The Vaticinator

by Namita Singh

consents.

  “But really, from what I had read, they had projected certain electromagnetic radiations upon us, of wavelengths beyond those of gamma radiations. They had the ability to generate that high energy waves and had the perfect accuracy and precision to cause damage on the requisite genes.”

  “And…viola! Here you are.” Neal says, grinning.

  “Here I am.” I nod.

  Neal chuckles, “You believe in this story?”

  “Yes.”

  “…Okay.”

  “So, the correct mutations gave us the ability to metamorphose to any animal form as we required. The therians formed their own realms, the first being formed in America and then many migrating to other places in the world and initiating more Realms, getting encouragement from the witches…Now there are thirteen huge Realms, each looked after by each of the thirteen witches. There are millions of therains out there, being a part of this.”

  “…What? There are…there are more of you?”

  “You look surprised.” I say, wary of Neal’s response.

  “I thought it’s only you people here.” Neal blurts.

  I roll my eyes, “There are thirteen therian realms in the world, each with uncountable therians. Each realm is under the supervision of each of the Occultists.” I repeat.

  “Occultists?”

  “Eh…the witches. The term ‘witches’ associate too much negativity with it, considering how they were antagonized by humans in the past. So we use…‘occultist’…which is a more appropriate term anyway, because the witches are the result of occultation and they sprout occults by their energy.”

  “That guy…” Neal says, frowning, “Your uncle?” he grimaces, “He said I belonged to the occultist.”

  “Oh yeah…first of all, Ethan is not my uncle. Secondly, dad said the same….that you belong to the First occultist.”

  Neal winces, “What does that mean?”

  I shrug, “I don’t know…Terry uncle said you’re the First occultist’s oracle or something.”

  Neal is silent at that.

  I clear my throat, “So…You really can see the future?”

  Neal rolls his eyes, “You’re going to have to wait in queue outside my gypsy shop.”

  I chuckle, “No, but, really?”

  Neal sighs, “It’s…complicated.”

  I give him a condescending glare, “You don’t have to be so shady.” I shake my head, “In a way I am surprised. I never really believed in destiny much. But if you can see the future then that means a future is fixedand therefore, so is everyone’s fate.” I sigh.

  “You’re wrong.” Neal blurts.

  I raise my eyebrows. He sighs, pursing his lips. He eyes the empty side of my bed and again sighs, this time inaudibly. “May I?” he asks, pointing at the empty space beside me.

  I shrug, “I don’t mind if you can manage to sleep on the chair.”

  Neal rolls his eyes and traverses the outline of the bed to move to the other empty side of my bed, his idyllic aura vibrating with his movements. Very ungracefully, he just collapses on the bed, making the mattress bounce a little. A silence stretches, except for the thumping steps of Rome above our roof. He is not shouting at least, thank god. I glance at Neal to ensure that he is awake. He indeed is; sprawled inelegantly on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

  “The future…” Neal begins, clearing his throat, “is not fixed. Not all the time at least.”

  He falls silent again.

  “I am listening.” I encourage.

  “Give me a moment.” He snaps, “I am gathering my thoughts.”

  I sigh, exasperated.

  Neal runs a hand through his hair, “It’s tough to explain.”

  “I am still listening.” I say monotonously.

  Neal shoots me a sideway glare, then sighs, “I have…at certain times, managed to form the future.” He says distantly.

  “…What do you mean?”

  Neal sighs in exasperation. He gets up from his lying position and sits cross legged beside me, facing me. “I have had experiences where I could…”

  “…manage to form the future?” I complete for him, my tone dry.

  Neal glares, “It’s-”

  “-Tough to explain, I know.” I complete for him again, “You know what? You’re a terrible teacher.”

  “Oh, please. Who wants to be a teacher?”

  “We are diverting. You can form the future?”

  “That’s it.”

  “That’s what?”

  “That’s it.” Neal says, impatient, “When a certain course of direction is set, I can follow it and see what is going to occur. But it’s not a necessity that it’ll occur for sure. This is where your ‘fate’ theory gets disregarded. What I see is something that is most likely to occur. If I leave it be, that thing may or may not occur, depending upon the preceding circumstances.”

  “That’s not very helpful.” I say after a moment.

  “Yeah. Not unless I can improvise upon what I see and will it to occur with 100% probability.”

  “…You can do that?”

  “Well,” Neal looks hesitative, “I have had my share of experiences.”

  So, that’s what he means by ‘managing to form the future’. I feel my heartbeat quicken. Able to develop or change the future? Now that sounds…somewhat significant. Slight details of my excursions with Neal start to roam in my mind. I straighten a little, pulling the duvet more upon myself, “Let me guess…Duato’s suspension…that was improvised?”

  He simply raises his eyebrow at the sudden change of subject. His mouth wordlessly opens, confirming my suspicions.

  “I’ll further guess,” I continue, “That my presence two days before, when I helped you against Duato and his friends was improvised too?”

  Neal remains stoic at the accusation but somehow I manage to sense the guilt off him. The fading bruise on his cheek doesn’t seem so undeserving anymore.

  “I can’t believe this.” I mutter, looking away from him.

  “I didn’t will you to be present to fight against Duato and his douchebag friends.” Neal replies, “Yeah, I knew you would be there…I had seen that beforehand…but I didn’t create it or molded the situation. I just willed it to occur with 100% probability; which is not a big deal as it was anyway the most probable thing to occur.” He mumbles, awkwardly looking away. He then turns back and begins in a loud voice, “The events preceding Duato’s suspension were improvised.” Neal corrects, his voice now in a full on defensive mode, “Duato’s suspension was left untouched by me.”

  “And that makes it any better, how?” I ask, slightly disturbed with Neal bending the future for his own benefit, “How many more improvisations have you made?” I snap. “Must be pretty handy this ability of yours for The Plutocracy.”

  Neal doesn’t retaliate and the guilt becomes more noticeable on him. So I have guessed right. He has probably ‘created’ some of the news in The Plutocracy.

  “Why are we talking about this?” He says, rubbing a hand on his face.

  “I’m just having a hard time believing that you can be this unethical.”

  Neal looks away and breathes out heavily through his nose. He looks at me, his expression displaying slight annoyance, “Your judgment doesn’t affect me, Lichinsky.”

  “That doesn’t make you any better.”

  “Why are you making a scene of it? It’s not like I did anything to you…” he trails off in the end, quickly looking away.

  It eventually dawns on me, “You didn’t?” I ask, bristling, “So, Victor and I fighting was not one of your improvisations?” I half hope that he’ll reply with a ‘yes’. But what I get is a blank stare in return. “Great,” I say sarcastically, “how many more hassles have you made people face for your own amusement?” I ask.

  “I am not discussing this.” Neal says.

  I shake my head, “I kind of respect you, you know. You’ve just disappointed me.”

  “Well, flash news. I don’
t care. You’re not my dad.”

  Yeah, not your dad. Just your life partner.I scowl in my head but outwardly I remain silent.

  I sigh.

  “I never produce something that may pose harm to anyone.” Neal says after a moment, his tone hesitative.

  “Except for Duato?” I say dryly.

  “The prick deserved it.” Neal snaps.

  I look at him, “Why don’t you just admit it that it’s wrong?”

  “The lives of those students wouldn’t be half as interesting without The Plutocracy.” Neal says.

  “And that’s the lamest explanation I have ever heard.”

  “I am not explaining myself,” Neal clarifies, “or giving excuses. I never look into the personal lives of other people. I just very minutely modify something that they were going to face anyways. I don’t cause harm to any of them, unless you count the slight humiliation my paper causes to some people. Like in your and Viktor’s case. But even in these situations, the victim is usually at the brink of receiving the treatment I bestow on him or her. As I said, I don’t change the situation, I just slightly modify it. Viktor deserves it anyway.”

  “You’re no one to decide who deserves what.”

  Neal rolls his eyes, “Just stop being judgmental, okay?” he snaps, “I like writing, I like observing people when they selfishly indulge in themselves with the help of my paper, I like knowing that my word holds some significance to the mass and therefore, I like The Plutocracy. If I can manage an easier way to fill the columns of my paper without harming anyone, without intruding into their personal lives, without affecting the major, significant events in their lives, then I’ll grab it. And that’s what I did. I am not sorry for it. You,” he says, pointing at me, “are amongst the minority who doesn’t