Out of Touch

by Clara Ward

  “Are you all right?”

  “I will be soon. Why are you here? Who are they?” Sarah asked, even as Reggie was shaking hands with the two men and making introductions.

  “They’re useful people, sent to help the heroes through customs. I was sent on behalf of the household to invite you all to stay with us.”

  “But, they know? They want us all?”

  Aliana squeezed Sarah’s hands a little too tightly and the skin on the back of each pricked like a splinter. Sarah had the urge to reach out telekinetically, to touch in a form that wouldn’t hurt, but she knew her control hadn’t returned enough for that. Funny, to finally live in a world that knew about teeks and start out barely being one.

  “I hurt you.”

  “Don’t let go.”

  “We know what PAD did, with the Druids, but Doug barely told me what happened to you. I assume you have something to tell?

  “You wouldn’t believe all I have to tell.”

  “I’m used to that. Tell me the biggest thing first.”

  “I’m not sure it’s biggest, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

  “You doubt me? After everything?” Aliana smiled and shrugged her eyebrows such that Sarah just had to hug her. Aliana hugged back so gently that Sarah only felt the warmth of her arms through the cloth above her skin.

  “So?” Aliana prompted.

  “Reggie and I are getting married.”

  “I knew it. You two are such throw-backs. Have the wedding by the sea, the whole household will go nuts. They all wanted to come collect you from the airport, but Doug wouldn’t let the rest.”

  “Why? I wasn’t that well liked.”

  “People were always intrigued by you. Besides, our whole world just changed, and somehow you’re tied up in it. They know you came back with two new zoot teeps, and Reggie who helped the Druids and planners change the world. You’re like the circus coming to town.”

  “I’ll be the bald clown.”

  “You just don’t want to share the center ring. But come, and we’ll nurse you back to health. Besides, somehow I think when the story is told, you’ll be stealing the spotlight as usual.”

  “I so don’t want it. But I’d like to be with you. I’ll ask the others”

  Sarah sat in bed the next morning on satin sheets someone had provided to sooth her delicate skin. She ran her fingers along Reggie’s empty pillow, enjoying the cool smoothness and noting the infinitesimal snags on her ragged hands. She wanted some time alone with Reggie. He’d stayed up late last night telling stories from the previous days while Sarah begged off to sleep. This morning he’d sprung out of bed and told her to wait while he brought breakfast.

  Somehow, she and Reggie had been given a large room with excellent light, all to themselves. There was a huge mirror above the dresser, and Sarah could see that her face was no longer red and puffy. Her bald head looked pathetic though. She reached up to pat where new hairs grew more like divots than bumps, barely discernable beneath the skin. In a few days they’d probably have that miserable prickly feeling that on her legs made her run off and shave them before she could stand to wear socks. She couldn’t resist poking at the rest of her skin, finding the few remaining sore spots, searching for little hair follicles on her calves where they were most visible.

  She tried to teek open a dresser drawer, and couldn’t. But she was able to float a borrowed robe from a chair across the room into her hands. It was more than she could manage yesterday. Sarah pulled the robe on smoothly, enjoying how little pain it caused her.

  Soon Reggie came through the door, gracefully balancing a breakfast tray on one hand. The scent of baked tomato and sausage filled the room. She could see that Reggie had taken time to shave, rather ironic, and dress in yesterday’s clothes, which had somehow been washed and ironed. In the light from the window he looked like a radiant young god. Sarah tried not to catch her own reflection in the mirror again.

  “I bring you greasy Irish food, but at least it smells good.” Reggie set the tray next to her on the bed, then perched himself carefully on the other side. “Jam on your toast, my dear?”

  “I love you,” Sarah said, feeling tears rise up.

  “I should hope so,” Reggie answered, “Yesterday you agreed to marry me, remember?” He began to spread jam on toast.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Who’s there?” Sarah called out.

  “It’s me, Oliver. Can I come in?”

  Sarah glanced at her robe and at Reggie, then said, “Sure.”

  Oliver trotted in with a nod to Reggie and pulled the one chair in the room over next to Sarah.

  “I didn’t much get to talk to you last night. But Reggie told most of the story, and everyone’s on about this wedding. They’re all guest lists and china patterns, but I’m not into any of that.”

  “What then?”

  “Well, I mean, this is going to be one of the first weddings, at least of our kind, since the world knew about us. So, the way I see it, the big question is, are we going to MOVE things?”

  Sarah laughed. “What, you want to fly the ring down the aisle, perhaps with a small ring bearer holding it?”

  “You could have dancing flower petals, or ice sculptures that are really liquid and can move. We could even form the tide into a bower for you to stand beneath.”

  “The Druid could simply float away as he performed the ceremony,” Reggie said.

  “Doug’s doing the ceremony?” Sarah asked.

  “He offered, after James told everyone my genetic—”

  “What? I’ll never go to bed early again. What did he say?”

  “Well, he says I’m a spotter, and if I get rid of the new zoots, I’ll probably be a better one. I also have variants ‘A’ and ‘3,’ which evidently means, should we have children, that they’ll have a fifty percent chance of being either animal people or teeks. You want to hear the odds of them being spotters?”

  “They’re talking about our future children?” Sarah asked.

  “Welcome to Eire,” said Oliver.

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Aliana swooped in, “Still in bed? I brought you tea.”

  “They’ve been filling me in on my future children, based on my father’s genetic analysis.”

  Aliana set the tea cup on the tray beside the untouched juice. “Go ahead and eat. Are you saying James is your father? That would explain the teek thing.”

  “What?”

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Sarah said, a little louder than the last times. “You might as well leave the door open for the rest of the household.”

  Howard leaned against the half open door, still holding the handle. The angles looked precarious enough that Sarah wondered if he was using telekinesis on the door. “I could wait ‘til later if you’re busy.” He held a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

  “Actually, I wanted you to try something.”

  Howard visibly bit back a coy remark, and said, “At your service.”

  “From what James said a ways back and what we know about zoots now, I thought maybe I’d be able to hear you if you said something telepathically.”

  Howard shook his head and looked downward rather gravely, “I’ve been trying since yesterday, but James said there weren’t any new zoots on you when he checked.” Howard looked way more disappointed than she felt.

  “Is he likely to drop by?” Sarah asked.

  “As you wish,” Howard smiled, and James walked through the door.

  “What’s all this?” James asked. “Are you all right?”

  “Seems you’d know better than I. I hear you’ve projected the genetics of your potential grandchildren.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Everyone told me.”

  “No, that I was your father,” James said softly.

  “Oh,” Sarah suddenly calmed down from near mania and realized how crowded t
he bedroom was. “I guess I heard you tell Lisa. Should I not have said?”

  “No, I was just not saying until I spoke to you.” James leaned against the dresser, hands clenching and unclenching along the top edge.

  “But you talked about my genetics?”

  “Just your kids. Reggie could deduce almost all of it from knowing about himself and that you’re a teek. Did they tell you about mine?”

  Sarah shook her head. James’ hands were still now, but his face seemed a little pink. Was he blushing?

  “Well, according to Dr. Knockham’s information, I should be a teek too, without the new zoots. Since I don’t have both at the same time the way Howard does, it’s possible there’s another sequence involved. I’ve located one possibility. But not having proper research facilities, and well, for reasons of inter-community trust and security, I’ve decided to rid myself of new zoots, at least temporarily. So, I’ll know tonight, one way or the other.”

  “Tonight? It’s not a full moon yet,” Sarah said.

  “They’re going to do a special ceremony,” Reggie mumbled, passing her more toast, “They’ve asked if I want to participate too. I was going to discuss it with you, all of it.”

  “Do you guys know what’s involved?” Sarah glanced at Oliver, wondering if there were taboos on what could be said, but he was busy stealing a piece of her toast. “About the touch sensitivity and the silent treatment and all that?”

  “It was explained,” James said, “But if Howard and I are going to work with these people, letting them read our minds is the easiest way for them to trust us. That part won’t work on Reggie though. Learned resistance to telepathy happens at a cognitive processing level. It doesn’t change with the symbiotes.”

  “And I didn’t say I’m doing this, at least not tonight,” Howard said, still propped in the doorway at a curious angle, looking more like he was leaving than standing still. The flowers he’d been holding now lay on the dresser, and Sarah guessed he must have teeked them, because he’d stayed pretty well glued to the door.

  Sarah felt as if she was drowning beneath waves of data and change. Where she’d once been separated from the world by secrets she kept, she was now distanced by a rapid flow of information. And the memory of her own silent time in this house tore like an arrow in her side. She didn’t want Reggie opening up to touch when she was so limited, and she didn’t want to be part of any of it here.

  “Would it be okay if we continued this later?” Sarah asked.

  There were many looks of concern, but the crowd rapidly cleared. When only Reggie remained he asked, “Should I go as well?”

  “No, please don’t.” They sat silently together eating breakfast, slightly cold.

  “Reggie, I don’t want to be here for their ceremony tonight or while they’re teaching James to guard his thoughts. And if you’re not too eager to lose the new zoots, I’d really rather you waited.”

  Reggie leaned toward her eagerly, despite her appearance and limitations. He kissed her tenderly without laying a hand anywhere else on her body. “We could go on a practice honeymoon, maybe scout for a place to stay.”

  “I love your practical side,” she said.

  As Reggie gripped the metal safety rails and lowered himself upside down to kiss the Blarney stone, Sarah felt her back tighten, teek ready, to catch him if he started to fall. Not that anyone could fall here; it was all made so convenient and safe for tourists. But part of her wondered if there mightn’t have been teeks instead of safety rails at some time in the past.

  Full of luck now, Reggie moseyed over to where Sarah stood. “Should we stay longer, or go elsewhere?”

  “Lets find some other old stones. Everyone here looks at me with the same pitying sweetness. They think I’m a cancer patient or something.”

  “I like your hair. It feels fuzzy.”

  As Reggie ran a cool hand over her prickly stubble of hair, it sent shivers down Sarah’s spine. A week after Broadcast Day, Sarah’s telekinesis and sense of touch were back to normal, or back to abnormal, the way they had been before. But the slight fuzz of hair growing in all over her body bothered Sarah on many levels.

  “Let’s find someplace to stay for the night and check our messages.”

  “For someone who didn’t want me making calls or checking email more than once a day on this ‘practice honeymoon,’ you’re awfully eager for news.”

  “James said he’d contact us when they were talking again. He’s probably fascinated by the whole ordeal anyway. But I keep remembering how I felt when I first arrived there. It’s like vicarious torture.”

  “I trust our real honeymoon won’t trigger this?”

  “I assure you, your first week without new zoots will be an entirely different experience.”

  “Worth saving myself for our wedding night?” Reggie asked in falsetto, batting his eyes.

  “The way this week is going, you wouldn’t have much to look forward to otherwise.”

  “As you were saying, let’s go find a room.”

  “But Reggie,” Sarah pulled back, grounding her hands against the cool stone, “Are you sure we want to do this?”

  “What? Wander around Europe without a care in the world?”

  “I always thought you needed to work. You can’t look at any situation without getting ideas, wanting to help.”

  “And you?”

  “I know, but what if we get tired of traveling around. What if we want different things? Right now I have an urge to build a house out of stone. What if one of us wanted something like that and the other couldn’t stand staying put? What if the world never makes it safe for us to have a settled home?”

  “What if we both tire of traveling at about the same time and find things we want to do in the same place?”

  “But Reggie, life doesn’t always work like that.”

  He bent forward and kissed her nose. “Yeah. Sometimes your girlfriend turns out to be a teek who has to flee the country and your business partner turns out to be helping Druids change the world. Nothing’s ever certain, but so far—“

  Sarah looked at him and shook her head. “You’re right. Let’s get a room.”

  The message from James said, “I’m a mover. I can keep quiet. Everyone’s talking again.”

  When Oliver found Sarah back in the household, the first thing he said was, “I have a palm lock, but I can’t make it work. Come out and show me?”

  So Sarah and Oliver went to sit on the rocks above the sea. The rough jags of stone felt familiar and homey by now, though the tide was low and the sun seemed too strong. The breeze blew salty and fresh. Oliver had a battery operated palm lock, fresh out of the box, not yet hooked up to anything that needed locking. He’d programmed it with his sister’s palm and brought a print she’d made in ink.

  “Well, let’s see if it works,” Sarah said.

  She looked at the ink print and placed her hand above the lock, teeking the correct dips and ridges. One click, and the lock identified her as Marian.

  Oliver threw back his head and made a small growl in his throat.

  “Oh, quit that,” Sarah handed him the lock.

  Oliver pouted with his whole face but tried again. It didn’t work.

  “How did you learn this?”

  “I had my mom buy one, but it mostly worked right away. You can do the trick of wrapping someone up now?”

  “Haven’t tested it for zoot destruction yet, but it seems right.”

  “Can you write words on your arm?”

  “With what?”

  Sarah held out her arm and forced up, “Hi, Oliver,” overflowing with excitement that she could do all this again.

  His mouth gaped, then he held out his arm and said, “Teach me.”

  “Just use your teek like suction—“

  “Sarah, Oliver.” They both jumped as James came up behind them. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

  “No, it’s Teek Tricks 101. Join us.” Sarah slid sideways on their boulder to make roo
m, but James stood staring at Oliver’s arm.

  “Easy Oliver, you’ll leave a bruise,” Sarah said, then turned back to James, and wrote a new greeting on her arm. “He’s trying to learn this.”

  At that point Oliver managed stripes, then leopard spots, then “Got it!”

  James sat down shaking his head. “I’ll never be able to do that.”

  “But you can direct your thoughts to a certain person,” Oliver said, pretending to sulk as he had about the palm lock.

  “That’s a good trick, but I guess you had a lot of practice,” Sarah said, “Or is it genetic? Maybe whatever made your teek not work with teep, lets you direct thoughts without old zoot mind reading.”

  “My mom learned to let out directed thoughts when she wants to, and she’s an animal person,” Oliver continued, mouth still in a slight pout.

  “Maybe if James checked your whole family’s genetics—“

  “I’d love to. And if you’d like to study genetics yourselves?”

  “Too trendy,” Oliver smiled.

  James seemed not to hear as he continued, “I think I’ve already found one teek amplifier that helps at least with new zoots. And Sarah has both factors two and three; so I’m looking for people with both. If one of your parents is an animal person then—“

  “Teach me directed telepathy, and I’ll get you samples from my whole family,” Oliver offered.

  “Samples might show it’s genetic not learned,” James said.

  “Wait,” Sarah held up a hand to silence them, cold growing out from her center, “You didn’t know about factors two and three when you studied my genetics.”

  “Actually, they were the bipolar and paranoid schizophrenic correlates I pointed out to you.”

  “Oh.” Sarah felt her face warm, and she looked down.

  “But there is something I should tell you.”

  Sarah waited for what seemed a long time before James spoke again. She saw his hands clench together and whiten in his lap. “When you first asked me to delete your genotype, I did. And when Dr. Yu asked me to type you later, I took the sample mostly to keep others away from it. But the first day we met in my office, when I went to clean the sequencer, I realized there was still usable blood on the slide. I knew—I ran the analysis again and hid the data. It actually turned out to be useful when I started exploring Knockham’s work. I’m sorry. I destroyed the file completely before leaving Thailand.”