She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“They said it would be too difficult for me to stay and watch you awaken. It would be too difficult to make sound decisions instead of emotional ones. They said I would only interfere and, in the end, I would harm you. I had to choose.” Her voice faltered. “To be a mother or a leader.”
She wiped her nose, folded her arms. No moody, this time.
“The best way to help you, to be whatever mother I could be, was to stay. To be here when you awakened. I knew you would hate me for it, but life demanded it.”
Her emotions flailed around her. It took all her strength to allow them to thrash without overwhelming her into another moment of weakness. But she was losing that battle.
“It has been harder… to watch you suffer… then I ever could’ve imagined.”
My heart thumped in time with hers. I stepped next to her. Like a magnet grabbing a metal rod, she put her arms around me. When was the last time she’d hugged me? It had been too long.
“Forgive me,” she said.
Her eyes were wet, but not a single tear fell. My senses heightened. I smelled her fragrance, heard the leapers creep above and below us, felt the minders in nearby rooms watching our thoughts. I had awakened. Somehow, her embrace awakened me even further and her saltiness seeped into my awareness. It settled in my throat and swelled behind my eyes. All that anger I reserved for her had vanished.
“Your father…”
“Would be proud,” I said.
She smiled, half laughed. She was shaking.
“Thank you,” I said.
She pressed the back of my hands to her eyes and let go. She stepped back and calmed her breathing. Her emotions, once white-capped waves, settled glassy and calm. Her Paladin nature was back in control, although I could now see Mother there, too.
“As you may have guessed,” she said, “the Paladin Nation is no longer covert. The past month has forced us into the public eye. The world now knows of our existence.”
“So the world survived?” I said.
“The war is over. The duplication population has been eliminated.”
“What about Streeter and Chute?”
“Their parents are with them, here in the Garrison.”
“When can I see them?”
“They’re still recovering.”
“Still recovering?” I fidgeted. “What’s that mean?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. Streeter is undergoing precautionary mental decompression. Chute sustained more serious injuries.”
“She’s going to be all right.” My chest fluttered. “Right?”
“She going to be fine, it’s just taking longer than anticipated. The doctors don’t want to rush her recovery; they’re allowing her nervous system time to reconnect to her body. The awareness transference she experienced was quite traumatic. Her physical brain activity had stopped for over an hour.”
“I recovered just fine.”
She squeezed my forearm. “You’re not like her.”
Not anymore.
“Is Broak dead?” I asked.
“You’re not responsible for his death. Neither is Streeter. Broak had been corrupted.”
Like a computer. “The Paladins are just as much at fault,” I said. “They manufactured him like a weapon.”
“Broak was responsible for his own actions. He chose to betray the Paladin Nation. To betray the human race.”
“They raised him like a machine. No wonder he went to them.”
Her upper lip tightened. “Broak will not receive my pity.”
She was not taking any more questions on that topic. That was that. Broak was dead. Life is such.
“What about Pivot?” I asked.
“It was time for him to go missing. The Paladins were going to take him inside and set every minder in the Nation on him, although I’m not convinced that would’ve worked. But I don’t think that’s why he left. He watched out for you while you were here. Somehow, I think that was his mission.”
“Tell me what it means when he’s missing?”
“He has the ability to make others… not see him. He could be right in front of you, yet convince you not to see him. His powers are beyond comprehension. I don’t think I need to convince you of that.”
“He’s got to come back.”
I almost said I need him. It’s what I meant. Mom thought for a moment, softly touched my cheek. She let her Paladin mode slip to show me the sadness that rested in her soul, the sadness of my father’s death and how she carried that with her every day. She let me know that I, too, carried that sadness, whether I knew it or not. My father is gone. So is Pivot.
Life is such.
A door appeared to open in mid-air between two swaying palm trees. She was done. No more about Pivot, or my father or Broak. She was leaving. But I wanted more. I wrapped my mind around her to uncover her thoughts, to spill what she knew against her will.
“Stop.” Her mind tightened, guarding her thoughts that, seconds earlier, she allowed me to see. She didn’t have the strength to hold me out, but bristled like a cat that wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Don’t look inside me, Socket. Stealing thoughts is not something you can do whenever you want.”
I pulled back. She smoothed non-existent wrinkles on her jacket. “You have a lot to learn about the mental realm.”
She left the room. Her fragrance lingered. Another shrimp boat sailed in from the right.
D I S C O V E R Y
The Pebble
I was still kept in the room, promised that it would be soon when they let me get out. I spent a lot of time contemplating what had happened, and what would happen, but I was getting tired of thinking. And I was tired of shrimpers throwing their nets into the sea.
I called for news reports in the Charleston area. A holographic man and woman appeared at a desk with sea foam swirling around their feet.
“More information is being released about the Paladin Nation,” the woman said with a reporter’s dramatic flair. “A representative is scheduled to speak to the public. How long have they been in existence? How are they funded? Why are they secret? These are just some of the questions global leaders want answered.”
“It’s the classic movie Men in Black,” the man said.
“It certainly is.” She smiled at him. “And the public is responding.”
The reporters disappeared, replaced by an angry mob, smaller in scale. Hundreds waved signs, shouting things like Justice and Freedom of Information. Several spoke to an interviewer.
“The Paladins need to be accountable.” A balding man stood before me with his arms stiffly at his sides. “They are not above the law. The secrecy is an outrage. I don’t care if they’re fighting aliens, man-eating tigers or the wicked witch—we demand full disclosure!” He pounded his fist into his other hand. “A society that keeps secrets has something to hide!”
“While the initial reaction is mostly outrage,” the woman spoke as protesters continued to march, “Paladins are reluctant to disclose much. The question everyone is asking is whether we would know anything at all if multiple attacks had not taken place around the world, one of which occurred at a local high school.”
“That’s right,” the male reporter chipped in. “Little information has been released since it was left in ruins.”
An aerial view of the school appeared. The dome roof of the Pit was gone, so were the seats and the floor. The tagghet field was littered with the bleachers.
“We’re not even sure who or what attacked,” the man said. “There appears to be some sort of machinery that emerged from an explosion and local authorities want to know who is responsible. It is thought the attackers were targeting the school’s virtualmode portal, one of the most powerful in the state that also lacked sufficient security, but what they would do with it is unknown.”
The grainy footage hovered around the parking lot but the thick smoke obscured much of the view. Occasionally, jointed legs poked out
as the Paladins’ weapons flared blue from the ground, leaving remains of the crawlers twitching on the asphalt.
“What you may not know is that some believe children had something to do with stopping the attack. Emergency workers reported three teenagers were found in a remote virtualmode lab. They were in very poor condition but they were not able to explain why since the Paladins on site quickly took them away.”
The view switched to Buxbee’s lab. The Paladins hustled three stretchers into a large black vehicle. The emergency workers are swarming around them but not able to do anything about it.
“However, the Paladins refuse to identify the youths or reveal what they were doing during the attack.”
The images dissolved into the sand. “The Authority requests your presence,” the room said. “Formal attire is required. A leaper will arrive in five minutes.”
With the illusion gone, the room was white and ordinary again and claustrophobia was quickly falling around me like a straight jacket.
A suit emerged from the wall, hanging on a hook, plum colored with mustard trim. The pants were loose-fitting, the overcoat hung nicely, although the shoulders were a bit square. The shoes were square and clunky. I stripped down, dressed and waited for the leaper to open, leaving the shoes on the bed.
There was no escort. I tried not to think where Spindle was. I stepped inside and was transported to the same room I met the Authority the last time. Mom and Commander Diggs were on my right. Pike and his minder assistants were in front of me. Broak, of course, was not there.
The room flowed with unseen currents. It was thicker than electricity, more like cream. The mental realm. Psychic energy emanated from the Commander, shining like an organic power plant, and Mom, less so. Thoughts and energy beamed in from around the world, from all those watching this event, peeping in through unseen lookits embedded in the moldable walls.
The minders, however, did not shine. They were dark vortices sucking energy back, holding their thoughts at guard against probing minds. They were impenetrable psychic giants, the ability to pry a mind in half like a walnut or close theirs like a 200-cube encrypted vault. They stood motionless, staring ahead through black wrapped glasses. Their nostrils flared, smelling me. Their dimness lightened like they were tempted to open for a look into my mind, although there was nothing new for them to see.
I walked to a bright spot on the floor. The circular wall rose fiercely. The figureheads were seated and staring. New energy swarmed around the large room of subtle pinks, reds and violets. Each color exuded a different flavor. I let my mind experience the silky flow of their essence. Some were coarse, some fine. All of it luminescent, except for the minders. Their essence was forbidding, dark and gritty. Not like sand paper, but like a rock in my shoe or something stuck between my teeth. Something like a pebble they held, a fine grain of sand, solid and dense. Something they held secret from the rest of us.
“Hearing 24489 of Socket Pablo Greeny,” a bodiless woman said, “is now in session.”
“Right.” The Authority, with his beefy jowls and tired eyes, looked down on me. “No need to make this lengthy. You have been accepted into the Paladin Nation, Socket Greeny.”
Mom released a long-held breath. I was not surprised. Was anyone? But I surprised myself, and everyone else, when a question emerged. “What if I don’t want to be one?”
Tense emotions rippled amongst the counsel and the luminescence dimmed. Had no one ever asked that question? He wasn’t asking me, he was telling me I was accepted. Now I wasn’t so sure I wanted in this club. The Authority laughed like a coughing dog, his cheeks jiggling. The mounting tension broke.
“Every man and woman has a choice, of course! We are not captors, Socket Greeny. We fight for freedom so that every person has the opportunity to answer a question like that for themselves. It is a great opportunity to see what you are, but, more so, have the courage to be it. There are many people that see the tremendous potential inside you, but I cannot tell you what that is. Nor can your mother or anyone else. You have to see it for yourself. Only you can become it.”
I could refuse to be one of them, just like he said. Walk out of that room and leave it all behind. Go back to the house, call on the television and kick back with a plate full of nachos. But life couldn’t go back, not like it was before. No matter what he said, there was no going back no matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I tried. I had awakened. There was no changing that anymore than I could become a baby sucking my thumb. I had seen my true nature. How could I be anything else?
Sometimes life doesn’t ask for it to happen. It demands.
The Authority nodded, sensing the resolution and acceptance of my thoughts. He had my answer. I saw. I am a Paladin. He looked down at his notes.
“You are untrained, Socket Greeny,” he said. “You have recently awakened with little more than instinct to guide you. I can only imagine what kind of Paladin you will be once fully developed. The world will be a better place, a safer place, once you have.”
His big belly pushed out beneath his hanging robe when he stood. He began to clap his thick hands. The walloping sound shook the room.
“Congratulations.” A tiny smile broke across his droopy face. “And bravo.”
One after another, the members stood at the top of the wall and clapped like thunder. Not all of them, though. Several remained seated, their hands planted firmly on their laps. The minders didn’t move. They didn’t frown, scowl or glare. And the annoying pebble was more noticeable.
I opened my mind to the room, absorbed all the energy, all the thoughts, colors and essence. I opened to the happiness and bitterness and the full range of emotions. I had nothing to hide; they could look into my mind all they wanted. I was fully open, fully aware and fully present. My awareness washed over everything, including the pebble. It took shape. I experienced its size, texture and hardness. It was a distinct object, a substantial container of thoughts. It contained information. And it had a location. The minders weren’t holding the pebble. It was Pike.
The Authority held his arms out and silenced the applause. The ones standing remained standing. He paused, allowing silence to settle. The Authority tipped his head. “Your duty is to serve, Socket Greeny,” he said, “to your utmost.”
I have to be quick for all to see.
The walls trembled and began to sink. The images of the Authority and his cohorts shriveled. Their essence became chaotic, drawing back through their projected, shrinking images as their awareness sought to return to their skin somewhere in the world.
I summoned all my psychic energy and gathered it like an arrow with an indestructible tip. I pulled back the string, filled the arrow with tension and fired it, with every thought, every bit of strength I had. All my essence drained into that shot. I was depleted, fell on my knees, and almost passed out. It took the minders by surprise, bored through their mental walls before they could throw themselves against it. The arrow spiked Pike’s mind like an icy sliver. Pierced the hidden pebble.
Penetrated it.
It burst with a million colors. Endless thoughts sprang from the pebble and filled the room for all to see. The thoughts he hid from his assistant minders. The thoughts he carefully tucked inside the pebble to make himself forget so that none would know he was hiding them. The thoughts he couldn’t dare let anyone know. The ones that would break his mission. Crush his existence.
He had sabotaged Broak’s lessons, exposed his human pain; convinced him there was a better way. The Paladins could not be trusted, look what they were doing to him. They were dirty. Imperfect. Mortal. There was a better way, Broak. One you were meant for. Join me. To make a better world. A perfect world.
Pike was still human but he was a spy. He was Broak’s mentor.
A second did not pass in normal time. I barely raised my head to see the wall spit back out of the floor. The Authority and his minions’ eyes bulged with surprise. They heard the hidden thoughts. They understood. A SPY? IN OUR SANCT
UARY?
The assistant minders comprehended immediately. They turned on Pike and corralled his poisonous thoughts before he counterattacked with a psychic arrow of his own, one that would turn my brain into grits. They saved me from his mind, but could not hold him. It took a tenth of a second for Pike to disappear into a timeslice, like slipping through a fissure in the fabric of space-time.
He reappeared, in that same instance, a step in front of me, his lethal fingers aimed for my windpipe. His strike—centimeters from my neck—was stopped short by three crawler guards. They popped out of a timeslice and loomed over us, their jointed legs anchored like steel bars. Silky strands wrapped around his legs and arms. They were watching, slicing time when Pike sliced. This time, the spiders saved me.
The room sizzled with essence. Warnings flew. Alerts commanded. The crawlers wrapped Pike tighter. The minders strained to control his mind. His thoughts seeped through their containment like fibrous roots, crackling after me. He pried through my weakened psychic defense. I leaned back, but space was no match for the cold tips of his sharp mind that squeezed inside. He slithered behind my eyeballs. I couldn’t stop him.
More minders entered the room. They circled him like blind men, gave support to the struggling assistants. The icy tentacles slowly pulled out of me. They sealed him inside their psychic prison. Pike struggled, spit bubbling on his lips. He cursed, tossing his head around to break the containment.
There were shouts. ORDER! ORDER! More crawlers entered, poking their legs between us, hovering over us, their eyelights ominously directed at Pike. The Commander directed traffic. Doors opened along the walls. Mom rushed me to an open leaper. The crawlers had Pike cocooned, knocking his glasses from his face. His white eyeballs looked in my direction. Blood vessels branched like lightning across them in one last effort. Minders stepped between us.
The leaper closed.
I would’ve crumpled on the floor had Mom not held me. “They continue to underestimate you,” she said.
Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga Page 20