Galaxia

by Kevin McLaughlin

  Fucker strolls out onto the lower balcony under the dome of City Hall. He’s irritatingly early, the fuckface. His black hair is slicked back, and his slanted eyes scan the area around him. The person he has come to meet isn’t there yet. She won’t be showing up on time, since I locked her in her office on the second floor. It wasn’t because I wanted her to be late to this meeting, but rather because she annoyed me by throwing a stapler at my head when I spooked her by hiding in the dark corner of her office.

  Pamela Bagwell won’t remember that I broke into her office, or that she nearly assaulted me with office equipment. And more importantly, she won’t recall that she told me about this meeting’s time and location. After the mind control I did on the woman, she’ll be lucky to be able to feed herself properly over the next couple of days.

  I spared her, not doing any serious brain damage with my mind control, but it wasn’t out of remorse. She’s a corrupt politician, hence the meeting with a man who I suspect to be behind a major conspiracy—one I unfortunately don’t know enough about. Hopefully that will change soon.

  Fuckface checks his watch and visibly sighs. Pamela is late. She’s also a bloody idiot who couldn’t supply me with details on Yen or the meeting about to take place. For all the bribes she’s taken, she should really know more about the people she works for.

  One thing is immediately evident, though: Yen doesn’t trust Pamela. Or maybe it’s the other way around. There’s a reason the two are meeting on the first balcony of City Hall, out in the open. And although this makes it easy for me to spy on them from the front of the building shaped like a giant boob, I’m going to have to get closer before Pamela figures out how to unjam her office door.

  I prepare myself to teleport up to the balcony, a trick I learned so I didn’t have to take common transportation—or really any transportation. I don’t even have to waste my brain cells, with the body generator the Lucidite’s Institute uses, also known as the GAD-C. No, gone are the days when I must stoop to such ridiculous methods for getting around. Now all I have to do is close my eyes, focus, and poof, I magically appear wherever I goddamn please.

  Right now, I wish that was my armchair, but alas, duty calls.

  Taking a steadying breath, I’m seconds from teleporting when I notice a shadow move on the upper balcony. Someone is up there, just under the dome on the upper story. I step farther into the shadow of the tree blocking me from view and narrow my eyes. My red hair usually makes me stand out. It always has gotten me more attention than I wanted.

  A face I wasn’t expecting materializes on the balcony above Yen Tang. The last time I’d seen this person, I’d been abducted, beaten, and left for dead. She looks to have recovered from the excursion we had together.

  Stealthily, she slides out into full view and then camouflages herself into the exterior of the railing and statues, nearly disappearing from view. That’s a skill she didn’t have the last time I saw her. However, I can still make out her figure if I focus, since chameleons don’t work on me.

  I’m a master, with my mind control, telekinesis linked to touch, teleportation, and ability to produce illusions. One has to be way more skillful than me for their tricks to work, and I’ve yet to meet a person of that caliber. For instance, most tricks of the eye I’ll be able to detect. It’s a perk of having seen it all. Oh, and also probably because I sold my soul to the devil a long time ago.

  I let myself get so distracted watching the wannabe ninja that I almost don’t see Pamela Bagwell hurry out to meet Yen Tang. She’s breathless, glancing nervously over her shoulder. She must have seen something out of place that I left behind. Oh well, we can’t all be perfect.

  Her nervousness immediately puts Fuckface on edge. His head whips back and forth, but he doesn’t see me in the shadows. He also doesn’t notice the girl who has hooked a rope around the railing above him and is lowering herself over the side so she can get closer to eavesdrop.

  Pamela keeps shaking her head, nervousness evident in her every move. This isn’t going as smoothly as I would have liked. I would blame myself for potentially messing up the meeting by tampering with her mind, but this is the closest I’ve been to Yen in months. I just need to get a little closer.

  I’m just about to teleport when Fuckface rushes off, disappearing into the building. Pamela follows, appearing rather disoriented, like she’s lost in museum.

  Dammit.

  Following Yen now won’t get me anywhere. It’s been like this for months. Even though he’s not a Dream Traveler, he knows how to disappear without a trace. Although he’s only a lame Middling, he can move quite stealthily. I can’t figure it out. And more importantly, I have no fucking clue what he’s working on—only that it is most certainly sinister.

  I close my eyes and teleport up to the top balcony. The sensation is always the same. A bit of an inside out feeling followed by a bit of nausea that I quickly shake off.

  The view when I blink back to consciousness is different than before. I’m looking out at the grass and trees where I’d been standing, almost at the top of City Hall. In front of me, I hear a commotion as the girl suspended by the rope struggles to climb back up.

  I cinch my hand down on the rope securing her, instantly alerting her to a problem above her. She sucks in a quick breath that speaks of her panic.

  I smile.

  This really is too easy.

  Taking my time, I peer over the edge to see Nona Fuller struggling. Her hands reach for the rail of the balcony as she tries to high step. She halts at the sight of me. At first, terror crosses her youthful face, followed by annoyance.

  “You,” she accuses, spinning in her harness as the ropes dangle underneath her.

  “Oh, yes, me,” I say, a proud ring to my voice.

  “Are you what ran them off?” Nona asks, again trying to hike herself up.

  Her long, blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she’s lost some of her child-like features, filling out her face a bit. Although she’s barely fifteen, I know she’s more skilled than most double her age. Still, I won’t be telling her that. Not in so many words.

  I shake my head and click my tongue. “No, I didn’t run Yen Tang off. I’m not the one precariously hanging over the side of a building to spy.”

  “I can’t get any closer,” Nona said between breaths in a whispered voice. “Every time I do, Yen senses me somehow and flees. I figured this was the best way.”

  I look out at the city growing bright with night lights. “Yes, I suspect he’s far from here by now.”

  Still struggling, Nona sighs loudly. “Can I please get some help here?”

  I pull out my trusty pocketknife. The blade opens with a sharp sound. “Sure, I’ll cut you down.”

  “No!” Nona says too loudly, holding tightly to the ropes. “I meant will you offer me a hand?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Oh, that’s ever so boring. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take the way down? It’s faster.”

  “Ren,” she says, kicking her feet.

  “Oh, fine. You’re always so boring.” I reach over the side of the balcony, nearly scuffing my suit jacket as I offer the girl a hand.

  With an ungrateful expression, she takes it, and in one swift movement, I haul her up and over the side of the railing. Nona drops my hand when she’s secured herself on the rail, climbing easily over to safety. She jumps to a standing position, and I realize immediately that she’s blending into her environment in case anyone caught her dangling over the side.

  I step back into the shadow, not eager to draw attention to myself either. A moment later, Nona joins me, her rope and climbing gear in tow.

  “So, what are you doing here, Uncle Ren?”

  I grimace. “Don’t ever call me that.”

  “I thought that Ren was your name,” she dares to joke. “Are you going by ‘Mr. Lewis’ now?”

  “You know I meant the ‘uncle’ part. I almost vomited when you said it.”

  I narrow my eyes at
my niece. She has a much better sense of humor than my repugnant sister, who is currently turning her pointy nose up at the rice pudding they serve her at the state mental hospital. I’m certain she believes that her reality is a dream and soon she’ll wake up to find herself at the Ritz Carlton with room service and a closet of designer clothes.

  I laugh to myself. Karma is a bitch, and the closest my criminal sister, Lyza, will ever find herself to an Armani suit is if I ever let her grovel at my feet—which I never plan to do. However, her children…well, they are immeasurably better people than my traitor sister. They must have gotten it from my mum and pops. Their goodness definitely skipped Lyza.

  “What are you doing here, Nona?” I ask.

  “I’m spying,” she says simply because she wants to test my patience.

  I blow out a long breath. “No shit. But why?”

  “Because I know that Yen is up to something,” she states. “Middling Corporation has a ton of sketchy business surrounding it. Dream Travelers have been going missing all over the world, and I’ve tracked the disappearances to Yen’s company.”

  She definitely didn’t get her brains from Lyza. I hide my surprise. “How’d you figure this out?”

  She shrugs. “I’ve been watching. They’ve been releasing all that weird technology and supporting legislature that indirectly affects Dream Travelers. It only made sense that they were behind the disappearences. But I haven’t been able to find anything concrete.”

  Even though it’s dark, I’m easily able to study the microexpressions on the face of the girl before me. She isn’t lying. And impressively, she was able to piece together something that most skilled agents for the Lucidites have missed. Even some of the head officials have dismissed my concerns when I stated them.

  Middlings, those who don’t have the skill of dream travel and psychic powers, aren’t supposed to know about us Dream Travelers. They aren’t supposed to know that we can travel anywhere using our subconsciousness, or that the Lucidites are a secret organization that oversees most of the world affairs. And yet, Yen Tang’s manufactured technology can pick up on Dream Travelers when in the dreamscape.

  And even the name of the company is suspect. Middlings don’t know we call them that. They just think they are humans. They believe they are the only humans on this planet, not realizing there is a superior species that’s been overseeing them since the beginning. But Yen…he has a different worldview, and it has been my goal to know how he got it and what his ultimate plan is.

  And then there are the missing Dream Travelers. Nona is right. They have been tracked to Middling Corp…but no further.

  “Why are you here?” she asks, almost like she’s sensing my current thoughts.

  I yawn. “I was bored and out for a cuppa.”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, you know something. Did the news reporters find something on Yen?”

  I wish.

  The psychics who usually report on events in the future that concern global security have been blinded to Middling Corp, another point that worries me. Most at the Lucidite’s Institute have dismissed my concerns. They say I’m overreacting. It’s because I took that bloody demotion. It was supposed to be for my fucking sanity, but it won’t help if every goddamn person doesn’t do what I say.

  I take a deep breath.

  I’m used to being in charge. This agent business is taking some getting used to. But still, I think it’s best for me. At least it’s getting me out into the field.

  I sucked in a breath of smog mixed with pollen, and cough. Hurr-fucking-ah for fresh air.

  “The news reporters aren’t seeing a damn thing about Yen or Middling Corp,” I finally disclose.

  “Then why are you here?” Nona asks.

  “Because.”

  I could just dose her with mind control and teleport away, but I don’t. Nona is smart. She’s agile. She didn’t give up when we were locked in that freezer and left for dead by her own mother…my sister. Nona is better than most.

  “Have you considered becoming an agent for the Lucidites?” I ask her.

  She arches an eyebrow at me. “I prefer to work alone.”

  I indicate the rope she’s gathered up and slung around her shoulder. “That can get you tangled up real fast. Wouldn’t you rather have resources? Backup, maybe?”

  “Where is your backup?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “I prefer to work alone.”

  Nona steps back, into a darker shadow. “Me too.” Then she springs off the building, disappearing into the night.

  I shake my head. My fucking relatives are all pains in the ass.

  Chapter Two

  The Lucidite Institute is a five-story facility buried at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. It is full of mind-blowing technology, mindless eccentrics who blab too much, and possibly the best human to have ever lived.

  Although I’ve never been the type to need to be around “my tribe,” I still consider the Institute, exclusively occupied by Dream Travelers, to be my home. Over two decades ago, I entered this facility to seek refuge from a deadly threat. I stayed because it’s the best goddamn place in the world.

  What the Lucidites do, most will never know. That’s because they don’t seek praise for saving the planet time and time again with their premonitions of the future, or agents who risks their lives for the greater good. They do it because they fucking care.

  I totally don’t get it. But hey, I like having a purpose in life, and the Lucidites definitely gave me that. A way to put my godly powers to use.

  Trey Underwood doesn’t jump when I teleport into his office at the Lucidites Institute. Most would have startled, offered me a rude expression, and told me to knock next time and give them privacy. The head official of the Institute simply raises his chin from the report he’s studying and gives me a calm smile. He’s sitting behind his overly ornately carved desk, which is not only a monstrosity based on its size, but also looks out of place surrounded by the cold, stainless-steel walls of the room.

  It’s the same throughout the Institute. Steel walls. Blue carpet. Zero windows.

  “You look like shit,” I say, noting the bags under his blue eyes and the disheveled appearance of his normally slicked-back, silver hair.

  “It’s good to see you, Ren,” he says, tugging on the medallion around his neck. It’s a nervous habit he does when there’s a problem he can’t solve. I’ve rarely seen him do it.

  “What happened?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “It’s nothing,” he says, motioning to the chair across from his desk. “Tell me how you are. How’s Dahlia? Does Adelaide like training?”

  “No. Fine. And who cares,” I answer. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  His eyes fall on the report he was reading when I popped in. “It’s nothing. It’s literally nothing. A total lack of information from the news reporters.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, actually taking a seat, although I almost always prefer to stand.

  “The amount of reports has been drying up for a while,” he explains. “But now there’s hardly anything.”

  I comb my hand over my clean-shaven chin. This happened before, when a powerful Dream Traveler was blocking our clairvoyants from seeing events of interest in the future. It is those catastrophes that the Lucidite agents intervene in, stopping crisis after crisis before it happens. However, the person responsible for jamming those reports is dead. I know that for a fact because I killed her with my bare hands.

  “Someone is behind this,” I finally say.

  “I’m certain that you’re right,” Trey says. “I’ve reached out to multiple Dream Traveler organizations, but they can’t offer anything different. It’s like there’s a universal block.”

  I stand abruptly. “I’m going to go and talk with Shuman. Without reports from her department, we’re useless.”

  “That really should be Trent’s job,” Trey says, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

 
For twenty years, I ran the Strategic Department, assigning cases to agents. Only recently, I took a demotion, stepping into a role as an agent. I figured it would keep me young or finish me off.

  Can’t say which one I’d prefer.

  I lower my chin and regard Trey from hooded eyes. “Do you want to stop me, old man, from doing what needs to be done?”

  He cracks a smile. We’re the same age, but a lifetime of social responsibly toward a planet of people who are obsessed with self-destruction has taken its toll on Trey. He definitely wound up on Earth by accident and became my friend for reasons I can’t even fathom.

  “You know that Shuman doesn’t like it when you poke your nose in her business.”

  I tap the button beside the door, and it slides back into the recesses. I flash a toothy grin. “Yes, I know. That’s mostly why I’m going to do it. Getting a rise out of that stone-faced woman gives my life meaning.”

  Chapter Three

  I’m not considered a warm person with a cheerful disposition. However, Shuman, the head of the News Reporting Department, makes me look like a fucking Labrador Retriever. She’s about as cuddly as a hacksaw.

  When I was in charge of the Strategic Department, she used to get all bent out of shape because I’d harass her news reporters and pressure them to do their bloody jobs better—see cases with more precision, and give my agents more time to intervene. Some people don’t like to be micromanaged, though. I always told Shuman that she should be happy that I didn’t use mind control on her to get what I wanted, but she didn’t see that as a charitable action.

  Some people…

  I breeze into the Panther room, also known as the News Reporting Department. It’s dark and smells of people who wear too much patchouli. I fucking loathe hippies. They are always flipping tarot cards and pointing to asinine reasons for things that science explained long ago.

  You, Jerimiah or Sunshine or whatever your dumb name is, didn’t get into a fender bender because Mercury is in retrograde. It’s because you’re a fucking idiot who didn’t look where you were going before merging lanes. This or that isn’t a sign that you’re destined to do whatever. There are no signs. Just life. Go cut your hair, wash your face, and shut your bloody mouth.