Socket 1 - The Discovery of Socket Greeny

by Tony Bertauski

  Whether South Carolina was my home or not, I knew right then and there I didn’t want to end up wearing a onsey in jungle colors. And the dear thing was really stepping on my nerves.

  Broak walked along the rocky ledge. The grimmets stirred a cloud of dust getting out of his way. Broak glared at them crawling along the branches. He brushed his chest off again.

  “You don’t like this place,” I said.

  “I am not a fan of the Preserve,” he said, wiping each arm, dutifully. “It is absolutely filthy. It is unorganized. Unpredictable. Pivot belongs here, not me. After all, the Paladins built it for him.”

  “They built what? That tree?”

  “The entire Preserve.”

  5.2 square miles of tropical jungle, all for one person? “That’s impossible.”

  He brushed both arms, both legs, licked the back of his hand and rubbed it off. Clean as a cat. Broak squatted next to Pivot, brushed the hair from his eyes. Pivot did not move.

  “He is a mutant. Like you. Although you had the benefit of your father’s association with the Paladin Nation, Pivot came from the general population. He was an accident. I suppose we found a Mona Lisa, after all.” He looked at me. “What do you suppose the odds are of finding two?”

  “Let’s get something out in the open.” My gut lit up. “Are you looking for a fight? Because it feels like you are, and I just met you.”

  The rehearsed smile creased his porcelain cheeks. “It’s a great moment in history, dear Socket.” He raised his hands in celebration. “I’m the perfect breeding. Pivot’s the lucky mutt. And you… well, we’re not sure what you are, just yet. Let’s just say you show promise.”

  “Not that this matters, but I don’t give two shits what you think. I don’t care if I ever read another thought or stop another moment in time. You can drop me off back home, if you like. I was happy with my old life.”

  Then it hit me. Happy with my old life? Every day of my life felt like pushing a boulder up a hill waiting for something to happen. It was always that way, like I was missing what I was supposed to be doing. Now that I was with the Paladins, I didn’t feel like a freak.

  Broak pulled Pivot up and put his arms around us both. “Pivot’s special. And I don’t mean the he-can’t-see kind of special, either. The Paladin Nation needs him. They need me. And, if what we’ve seen so far from your preliminary tests, you just might be special, too. Whether you like it or not, we have been chosen by a higher power to serve. All we can do is celebrate, dear Socket.” He leaned close, his breath odorless. “Long live the Paladin Nation.”

  He shook us once, twice and let go.

  “Now if you will please excuse me,” he said, “I have to get out of this place. When you get some free time, join me on the tagghet field, won’t you? I’ll teach you the sport in no time. It will be worldwide within a couple years; you should know the rules, at the very least. And I must warn you, I’m quite good and I don’t go easy on beginners.” He smirked, the first sign of real emotion. “I’ll give you quite a thrashing, but you will thank me for it later.”

  “When am I done testing?”

  “They evaluated me in three days.” He looked at Pivot. “They gave up on Pivot. You? Like I told you, you are somewhere in between.” He winked. “Come see me when you can.”

  He walked down the slab. The grimmets hovered over me, watching. A red one landed on my shoulder. We looked at each other, both surprised at the sudden intimacy.

  “By the way, you will have to clean yourself up,” Broak called. “The white hair is odd but I like it, I really do. But you’re going to have to clean it up. Better yet, cut it.” He stopped at the edge of the trees. “And for God’s sake, don’t let those things sit on you, dear Socket. They live in the trees.”

  Broak walked into the forest.

  * * * * *

  Pivot was gone. So was Sighter. Hot, sticky fingers clung to my skin. The red grimmet walked to my other shoulder, wrapped his long tail around my neck. His gold eyes glittered. Blinked. The rest of the grimmets sat on the branches. Watching. Blinking. They started climbing into the holes, one after another, disappearing into the tree.

  The red grimmet leaped off, flew after them. He marched down the branch, one of the last to go inside. One thought rang inside my head. It was a single word coming from the little red one.

  [Rudder.]

  The red grimmet’s name was Rudder.

  Orphans

  Three days, my ass.

  I had the feeling dear Broak was lying about his testing because mine was endless. Weeks went by and every morning I woke up hoping it would be over, only to be trotted to another tester and another boring day. I eventually turned my room into an exact replica of my bedroom back in South Carolina. My messy desk was in the corner and, next to that, an open door that led to the bathroom. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve gone to the kitchen to grab something to drink, but there wasn’t a kitchen through that door. Just another short hallway with a leaper at the end.

  “Himalayas.”

  The white space swirled inside a huge frame until wispy clouds hung on the icy capped mountain in the distance. It reminded me of the Rime. That’s where it all started. What if I didn’t go there that day? Would the shadow have found me? Would I be laying around the house watching TV on a three-day suspension?

  “Good morning.” Mom walked in and looked around, ignoring my obvious plea to go home. This is your home, Socket. She put on a smile, a courageous attempt to mask the exhaustion, but her facial muscles just couldn’t keep up. Did she even sleep anymore?

  “I’ve got good news,” she said. “I received clearance for you to meet Streeter and Chute on the Internet. You can virtualmode to a secure location and they’ll meet you.”

  “You did?” I jolted out of bed.

  “I did.” She smiled back. “I know it’s not the same as seeing them in the skin, but it’s the best I could do. I’m not sure when it can be arranged, but soon.”

  There was hope after all.

  “I want you dressed,” she said. “Some testers arrived late last night to see you this morning and they need to leave by lunch.”

  * * * * *

  Breakfast was anything I could think of. Anything. Eggs, slightly runny, a bowl of grits with two pats of butter and two and a half strips of bacon. I added a side of poached salmon just to screw with them. Two minutes later, a servy carried a piping hot tray that stunk up the room. I sent it back. Okay, you win.

  I went to the test, this one with a man and a woman. I inserted my hands into special gloves and put on dark glasses. They gave me different scenarios and asked me to respond. “You find yourself in a room with three strangers. One of them is a murderer. The lights go out. Respond.”

  What am I supposed to say to that? If I leave the room, I’m a coward. If I kill them all, I’m the murderer.

  “Am I the killer?” Tiny lights flashed, I saw some data roll through the dark glasses and heard some mmmmm-mmm. That meant my answer was very interesting. Not necessarily right, but interesting.

  I was starved for lunch. I sat in an ordinary white room at a long table, watching the news reports on a three-dimensional TV. I ordered peanut butter and jelly with a thick layer of spicy potato chips and sliced pickles. Spindle sat at the other end with his hands splayed out on the table. I continued eating. He continued watching.

  “Tell me about Pivot,” I said.

  “I can only give the general background. You are not cleared to access his entire database.”

  Mmmmmmm… interesting.

  “Master Pivot was found in a children’s home. His parents were never seen.”

  “Has he always been blind?”

  “Yes. According to the director of the home, he just showed up one day. The other kids named him Pivot because of the way he turned around without lifting one of his feet. Much of his time, according to the director, he spent sitting in a chair, as if observing. The other kids did not care to play with him. So
me of the older kids assaulted him. After that, the director called the authorities.”

  “He called the Paladins?”

  “No. The Paladin Nation monitors the world for suspicious activities. Once they secretly learned of Pivot, they took him without notice.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  “There were screams from other children. When the director arrived in the bunk room, five teenagers were unconscious at Master Pivot’s feet. The other children told the director that the boys were teasing him. They wanted him to take off his clothes. When they attacked, they began to spasm like they had touched an electrical wire. They convulsed for a minute before they went unconscious.”

  I was holding a half-eaten pickle. “He killed them?”

  “No,” Spindle said. “They recovered fully.”

  If they got a dose of what Pike had given me on day one, then hell yeah they were screaming. “What happened after that?”

  “Master Pivot went through much of the same tests you are now experiencing.”

  “And he lives in the Preserve?”

  “He does. At one time, he had living quarters much like yours, but he experienced extreme agitation. Since coming to the Preserve, he has stabilized.”

  “You know, Broak told me they built the Preserve just for Pivot.” I wagged the pickle at him. “That’s crazy talk, right?”

  “Master Pivot is a very powerful cadet and, I might add, one of the most unique. He expresses minder potential and yet is not a pure minder. He is quite possibly the most powerful cadet alive, but it is not known how well he controls his abilities. The Paladin Nation is very patient with his development. They want him to be comfortable.”

  “What’s so important about him?”

  His faceplate became a mess of gray specks. “That information is classified.”

  I licked the peanut butter off my thumb and took another bite, remembering that, even though Pivot had dead fisheyes, there was a magnificent depth to them. It only took one look to know he was something special. And not the he-can’t-see kind.

  “What about Broak?” I asked. “What’s he all about?”

  Spindle’s head dimmed, a deep scarlet line jagged on the lower half. “Master Broak’s story is much different. He is the result of careful breeding, artificially conceived. He has been very promising, expressing his skills at an age earlier than anticipated. He is also very important.”

  “Believe me, he thinks he’s important, too,” I said. “He doesn’t have parents?”

  “He was raised by trainers.”

  Trainers, huh? There’s a new concept. What could be worse than training the day you come out of the womb… or slide out of a test tube or hatch from an egg? He was built.

  “So what he said is true?” I said. “He’s the Paladin’s darling.”

  “If test results are any indication, he will be a very potent Paladin. The Paladin Nation is currently cloning his gene sequence for future generations. Earth will be very secure under his leadership.”

  Spindle’s faceplate turned pale, for just a second. Under his leadership. That was the company line. I don’t think Spindle was on board with that.

  “So what exactly are the Paladins protecting us from? Monsters? Aliens? Killer tomatoes?”

  “I am afraid that information is classified.”

  “I’ll bet its terrorists. Right?”

  “I cannot confirm nor deny that statement.”

  “What’s the big secret? Terrorists are blowing stuff up every day. Why do we need a secret police agency? I mean, they aren’t keeping secrets. They just attacked some building the other day and told the whole world about it.”

  Spindle remained still for several seconds, perhaps contemplating what was classified. His faceplate brightened when he had the answer. “It is best that humanity does not know what danger it is in. They would be very unhappy. There would be mass chaos. Financial stability would collapse worldwide. No, Master Socket, it is better that we serve humanity without their knowledge. Keeping them safe is most important.”

  We keep the world safe, Socket, that’s all you need to know. Mom always said that. Secrecy leads to corruption. That’s what my Global Politics teacher always said. Of course, Paladins weren’t ordinary people. That’s what Spindle would say.

  A servy fetched my empty cup. I was full.

  Perfect Fit

  The tests continued. I had yet to see Streeter and Chute. Mom said she was working on it. But every day, no Chute or Streeter. Just tests. She promised it would work out, and I believed her. There was only so much she could do. They let me into the Preserve. Occasionally I’d hear shouts and whistles coming from the tagghet field, but I stayed away from that end. Broak could do whatever, as long as it didn’t include me. I was more interested in finding Pivot but he was nowhere to be found. Spindle said that was pretty normal, said he often went missing. He wouldn’t explain what missing meant. That, he said with a smattering of gray, was classified. Sometimes I thought I’d catch a glimpse of Pivot through the trees, but then it’d turn out to be nothing.

  There was no more getting lost. The main trails were the easiest and the lesser-known ones were good for avoiding the scientists who lurked around doing research. Sometimes I made my own trail and fought dogtooth vines and razor-sharp elephant grass. I’d lose some skin and blood, but it beat being in the box. Although, once my arm went numb after getting scratched by some toxic-laced branch and I ended up in the infirmary getting lectured by Spindle to be more careful.

  “You are not invincible,” he said. “You must understand your environment.”

  * * * * *

  One afternoon, after a morning of exhausting tests, Spindle went with me to the Preserve. He insisted on going first. With him in the lead, I made it to the stream without a scratch then raced ahead to the grimmet tree.

  I slipped on mossy stones, crashed through the trees and skidded onto the slab. The grimmet tree was empty, but this time there was one waiting. A red grimmet sat on the lowest branch, his feet going tom-tom-tom on the wood. He was the only grimmet there, staring right at me. I started for him.

  “Grimmets are not receptive to strangers,” Spindle said. “You should let him come to you.”

  Rudder had given me his name. That meant something. I stopped several feet away, offered my hand. Rudder dropped off, flapped over and snagged my fingers with his tail. Hung like a possum.

  “Where’ve you been?” I said.

  He was breathing rapidly and loudly; purring shook my hand. I poked his round belly, tight and scaly, and the purring went right into my arm.

  “You have a friend,” Spindle said.

  Rudder jumped onto my face and pinched my cheeks; his forehead pushed against mine, and he tickled my chin with his tail. Then he flew to the tree and pointed down. I went to the ledge. There they were, swimming and floating, some on the sandy shore. Pivot was at the far end with water up to his waist, washing dirt off his arms and face. His clothes were spread out on a rock. He looked skyward. Smiled. Why did it feel like I’d know him all my life?

  “If you don’t mind,” Sighter said, fluttering in my face, “Pivot would like to dress without you watching. He might live in the trees, but he still has a sense of modesty.”

  A few minutes later, Pivot climbed up the tree wearing nothing but shorts. He moved effortlessly, muscles rippling down his back, along his arms and calves. Wet strands of hair hung over his face. He moved his head side to side, listening. Energy radiated from his skin that seemed to bend the light in a holy, aura sort of way. He continued to turn his head. Mild psychic pressure wrapped around me.

  [Follow me.] His thoughts were big and loud in my mind and sounded much older than it should have. He pushed his hair back, exposing his milky pupils. Energy, sweet and filling, bubbled in my chest. [I will show you things.]

  In one fluid motion, Pivot leaped off the rock, splashing into the deep part of the pond.

  “Call when it’s time to eat!” I shouted.
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  “But, Master Socket…” Spindle’s voice trailed away.

  I jumped without looking. My stomach lurched. I went several feet under and never touched bottom. I broke the surface trying to breathe, pulling in all the air I could to scream, “COLD!”

  Pivot was in the trees with the grimmets swirling behind him. Insects fled for their lives. I swam to shore with Rudder hanging onto my hair. I ignored the branches and vines and followed. Pivot bounded over obstacles, swinging around tree trunks or running up them one foot over the other. Nothing slowed him. Few things cut him. I couldn’t do what he was doing. If it weren’t for the grimmets, I would’ve lost him. At one point, he was high in the canopies running along the limbs, crashing through the leaves like a parachutist falling to his death only to grab vines at the last moments.

  When I couldn’t even hear the grimmets, I stopped at a small pool to catch my breath. Was that the game? Catch me if you can? Well, I lost. And I doubted the lookits could even find me. Maybe that was how he went missing.

  A tight, piercing whistle cut the jungle. A family of yellow, long-beaked birds stared back. I heard it, again. Directly ahead, the trees were full of color. Pivot crouched behind a tree, put his finger to his lips. I stepped carefully and quietly next to him. The grimmets were just as stealthy, silently crawling along the limbs. Their bright colors became muted and natural, blending into their surroundings.

  Broak was on the other side of the trees, coasting over the tagghet field on a jetter at mid-field with something like a red stick on his shoulders that was curved at the end and held a yellow discus. The tag. Five bulbous servys drifted at the far end around a large shimmering blue dome. A brilliant green cube was suspended a few feet off the ground inside.