by K. T. Hanna
“Why? You didn’t do it.” He giggled again, and I wished I’d had the foresight to record this. But like anything else, if I whipped my phone out now, it was going to make him sober up enough to chastise me. And no one wanted that.
“Sorry you got shot. It’s a general commiseration. Take it.” The pit of my stomach felt like it was burning in acid. I knew a lot of what went wrong had been my fault and it encouraged the anger that seemed to live in the bottom of my chest these days.
“Hey, Dare?”
“What?”
“You’ve got to stop this.” And his tone was clearer, serious.
So I looked at him while he spoke “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong all the time. Okay? We got out. We’ll be fine. Even Adam.”
You should listen to your superiors.
Shhhh.
It stayed quiet, but that didn’t mean Orion was wrong. In fact, I was quite certain he was right. Perhaps his version of SC constantly gave him advice too. It was a comforting thought.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
That seemed to be enough for him, and he smiled at me as he lay back down. He closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep. Why couldn’t I have received that particular superpower?
I pulled up a seat next to his bed and watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way he breathed so easily. I wanted to breathe easy too, but something about today’s task nagged at me. That office had been far more high tech than I’d imagined, yet I wasn’t sure why I was surprised.
From the doctor’s classified implements, to the labratory, and the shadow masquerading automaton things. If I threw in moment of death revival and the whole system as it interfaced with us, this wasn’t magic. This was science. Therefore, all I needed to do was figure out the coding, right? No big deal at all.
I didn’t arrive home until early Saturday morning.
Laying back on my bed, I threw my squash ball up at the ceiling. It never made it; there wasn’t enough weight behind my throw. But at least I could practice releasing slow sparks of electricity. Quick bursts were something I knew I’d need eventually. If this last assignment had taught me anything, it was that I didn’t have nearly as much control as I’d need.
I’d left behind so much destruction, I was surprised any of us got out alive. That sounded a little too self-deprecating, but even so, a lot of what I’d managed to accomplish, came down to sheer luck.
Not to mention the warnings that flashed up at me, and the very telling silence from my old buddy SC on the matter. Timestance? Portent Ability? Error? Seriously, what sort of system was it even?
And don’t think I forgot the good doctor mentioning that eels don’t last very long. Though I did appreciate the nickname, the lack of knowledge didn’t make any sense in my mind. How could they not know more about this ability? I mean, they had a whole designation centered around it.
The tutorials SC gave me were focused on the element in ways that, in my short experience, were less important. It focused on point of expulsion, choosing to center around the fingers. But its guide to control had many holes, and the whole understanding seemed rudimentary at best.
How long has SC been around? I had to ask the question, and I desperately needed an answer, because some parts of this weren’t adding up.
But all that greeted my pointedly directed thought was silence. Irritation flared briefly, but I could already feel the power within stirring, so I shut it down with concentrated breathing. From what I’d gathered, SC had always been present, but I could be wrong.
Since I’d never been gifted with much patience, I decided trial and error were probably my better options, since my voice friend wasn’t being forthcoming. This particular exercise was a whim to see how quickly I could release a spark. Eventually I hoped to work my way up to being able to fire off a split-second powerful shock, controlled in every aspect. Right now, I was still testing it.
General Electric Pulse Control.
Rudimentary Electrical Shock Application.
I scoffed at the names of what it had taught me, and cracked my knuckles, ready to get to work.
Orion wasn’t home yet, and Jacob had been scarce lately. It made me all sorts of suspicious. I had people being in SC on the brain. According to my subconscious, everyone I knew probably was. Despite staying in the apartment, I’d managed to avoid Jacob all weekend.
As if listening in on my thoughts, I heard the apartment door open and was out of my room before consciously choosing to do so. The door pushed inward, and I grabbed it, pulling it the rest of the way.
Orion stood there, his pale skin almost translucent. He gave me a wan smile and stepped into the apartment. He had an orderly—or guard, I wasn’t sure—with him. Maybe he’d just been sent to escort him home. The man deposited a suitcase inside the apartment and left wordlessly.
“Oh good, you’re home in time for school tomorrow.” I cringed at the eagerness in my own voice.
I wasn’t sure how to react. Hi there, friend that I almost got killed. There weren’t many words that could apologize for that.
“I might skip tomorrow.” Orion didn’t even temper the statement with a grin. “I’m fine, just a little queasy. It wasn’t even a serious wound.”
He seemed upset with himself, like he thought he was being weak.
“Sure, it didn’t puncture anything vital, but you still had a foreign object rip through your arm.” Orion chuckled, and I picked up his bag before he could and shoved it in his room. “Now sit down and take a load off your feet. I’ll make you some delicious ramen.”
This time Orion smiled genuinely. “Thanks, Dare.”
Ramen, the college go-to meal. I guess Orion had stuck to it in order to keep up appearances. Which reminded me that I still didn’t know what had happened to him, or even when. To be at the rank he was, it had to have been a while ago. How many other things didn’t I know about my best friend?
I let the ramen sit for more than three minutes. I was in a fluffier noodle mood. Taking Orion’s in to him first, I placed it on the beaten-up side table. Its mahogany wood had been beautiful once, but now it was scratched and worn. He flashed a smile in my direction, but it was preoccupied, full of secrets I didn’t know. Shadows flitted across his eyes that had nothing to do with the ones that tried to claw at us during the tasks.
After fetching my food, I sat down on the chair on the opposite side of our worn table. The TV was off. I wondered if it even still worked after Orion got his hands on it a couple of weeks ago. It hadn’t been on my list of priorities.
We slurped our ramen in the silence, well apart from the obvious. It’s not exactly a refined food, and slurping—at least in my experience—is just what you do. The noise stood out, yet I didn’t want to interrupt it.
Orion placed his ramen to the side and leaned forward, burying his head in his hands for a moment. I watched him, sucking in a particularly long noodle. Belatedly, I realized that maybe I shouldn’t have been quiet.
Finally, he sat up straight with a sigh and turned to me. “I guess I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”
I kept my eyes on him, the part of me that didn’t want to go easy on him won out. So I watched him while I drank the rest of the soup out of the bowl. Finally, I put mine to the side and locked my eyes on his.
“You owe me one hell of an explanation.” Even if telling me was out of the question because of the program, it didn’t excuse that he hadn’t told me since I was enrolled in it. Just because my system decided not to tell me doesn’t mean he hadn’t had the opportunity. Pulling no punches seemed like the best option to me. “So. When did you die?”
Orion looked away, and the ghost of regret passed over his expression before he squared his jaw and looked me in the eyes again. “Two years ago. Well, almost. Freshman year, spring break. That camping trip.”
“Wait, what?” I knew that spring break. “I was there.”
“Yeah. I know.” His gaze remained on the tattered rug we used to try and protect the aged wooden floors.
“How? Like you can’t just leave it at that. Was it when you went on that hike? Or—” Wait, there’d been that accident. I’d thrown it in his face not too long ago. Something that happened and Orion had had to spend the night in the med tent.
“Yeah. The catamaran incident.”
He sighed but pushed on, past my spluttering questions.
“The boom hit me in the head, knocked me overboard. I was an idiot, in the wrong place, forgot to duck.” He shrugged and then hugged himself. “I drowned, but only for a split second. Like I was dead, but then I wasn’t. Apparently when they pulled me back up, I was breathing. But I know I hadn’t been for a minute or two.
“When the EMTs got to me and I finally woke up, they had to brief me in place of Dr. Caroline because we were out of her range. I wanted to tell you so badly, so many times, but the rules. You get it, right?”
His eyes beseeched me, were willing me to agree with him.
“I get it. But I also don’t get why you couldn’t talk to me directly after my accident.” That’s what was really bugging me. Maybe I couldn’t have helped him, but he sure could have helped me through this adjustment phase.
“My system didn’t give me any sign that you were actually in the program. Sure, I had my suspicions, but for some reason it didn’t recognize you and give me a report. Usually, I don’t have to prompt it. But this time...” He ventured a small smile at me. “I’m glad your death didn’t stick either.”
My death. His death. We’d both died. That was some pretty major shit right there. Dead before I hit twenty-one. Not exactly on my bucket list.
“So how come you’re ice, you know, if you drowned?”
This time Orion full on grinned. “Frozen water is like ice, you know.”
I could have smacked myself in the forehead. Of course they weren’t separate elements. Just different variations. “So does that explain the air too? I mean, freezing air makes the water ice, right?”
He nodded, his expression one of eagerness to share. “I’ve since developed skill with both air and water in combination. I can’t do anything with earth to save myself, but the air is sort of a good compliment to water. Ice is so much more powerful in certain instances. Let’s me be pretty versatile. Water by itself wouldn’t have helped us much on Friday, especially not with your electricity charges running wild.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, somewhat sheepishly. “Good point. So was the doctor supposed to tell me Adam’s name?”
Orion shook his head. “Not really, but it doesn’t matter. As long as we use our titles in a group task, it’s okay. It’s sort of thought to reinforce your role with repetition and avoid any actual identification if we’re overheard somehow.”
He paused, like he was trying to figure out if he should say what he wanted to. “We don’t have friends when on a mission. We can’t afford them.”
He flexed his arm, wincing slightly. The shadows returned to his eyes and he let out a sigh.
“Except without my friend this time, I don’t think I’d be home yet. Nor would Adam have pulled through.”
“Adam is okay then?” Maybe there was too much eagerness in my voice, I’m not sure, but Orion’s grin held conspiring overtones.
“Adam is fine. Well, banged up, but he’ll be okay. What the hell did you do? Even the doctor seemed confused.” He leaned forward expectantly, because he knew it was my stroke of genius that saved us.
“The thing is? I’m not precisely sure. I wasn’t really thinking analytically, more acting on instinct and just hoping what I applied to myself worked for you two as well.” Orion raised an eyebrow, but I barreled on. “I just thought of it in a sort of motherboard comparison way. Nothing on it will work if you don’t inject the right voltage of electricity. Too little and it doesn’t matter, too much and it’ll crash and burn. Can’t overclock the processor too much or it’ll fry. Might need to add some coolant. That sort of thing. Isn’t the human brain kind of like a computer?”
I left it hanging in the air, the words I’d only dared to think to myself so far. But the huge grin that spread over Orion’s face told me all I needed to know. While I might not understand exactly what I’d done, I’d applied simple real-world problem solving to it. And I was certain with enough time, I’d be able to replicate it on command.
“Well, thanks for not frying my brain.” He laughed, but I could hear the nervousness underlying it, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d basically just told him he was a guinea pig.
A thought struck me though, like a whispering in the back of my mind. “Hey. You know how the system won’t hurt someone else if we accidentally let our circumstances slip, right?”
Orion’s brows furrowed and he pursed his lips, like he didn’t want me to say what was coming next. He nodded, hesitant though it was.
“I feel like I’ve seen some of this, remnants of possibilities, maybe some sort of dream. I don’t suppose they had to wipe my memory ever, did they?” I didn’t need him to speak. I could see the answer written all over his face. The guilt shone through like a red letter.
I forestalled him, his discomfort tangible. “It’s okay, Ry. I get it.”
He just looked at me, frustration welling in his eyes, but still he didn’t speak. It was like I didn’t get it, I didn’t get it at all.
Monday rolled around, and I found myself waking up about twenty minutes before my still earlier-than-usual alarm. I lay there, watching my ceiling and the crown molding that snuck into the corners. Such delicate patterns withstood the test of time. How many things didn’t?
Orion had wiped my mind. Multiple times if his reaction was anything to go by. What sort of lasting effects did that shit have? I shuddered at the thought and tried to push down on the brief flare of resentment. It wasn’t his fault.
I hadn’t spoken to my program in a day or two, and I wasn’t sure how to approach the system to ask it for some of the information I needed. It was definitely ignoring me.
Every now and again, in the dark light of the morning, I swore I could see shadows flitting through my room that had nothing to do with those cast by the traffic down below. Nor were they cast by me moving around.
No, these moved of their own accord. They slunk about, whispering words I couldn’t hear. Their red eyes only blinked open infrequently. Just often enough that I realized they were still there. Thoughts flitted around in the back of my head wondering if they were real, wondering if they were fragments of the memories I’d lost, or a part of death that came back with me.
They didn’t really make noise. Not really. Just scuffling against the wallpaper. Sometimes they sounded like mice were in the walls, only I knew better. The memory of the lab flashed through my mind often. Those strange metallic legs cloaked in imitation shadows. If I turned the lights on, they disappeared. Just the notion that it was there—all a part of my hallucination.
Except this wasn’t in my mind. As far as I could tell, this was all a result of being brought back to life. Of having super powers I couldn’t quite control. Of being watched since I’d entered the Heavenly Dough.
In hindsight, Heavenly—afterlife… Maybe there was a link there. But from what I could tell, it wasn’t to the system in my head. It had to be something else.
I’d made a habit of throwing my squash ball. I did think my reflexes with electricity were improving. Short stops and starts helped me gain control over the it. I’d only left a couple of scorch marks where I’d overdone it. Squash balls were small. Not always the best containment device for a large push of power. The initial ignition burst of power was what I needed control over.
I didn’t like the idea of always having to rely on finding a wall receptacle. So far my body had been
the best conduit, the best containment device. I had to be careful though. Sometimes it felt like I was coming apart at the seams.
Perhaps I should talk to Dr. Caroline about, too.
Would you like me to contact the doctor for you?
Damn it. When would I know it was listening in? Maybe I’d let my thoughts surface too far. No. Don’t bother the doctor. I’m just having rhetorical thoughts.
Very well. Is something else troubling you?
Sure, you could answer the question I asked you like yesterday. I did my best to keep the irritation out of my tone, but I failed spectacularly.
Repeat the question please.
How long has SC been around?
Define parameters.
I blinked. What? Thoughts raced and I gave it another go. How long has the SC system been functional?
The SC system has always been. Your inquiry makes no sense.
I paused, flabbergasted. How could it make no sense? Humans hadn’t always been, so how could the system?
Can I help you with anything else?
No. I lied quite well, even to myself. Just thinking.
It didn’t say anything after that, and I thought it had receded to wherever it was it stayed while not bothering me.
You seem overwhelmed. It’s okay. You’re an integral part of the program. You’ve evolved the electrical skill tree. We have learned from you. This is a great thing.
Thanks. I almost choked on the chills inundating my body. That sounded almost like a threat. You’ve contributed, so we’re not letting you go any time soon. Shit.
If you have any other worries, I’m here to help. I have all the information at your fingertips.
Even that was a slight joke. I allowed myself to chuckle politely, unable to think of anything else to say. It appeared satisfied by the lack of answer and left me in peace. At the same time, it was either lying, or else it believed what it told me. Because considering my questions, it definitely didn’t have all the information.
