posture and didn’t seem to be in the talking mood. She flipped through a small newspaper called The Daily Manangler with practiced indifference. “Classes Start with a Poof!” was the headline.

  The administration’s office was adorned with some serious art. I was almost positive I’d seen the one with three women picking up hay somewhere before. It was painted in a palette of dreamy pastels that made me feel woozy. The furniture must have cost a mint too. Ms. Strouse’s desk looked like something George Washington might have snored on. There was a computer sitting on top of her desk, but a large fern was draped over the monitor. Ms. Strouse was busy banging at the large plastic box next to it. The label said “IBM Selectric.” This “Selectric” seemed to create letters by driving pieces of metal into a ribbon of ink.

  A man wearing an actual bowtie approached her to discuss a piece of parchment.

  Their conversation was in rapid-fire Latin.

  I stared at my flip-flops and beat-up military duffle. My boots were still dangling off the bag by their laces. I decided to tuck in my western. I had never met a dean before. Should I have dressed up more? I sat and listened to the tick-tock of the grandfather clock. Stars above, what was I doing here?

  I felt bad for Rei too. She probably just wanted to get this chore over with. Then she could go home, drain a few sheep, and kick back with her dog. I wondered if she microwaved the blood…

  Behind her newspaper, Rei chuckled.

  Ms. Strouse and bowtie guy tensed (preparing for the Carrie sequence, I presumed).

  “Have you ever tried microwaving milk?” Rei asked.

  “Then how…?”

  “Like chocolate.”

  I smirked. Sometimes this partnering thing could be fun.

  +

  Five minutes later, Joseph Albright burst onto the scene, and what can I say, the man had presence. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and had the looks of one of the Euro-footballers that ran around with their shirt off after every goal. His curly black hair was immaculately coifed, and his broad grin boasted a 10K smile. I had just enough time to stand before the dean was grasping my hand with two of his own.

  “Dieter Resnick, I presume. Great to finally meet you!”

  The dean of student affairs had tumbled out of a fashion magazine. I was too busy envying his fine wool suit to speak.

  “Now I must apologize for the nature of your enrollment—truly a terrible situation we put you in—but your case was a rather unique one. Oh the strings we had to pull. Had the whole office in an uproar. Betty was plain pulling out her hair! Had to go so far as to meet with de Rais herself. Plead the case, as it were.”

  “You met with her?” Rei asked, wide-eyed.

  Ms. Strouse cleared her throat.

  Dean Albright raised his hands in surrender.

  “Right, right, the NDO. I’d forgotten. Thank you for reminding me.” Albright rocked back and forth on his toes. “But I’ve digressed!” Albright spread his arms wide. “Welcome to Elliot, Mr. Resnick. I know things must be disconcerting at the moment, but I think you’re going to love it here. The things you’re about to see…the adventures!” His vibrant eyes met mine. I guessed this was the part where I talked.

  “Well, sir, to be honest, I’d appreciate if things would just slow down a bit. It’s just been one big shock after another.”

  Rei snickered once, tried to catch herself, snorted, then lost it altogether.

  The girl liked her puns.

  “Ah, Ms. Bathory!” Albright said, finally taking note of her. “Thank you so much for meeting up with Mr. Resnick.”

  Rei cut her own giggles off midstream and did her best to stand tall.

  “Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure, sir.”

  I raised an eyebrow. It did seem to be a pleasure.

  “No troubles I presume?”

  “Well…” Rei frowned. “I’m afraid so, sir. I have a contact incident to report.”

  The steady flow of Ms. Strouse’s keystrokes faltered.

  “Go on.”

  “Y
es, sir. As instructed, I intercepted Mr. Resnick outside of Chicago. He was unaware of my status, and I tracked him under close contact protocol to Penn Station. Upon arrival, contact occurred almost immediately. One Tier 2 magus and two minor trolls were sweeping the station. Their tactics were simplistic. The magus discharged an aggressive aura in the hope of spooking the target.” Rei looked at me approvingly. “But the tactic failed. Mr. Resnick did not spook. I decided to take the initiative. I deployed myself as bait and—”

  “Oh, God,” Albright said. He leaned against a wall. “Ms. Strouse, please contact the embassy and—”

  Rei cocked her head to the side. “Sir, the men weren’t ours.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked, doubtfully.

  Rei bristled, and I experienced a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Of course I am, sir. They were mere mercenary scum. Not even the Loki would send shite like that into the field.”

  Albright looked uncertain but nodded. “Very well, Ms. Bathory. Continue.”

  “Well, the three of them engaged in pursuit, and I proceeded to New York City Containment Point Gamma. That is when the first complication arose, sir. Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Resnick decided to pursue the hostiles.”

  Albright turned to me. “You didn’t know Ms. Bathory’s nature at the time?”

  “Nature?” I was still trying to figure out what a Containment Point was. “Oh, you mean the whole vampire thing? No, sir, but I had concluded that she was a weirdo.”

  “Ah, damsel saving…” Dean Albright looked a bit nostalgic. “Once, when I was a boy, I—”

  Ms. Strouse cleared her throat again.

  Albright frowned at her. “It was related. Please continue, Ms. Bathory.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rei said, her cheeks slightly red. “Once I arrived at CP Gamma, the men demanded I hand over my charge. This surprised me. Such information is confidential, no?”

  “Did they ask for him by name?” Albright asked.

  “Yes, sir—and they knew most of his personal details. I refused their demands, of course, and I deemed the threat level to Mr. Resnick was critical. Then I decided I should kill them.” Rei paused. “That was okay, yes?”

  Albright nodded.

  “Oh. Good. Anyways, I lacked sufficient weaponry, but I engaged them with intent. I immobilized one troll before the second one staggered me. Things were looking manageable, but then the magus deployed an ACT device. He launched a rapid electric-based counter that temporarily disabled me.” Rei sighed. “Then things just sort of went to splinters, sir. The second troll succeeded in collapsing my lung and shattering my cheekbone while—”

  “Good God.” Albright found a chair. “Ms. Strouse, call the embassy and—”

  “Not to worry, sir. Mr. Resnick engaged them in the nick of time.”

  “What?” exclaimed Albright and Strouse.

  “It was hard for me to see, as I had lost the function of one eye, but it appeared Mr. Resnick used a pipe to temporarily disable the magus. This left Dieter stunned, but his actions gave me sufficient time to recuperate, terminate the second troll, and apprehend the magus for questioning.”

  I glanced over at Rei. There were some slight oversights in that retelling. I bit my lip and let it go. She had told me to keep my eyes open and mouth shut. I decided to trust Rei knew what she was doing.

  “I’m sad to report that the results of my interrogation were poor, sir. The magus was given blind pick-up instructions, tracing was impossible, and he claimed to have been wiped. It does seem that his mind was damaged in some way. He exhibited bouts of uncontrollable laughter during combat, demonstrated zero adaptability, and glamour didn’t work on him at all.”

  “Sounds like a scrambling technique,” Dean Albright replied. “I’ve seen it before. Whoever it was probably breeched mental tampering prohibitions to ensure an impregnable wipe. When you scramble a mind in such a manner, you not only disconnect the conscious mind from its memories, but you rearrange those connections as well. It is a very advanced technique…and irreversible.” Albright shook his head. “And the ACT device had reactive countermeasures? Wonderful.”

  “The ACT device?” I asked. “You mean that pendant thingy?”

  Albright nodded. “ACT is an acronym. It stands for Artificial Conduit Technology. ACT devices are nasty doohickeys. For now, just think of them as magic wands made of plutonium. They give a mage added power and control, but there are horrific downsides to their use. No sane mage would use such a device. It might even explain the brainwashing.”

  Albright turned back to Rei.

  “Apologies, Ms. Bathory, but policy requires me to ask: Do you have any contamination or infection to report?”

  “None, sir,” Rei said, firmly. “Anything that mixed with my blood was incinerated.”

  InfectiWHAT? I started to feel a wee-bit dizzy—and yet it occurred to me that what Rei had just said wasn’t quite a lie. My hands had been burnt to a crisp. I scratched at my scarred palms nervously.

  “Good stuff, Rei Acerba. I’ll be sure to write your father on this.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Rei said, beaming.

  “Magus Bathory, you are herby relieved from active duty. Complete your debriefing with Lucas when he returns. And study hard this semester. I want to see a conduit out of you by fall.”

  Rei’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir,” she said, bowing slightly. She turned to me next. “Mr. Resnick, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you make the right decision.”

  With that, Rei turned and left.

  Not a whisper from the carpet.

  Not one single sound.

  “Goodness, I hate how quiet they are,” Ms. Strouse muttered.

  The aged wood creaked beneath my feet. I had forgotten that Rei had been making extra noise. Forgotten because she had been so diligent in making it. The thought of that…it made me feel nice.

  Albright excused himself to make a phone call. The dean left his door open, and I overheard him talking to someone about upgrading transit security. “Talmax. Yes, most likely,” he said in agreement. I should have been paying more attention, but instead I kept getting the sinking feeling that I was forgetting something important. It was the same sensation I got when I misplaced my keys. I was busy digging through my duffle ticking off items on my mental checklist when Albright called me in to his office. I put down the pile of underwear I was shuffling through and let out a sigh. My obsessive-compulsive tendencies would have to wait till later.

  The dean’s office was as immaculate as he was. A pristine desk stood at its center with three neat stacks of paper in one corner. IN, PENDING, and DONE read the labels. Books lined two sides of the room. They were ordered with precision under detailed sub-headings: Frame Science, Hex Defense, Calvin and Hobbes, The Ethics of Alteration and so on. And in the fourth corner—sitting all by it’s lonesome—a Clover.

  I stared at the machine in awe.

  In the history of coffee, there have been only a few major advances: 1) the discovery that coffee beans could be ground, 2) the shift away from men’s hosiery as filters, 3) the invention of the espresso, and 4) the Clover. Pure stainless steel. Temperature control to within 0.5 degrees centigrade. A timer that talked in milliseconds. With the Clover, man had finally achieved what had eluded him for centuries: Total Brewing Control…and all for the low, low price of one mid-sized car.

  Albright noted my revere with a nod. “It appears we have a common interest.”

  “Yes, sir,” I mumbled through dollops of fanboy drool. (Some people like ogling cars. Some like collecting stamps. I like brewing beans. Mind your own hobby.)

  “Would Tanzanian peaberry suit you?” Albright asked.

  “Oh, that would be well within the realm of acceptable, sir.”

  Dean Albright performed the ritual with the precision of a Kabuki actor.

  “You seem to know a great deal about coffee, Mr. Resnick.”

  “Yes, sir. I sorta had a crush on this barista…”

&nb
sp; “So you learned everything you could to impress her.”

  I raised an eyebrow. It hadn’t been a question.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dean Albright poured one cup at a time into pre-warmed mugs.

  “Land the babe?”

  I accepted my mug mug. “Na, she started dating a muscle head—but I got myself an addiction.” The first sip was magical. My exhaustion released as I exhaled in bliss. It was the single best cup of coffee I had ever tasted. By a mile too. If the dean was trying to seduce me, it was working.

  “Sir? Is this just coffee?”

  “What a compliment! Yessiree. Unadulterated. Far cry from the old range brew…however, I am working on a fascinating new bean that imbues the user with a number of elemental fortifications. I just have to figure out what’s making the test subjects pee like racehorses. But I digress, again. We’ll have more than enough time for fun stuff later. Please take a seat.”

  I sunk down into the incredibly comfortable leather chair across from him.

  If I could just nod off for a bit…

  I shook my head and took a bigger sip of Albright’s coffee. It was Life Decision Time.

  Albright took a sip and set his coffee down.

  “Mr. Resnick, let me first say that I owe you an apology.”

  “Sir?”

  “You were not rejected from all the schools you applied to. In fact, Harvard and Duke were in a bidding war over you.”

  I wasn’t drowsy anymore. I sat up in my chair.

  Albright flipped open a folder. My folder. It had photos I never recalled providing, let alone taking. Me going to school. Me with my friends. Shots of the destroyed chemistry lab. Newspaper clippings. Hospital records. Rowan dosing schedules. Didn’t they call that kind of thing a dossier?

  I gulped.

  “Your scores in biology and chemistry are most impressive. It looks like you hold the new state records. And your paper on yeast metabolic thermoregulation was absolutely fascinating. How you managed to keep them thermostable at such a high working temperature is beyond me.”

  I felt warm inside. Academi-speak was as sexy as I’d hoped it’d be.

  “Maybe I can interest you in my alchemic workgroup in the future.”