by Clara Ward
“A few names; could we afford to fly one out to interview?”
“Video won’t do?” Phil asked.
There was a pause around the room.
Reggie said, “Sometimes you can tell more in person.” Then Reggie wrote a couple names on a piece of paper that he handed over to Phil. “See if either of those suits you and who they’re with right now. I have work I need to do.”
He was on the phone to Howard before he’d made it back to his building. “Have you accounted for the new hire?”
“You won’t like it.”
“Care to beachcomb?”
“Delighted.”
Howard jogged out onto the sand then pulled off his socks and sneakers while Reggie waited for his report.
“She’s unreadable. Phil’s administrative assistant is too.”
“Has he brought anyone else on board?”
“No, but your Chinese sysadmin is unreadable, as is the manager in the mailroom, one of the custodians as well. I managed to catch the pilot last night when he brought the security woman in, and he’s readable, gossips a bit to the Tongan locals, but no subversion that I heard. Oh, and a lot of the regular employees are worried about their job security and pay.”
“Right. There’s two hundred people on this island, which could give us a couple with closed minds just by chance. There were three in the old staff, three with Phil, and you and me. Not so bad.”
“Except?”
Reggie shivered, and told himself the word didn’t require telepathy; it was an obvious guess. “Except nothing so far,” Reggie said, though he’d been thinking, “Except I’m sure that Phil is up to something.”
For the next two days, Reggie couldn’t tell if he was avoiding Phil or Phil was avoiding him, but work kept Reggie’s mind on other tasks. He crunched the numbers to improve the incentive package for employees who stayed the next year. He ran the income models for the next twenty years with varied assumptions about the life of each satellite. He pondered what would happen if someone shot them down, and plotted ways to keep global coverage while making the satellites trickier targets for each of the aerospace powers.
Finally, Phil called to say one of the programmers had agreed to come out for an interview. The next day, Reggie sat in a room and asked a friend of a friend questions knowing Howard was lurking nearby, checking for information beyond the answers. Afterward, Howard and Reggie took their traditional stroll down the beach, and Reggie went back to Phil’s office.
Phil stood staring out at the beach. Reggie shut the door and paced to the other end of the window. The area where he and Howard walked was not directly visible from here, but Reggie didn’t doubt Phil knew. He was hoping they’d find a way to talk.
Instead Phil said, “So, you satisfied with the programmer?”
“Sure, you?”
He nodded, then said softly, “You’ve changed Reggie. Where’s Sarah?”
Reggie thought of Cass, whose accent reminded him of Aliana, the woman now traipsing around Ireland with his girlfriend. Or was it ex-girlfriend?
“You know she inherited money. You set up the trust. Now, she’s off fulfilling a last request of her benefactor.”
“And she’s not coming back?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Am I wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Fair enough, Reggie. But if she can be used to hurt PAD, or if there’s some other reason you offered Howard a place with us—“
“Wait.” What was Phil saying? If he knew about telepathy and wanted to know why Howard and Reggie were unreadable, maybe he thought they were spies working against PAD? But short of telling everything, what could Reggie say?
“You brought in your own security,” Reggie nodded toward the door.
“How’d you know about the Chinese sysadmin?”
“Something Scott said, when he’d been drinking. Nothing certain.”
“And if you knew he was spying for China?”
“He’s what?”
“I want to work with you, Reggie, but there are some responsibilities—” Phil spread his hands and shrugged.
“There are things I would tell you.”
“But?”
“They might cause trouble, unless, perhaps, you already know?”
“Know what?”
Reggie shook his head and walked a few steps away. “Things that could get people in trouble, even if no one overhears and they’re never repeated?”
“If I did, I couldn’t tell you anymore than you could tell me. Catch 22.”
Reggie knew he’d missed a reference, but he thought Phil had just confessed somewhat.
“Perhaps we should speak later,” Phil suggested.
“Perhaps,” Reggie nodded as he turned toward the door.
Chapter 24
July 13-14, 2025 – County Kerry, Ireland
After two weeks living among “artists”, Sarah’s lips were chapped and she knew the local tides much too well. A week ago, she and Aliana had been welcomed as part of the household and introduced to each person by name. Sarah could finally keep her thoughts silent, which saved her some embarrassment over constantly forgetting names. Everyone had finally stopped staring at her, but that didn’t make her feel comfortable around them.
Sarah and Aliana began the day outside, on the softest patch of ground they’d found, an area of well-packed dirt covered with soft creeping weeds. They stretched, danced, and did gymnastics until lunchtime. Afterward, Sarah cleared the tables telekinetically, a form of practice that elicited community approval. Then she explored the activities of her new household.
Beyond the main room, where a few still sat and chatted, there were those who wrote or drew in quiet bedrooms or out in the yard. One of the outer buildings contained a kiln and pottery studio. Yesterday that’s where she’d seen Oliver, the teek who shaped ceilings and blobs of water. But he wasn’t there today, and as she visited other workshops where people wove or painted, she realized she was looking for Oliver. Knowing others couldn’t hear her realization flooded her with relief, like hot tea on a cold night.
Eventually she found Oliver blowing glass alone in a building shaped entirely of foam. The room felt warm and still, small and safe. Oliver blew through a tube, forming a small balloon of green glass on the far end. He glanced at Sarah as she sat down to watch. There were some metal tools lying on a table by the fire, but Oliver ignored them as he watched his bit of glass. It rippled and stretched to form four feet, a head, a tail, and a shell. Then he started heating a golden blob of glass as the turtle floated in the air, rotating slowly so the glass wouldn’t sag. Sarah thought of the turtle he’d formed from water that first night and of the glass turtles Reggie had hung when they first moved into the fish tank. Thinking of Reggie made her remember all the scary things she’d done, and she was glad her thoughts were private again.
“Come to learn about glass?” Oliver asked.
“Do I need to study art to stay here?”
“Hardly. The teeps seem to believe it’s only art if no one will buy or use it.”
“Where does the money come from then?”
“Some of us aren’t very good artists.”
“And?”
Oliver smirked. “How much do you think that rock with the dolphins jumping over it will fetch?”
The piece he indicated was lovely. The dolphins seemed to flick their tales in a moment of escape from the sea. The rock was cracked open along improbably crystalline fissures. But Sarah knew she was no judge of art. Reggie was the one who understood beautiful things and how costly they were to acquire. Now Reggie was gone from her.
“I have no idea, sorry.”
“Over a thousand Euros,” Oliver answered as he ran a strand of liquid, golden glass through the air to suggest a pattern on the shell of his new glass turtle. “One afternoon each week I make glass, on commission or as I choose. It’s enough to pay the rent on this place for a month.”
“So yo
u support them all?”
“No, there’s always four or five around who happen to like doing things that bring in cash. It gives others the freedom to create our legacy.”
“Teek and telepath art?”
“One minute.” Oliver blew another piece of glass, in deep red. As he took his mouth from the tube he began to speak again, spinning wings from the same color of glass. Sarah imagined them connecting to the blown shape and realized it would be a dragon. She tried to attend to what Oliver was saying.
“Within the community, it’s a privilege to come to a place like this. I gather you were sent through unusual channels. But I fought hard to get in, even though I’m underage. My sister was already here, and when I turned out to be a mover, my parents knew I couldn’t stay cooped up in the city for long.”
“What do your parents do in the city?”
“My mother’s gift is a way with animals. So she trained and became a vet. She can also spot others of our kind, which is useful when they’ve learned to guard their thoughts but still need guidance. My father is a mind reader, lived here when he was younger. He writes, mostly for newspapers now. My sister, Marian, is a mind reader; you met her last night.”
Sarah tried to remember which one was Marian and failed. Instead she watched Oliver spin spikes onto the neck of his dragon. “When did you know what your parents were and what you might be?”
“Well, they always told stories. Sort of hinted that we were special, people of the Sidhe. But we were kids, and they didn’t give us any proof. They let us doubt and maybe hope. Then Marian started reading minds, and it was obvious she had some kind of secret. I was eleven then. So they told me the truth, gave me the energy to unblock my mind, and then taught me to keep it quiet. I still had to wait four years to see if I’d be anything. Almost all my relations on both sides have some gift, so it was likely. But mover is the best, so it was worth the wait.”
“Why’s it best?”
“Just my opinion. Most of the mind readers think that’s best. They think they’re going to transcend, become post-human or something. But it’s really just a fancy way of whispering. I wouldn’t trade a bit of what I can do to have that, too.”
“Don’t some people here have both?”
“Yeah, but the best movers always have just one talent. And I always had an eye for shape and sculpture, even as a little kid. So I wanted mover. Some say wanting can make it happen.”
“Are the other pure teeks here as good as you?”
“No, there are some older masters elsewhere. But you did as well with the water as anyone who’s tried. You wanna learn glass?”
“Think I could?”
The next half-hour was almost as good as when Aliana first taught her dance. Sarah knew she wasn’t artistic, and it showed in her first attempts at spun glass. But when Oliver started her blowing shapes, Sarah found she could just ripple it in and out as she blew and almost always create something pleasing. Oliver said people would buy such shapes for Christmas ornaments or window decorations. So Sarah tried decorating a few of them with spun glass and then had another try at spun glass creatures. It felt good to wrap her mind around the glass, incorporate its warmth, smoothness, and flexibility. It also felt good to do something useful with telekinesis that wasn’t risky or hurtful to anyone.
The spell broke when Aliana came to the door, jaw stiff and voice just a little tight. “Sarah, do you have a minute? I really need to talk to you.”
Sarah looked at Oliver. Drawn back to herself, she wondered what he thought of her simple first attempts. “Can I try again sometime?”
“You’re part of the household now. It’s all yours too. Just ask, and I’ll show you how to set up next time.”
Sarah thought his words sounded forced, and wondered if taking off with Aliana was impolite. Or maybe he’d just been caught up in the moment with her and felt adrift now as well. But Aliana’s impatience tugged at her, and there was no way to save the moment.
“Thanks,” she said, and soon found herself dragged to the rocks by Aliana.
Water crashed below them. The wind lifted Sarah’s hair, at once cold and soothing. Aliana stood silently, but her mouth tightened with whatever she wasn’t saying. “Okay, what’s up?” Sarah asked.
“My teep is fading, like you said it might, like people here imply it does after awhile. I think it’s time for you to do that thing again.”
“Are you sure you want it back?”
“Definitely.”
Sarah felt her eyes moisten, but the wind kept any tears at bay. “You aren’t worried about becoming a monster?”
“No, and I think you should let that go. The things you beat yourself up about, you did them all for good reasons.”
“But you saw how Nadine and everyone here recoiled from my thoughts. You can’t honestly say you never see me as a monster.”
Aliana looked her right in the eyes and said, “Honestly, you may be the one person on earth I’m most certain is not a monster. Now, will you help me?”
Sarah’s breath caught, as if she’d just heard the secret she needed to know most. “I guess I can if you want. But I think they do—”
“I want you to do it.”
“Right now?”
Aliana nodded.
“Right here?”
Aliana nodded more vigorously.
“Okay.” Sarah wrapped Aliana with her telekinesis. Her hair and clothes held still and flat, defying the wind off the sea. For a moment Aliana was frozen, like she’d stepped out of time. Then Sarah gently released her.
“Wow,” said Aliana. “I must have been really distracted last time.”
“That was my intent.”
“It’s sort of creepy.”
A cold shiver ran through Sarah, “You told me to do it.”
“No, creepy in a good way. I wanted to pay attention this time.”
Sarah shrugged, a little light in the head with her confused reactions. She started to turn back to the house, wanting to sort her thoughts.
“Wait,” Aliana caught her hand. “Sit a minute. I need to talk to you.”
Sarah sat on a rock. This was just where she had sat with Oliver on that first night. The rocks seemed rougher now, full of tiny holes and scratchy edges.
“There are things we need to talk about—Don’t look away, this is nothing to hide from.”
Sarah pushed aside her surface shyness like she was opening a roll-top desk. She could feel her pulse racing in her neck and her eyes opening too wide for the light, taking in Aliana’s intent gaze, her hair and blouse tugged backward by gusts of wind.
“Even before I could read your mind, I’d been a little obsessed with wanting to seduce you. Not that I’d ever have pressed it. I generally avoid anyone who isn’t fully secure in their own desire for me, but I let myself think about it with you, a lot. Once I could read your mind, I knew you were struggling with desire for me. Honestly, I felt you were deluding yourself about your sexuality at first and that you were way too insecure in general.”
Sarah started, “I’ve been struggling about stuff between me and Reggie through everything that’s happened since we came here, and—”
“Shh.” Aliana put a finger to Sarah’s lips, and Sarah pulled her face away a few inches.
“I’ve changed my mind. I think some things you do that seem very conservative or off putting aren’t quite as they seem. What Nadine said, about the effect people like us might have on others and especially each other, you’ve been feeling it and so have I. We just didn’t know what it was.”
Sarah began to look away, remembering how recently her thoughts had run freely to Aliana. But she forced her gaze back, not wanting to hide from honesty now that she had free choice. Still, she had no desire to open her thoughts directly.
“Hear me out. The night that I held you in that B&B, I heard almost nothing from you that whole night. It was the quietest your mind’s ever been.”
“What?” Sarah shifted, suddenly aware of th
e cold rock beneath her and the loud waves crashing below, aware that she couldn’t keep track of everything that was happening.
“Really. I had the feeling your mind was still very busy, but only small pieces came out as words. What I learned was that you weren’t just being prudish about not having sex with me. You were afraid you’d hurt my feelings with your thoughts or violate something private between you and Reggie—”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be, because that’s when I realized how much you’re aware of within yourself that you deal with all alone. When you seem overly worried or contradictory, I think it’s because you confront yourself honestly in ways most people never could, they would crumble under the scrutiny. The other thing I learned was that you understand touch in a way I never did. Like something much bigger, much more complicated and adaptable. It included sex, but there were all these other parts, parts like being held that night and how you felt all sorts of other things, things that mattered just as much or more to you. These things you had no words for were more important to you than anything I could read in your mind. But you felt like no one else could understand. Except, I felt that I could understand now, if you’d let me. I felt like I was starting to understand because of how you changed me and because you let me be there, holding you.”
The wordless thoughts Aliana spoke about tore through Sarah’s mind, throwing themselves outward, fleeing backward, making her aware of them in the moment. Sarah closed her eyes then asked, “What else did you find out?”
“Do you want me to say it? If you still feel that way, maybe you should say.”
Sarah looked at Aliana fully, without reserve, for the first time. She saw veins standing out on her forehead, a slight trembling by her lips, flushed cheeks. “I think I want it more now than when you couldn’t help but see my mind. I want to touch you, to have you feel touch the way I do, in a way that doesn’t just rise and fall but can bring two people closer, without-- I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Because it’s bigger than words, beyond any thoughts I could hear from you.”