by A. C. Ellas
If he really had psionic ability, the Guild would claim him. That was a far cry from the future he’d envisioned for himself. He wanted to become an archeologist, studying the Earth’s fascinating distant past. Or better yet, a xeno-archeologist, exploring the ancient civilizations of distant words. He didn’t want to be stuck looking for lost pets or reading the memories of accused criminals to ascertain their guilt.
On the other hand, if his choices were the insane asylum or the Guild, he’d take the Guild and be grateful for it. He didn’t want to end up like Uncle Theo.
When the family physician cleared him to return to school and all his usual activities, Jason wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried. The scurrying bugs were still in his head; if anything, there were more of them, and they raced about almost continuously now. He suspected they didn’t even stop when he slept. He always had a headache now, too. The pinball had taken up permanent residence in his skull.
He’d mentioned the whispers and the headaches. The doctor had given him pills and empty reassurance. “This often occurs around adolescence. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”
Jason knew very well that it didn’t always pass. Otherwise, there’d be no Psionic Guild and far fewer head cases in the sanitarium. He took the pills anyway. Feeling groggy was better than feeling the constant pain. But the physician had given him one other thing. An appointment.
Sammie was a pool of silence as he drove their hovercar to the nearest testing center, the local Psionic Guildhouse. He’d argued against letting Jason keep the appointment, pointing out that the schools routinely tested children Jason’s age for this very thing. But that testing wasn’t until next month, at the end of the school year, and so Jason had insisted. He’d begged their father to let him be tested. Reluctantly, Chris had agreed, and two days later, here they were.
Jason looked at Sammie as his brother parked the vehicle. The words he wanted to say died on his lips. Sammie’s closed expression spoke volumes about the man’s anger and fear.
Sammie climbed out of the driver’s seat and stalked toward the front doors of the Guildhouse.
Jason slid out behind him and trailed along in his wake. All at once, he realized the truth. If this test showed he had psi, the Guild would claim him on the spot. He wouldn’t go home. Perhaps not ever again. No wonder Sammie was upset.
Taking a deep breath, Jason pushed through the doors and into the hushed, elegant foyer of the regional Psionic Guildhouse. Sammie was waiting for him by the reception desk, along with a red-haired woman dressed in the light blue uniform of the Guild.
“Jason Hunter?” She looked from him to her computer.
“Yes, that’s me.” He stopped next to Sammie and tried not to fidget.
“This way. The testing’s quick and painless.” The woman motioned for him to follow.
“What about my brother?”
“He has to wait out here. Sorry, rules.”
Jason turned to Sammie and touched his hand. “See you?”
“Yes, of course.” Sammie’s face was indescribably sad.
Jason followed the woman into the back. She led him down a hallway, turned left at a junction and led him halfway down this new hallway before stopping at a door on their right. “It’s in here. Just go on in, the tester is waiting for you.”
Jason went in. The room was plain. The testing apparatus sat against one wall—a comfortable chair with a mobile headpiece which was linked to the computers on the desk in the corner next to the chair. A monitor was tilted toward the desk’s occupant, the screen not visible from the testing char. A bald man in the same blue uniform was seated at the desk.
“Jason Hunter?”
“Yes.”
“Please be seated.” The man stood when Jason sat. He lowered the headpiece. “Have you been tested before?”
“Yes, last year.”
“Then you know this won’t hunt. You might hear a buzzing sound. Tell me if you hear or feel anything else.”
For the first time, Jason wondered why the tester always said that. “Why?”
“Because if you do, we want to document it.” The tester gave him an amused look as he adjusted the headpiece to fit snugly over Jason’s head. “We administer this test millions of times each year, and nobody ever claims to hear more than a buzz.” The man sat back down at his desk. “We begin.” He touched a button.
Jason waited, trying to relax. There was a buzzing sound. It wasn’t unpleasant, sort of a soothing drone like bees in the distance on a lazy summer day. Then it was over.
The tester stood up again and removed the headpiece.
“How’d I do?” Jason asked nervously.
“The results will be mailed to you in a few days.” The tester shrugged, his expression one of unconcern.
“Last time, I was told the results immediately.”
“That was at the school, I presume?”
Jason nodded.
“Here at the Guild, we use a different system. The computer analysis takes a lot longer, but it’s worth the wait. It can not only identify emerging psi, it can tell us what kind.”
“Oh. So I won’t be claimed today?”
Jason’s disappointment must have been obvious, because the tester gave him an odd look. “You’re upset. You want to be claimed?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“What’s that, then?”
“I think I’m going mad.”
There was pity in the tester’s eyes. Jason was sure of it. “No, Mr. Hunter, you won’t be claimed today. Go on home. Go to school. Be a normal kid.”
“Thank you.” Jason walked out of the room. The woman was waiting for him in the hallway. “Did you even leave?”
“This way.” She laughed and led him back toward the foyer without answering his question.
Sammie looked surprised when Jason stepped back out of the doors. “Jason? What happened?”
“Nothing. The tester said the results would be mailed.”
“Odd,” said Sammie.
“That’s standard here at the Guild. Different system.” The woman waved a hand airily. “You two have a good day, okay?”
Sammie shook his head and headed for the hovercar. “C’mon, bro. I’ll drop you at school.”
Jason caught up quickly. “I can go back now?”
“Yep. Now that this testing’s done, there’s no reason to keep you home.”
When they’d left the estate that morning, Jason had tossed his book bag in the back just in case. Now, he was glad he had. He shouldered the bag, gave Sammie a wave and marched in just in time for second period. He settled at his desk and plugged the connector into his interface. He logged onto the school net and dug out his book. This school used a combination of online and offline materials, preferring the feel of traditional textbooks and real teachers to supplement the computerized banks of lessons.
Through the net, Jason had been able to keep up with his lessons and turn them in, even while not physically present. Now, he settled right back into the routine as if he’d never left. Second period was literature, so Jason opened his book to the page he was on and started reading. The entire school did literature during second period, but the students progressed at their own pace. Jason was working his way through Honors Lit I for university credit.
Currently, he was reading the Odyssey in the original Greek. He had translation dictionaries available for when he stumbled over the ancient words. Having already finished the Iliad, Jason had gotten a hang of the rhythm of the language, so he made good progress. These words should be sung, he thought, not read. They’re lyrical.
The bell signaling the end of second period startled him deeply. There was a fifteen-minute movement break after each period. Jason hated those breaks. He disengaged from the console and stretched.
“Hey,” whispered Charlie, though strictly speaking, they were allowed to talk since this was break time. “Your head better now?”
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Jason glanced around then scooted closer to his friend. “Somewhat. Doc cleared me for school two days ago. Had to get psi tested before I could come back.”
“Negative, then.” Charlie grinned, but he looked distinctly relieved. “How’d you pull that with Tyler, then? He’s still freaked out, you know.”
“I don’t know. Doc thinks it mighta been the concussion. Might’ve jarred some psi loose in my head, and it went away when I healed. That’s his theory, anyhow.” Jason made it up on the spot, hating that he was lying but too scared to admit the truth. He knew he had psi. He just didn’t know why the Guild hadn’t claimed him. There must be something wrong with me. Something even the Guild can’t fix.
Third-period math began, and Jason was grateful for the reprieve. It was going to be a long day. He did his best to lose himself in schoolwork, even skipping lunch by ducking into the library. But he still had to face schools’ ending and the long walk home. Jason recalled a time when he’d enjoyed the walk home. That was before the bullies found him, before the whispers came to scurry in his head.
Jason set off for home grimly. Off the school grounds, he passed through a quiet housing complex, heading for the woods that buffered his family’s estate. There were people who lived in the woods, which were much more extensive than they seemed from the bare description of their location. There was a well-tended path that led pretty much directly to the gates of the estate. Jason avoided it, preferring to find game trails or forge his own trail. By avoiding the path, he also avoided the bullies.
Theoretically.
Of course, today, Gary was waiting for him at the edge of the complex, just short of the woods. Along with five of his friends. It was too late to duck back into the complex; the boys had already seen him. In a flash, they had him surrounded. Their voices were angry, their words cruel. Jason attempted to shoulder past them. They pushed him back.
“Where you going, brainiac?”
“Don’t you wanna play, nerd?”
Gary smirked at him. “Hand it over. All of it and it better be done right.”
Jason dug the stick drive out of his bag and offered it wordlessly.
Gary snatched it and stuffed it in his pocket.
“You got me in trouble,” Gary announced. “Being sick. There wasn’t anyone to do my schoolwork. I don’t like getting in trouble.”
Jason backed up a step nervously. “I had a concussion. I didn’t miss school on purpose.”
Gary grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off the ground.
God, he’s strong, Jason thought errantly.
Gary shook him. “I don’t care why you skipped school, brainiac! You coulda messaged me. You coulda sent me the stuff over the net. I ain’t a brainy like you, but I ain’t stupid, either.”
“Sorry,” Jason muttered. “I’m sorry. Didn’t think of it.”
“Yeah, well, now you gotta pay. Thanks to you, I gotta write a paper. Or rather, you gotta write a paper. And it’s due tomorrow, so you better get busy, nerd.” Gary released his shirt, letting him drop to the ground. Predictably, he stumbled the landing and ended up on his ass.
“A paper?” Jason stared up at Gary in a sort of glazed shock. “Due tomorrow? That’s impossible, even for me.” The bugs in his head were racing now, around and around.
Gary pushed a different stick drive at him. “Take it. Get it done. Or else.”
Jason glanced at Gary’s silent, glowering friends. He took the stick drive. The gang walked off, leaving him there, at the edge of the woods, to sort himself out. At least they didn’t beat me up this time, he thought. No, that’ll happen when I don’t get the paper done in time.
Jason stood and trudged down the path toward home. No point in trying a game trail, the bullies were done for the day. He had the new stick drive. He knew it would contain more than just Gary’s assignments and the paper. Like usual, he’d be expected to do the goon squad’s work, too.
Jason holed up in his room. He had a lot of work to do. Stubbornly, he raced through his own assignments first. He wasn’t going to sacrifice his chance for a good university just to make Gary’s and his friends’ grades better. But his assignments were far from the easy work he’d be doing for the gang. Half his classes were freshman year of college level, and the other half were senior year of primary level. He hoped to finish the primary level classes by Christmas. Then, he could transfer to university for the spring term and be done with the bullies forever.
Dinnertime had come and gone by the time Jason finished his own load of assignments. He nipped downstairs to grab something quick and portable. Sammie caught him at it, of course.
“Jason, you missed dinner again.”
“Yeah, sorry, bro, I was right in the middle of some really difficult math problems and didn’t notice the time.”
“Are you done with your schoolwork?”
Jason shook his head. “No, I’ve got a report to write. Due tomorrow.”
“Really? That’s not like you, to wait so long. What’s it on?”
Jason froze. “Uhm, it’s on…it’s on…” his mind scrambled. He hadn’t even looked at the contents of the stick drive yet. Suddenly, he just knew the answer, and the pinball in his head began to ricochet off the inside of his skull. “Customs and lifestyles of the plains Indians pre-conquest.” He winced, putting a hand to his head. “Wow. I’ve got a headache all of a sudden.”
Sammie gripped his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll fix you something to eat. You’re pale, even for you. Jason…bro, you need to take better care of yourself.” Sammie steered him into the kitchen, still talking. “You’re thin as a reed and pale as a sheet. You spend more time with your nose in a book than you do sleeping. You need to get out in the sun more. Do things. Physical things.”
“I go swimming,” Jason protested as he slumped in the chair Sammie pushed him toward.
“Not lately,” Sammie countered. He pulled the fixings for omelets out of the fridge and laid them out on the spotless countertop. “Even from before your concussion, you’ve been holed up in your room more than ever. I’ve hardly seen a hair of your head.” Sammie diced the mushrooms and onions quickly then tossed them in a sauté pan with butter, fresh herbs and garlic. He let those start cooking while he chopped the sausage and bacon left over from breakfast.
“I’ve got a lot of schoolwork to do.” Jason traced the wood grain pattern of the block table. “And Sammie…the whispering in my head is driving me mad, bro. The more people I’m around, the worse it gets. And then the headache starts. Sometimes, I know things I shouldn’t. Like…Gary’s dad beats him. I didn’t know that until today. He certainly didn’t tell me that.”
Sammie tossed the mushrooms and onions, flipping them neatly, then putting them back on the heat. He dumped the chopped meats into the pan and turned to prepare the eggs. “I see. So the voices haven’t gone away?”
“Nope. Still there. Even right now, I can hear them crawling around him my brain like so many bugs.”
Sammie cracked three eggs into a bowl, added cream, salt and pepper, and whipped them into a fine froth. “This weekend, how about we go up to the cabin. Just the two of us. Like old times.”
“I’d like that.” Jason looked up and smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”
“Then it’s a plan.” Sammie poured the eggs into a greased pan. “If you want toast, you might want to start it now.”
Jason got up and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster while Sammie continued making one of his world-class omelets. For a moment, he was happy and all was right in his little world.
Then, Sammie said something that caused Jason to freeze in place. “I don’t think you should be doing other students’ work for them, Jason.”
Jason turned slowly to face his brother. “What?”
“Plains Indians?” Sammie shook his head as he scraped the contents of the sauté pan into the omelet pan along with a generous serving of cheese. “You’re way past th
at. Believe it or not, bro, I do keep track of what you’re doing in school. In history, you’re studying the first Q’Kathi war. Your paper on the ramifications of the technological boost on society was just brilliant, I thought.” Sammie folded the omelet.
The toast popped up and Jason jumped. He took the slices and buttered them. “If I don’t, they’ll beat me up.”
“Who? Gary and his friends?”
“Yes.”
Sammie sighed, added a garnish of cheese to the top of the omelet and slid it onto Jason’s plate. “Tea?”
“Coffee?”
“This late at night? Oh, no, bro. You need sleep, too.” Sammie poured him a glass of iced tea. “Now, eat this.” Sammie plopped himself down on the other side of the table and stretched out his legs.
Jason tucked into the food, wishing that he were more like his brother. Sammie was tall, good looking and built like a Greek god. His sandy-blond hair had just a touch of a wave to it, and his bright blue eyes sparkled. Women swooned when he walked past. So did some men.
Next to him, Jason looked like a gangly puppy who hadn’t grown into his paws yet. His own platinum hair always looked mussed up, no matter how much time he spent trying to train it into good behavior. He had vivid blue eyes, at least, but he wasn’t very tall and he was skinny as a stick. He was easy pickings for the likes of Gary. Bullies had never dared to target Sammie.
As Jason ate, the pain in his head faded to something bearable. He felt almost normal by the time he finished. He picked up his empty plate and glass and carried them to the sink. He rinsed them and racked them for washing.
“Let’s go swimming,” Sammie said.
“It’s dark out.” What Jason really wanted to do was get back to his room so he could write that report.
“That’s never stopped you before, bro.” Sammie crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to report that Gary kid in the morning.”
“Please don’t,” Jason whispered.
“Jason, bullying is illegal. So is not doing your own schoolwork.”