The Euclidian: When Worlds Collide (uncut)

by Jay Cannon

  Don suddenly fell asleep on Morgan’s chest.

  “Don! Don, are you okay?” Morgan lowered Don to the lawn. “Pico, did you do this? Is he okay?”

  “I just put him to sleep. I thought he was going to hurt you.”

  “How did you do that? I mean, if you’ve got that kind of power why didn’t you just take over the spaceship?”

  “There were way too many of them and they could have easily killed me.”

  Morgan went into the house and tried to head for the basement, but Cheryl was watching and she grabbed Pico from Morgan’s jacket pocket.

  “What the hell is this?” she shouted.

  “Don’t put her to sleep!” screamed Morgan.

  “What is this, a voodoo doll? It sure looks strange. When did you start playing with these things?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Just shut up and get to bed. You can have it back tomorrow after you’ve finished your chores.” She locked Pico in the china cabinet and walked off with the key. “And don’t take that juice down to the basement. Put it in the fridge where it belongs.” She walked off to her room.

  Morgan looked back at Pico, who lay motionless behind the glass cabinet door. Morgan descended the stairs to his bed and was getting into bed when Pico came hopping down the stairs.

  “How did you get out of the cabinet?”

  “I used my shaman stone to unlock the cabinet.”

  “What is a shaman stone? Is that how you communicate with me?”

  “The shaman stone is a special crystal on my planet that our shamans use to amplify their mental powers. We communicate with each other using telepathy.”

  “So you can hear what I’m thinking?”

  “Yes, but you have too much noise in your head for me to understand what you are really trying to say unless you speak out loud. You mostly just have random thoughts that don’t have much meaning.”

  “Fine! So you’re saying you don’t think about your planet, or friends, or parents? You don’t dream of what your life could be like?”

  “Yes, all of those things, but not all at once and not while I’m in the middle of doing something else. I think that’s why humans have to sleep.”

  “You mean you don’t sleep?”

  “No, never.”

  “Forgive me for being nosey, but you don’t have any genitals or a place to poop. So how do you, you know?”

  “I expel waste through my skin, the same way I eat.”

  “So why don’t I see anything oozing through your pores or stuff floating in the air around you?”

  “Because you’re not paying attention. Hold on. I’ll hold it for a while and let out a lot all at once so you can see it more clearly.”

  “So how does your species procreate without genitals?”

  “We use our hands. We press them together to pass our genes to the female. After a couple of months she creates an opening in her body and a child comes out.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much fun. For humans, sex is a physical experience that is very enjoyable. At least that’s what I hear.”

  “It is for us as well. Give me your hand and let me show you.”

  “No! I don’t want to get pregnant. Especially not by a man.”

  “You won’t get pregnant. It’s just like shaking hands, but more intense.”

  Morgan hesitantly placed his hand against Pico’s small hand and suddenly felt Pico’s emotions flowing into him. He could feel Pico’s fear, and his friendship toward him. Pico felt all of the worries Morgan had inside. He couldn’t understand how someone so young could be so sad. Then Morgan felt a euphoria sweep over him and he smiled.

  “Wow, is that what sex is like on your planet?”

  “Yes, sort of. Now pay attention. I want to show you how I expel waste.”

  A fine green mist appeared around Pico. Morgan took a whiff.

  “Smells like rusty metal.”

  “That’s basically how I expel waste in concentrated form. Speaking of which, do you have any more nails?”

  “Sure, there should be some in the garage.” Morgan disappeared through a door and came back with a handful of nails, which he gave to Pico.

  “Thanks. You really are kind to take care of me.”

  “You’re my friend now. That’s what friends do.”

  “Really? We’re friends?”

  “Sure, why not? I’ll go up and get a glass of orange juice for you. Just wait here and I’ll be right back.”

  Morgan climbed the stairs and returned quickly with a large glass of orange juice that he placed on the floor near his bed. Pico sat down next to the bed and placed his right hand in the juice while holding the nails in his left hand.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Pico. Try to get some rest, even if you don’t need sleep.”

  Morgan slept and dreamt of flying through space. Over the next two weeks Morgan kept Pico in the basement, taking him out on occasion to walk around the neighborhood, but they didn’t go back to the alley for fear that the assassin would show up again. They talked about each other’s planets, their families, and their lives growing up. They became very close.

  After a particularly long day of chores, Morgan flopped down exhausted on his bed. “Pico,” he said, “I am just pooped and I still have a lot of stuff left to do. But I’ve just got to go to sleep now.”

  “You know the only reason you have to sleep so much is because your synapses get overloaded with the transmission of signals in your brain caused by your constant random thoughts. It’s like trying to move chocolate from one bowl to the next with a scoop. Eventually the scoop gets covered in so much chocolate that it’s hard to transfer a significant amount between bowls. Your brain basically has to shut down to clear away the static charges on the synapses. That’s how you become unconscious.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “My people can sense things inside the body, sort of see what’s going on as it happens. If you want, I can use my shaman stone to see if I can help focus your thoughts so you don’t have to sleep so much. It will also help you focus on tasks so you can finish them faster.”

  “I could certainly use that. I’m way behind on my chores. As long as it’s not going to hurt or be permanent, I’m willing to try it.”

  “You should be fine. I scanned your brain in the alley to learn your language. It’s not that complex, though it is larger than mine and has more distinct parts. Just relax and focus on my eyes. Minimize any random thoughts as much as possible. First I’m going to shut down the areas of the brain that you use to daydream. Now I’m going to discharge your synapses.”

  “Whoa. My mind went blank for a second there. I feel really alert, like I could run a marathon.”

  “Did you notice that you are communicating with me without using your mouth?”

  “That is cool. My brain feels weird, like I can’t sense things around me. It’s like I’m looking down a quiet tunnel.”

  “So let’s do some chores and see how much better you do with your modified brain.”

  “Okay, let’s start with the laundry. There are clothes in the washer that need to go in the dryer and clothes in that basket that need to go into the washer.” Morgan took care of the clothes while Pico watched and then they went upstairs.

  “Now we need to put away the dishes in the dishwasher and load the dirty ones into it.”

  “I can put away the dishes if you tell me where they go.”

  “Sure. Glasses go here, plates and bowls here, silverware here, and pots and pans down there. I’ll go around the house and look for more dirty dishes. Be careful that no one catches you. That wouldn’t be good.”

  Pico used his shaman stone to put away the dishes using telekinesis. He floated on top of the counter to get a better view inside the cabinets. Morgan looked on in amazement. “Wow, that is cool! I wish I could do that,” he said.

  “No reason you can’t,” replied Pico. He finished emptying the dishwasher and started placing the dirty
dishes from the sink into the dishwasher.

  Morgan returned with more dishes and helped Pico organize the dishwasher.

  “Glasses go on the top and dishes on the bottom. You can get more in if you put the bowls on their side.”

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  “Okay let’s start the dishwasher and see what’s next on the list. We can kick off the oven cleaner, mop the floor, and dust the furniture in the other rooms.”

  They split up the tasks and finished them in no time. Afterward, they headed to the basement to swap out clothes between the washer and dryer and fold the clothes from the dryer. Some of the clothes had to be ironed. After ironing, they headed outside to clean the windows.

  “Here is some Windex and some paper towels, Pico. Why don’t you clean the upper windows and I’ll get these.” Pico levitated to the top of the house to clean the upper windows while Morgan cleaned the lower windows using a ladder. When they finished the windows all around the house, Morgan decided he wanted to clean the skylights and gutters.

  “Pico, I’m going to get the ladder so I can get up on the roof.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I can lift you up to the roof.”

  Pico floated up to the roof and then levitated the apprehensive Morgan up next to him.

  “Now that’s cool. Can you lift anything you want?”

  “No, only things that are not too heavy. I can levitate about three hundred pounds. To levitate something I increase its negative gravity. I then increase the attraction between me and the object I am levitating. The larger or heavier the object, the more concentration it takes. But there are limits to what my mass can move.”

  “Interesting. Now let’s work on the roof. Can you levitate the debris from the gutters into a pile in the driveway while I use clean the skylights?”

  CHAPTER 14

  MORGAN LEARNS TO FOCUS

  Early the next day, Morgan’s foster mother was awakened by a knock at the bedroom door. She yelled at the door, “Why are you kids bugging me so early on a Saturday? What do you want?”

  “Breakfast!”

  “What?”

  “Breakfast.”

  “Breakfast? Fix your own damn breakfast and let us sleep.”

  “No, I have breakfast for you,” shouted Morgan through the door.

  “Damn it. It’s really too early for me to be beating the butt of some smart-alecky kid.”

  Cheryl got out of bed, threw on a robe, and swung the door open to see Morgan standing there with two plates of food on a tray with orange juice, coffee, and a small vase with a rose.

  “Have you lost your damn mind? What is this?”

  “I thought you and dad might want breakfast in bed.”

  “Really? Shouldn’t you be finishing your chores? Is this your way of getting out of work?”

  “No, I finished my chores.”

  “Uh huh. So where are my clothes?”

  “I put them in your closet.”

  She walked to the closet, talking all the while. “What are you doing, sneaking around in my bedroom at night? Just let me see what you did.”

  She looked in the closet and saw that not only were her clothes put away, but that the closet was completely cleaned and organized.

  “Did you do this?”

  “Yes, and I cleaned your bathroom as well.”

  “My goodness,” said Morgan’s foster dad. “Maybe I should have married you.”

  “Shut up, Charlie. Morgan, why are you all up in here when the house is a mess? I bet the kitchen is still as nasty as ever.”

  “No, I washed and put away the dishes, mopped the floor, cleaned the stove, polished the furniture, and dusted the house.”

  Don burst into the bedroom. “Mom, did you fix my Xbox controller?”

  “No,” said Morgan, “I super-glued it last night.”

  “Don’t think that saves you from the butt whooping you got coming.”

  “So you didn’t like the magazine I put under your pillow?”

  “What magazine?” asked Don. He walked back to his bedroom and checked under his pillow. “Oh my goodness, you are so my best friend now.”

  “Let me see,” said Ron. He grabbed Don’s shoulder to see him holding the latest edition of Penthouse. “Damn! I wish he had hit me in the balls.”

  “What are they talking about in there?” Cheryl asked Morgan.

  “I went out to the newsstand this morning and got that superhero magazine he likes.”

  “You had time to do that with all the other stuff you did? What else did you do, Superman?”

  “I washed the windows and skylights, cleaned the gutters, weeded the flower beds, swept the driveway and sidewalks, and washed the cars.”

  She ran to the window with her mouth open, first noticing how clean it was and then checking the work he had done outside. “My head is spinning. I need to sit down.”

  “You need to get back in bed and eat this amazing breakfast he cooked for us before it gets cold,” said Charlie.

  She plopped down on the bed in a daze. “Honey, slap me. I swear I am stuck in a bizarre dream.”

  He smacks her and she screamed. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

  “No, woman, you’ve lost yours. Why don’t you say something nice to Morgan and let him enjoy the rest of his Saturday?”

  Morgan said, “Now that everyone is awake I thought I would vacuum the house and mow the lawn.”

  “No,” said Cheryl, “you’ve done enough for one day, or night, however you want to look at it. If you do one more thing my head is going to explode. I don’t know how you stayed up all night doing all this work and are able to stand in front of me all perky like that. I’m tired just thinking about the work you did. Are you on some kind of crazy drugs?”

  “No ma’am, I just had a lot of energy and felt bad about letting you down by being behind on my chores.”

  “Okay, now you are trying to make me sound like an abusive mother. You’ve done an amazing job. Now get out of this house and go have some fun before I kill you.”

  Morgan walked out to the sound of his foster mother still carrying on about his feats of the night before. He found himself smiling, almost giggling, which was something he didn’t do often. He was thinking that today would be a good day to take on Biffle at the sports club. He grabbed his backpack with his tennis racquet and balls and headed out with Pico safely tucked away in his jacket.

  Morgan liked to watch the pros play at the sports club, to pick up techniques that he could practice in the alley. Because neither he nor his foster parents were members, he was not allowed to play there. On rare occasions, though, a teenager named Biffle would spy him looking through the fence and sign him in to use him as a practice dummy. As Morgan faced Biffle across the net, his mind would race a thousand miles an hour. Am I standing in the right spot? Maybe a little to the left. No, right. Damn it, there goes the ball. Watch him this time. What’s he doing? The ball’s going up. Where’s he going to hit it? Move this time. Damn it, there it goes. Oh, I suck at this!

  Even when Morgan was serving, and he had a great serve, he could not get past Biffle’s return. Morgan hadn’t gone by the club all summer. He just couldn’t take the humiliation of being beaten 6-0 and then cast aside like yesterday’s trash. So he stayed in his alley and practiced like a madman to deliver pinpoint serves against the wall and at objects. When Pico showed up he had to switch alleys, but he maintained his solitary regimen. The one thing he couldn’t practice alone, though, was someone returning the ball. Morgan would whack the ball hard against the wall and catch it coming back to simulate the serve, but it wasn’t the same.

  Morgan arrived at the sports club around 9:00. He took his usual spot along the fence where there was a hole in the green netting that surrounded the six tennis courts. Several people were already out playing, but no Biffle. Today he wanted Biffle more than ever. He’d been practicing hard and he still had the focus that Pico had given him. Whatever Pico had done not only gave him focus
, but confidence. He believed he could beat Biffle. Still, he wanted to improve himself further.

  Morgan looked across the courts and spotted a person with an impressive serve and he examined every angle of her movement. Each twist and turn, each angle of each motion, every nuance to her serves. Backhand, forehand, rushing the net, and setting up to return a serve. Again and again he attempted to pinpoint where her serves would land. He watched her through an entire set and by the end could predict where the ball would go almost each time. He became so intent that it seemed like watching a movie in slow motion. He tried to see how early he could predict the ball’s trajectory and was amazed at how the most minute details of how she set up a serve determined in general where the ball was going, and by the time the racquet connected he knew. He really knew where the ball would land. It was like an epiphany. It was like Archimedes learning about water displacement or Newton about gravity.

  Morgan went by the club almost every day for a week to study different players and try to master the way they played. After a while he could pick anyone and quickly determine where the person would serve the ball.

  “Hey, Morgan!” said Pico. “You come here a lot and really concentrate watching people play tennis. What are you looking to accomplish?”

  “I want to beat this loudmouth kid who is always beating the crap out of me in tennis.”

  “You think I could get some juice? I’ve got plenty of nails for now.”

  “Sorry. I completely forgot about you. You’re color is getting a little dark. I thought you were getting a tan,” Morgan said with a smile.

  “That’s humor, isn’t it? I don’t get it. Why do you make jokes when someone is sick?”

  “I guess your species doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

  “Not really. Certainly not like that. How about the juice?”

  “I think it is really cool that I can communicate with you without talking. Now people won’t think I’m talking to a doll. Hey, do you think that you could communicate with my mother? She’s really sick.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”