“He better hide out from the government, though,” Russ said thoughtfully. “All this stuff, that could be useful in the wrong hands.”
Uncle Owen nodded. “Just so. And in order to keep Paul’s lightning a secret, we’ll start by building his shields.” He turned to Paul. “We’ll help you reinforce that nifty body-suit foundation you had thought up all by yourself.” Glee and satisfaction oozed from Uncle Owen with every syllable. He pushed his white-streaked, scraggly red hair out of his face, and continued. “Paul, it’s not the nature of your gift that’s the problem. The problem is that the society around us adopted electricity to run everything. Had people stayed with steam-power, you’d have been just fine. Our goal here is figuring out a way how to minimize your effect on the normal people’s infrastructure and personal safety.”
Paul felt Russ touch the small of his back, and some of his extra charge began to drain away. His mind flitted to Cooper’s lightning scar. He grimaced. Uncle Owen saw him do it and gave him an encouraging smile.
“So, what’s the plan?” Russ asked after a moment of introspective silence. “We could move out of town. Don’t some of the gifted families live out in the woods?”
Owen chuckled. “Not entirely. That might be one way to go, but we can do better than that, and Paul’s curiosity about how electricity works is going to help. And so will your expertise, young man.” He gave Russ a once-over. “We need to make sure Paul’s okay on his own even if you two break up.”
Paul bristled. A spark crackled, and next to him, Russ yelped with surprise.
“Sorry,” Paul amended. “I just... how did you know we’re, uh, together? This is new even to us.” He glowered, protecting his turf, as well as Russ who was on it. He didn’t need anyone butting in and making assumptions. “And if you knew, why do you think we’d break up?”
Uncle Owen cackled. “Everybody who can read power knows. And as for the latter, this is your first relationship ever, Paul. I hate to tell you, but they don’t always last.” The second part drifted to Paul’s ears in a soft voice full of regret. “For instance, Russ might come to realize that this is all too much. He’s gifted, sure, but your effect can be more severe than what Russ can deal with. Your power surge amounts to more risk than just absorbing electricity and seeing electromagnetic fields.”
Next to him, Russ stirred. Paul saw him straighten, as though he tried to loom from his ridiculous, cross-legged position on the floor. He glowered up at Uncle Owen, looking oddly protective. “Now, what you don’t realize, Mr. Anneveinen, is that Paul is a member of a group who never once told me I was crazy.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, jaw tight.
“Now –”
“No,” Russ said in the firm, authoritative voice he used when he was laying down the rules in the classroom. “Let me finish. I can see auras from electrical fields. Other people don’t, and I’ve been given useless pills to make that stop. It didn’t, and I tossed the pills along with the good doctor’s business card. I’ve been hiding what I can do ever since I can remember, and now, for the first time, I don’t have to.”
Paul felt Russ pull him in tight, hip against hip.
“I’m not giving this up,” Russ said with fearsome intensity. “I’m not giving him up, and if there’s any way I can help Paul, then I’ll do it. If it means being joined at the hip till the end of time, I’ll do that too.”
Paul sat there, in the clutches of his furious protector, with his jaw hanging open. Uncle Owen wasn’t saying anything. He just sat and watched, meeting Russ’ gaze with that even-handed manner that made everyone think Uncle Owen was a pushover, which was far from the truth. Paul didn’t know what to say. Until the end of time was forever. They had kissed – a lot, and passionately – but that was hardly a promissory note which would guarantee an eternal relationship.
And those existed, especially among the talented people. He had heard stories of couples whose relationships spanned lifetimes. He had known a seventy-six-year-old man who had never married, because his beloved had been just a fifteen-year old girl. He brought her candy and books ever since he’d met her when she was a toddler, he taught her songs of far-away lands, and she called him her best friend. He passed away when she was seventeen. Not long after, the girl died in a tragic car accident.
Bad weather had been a factor, but behind the closed doors of his cabin on the outskirts of their little college town, her parents had wondered whether she had followed him to the next life on purpose.
He had never thought he’d ever meet a partner like that. One that would follow him from the birth of time to the very end of it.
“Forever, you say.” Uncle Owen’s voice split the silence, addressing Russ as though Paul had not even been present. “Be careful what you ask for because you just might get it.”
RUSS WAS A high-voltage professional, and as such, he had a few ideas. He, Owen, and Paul were doing a walk-through of Paul’s living quarters and were all jammed near the doorway of Paul’s bedroom. Russ took a few energetic steps forward, tripped over a pair of discarded jeans, and flopped onto Paul’s bed.
A mortified “Sorry!” from Paul and a snarky “Like a teenager!” from his uncle followed him into the unmade tangle of Paul’s comforter and sheets. Russ inhaled hard, determined to soak up every molecule of Paul’s scent before he got up to his feet while mustering as much dignity as he could.
“Are you alright?” Paul asked, and when Russ glanced his way, he was amused to see his face all red with embarrassment.
“No damage to body, slight damage to ego,” Russ shot off as he evaluated the room. “So, I see everything here’s made of wood, and your furniture is set on those rubber risers. That’s to insulate you from the house, I take it?”
“Yeah,” Paul said.
“So how is that working out?”
“Not so well,” Paul admitted. “I trip the breakers less during the day, but I wake up so charged, I have to make it to the bathroom wearing my rubber boots. And I have to dump my charge buildup in the shower right away.” The or else was unvoiced but hovered in the air like a little ball lightning.
“Hmm...” Russ eyed the wood-frame bed. “So, I suppose you know people have been trying to harness the power of lightning for energy for quite some time, but so far, that has proven to be technically impossible, right?”
“Right!” Owen piped up with great excitement. “Do you think that we could...?”
“Yeah, I do.” Russ met the older man’s look, taking note of his excited gleam. “The houses are already equipped with solar panels, which means there’s a power converter and a battery storage system. I can modify that for Paul, and if we get him a nice, wrought iron bed that’s connected to the grid...”
“STANDING ON a rubber-matted floor, in case he has non-electric visitors,” Owen interjected.
“Maybe,” Russ said dubiously, thinking that whoever sneaked up on Paul while he was asleep, and got zapped, had it coming anyway. “And we could look for carbon fiber fabrics to harvest his electric field from the sofas and chair covers, too.”
Stillness crept in as their burst of ideas settled down and they all took their time to examine it.
“Would that just about cover it, Paul?” Owen asked.
Paul bit his lip and shuffled his feet. The air around him grew fresh with a whiff of ozone. “I discharge when I’m embarrassed. Or... angry, although that’s not a problem most of the time.”
“How are you doing with your other needs, Paul?” Owen’s voice was low and matter-of-fact, and Russ realized that he was talking about a release of a different kind. The kind of release he and Paul had not managed to experience yet. The old man was haranguing his adorable student-lover-friend about his sex life.
“I tend to avoid them,” Paul said miserably. “It’s that or take out a whole neighborhood. No matter what I hold onto, even a copper pipe, I still affect a huge area, so... yeah.” His eyes flashed to Russ, peeking miserably through his long eyelashes. “Sorry.”
It occurred to Russ that their incomplete sexual connection had as much to do with being in the wrong time and place as with Paul’s hesitation to seek out those types of situations. But if he was grounding while experiencing an orgasm, then this wasn’t just an electrical issue. “I wonder whether you create an EMP,” Russ said, unable to withold an amazed chuckle. “That’s... wow. That’s amazing.”
“What do you mean, EMP?” Owen’s usually amiable expression grew alarmed. “That’s a threat to the whole city!”
“What’s an EMP?” Paul cut it. “A disease?”
“Stands for Electro-Magnetic Pulse,” Russ explained. “When an atomic bomb goes off, it produces an EMP big enough, just blasting it above a city would fry everything electronic. Every computer, every cell phone, every car with a dashboard computer or electronic injection system controls. Just every tech from after the 90’s would be toast.”
“Fuck.” Paul dropped the bomb, hopeless and crestfallen. “I’ll have to live in the woods after all.”
Even Owen looked concerned.
“But wait!” Few steps, circumventing Paul’s laundry pile, and Russ was right there, pulling him into a comforting embrace. “Did any electronics get damaged during that power outage? How was Cooper’s computer? How about their phones?”
Paul frowned, thinking hard. “I haven’t heard anything. I think they would’ve said something, the way they’re attached to their devices all the time.”
Owen let out an audible breath of relief. “Well that’s a blessing, because Ash and Cooper are bad enough as it is. We don’t need a natural disaster convention in the middle of the city!”
“Don’t worry, there’s a way,” Russ hummed into Paul’s ear. “It will be high-tech, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Right now, I’m trying really hard not to zap you,” Paul fussed, struggling in his arms.
“Relax. Shh, this is me, and I can take a zap or two. And there’s a way. If we work this right, you might even be able to use a computer and a smart phone. Your wardrobe might be a bit eccentric, but we can work with that, too.” The hopeless vibe Paul was giving off was breaking Russ’ heart.
He knew that vibe, that dimming of a bioelectric field to where it was barely visible, from his normal students. Some dropped out. Others dropped off bridges, or buildings, or into drug addiction. Once he recognized that “I’m a burden and I’d be better off dead” aura around a person, he always went all-out to comfort and encourage them as best as he could.
And with Paul, he could.
He lifted his chin. “You and I, we’re a team,” he said. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who didn’t think I was crazy, or a freak. And I’ll do anything to help you out. Anything, and I mean that, Paul.” Eyes locked, Russ leaned in and brushed a dry, chaste kiss on Paul’s lips.
Sparks crackled in the silence of Paul’s bedroom, and next to them, Owen Anneveinen stood so still as to be nearly invisible.
Paul chased the kiss, leaning in with the kind of vigor he wasn’t feeling only minutes ago. Their tongues touched, briefly trading the zing of equalizing electrical potentials, and Russ shivered with pleasure. Soon, though, Paul pulled away and glanced at his uncle. “Sorry, Uncle Owen,” he said with a faint, sheepish smile. “Do you think he can figure something out?”
Owen glanced from Paul to Russ, then back. “Yes. Yes, I think he can.” Then he cocked his head with a curious, pleased smile. “You look like a man with a plan, Russ. What do you think you can do?”
Russ preened as Paul turned in his arms and leaned into him. His hair was just the right cut and length to threaten Russ’ nostrils, but whatever. He kissed the soft, messy mop, then gave Owen a wry grin. “This is easy. All we need is a Faraday Cage.”
CHAPTER 17
Halfway through November, when the wind off the river bit through mere hoodies with a frigid tooth, Paul got to try his personal lightning rod for the first time. By then, the plumbing of a row house adapted just for Paul was retrofitted to copper only, the wiring was regrounded, and the back wall facing the hill sported an unusual electrical grounding device. Instead of the lightning-catching antenna on the roof, the main harvesting terminal of the lightning rod was sticking out of Paul’s bedroom wall. It was made of wrought copper, looking like an artsy, retro plant hanger on the inside. Outside the house, heavy copper wire came out and continued down the wall, separated from the brick by ceramic spacers. Paul peered out his bedroom window. The wire disappeared in the patch of freshly dug soil by the foundation wall. “Does it really go all the way down to the tunnels?” he asked, not turning around.
“Yeah. Don’t worry.” Hank’s deep voice brimmed with satisfaction. “You couldn’t get more grounded if you slept down there yourself!”
“But he won’t need to ground all the time,” Russ said, just as Paul felt his hand on his shoulder. “This is for emergencies only. As soon as I have the Faraday cage built, you’ll have a great bed to sleep in, whether your charge gets harvested or not!”
“Harvested,” Paul snorted. “Sounds... I dunno. Like something from the Matrix, I guess.”
“Sorry,” Russ said sheepishly, and Paul felt his arm snake its way from behind right before he got pulled into an embrace. “You don’t have to make use of your overnight charge at all. You can just drain it, and that’s okay. Remember, the only issue is that our civilization runs on electricity, right?”
“Right,” Paul said, producing an uncertain smile. He wanted to make Russ feel appreciated for all the work he was doing, but all the same, seeing these technological solutions to his problem was opening a Pandora’s box of other threats.
Suppose somebody found out he’s a human generator. Suppose other people like him cropped up. Suppose somebody tried to enslave them, “harvesting” their charge against their will as they languished in a cell. Suppose the power company found they were selling an unusual amount of energy to the grid. “I have a condition on all this,” he blurted out.
“What is it?” Hank asked, as he fussed with something across the room.
“I want this to be off the grid.”
“But of course,” Russ said as he gently pushed him away and looked in his eyes. “We can’t possibly have the electric company find out. That would be...” he shuddered.
“Yeah, man. Top secret, just like with the rest of us,” Hank said, nodding so hard his head looked like a bobble-head. “Your secret’s safe with us. And Cooper wanted us to be off the grid anyway.”
COOPER SCANNED THE open seating area, at the edge of which a friendly receptionist took another call. This was what those “desk for rent” offices looked like, then. The agent beckoned him forward. “This is where people get together to brainstorm, or to use the copier, or meet informally,” she said in a chipper voice which matched her blonde hair with a pink streak and her efficient black pantsuit. “Come along, let me show you the conference rooms.”
The facilities weren’t as fancy as the ones downtown, but his office would sit across the river – and a fifteen minute bike ride – from home. His fledgling architectural firm would be easy to find for his prospective clients, along with free and ample parking. Unlike downtown.
As he rumbled across the bridge in Ash’s old minivan, he mulled his dilemma over.
An office was an extra expense, but he’d get more work done. He would come across as more professional, and he would have a place to meet clients. There was even a receptionist that took messages.
Except he needed more clients to be able to justify such expense, let alone afford it –
and he would never get enough clients if he didn’t have his own, professional-looking office.
Ash had suggested that they turn one of the two unoccupied rowhouses into offices, but with Lawrenceville real estate rising to stratospheric levels, it made more sense to just rent out the houses, even if the tenants weren’t family, or not talented.
He wished he could ask Grandma Olga for advice, but he was afraid
she’d try to see the future, which would, by necessity, alter what was now the natural best outcome. He didn’t want to ask his dad, who was biased toward anyone with even a smidgeon of an extraordinary talent. Likewise, he didn’t want to deal with his mom’s pleas to move back home, now that he was “normal” and they could use him.
The daytime traffic was light as he turned onto Butler street, and then hung a right and rolled down toward the river. By the time the smooth asphalt gave way to the dated conglomerate of brick and cobblestone of their alley, his mind was made up.
Now all he had to do was convince Ash.
ASH WAS GLAD he had suggested that they celebrate Thanksgiving as a group. On Tuesday, as he and Cooper lugged their groceries out of the minivan, Ash was going down the list of dishes the others would bring. “All we have to do is the turkey, the green beans, and the stuffing. Hank said he’d bring the sweet potatoes. What were Mark and Ellen bringing, again?”
“The cranberry sauce. And a pie or two, I think.” Cooper grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s all written down. And everyone’s bringing something to drink.”
His expression, which had been perpetually worried of late, brightened with excitement. “This will be good, Ash. Have you ever roasted a turkey? I’ve roasted hot dogs before, so it’s just a matter of scaling up, right?”
As Ash glanced in Cooper’s direction, his heart warmed at that project-oriented enthusiasm he always showed when something needed “scaling up.” Like mixing concrete for their foundation or hiring another two guys to frame in the new house before the bad weather settled in to stay.
“Um... love, I don’t think it’s just a mass, time, and temperature issue,” Ash said in a neutral voice, doing his best to keep that smile on Cooper’s face. “We looked up those instructions, but still. It makes me nervous. Such a big bird!”
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