Seams in Reality

by Alex Siegel

  Finally, the movie ended.

  The older BPI agent turned to Andrew. His blue suit was rumpled, but he had kept his jacket on. He had gray hair on the sides and brown on top. His nose looked a little flattened and bent.

  "I'm Agent Gover. You must be Andrew."

  Andrew nodded. "Glad to meet you."

  "Go ahead and use your hocus pocus," Gover said. "See if there are any other sorcerers sneaking around."

  "Hocus pocus?" Andrew raised his eyebrows.

  "Your strange and mysterious powers." Gover made a circular gesture with his hands. "That's why you're here, right?"

  Andrew didn't like the man's tone but complied with the request. Andrew closed his regular eyes and used his inner one.

  "I'm only picking up Charley."

  "You're sure?" Gover said.

  Andrew opened his eyes. "Yes. My hocus pocus is pretty reliable."

  "I've always been curious. What does it feel like? Does it give you a special tingle?"

  "Sure. It's like being kissed by a thousand rainbow butterflies."

  "Don't get cute with me." Gover narrowed his eyes.

  "Seriously, sorcery is hard. You have to impose your will on reality, and it fights back every step of the way."

  Gover furrowed his brow. "It doesn't look that hard. You just wave your hands and stuff happens. You don't even use magic words."

  "Sorcery happens up here." Andrew tapped his forehead. "It's a mental game, and it's extremely hard."

  "Maybe, but it doesn't seem right. You're messing with things that aren't supposed to be messed with."

  "You just have to be cautious."

  "In the Bible," Gover said, "it says..."

  Dan gave Gover a funny look. Gover closed his mouth.

  "What?" Andrew said with rising anger. "Are you about to tell me that sorcery is blasphemous? I was raised a good Christian. Let me help you with some pertinent quotes. Exodus: 'You shall not permit a sorceress to live.' Or Micah: 'I will cut off sorceries from your hand, and you shall have no more tellers of fortunes.' Sound about right?"

  Gover blushed. "Yeah."

  "That kind of superstition is why people like me live in fear."

  "The Bible isn't superstition."

  "Give the kid a break," Dan said. "He was born the way he is. He never had a choice."

  "Sorcery isn't a birth defect!" Andrew said.

  "Then what is it?" Gover said. "A curse?"

  "No. It's just an unusual talent. I'm like a star athlete, except people don't pay to watch me play."

  Gover frowned.

  "Why did you join the BPI?" Andrew said. "You obviously don't like us."

  "It pays well, and they didn't tell me what it was about until after I signed up."

  "You could quit."

  Gover shrugged. "It's OK."

  "OK for you. You're supposed to protect me. How can I trust you if you think I'm some kind of evil abomination?"

  "I'll do my job." Gover straightened up.

  Andrew wasn't convinced. He turned to Dan. "What's your opinion about sorcery?"

  "I see it as a dangerous technology," Dan said. "It has its uses, but it must be controlled. I'm not religious about it."

  "That reminds me of a question I always wanted to ask. Why doesn't the military use sorcery as a weapon?"

  "It's been tried," Gover said. "Kings in ancient times employed sorcerers. It was popular in medieval Europe. Even in World War 2, all the armies had secret R&D programs. During my BPI training, we had a whole course on the history of sorcery."

  "So, what happened?" Andrew said.

  "All I know is every one of those research programs was a disaster. Only dead bodies came out of them. I'm telling you, sorcery is unnatural. The Lord doesn't approve."

  Andrew decided this conversation was pointless.

  He picked up his backpack. "I'm going to do some homework."

  * * *

  Andrew was walking through a vast desert. A burning sun was beating down on him like a blowtorch. He looked up and saw flames pouring through a crack in the sky. The incredible heat was slowly roasting him alive, but for some reason, the fire was black.

  He trudged onwards across the desolate landscape. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew if he stopped, he would sink. The sand was like soft taffy. Big, heavy chunks clung to his feet, making each step a chore. He couldn't shake the stuff off.

  Despite pushing as hard as he could, he was running out of steam and sinking deeper with each step. Tiny burning ants were crawling across the sand. They climbed onto his skin and started biting him. He swatted at the insects, but they just bit his hands instead.

  Who am I? Andrew thought. What am I doing here?

  He couldn't remember his own name. He had no memory of how he had come to the burning desert, but he knew he had to get out.

  Imagine a clock.

  Tonya had taught him to picture a clock in his mind when he felt lost. The movements of the hands were regular and predictable. They were a symbol of order and a shield against chaos. Modern society was built around clocks.

  The sticky sand was already up to his neck. The ants were attacking his eyes and mouth, making it hard to breathe. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

  A clock.

  He forced himself to calm down. Panic wouldn't get him out of this mess. He reached out and painted a giant clock across the sky. Somehow, he was holding a paintbrush. The clock came to life, and the hands started spinning wildly.

  Too fast.

  He slowed down the clock until it was ticking at a nice, steady rhythm. Rationality began to return.

  He remembered another useful trick for fighting panic. He started multiplying numbers in his head. The math was just hard enough to prevent him from thinking about anything else. The burning desert faded away, and the ants stopped attacking. Walls made of numbers and clocks protected him on all sides. He was safe.

  I'm Andrew Kenworthy, he thought, and I'm asleep. The seam gave me a nightmare.

  He heard screaming, and it wasn't coming from him. It sounded like somebody else was also having a nightmare.

  Andrew opened his eyes. He was back in the storage room in the basement of the Fine Arts Building. He had been sleeping on one of the uncomfortable cots. It was the middle of the night, but a nightlight allowed him to see.

  Agent Gover was the source of the screaming. He was lying on another cot, and he was swatting at the air as if invisible mosquitoes were attacking him. Dan was shaking Gover violently by the shoulders, but he wouldn't wake up.

  "Flies!" Gover yelled. "Flies everywhere!"

  "Open your eyes!" Dan yelled.

  "I'm burning!"

  Andrew intuitively grasped what had happened. He got out of bed and ran over to Gover.

  "Let me work with him," he told Dan.

  Dan backed off with an anxious expression.

  "Agent Gover," Andrew said in his most commanding tone. "What is the square root of eighty-one?"

  "Flies!" Gover screamed.

  "If you want to live, you'll answer my question!"

  Gover wouldn't stop yelling. Clearly, Andrew wasn't getting through. Gover's extensive BPI training hadn't prepared him for this situation.

  "What's wrong with him?" Dan said.

  "We're too close to the seam," Andrew said. "When I was asleep, I had a nightmare, and it must've jumped to him telepathically. It was an accident."

  "Fix it!"

  Andrew gnawed his lip. Tonya had rescued him from horrifying delusions on several occasions during the last month. In theory, he could do the same for Gover. It was just a matter of employing the right spell, but Andrew had never been taught that spell. He had to figure it out using instinct alone, and without supervision, it would be dangerous.

  Gover screamed like he was dying.

  No choice, Andrew thought. He tapped into the energy flow coming from the seam. He wasn't in the seam chamber, but he was close enough to still have a substantial fraction o
f his usual power. The surge gave him more confidence.

  He realized he had to get inside Gover's mind, and the theory seemed obvious. Instead of pushing beliefs outward, Andrew would accept Gover's beliefs as his own. It was exactly the reverse of an illusion.

  Andrew hesitated, unsure if he should proceed. Tonya wasn't here to save his ass if the spell went bad. Just because an answer was obvious didn't make it right.

  Gover screamed again. He was obviously trapped in a terrifying and painful delusion, and Andrew blamed himself a little. He should've realized sleeping so close to the seam could be trouble.

  He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and turned his curiosity towards Gover. Andrew knew intuitively that he would have to open himself up completely. I got into his head accidently before, Andrew thought. It should be easy to do on purpose.

  He relaxed. Finding the right state of serenity and curiosity turned out to be harder than he expected. His mind had to become as blank and receptive as a fresh sheet of paper. His own thoughts would get in the way of making the connection. He gradually entered Gover's mind.

  Andrew found himself floating in an ocean of tar with his head barely above the surface. Waves struck him in the face and made him gag. A cloud of flies biting his skin added more misery to the experience.

  Panic struck him when he realized he had forgotten his own name again. This delusion was as dangerous as the other. He couldn't keep track of where his thoughts ended and Gover's began.

  Andrew fought for control. Bit by bit, he remembered why he was in an ocean of tar and that none of it was real. He began to impose his will on the nightmare, and the waves calmed. He rose into the air. Anything was possible in a dream, and now it was his dream to command.

  Gover was still splashing around in the tar, his eyes wide with terror.

  "Agent Gover!" Andrew yelled. "Look at me!"

  Gover looked up at him.

  "This isn't real. You're asleep."

  "I'm drowning!" Gover screamed.

  "You're fine. I'll get you out of this."

  Andrew exerted his willpower. He just had to force Gover to see the truth, and dispelling illusions was a skill Tonya had taught Andrew right from the start. Gover resisted, but Andrew won the fight easily. He was discovering he had a natural ability to manipulate other people's minds.

  Andrew gathered up all his energy in a ball and hurled it. "Wake up!" he bellowed.

  Suddenly, he was back in the storeroom.

  Gover sat up so suddenly he almost fell off his cot. He looked around, breathing rapidly.

  He faced Andrew. "You! You were in my head!" Gover scrambled to his feet and backed away fearfully.

  "I was rescuing you," Andrew said.

  "What happened?"

  "I had a nightmare, and it splashed onto you. I shouldn't sleep so close to the seam, but don't worry. You're OK now."

  "I am not," Gover said.

  He had been sleeping in his underwear. He grabbed his clothes from a chair and began to put them on. His hands were shaking so much, he could barely button his pants.

  "What are you doing?" Dan said.

  "Getting the hell out of here," Gover replied angrily.

  "You can't just leave. You're on duty."

  "I'm quitting."

  "Hold on." Dan grabbed Gover's arm. "It was just a bad dream."

  Gover shook him off. "It was a psychic attack. You weren't there. I thought I was dying! I can't do this anymore."

  Dan frowned.

  Andrew realized Gover was right. Andrew had inflicted a nightmare on him, albeit unintentionally. Gover could've been trapped in a delusion forever. The rescue hadn't been gentle either.

  If I can do that by accident, Andrew thought, what can I do when I really try?

  He was on dangerous ground. Forcing his way into another person's mind was totally unethical. It wasn't far from full-blown mind-control. Knowing he could do it was a thrill, but he didn't want to hurt people. He had to be much more careful in the future.

  Andrew decided he wouldn't mention this incident to Tonya or Charley. If they found out, he would explain himself, but hopefully, they wouldn't find out.

  Gover pulled on his coat and left.

  Dan shook his head. "You really got to him."

  "I can't sleep here anymore," Andrew said. "It's too dangerous. My control isn't good enough."

  Dan thought for a moment. "OK. Go sleep in your dorm. I'll call the BPI and tell them what happened. They'll send more guys, and we'll guard the seam without you."

  "What if another sorcerer tries to sneak in here?"

  "We have cameras—" Dan nodded towards the surveillance monitors. "—and we can add more. We'll make it work. The BPI was created to deal with this kind of problem."

  "I'll stay here until reinforcements arrive." Andrew yawned. "If I can stay awake."

  "Please, stay awake."

  Chapter Nine

  "And this is my dorm room," Andrew said proudly as he opened his door.

  He stepped aside to let his parents enter. He had spent all morning cleaning his room. He had washed all his clothes, had thrown out the garbage, and had vacuumed the floor. Everything was stacked neatly or put away. He had even cleaned the windows on the inside.

  "It's nice," his mother said. "Does he always keep it this clean?"

  Beth had medium-length brown hair and brown eyes. She had a nice face, although Andrew had to admit he was biased. Her skin was ruddy from walking outside in the cold, and makeup on her cheeks didn't match the redness. She was wearing a puffy, blue winter coat which went down to her thighs.

  "I don't know," Charley said. "This is the first time he let me inside. I wondered if he was hiding a dead body or something."

  She followed Beth into the room. Charley was wearing a golden sweater with white flowers embroidered into it. She was getting along very well with his parents. Neither had asked Charley about her relationship with Andrew, but clearly, they were curious.

  "His room at home was certainly never this clean," his father said.

  Percival entered last. He was a big man who prided himself on his muscular arms. His black hair was thinning on top, and he had blue-green eyes which Andrew had inherited. His father seemed to always have five o'clock shadow no matter what time of day it was. He was wearing a dark brown shirt with on open collar. His winter coat was slung over his arm.

  "What are you talking about?" Andrew said. "I cleaned my room."

  "Only when I held your video games hostage."

  Andrew glanced at Charley. "He's making that up."

  She winked at him. "Sure."

  "Whatever. This is the end of the tour. I found a nice Chinese restaurant nearby that's open on Thanksgiving. It's not exactly turkey and cranberries, but it should be pretty good."

  The BPI had given Andrew and Charley permission to go to a restaurant provided they didn't stay out late. Three federal agents were on duty, and three more were on call, so the seam was well guarded.

  "That's fine," his mother said. "The important thing is we're together."

  The group left the dormitory and went outside. Andrew zipped up his coat and pulled down his ski cap. The sun had already set even though it wasn't late in the evening. The short winter days bothered him. On cloudy days, he didn't see the sun at all.

  Andrew really liked being with his parents again. He had missed them.

  Charley led the way towards the West Parking Lot where Andrew's parents had parked their car. The group walked past the Fine Arts Building. Andrew had showed the auditorium and stage to his parents earlier, but they hadn't gone into the basement.

  Charley stopped abruptly. She looked around.

  "What?" Andrew said.

  She gave him an anxious look. He used his sorcery to check the area, and he discovered what had spooked her. Another sorcerer was nearby, one he didn't recognize. The unfamiliar energy was located on the far side of the building.

  Andrew looked at his parents. Suddenly, their pres
ence was an enormous problem. Andrew had to play the part of an ordinary college student. The BPI had demanded he keep sorcery a secret even from his family.

  "Umm," Charley said, "I think I left my phone in the Fine Arts Building. Can we check inside real quick?"

  "Sure," Andrew said. "We have a little extra time."

  The four of them went into the building through a door on the north side. Most of the lights were off, and the echoing hallways were a little spooky. Charley led the way to the main stage where the Shakespeare set was still installed. The production was on hold during Thanksgiving break.

  "Could you two search here while we look in other places?" she asked Andrew's parents sweetly.

  Beth and Percival glanced at each other.

  "Sure," she said.

  "Thanks," Andrew said.

  He and Charley hurried off.

  "We have to tell the BPI," she whispered in an urgent tone.

  They jogged down a flight of stairs to reach the basement and went straight to the storeroom. Dan and two other BPI agents were stationed there.

  Dan widened his eyes in surprise. "I thought you went to a restaurant," he said.

  "We have a problem," Charley said. "Another sorcerer is poking around."

  All three federal agents immediately drew their guns. Andrew shrank back in fear. Seeing a gun in person was a very different experience than seeing one on television. Those things could kill somebody!

  "Show us where he is," Dan said.

  Andrew and Charley jogged through the dimly lit basement and came up another way. The agents stayed close behind them.

  The group exited through a door on the south side. Andrew looked around at trees, snow-covered grass, and a narrow parking lot. He was too excited to feel the cold.

  He used his talent to locate the intruder. Andrew couldn't detect ordinary people, but his inner sight saw sorcerers as glowing bodies. He was about to point his finger when Charley beat him to it.

  "There!" she said. "Behind the bushes!"

  Dan and his two colleagues ran forward.

  A man stood up from the shadows with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. He immediately aimed at Charley.

  "Stay back," the man yelled, "or the chick dies!"

  Charley made a squealing noise. The federal agents froze and glanced at each other with uncertain expressions.