Fervor

by Chantal Boudreau

  “I’m here,” she finally responded, as Sam clambered his way through the obstacle course of gathered minds. He prodded at the faint link that he found there and then latched on to it with equal enthusiasm as he had to Nathan. She was not working her way through the crowd the way the broadly-built boy had been, and Sam had the better sense to skirt the shifting throng this time, not wanting to face the danger of being trampled again.

  Once they had made that connection, Sam felt a little more desperate to physically find the older girl than he had Sarah or Nathan. Fiona was not just sad or fearful – she was absolutely heart-sick, like someone had stolen everything from her and had given her very little in return. He had a feeling that she had been rather affixed to the life that she had been living. She had been happy with her family; she was one of the more popular children at school. She had been very satisfied with the way that things were, and he did not feel like she had gained anything truly positive from this change, so hers seemed like an unrewarded sacrifice.

  Sam finally arrived beside her and grabbed her hand before she could drift away from him again. He noticed the skin was exceptionally soft and her nails carefully trimmed and filed, not like any of the others. It brought a twinge of loss to his heart, reminding him a little of Maria.

  “Here,” he said letting his mind push at hers fairly firmly. “I’m here. I’m Sam. Let me take you back to the others.”

  The pretty girl turned to look at him, her expression morose. She was as robust as Sarah was waif-like. Her rounded cheeks were slightly freckled with a rosy glow, and the skin of her face looked as soft and flawless as her hands had been. Her hair hung in long chestnut waves over her shoulders and her eyes were a warm brown with a hint of green at their centres. She was shorter than Nathan, but about the same height as Francis, so a little on the tall side for a girl, Sam would guess. That was assuming that she was about the same age as the other two Bigs.

  “What’s going on here, Sam? It doesn’t make any sense. Martha was gone, and she never came back. Then my brothers told me that I had to come here, and as soon as we made it here they left me. They told me that someone else would come looking for me. They must have meant you.”

  Sam noted that she was not really trying to communicate with him through the connection. Her mouth moved, as her eyes flashed with panic, but the words that he picked up in her mind were merely an echo of what she has trying to tell him with her physical voice, which he could not hear. She was not making any effort to push at him at all. She was resistant to everything that was happening, still in denial and unwilling to accept the changes.

  “Let me take you back to Francis. I think he’ll be able to offer you more than I can. He can help you sort it out,” Sam offered.

  He was more than happy to burden Francis with this responsibility. Sarah and Nathan had been so much more accepting of their situation, despite being as distressed by it as Sam was. Fiona had had several days to let go of the notion that things could go back to what she considered to be normal and adapt to her new circumstances, but she had not. Sam would eventually discover that this was part and parcel with her being a Keeper.

  The crowd in the Hub was thinning a little now. The house-families were gathering their members, as dictated by their Tellers, and moving off to one side in small groups. Sam led Fiona back to his own companions and noticed that there was another boy there, almost as tall as Nathan, with black hair and plain brown eyes. The look that this new boy gave Sam was a little menacing, but it was not nearly as unsettling as the other unusual detail about this boy. When Sam reached out to greet him through the connection, the stranger was not there.

  While this large boy seemed to direct his attention towards Sam, Francis and Nathan were much more interested in Sam’s newest find. Both of the Bigs extended a quiet thought to welcome Fiona, and Sarah, prompted by their responses, followed suit.

  “Ah,” Francis remarked with a subtle smile, speaking with his mouth as well as his mind in order to include Royce in the conversation. “This must be our Keeper, Fiona. Sam, this is our Control, Royce. Get to know one another, because these people are your family now. There are no more minders and no more teachers, and from now on, we’ll have to rely on one another.” His gaze specifically settled on Royce and Nathan.

  “Remember that the next time you are tempted to mistreat any of those that you’ll be living with. I am Francis, your Teller. Welcome, all of you, to the Gathering.”

  The Gathering

  Now that all of the children that had come to the Hub had settled into organized chaos, the Tellers began directing their groups to various points in the communal hall. As was to be expected, there was no resistance to their commands except for in the case of a couple of the Controls, since those Bigs were not subject to the Tellers’ special influence.

  Royce, while quiet and stern-looking, did not offer objection to his Teller’s orders. He did not look pleased to be there, however, and had not smiled yet, Sam noted. In fact, if the smaller boy had to wager a guess, he fell under the distinction of Royce’s least preferred member of their house-family. He was not sure if it was for any reason in particular, such as their inability to communicate without someone else’s help, or if there were more to it than that. Sam just knew that, every time his eyes met Royce’s, he could see the suggestion of animosity there.

  Francis brought his companions over to a flag post that read “thirty-two”. Nathan eyed it with curiosity.

  “That’s our house number,” the Teller explained. “We are only one of fifty house-families. There are three hundred of us on this island, and we have been grouped into house-families of six – one of each talent-group per family.”

  “One of each talent-group plus a Control, you mean,” Sam remarked, remembering Francis’s earlier comments.

  “Sam,” Sarah hissed softly, giving him a little push. “You shouldn’t be excluding Royce, just because he’s not like us.”

  “They may not have a gift the way that we do, Sam, but they are still considered a talent-group. I said that they are not part of a talent-group in the same way that we are,” Francis replied, using only his mind and not his mouth. The blond boy obviously had chosen to leave Royce out of that part of the conversation just as Sarah had, not wanting to spur the antagonism that their Control seemed to feel toward the smaller boy any further. “They can still do things that we can’t do. They can keep their thoughts private from everyone, not just other Controls. They won’t yield to a Teller’s promptings unless they choose to, which means they can mediate in any dispute between Tellers and others, and if the connection ever gets too chaotic, like it did when everyone woke up that first morning, and all of the Connected become disoriented by it, it will be up to the Controls to keep things regulated.”

  Then it was there again, that quiet little voice inside of Francis’s head that he clearly had not anticipated Sam hearing. “That’s the theory, anyway. And the Controls know everything that the Tellers do, in case it ever matters.”

  “So we all have our purpose – we all have a knack,” Nathan acknowledged. “All six of us are expected to live together, and learn together, for some strange reason. Are you going to tell us why all of this is happening?” Again, he spoke only through the connection, but Sam was pretty sure that it was not purposefully to exclude Royce. Sam did note that Royce appeared irked if he sensed that he was missing part of what was being said, as meaningful glances passed amongst those who were Connected. He felt left out. Sam could understand that feeling.

  “I can’t,” Francis said, both inside and out. Those who heard him through the connection knew that he was being truthful. “There’s only so much that I can give you, information-wise. I have to follow instructions – you all know that by now.” The Teller glanced over at Royce and Sam thought he detected nervousness from the blond boy.

  “I thought we were here to learn,” Sarah mumbled.

  “You are here to learn. You’re here to learn about the connection,
and how to build walls, so that you can block people out of your thoughts when you want to. You’re also here to discover how to set up a door amidst those walls so you can get back out to the connection, and let people in when you need to. You’ll find out how to knock once others have their walls and doors set up, so you can let someone else know that you want in, and you’ll learn how to push as hard as you can, to break through that door, to be used only in the case of an emergency, when there isn’t time to knock and wait for a response. You’ll get the chance to practice a little before we leave here, but don’t even start to think that you’ll manage to perfect these things before we go. It will take a lot of time and a lot of practice,” their Teller insisted.

  “Years,” came the secondary voice that Sam was picking up on. “It will take years.”

  More thoughts that Francis had intended to keep behind his “walls”, Sam considered, keeping his own thoughts quiet. Apparently, those walls weren’t quite as sound-proof as Francis had believed them to be.

  “It would seem that it’s going to take longer than years,” Sam stated, before catching himself. Three of his five house-family mates turned to look at him, startled, Francis included. The blond boy blushed.

  “What did Sam mean by that, Francis?” Nathan demanded. “How long is this, whatever this is, going to last? Are we stuck here like this for good? What happens as we get older?”

  “It’s like we’re in prison,” Fiona sighed. “I’m the captive and you five are my cellmates.” She glanced over at Francis, rethinking her statement. “Well, four cellmates and one warden.”

  Sam had not intended to start any conflict. It had been entirely by accident. He felt the other minds about him stirring anxiously as well. There was friction building amongst the other groups, too, and it was rising in volume, like some irritating buzz within the connection. That was when he felt himself physically being lifted off his feet, by his collar. Everyone in his group who was Connected had stopped what they were doing, and all but Sarah were now staring at him.

  “Make that two wardens. Royce told us to quit the ‘inside only’ talk, little buddy,” Nathan explained solemnly, since Sam was still unaware of exactly what was going on behind him. “He said that we have to stop keeping stuff from him, and let him in on things. I don’t think that he likes any of us, but he seems to have it out for you, especially. He said that he could see that you were going to be trouble from the first time that he laid eyes on you. I don’t think that I like him, either.”

  That was when Nathan spoke out loud for the first time since they had met, his spoken thoughts also echoed in the connection.

  “P-p-put him d-d-down, R-Royce,” the broadly-built boy stammered. He moved forward, raising his fists.

  “Yes,” Francis agreed. “Put him down. No need for that – it’s okay, Nathan. We’ll settle this civilly for now. We have to stop excluding Royce from conversations. If my walls still aren’t quite working right, then I needed to know that, and Sam just gave me that opportunity. To make things easier, why don’t I head off any other questions that I can before we start. First, Sam is correct. I’ve been working on improving my tools to use with the connection for two years, and I clearly haven’t perfected them yet. Then again, I was training with other Tellers, who aren’t nearly as strong in their link with the connection as Sam and the other Littles. What has proven to be sufficient to keep other Tellers out obviously isn’t enough to block Sam. That’s some valuable information that the other Tellers will want to know.”

  Now it was Fiona’s turn to react in a less than pleasant fashion. “Two years! You Tellers have known about this for two years, and no one told the rest of us? The minders – the teachers, they all knew and they didn’t warn us? Why didn’t anyone bother to prepare us? They obviously went to the trouble of preparing you. Why not give the rest of us the same treatment? For that matter, why just up and leave us the way that they did?”

  Sam still dangled from Royce’s angry grip. As intimidated as he was by the larger boy, he did not allow that to stop him from saying his peace. After all, the Control was only aware of part of the conversation. “The Tellers weren’t the only ones who were prepared – briefed on these Directives that Francis keeps talking about. The Controls were, too.”

  “Sam, stop,” Sarah warned meekly. “Don’t say too much. You’re going to get Francis in trouble. You are going to get us all in trouble.”

  Sam suspected she knew more now than he did. They would have to talk privately again later, if they got the chance.

  He felt the boy who held him tense, becoming more aggravated as the discussion progressed without allowing him to listen in on everything. Sam could not actually observe Royce’s reaction, but he could see Nathan’s face reddening and his knuckles whitening.

  “I said p-put him d-down. Now!” Nathan snarled.

  “Nathan, calm yourself. Fiona, you settle down, too. Sam, Sarah, I don’t want you speaking again until I ask you to, directly,” Francis ordered, his thoughts weighing them down like a heavy blanket. Nathan relaxed immediately, allowing his hands to drop to his sides and his frown fading. Fiona stopped looking distressed and took a deep breath.

  “This is messy enough as is, and I won’t be able to stop Royce if it becomes necessary. This is part of why we are here. This is an example of what you have to learn to live with. You have to be tolerant of those who can’t do what you can do. You have to learn some self-discipline, and some self-restraint.” Francis shook his head and rubbed at his temples, the strain of the moment fairly evident.

  Sam craned his neck to look at the taller boy behind who still kept him suspended in mid-air. Royce was wearing a smug smile. He was well aware of what Francis could do – of what the Teller had just done. He was also aware of the advantage that being immune to Francis’s influence gave him. With a forceful shake for good measure, he lowered Sam back to the floor. Then he stepped back and crossed his arms, his expression unchanged.

  Francis sighed.

  “The important thing right now isn’t to argue about what led us to this point or why. What we have to focus on is the best way to handle it. We will all have to learn to get along, despite our differences. We all have to figure out how to make the best use of our talents, and those of us who are Connected have to start working on our controls. It’s all in the Directives. Royce understands. If I have to, I’ll make you understand, too. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  Francis was hiding it well on the outside, but his attempts to shield the fact that he really did not want to have to make these kinds of statements was rather transparent within the connection, even to the less perceptive Fiona. Sam suspected that the display was to placate Royce, and for no other reason.

  After Sarah had finished fixing Nathan, the small group joined the other forty-nine house-families closer to the front of the main hall. Nathan placed a firm hand on Sam’s shoulder as they walked together, while making sure that Royce kept his distance.

  “Stay here,” Francis directed. “I’ll be back. I have to help with this.”

  There was a stage at the front of the communal hall, and all of the Tellers were making their way there, leaving their groups for some unknown purpose. Sam realized he felt even more nervous with Francis gone, despite Nathan’s reassuring presence. The blond boy had been with him since all of this had first started, and he was the only one in their house-family whom he trusted at all who had any real idea what was going on. Royce had some of that knowledge, but to Sam he was an unyielding and teetering brick wall, threatening to fall on him at any moment. Sam could not feel him there; he could not talk to him in any way, and for some reason the larger boy already hated him.

  Sam was relieved that he had Nathan at his back, or he was fairly certain he would have been crying again at that moment. He wanted desperately to charge after Francis and as far away from Royce as he could get.

  That was when things got even more interesting, as all fifty Tellers who had clustered on the stage
began to speak, both inside and out, at the same time.

  “The first purpose of this Gathering is to provide you with the Rules as set out by the Directives. You will listen, and you will obey them,” they said in unison.

  If Francis’s commands had been a heavy blanket, this combined effort was like an avalanche, overwhelming and suffocating. This was the primary reason for the Gathering, Sam decided. They were here to have their wills properly subjugated, the rules so firmly embedded in their psyches that Francis would not have to struggle to enforce them. Of course, that would only apply to the Connected. The small boy glanced over at Royce. As if things weren’t bad enough already, here was another problem presenting itself. Sam would be bound irrevocably to the rules, whereas Royce would not. Sam shuddered at this thought.

  “Rule number one of the Directives is fairly simple. You will respect the order of things as set out by the Directives, including acceptance of your place within your talent-group and your house-family. Your responsibility as a talent supersedes your obligation to your house-family. If there is any question as to how you should respond to a particular situation based on the Directives, you are to ask your Teller, who will brief you on the matter,” the Tellers instructed.

  “What does that mean?” Sarah asked. A similar response from others echoed through the connection.

  “It means that we have to do as we’re told, that Francis is the boss, and that if we don’t know how things work, we have to ask him,” Fiona responded, not trying to hide her annoyance.

  “It means that you’re a Fixer first and a part of our family second,” Nathan added. Sam had been planning to add his own response, but the growing buzz within the connection was starting to become debilitating and he leaned back against Nathan, his head spinning. There were multiple protests, expressions of fear and worry, some outbursts of anger and some lamentations. Not everyone within the connection was reacting to what they were being told in the same way, there was even some nonplussed acceptance and disinterested apathy in the mix, but while there was an extreme overall emotional response to the Tellers’ words, there was one thing definitely not there. There was no actual resistance.