It took Noah asking for the favor as a 4th birthday present, but he finally got his mom to talk to his dad about the Japanese solar power company, Kanazawa Corporation. After a family meeting where his father argued two on one, he finally invested in the company. Clark did not hide the fact that he was planning to use the investment as a teaching moment for Noah, fully expecting that the money would be lost. However, Noah soon overheard a few excited conversations between his parents about the Kanazawa Corporation, and that as one of the first investors in the company, Clark was being offered first pick of a new round of stock options. With another nudge from Lana, Clark did a very un-Clark thing and invested a large sum of money. Not long after that, Noah noticed his mom had stopped picking up weekend hours as a waitress at Lucy’s Diner. She stayed home more to help raise her son. On top of that, his dad did something on his own that Noah never would have never imagined Clark doing in a million years—he bought a new car.
The car itself even surprised Noah. It wasn’t the typical Henson family car with fifty replacement parts and a sputtering exhaust, but a brand new, right off the lot sporty SUV. This had shocked the four-year-old Noah more than his own rebirth.
That day, Noah had said to himself, “If there’s anything that proves I can change the future, it’s this. I bet dad still spent three days haggling with the dealership for the best deal possible, though. Next time I need to draw blood from a rock, I’ll ask him for help.”
In addition to the investments that Clark had made in Kanazawa, Noah also suspected that his father used his background to vote as a shareholder.
Other than the new car and his mother being home more often, Noah’s family didn’t have many other signs of their improved financial situation due to dad’s spendthrift values. But that didn’t stop Noah from secretly logging into his parents’ accounts to check on their stock portfolios. He had known about the concept of compound interest, but the numbers shocked him. If Kanazawa Corporation kept growing, which Noah knew it would, his parents would be able to retire comfortably in another few years.
“I got my parents some financial stability and proved investing into Kanazawa Corp worked,” Noah muttered to himself. “But now it’s my turn to raise my own money.”
He had a few ideas of how to do it. As long as he could get a few hundred dollars, Noah knew he could grow that into a staggering amount of money by the time he reached high school. Betting on sports wouldn’t be necessary…which was good since he hadn’t paid all that much attention to sports in his past life. Kanazawa Corporation was just one of the companies he knew would do well in the years to come. The real trick is how I can do this without my parents suspecting. After plenty of time to think and plan, Noah had thought of several ways to make it happen.
One day he absently swung on a swing set, somewhat amused that as a child, nobody paid him any mind for swinging, whereas people had given him weird looks as a teen for doing the same thing. He’d enjoy the judgement-free time he had left. His parents were currently a stone’s throw away, talking to another couple, and Noah used his rare downtime to let his mind wander. I spent a year going back and forth about coming out as a genius baby, and trying to get some celebrity status to convince a few people about the Aelve invasion, he mused, then frowned. I’m glad I didn’t go forward with that idea. Even if a lot of people thought I was special, I wouldn’t have resulted in anything more than a quick internet headline. The article probably would have read something like, “Genius Baby or Crazy Baby? Click Here To Find Out!”
He suddenly felt pain behind his eyes and put his hand to his forehead, but as the feeling started to fade, he quickly dropped his arm so nobody would notice. There was no reason to worry his parents, but his headaches had been getting worse. For the time being, he would continue to bear the concern alone. The headaches had gotten to the point they could incapacitate him for an hour. The pain wasn’t terrible, just constant, preventing him from focusing on anything. They were sort of like having a painful itch he couldn’t scratch, distracting him from all other thoughts.
More time passed, Noah constantly working, learning, and planning. At almost five years old, he stood in the family kitchen, staring at a completed aptitude test on the table. His mother and father had voiced their disappointment that Noah wanted to skip elementary school. The school was an expensive academy for gifted students, and Noah knew his parents probably worried about him becoming socially stunted if he didn’t spend time around kids his age. Wilshire Academy also offered some really fantastic programs for gifted children. Noah could accept all that, and knew that his parents were being logical—there was no way they could know he had been reincarnated and didn’t need to learn how to socialize all over again. However, while gently arguing, his parents had begun saying some of the same things they had said in his previous life, like, "But you have so much potential!" Something bruised and hurt, an old wound that had been healing but still existed flared, lighting up memories of old pain. Noah suppressed his extremely negative emotional reaction but knew it was time to speak about it. Luckily, he had rehearsed what he was about to say over two lifetimes. It was time to be honest with his parents.
"You may not know what's best for me," he said flatly, carefully holding back a lifetime’s worth of anger from his voice. Noah knew the moment of blunt honesty was crucial to how his family would view him from that point onward. "Let's be honest. You're the best Mom and Dad anyone could hope for, but no parent really knows what they're doing, much less with someone like me. I’m not normal, and that is not your fault—there isn’t a manual for dealing with a situation like this–I know, I looked. However, it’s kind of messed up that you guys are telling me I could do so much more. Okay, more what? I just proved through testing that I’m already at college levels on every subject. You're not being specific because you don't know. What's worse, this all makes me feel like I'm not good enough for you right now. I know you mean well, but the way you phrase this stuff doesn’t give me a goal, it won’t ever let me feel like I’ve accomplished anything." Noah held back tears and tried to keep his expression neutral, even as his parents recoiled with a number of emotions.
It wasn’t like Noah didn’t know he was being a little unfair. His parents had no way to know how badly their good intentions had hurt him in his past life. However, he knew from experience that if he didn’t nip this in the bud, he’d hate himself for another lifetime.
In the moment of silence, while his mother and father just stared at him, Noah winced, already regretting what he’d said. Luckily, his parents really were better than he’d ever deserved, and they asked him why he didn’t want to go to school. What’s even better, they actually listened.
Noah didn’t like the idea of lying to his family, but he had to get rather creative with the truth. Luckily, he had prepared a little bit for this moment and was able to cite studies about the psychology of genius children, and how they were impacted by various peer groups. The conversation was incredibly meta, a fact Noah was aware of and tried not to think about too much. He needed to focus on logic that his parents would believe, so his main points to his family were that he might be bullied, he already got lots of socialization, school was an unnecessary expense for the family, and he was already learning through self-study—he didn’t need teachers, much less to teach him how to read.
Ultimately, after a lot of talking and his mother finally breaking down in tears, the Hensons decided to trust him, agreeing with his plan to be homeschooled with his mom until at least junior high school. This was a huge win. Noah would have died of boredom in a kindergarten class, and despite taking another lifetime to do so, he had finally been able to say what he’d wanted to tell his parents in his previous life.
That night, he reflected on all the real reasons he had forced the issue, avoiding elementary school, and talking his parents out of private schools in general.
He already had far beyond an elementary education and didn’t need to socialize with children. Also,
all the information he needed for research was on the internet. Most importantly, he needed freedom to act on his own. Going to school, especially at a strict private school, would demand a good chunk of his time through mandated sports and extracurricular activities. By putting off his schooling and going to a public school in the future meant he could hopefully keep a better schedule.
At this point in his life, anything that took much time away from preparing for the Shift would be a waste.
***
Faster than he would have imagined possible, Noah’s fifth birthday came and went. The next night he headed to bed after writing a report for his mother, as usual, but suddenly found himself standing in front of a mirror, looking at his own reflection. It didn’t take long for Noah to realize he was in a dream. That’s weird, he thought. He’d had lucid dreams before, especially after being reincarnated, but this one felt different.
A blue screen suddenly appeared before of him, showing a beautiful young woman with long, curly red hair that bounced when she moved. Her eyes constantly shifted between hazel and deep forest green, depending on the light. Noah recognized the girl, and the image encased in the translucent screen made him cringe inside even as he grinned.
He was suddenly reminded of his argument with his parents several months before about school. That’s right, he thought. I hadn’t even admitted to myself back then that another reason I can’t go to a private school is that private schools won’t have Krystal Connolly.
"Mom and Dad actually listened to me. I was never that good at arguing before," he commented to himself. "I wonder if that has anything to do with the orb powers."
His words echoed outward as if he were in a cave. He blinked and studied the darkness surrounding him, his thoughts growing clearer by the moment. Noah couldn’t place it, but something felt off about the dream, different. This isn’t just a lucid dream, he realized, caught off guard. Why does it feel more real than usual?
Since his lucid dreams had begun years ago, about the same time he’d started getting his headaches, Noah had learned a trick to get out of them. No matter where he was in the dream, as long as he envisioned himself a door that led to the waking world, he would wake up. Noah closed his eyes and envisioned a simple wooden door with a loose doorknob.
When he opened his eyes, he blinked in surprise. Instead of a door, another blue, translucent screen had appeared before him. It multiplied several times, the copies circling around him like sentinels, preventing his escape. Don't panic, Noah. It's probably something from the orb. He reached out with his hand and touched the blank, blue screen. Upon contact, the object absorbed all of the other screens in the area and grew five stories high. Words appeared on the screen.
Meeting With Modifier:
Should the wielder not meet with the designated Modifier, the wielder’s soul will continue to become less stable. Soul-death may occur due to instability. Meeting with the Modifier may induce soul-death depending on the result of the Trial of the Archetype.
"My soul is unstable? What does…Wait a second," he muttered to himself. "I remember seeing something like this before.” He quickly realized that his headaches might be related. Since he’d never experienced the headaches in his previous life, he’d already reasoned that they had to be because of something different in this life.
Noah reread the words on the screen over and over until it made more sense. If I decide not to meet with this Modifier, then I would have to live the rest of my life with the headaches, all while they probably get worse. And I don’t like the sound of soul-death. At five years old, the headaches were manageable right now, but what about when he turned eighteen, and the Shift happened again? For all he knew, they might get so bad that he'd just be a drooling mess, unable to keep his promise to protect his family.
However, he didn't like the idea of possible soul-death if he met with the Modifier, whatever that was. Noah had already experienced death, and it wasn’t fun—he had a feeling the next time around wouldn’t be, either. On top of that, soul-death sounded a million times worse than normal death. On the other hand, it sounded like not meeting with the Modifier might actually be riskier.
Seriously, what the heck is a Modifier? He looked into the blackness and wondered if it was staring back, but he wasn’t afraid. Although this exact scenario wasn’t something he could have calculated, Noah had expected to have more orb-related weirdness eventually.
He flexed his fingers, determined that he would face whatever happened next with a calm mind. Should I touch it? he wondered, eyeballing the screen. Finally, he mumbled, "Here goes nothing." Noah spread his arms wide and yelled, "I accept meeting with the Modifier!"
He warily looked around, expecting some hulking tentacle-faced monster to rush out of nowhere to devour him. Instead, the screen condensed into an orb the height of two people, its color morphing from translucent blue to a misty purple. The ball took the shape of a dog, then a cow. It rapidly transformed into a hundred other shapes before slowing down, each shape becoming more recognizable again to Noah. They were just silhouettes, but he was sure he knew them – a tree he used to lean on to study after school. Krystal Connolly. Johnny Dormund. Noah’s childhood home. His parents.
Is it using my memories? he wondered, his knees bent in case the morphing mist attacked him.
Finally, the shifting colors settled on a single shape - one Noah could instantly recognize. It was the shape of a man, tall and wiry, leaning casually on his back foot the way a professor might while lecturing an engaged student. "Doc," Noah whispered.
At first, the mist just solidified into Doc Broad's silhouette, but then it quickly filled out to look and act exactly as Noah's friend had, sad smile and all. Although Noah was happy to see the shape of his friend, he knew it wasn’t him. Something in Noah’s gut warned him to be careful. The false-Doc slowly pulled out a cigarette from a pack of smokes. Then with no match, he lit it with a snap of his fingers.
The apparition eyed Noah through the unnaturally thick smoke coming out the end of his cigarette and spoke in Doc's chain-smoker voice, "I chose a form that would make you most comfortable. Usually, orb-wielders tend to favor their parents, a lover, or a mentor. In this case, it's the latter. I am the Modifier."
Noah's thoughts ran wild, a thousand questions piling up in his head. He suddenly felt strange and looked down at his hands, realizing he was no longer a five-year-old child. His body had somehow taken his twenty-year-old form after the Shift. After collecting himself, he tried to keep his voice steady and confident, saying, "Do you have a name I should call you?"
The Modifier raised an eyebrow, puffing out a thin line of smoke that transformed into the shape of a star before disappearing into the darkness. Noah swore he saw a ghost of a grin cross the Modifier’s face. "I've been around for a very long time, and I've never been asked that by a wielder. You humans are…funny. I don't have an answer for you."
Without thinking, Noah replied, a little anger caught in his throat, "I'm not going to call you Doc because you're definitely not Doc. Instead, let's go with Mod, short for Modifier. Is that cool?"
Mod blinked before giving him Doc's easy smile. The Modifier leaned on a cabin wall that appeared out of nowhere. "Whatever you say, kid. Now, you have some questions?"
"I have plenty," Noah said, getting straight to the point. There wasn't any need for banter. He found himself putting his weight on another cabin pillar that had appeared out of nowhere. Now they stood on a fully formed cabin porch surrounded by inky darkness. "I need you to tell me about the orb, why I can't access the screens when I'm awake, why my soul is unstable, what the Shift is and how I can stop it, what the Aelves are and how I can stop them, and —"
Mod made a swiping motion with his hand, cutting Noah off.
"There's a lot I can't say,” the Modifier said evenly.
Already exasperated, Noah rolled his eyes. "What's the point in asking questions, then?"
Doc tilted his head to Noah as if he had just scored a point
in a tennis match. "I can answer a few of your questions. You’re asking me to tell you about the orb. It’s like asking me to explain reality. It would take forever, and then some. Even if I tried to explain, you wouldn’t understand most of it, and the rest wouldn't be useful to you. Just know I'm an impartial party with a single purpose. As the Modifier, I'm supposed to guide your spirit through the Trial of the Archetype."
Noah frowned, his senses tingling. He's baiting me to ask about what an Archetype is. I have a feeling if I do ask about it, I'll never get answers to my other questions. He ignored the lure. "What about the screen with the fuzzed-out words?"
Mod ashed his cigarette onto the imaginary porch floor, something Doc never would have done. The real Doc would have used a tray. "Since you received the orb cracked but still functioning—which I didn't think was possible until recent events proved to me otherwise—you'll have a difficult time accessing it, even though you’re imprinted."
Again, Noah thought. He's baiting me to ask about what an imprint is. Fine, I'll bite on this one." What's an imprint?" he asked.
Mod gave a wolfish smile. "Good call, kid. You are an imprint, your soul. Each orb is different in how you imprint onto it. This one happens to like music. It liked your song and then, bam. The orb and the abilities it could impart while it was cracked were yours."
Noah reflexively looked up to gaze at the night sky, to see the stars, but found only more nothing. He shook his head, looking back at Mod, who seemed to be enjoying playing with Noah's head. I could ask about what it means that my soul is unstable, but I have a feeling that is not the correct path to take. Noah couldn't tell if Mod had a friendly tone merely because of Doc's form, or because it was genuinely trying to make him relax. He hadn't forgotten the screen's warning of a possible soul-death just by interacting with the Modifier.
Cautiously, he asked. "What about the Aelves and how they caused the Shift? Can you tell me about that?"
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