Freakling

by Lana Krumwiede

  The first time Taemon’s brother tried to kill him was the night Uncle Fierre came over with his unisphere.

  Mam was cooking sweet tubers and onions for dinner that night. Taemon caught a whiff of the rich aroma as he walked into the kitchen. A purple onion floated above the pot. After shedding its papery outer layers, it diced itself perfectly and fell into the stew. A sweet tuber peeled itself as neat slices dropped into the pot, its ruddy skin landing in the garbage. Tiny silvery leaves of an herb separated from their stems and joined the mixture. On the opposite side of the kitchen, dough kneaded itself on the countertop, folding and flattening, folding and flattening.

  Taemon marveled at how easily his mother used psi. He’d seen her cook a million times and never thought much of it. Now that he was twelve years old, finally learning to do real work with psi, he understood how much skill it took to do several things at once. Mam might not always show it, but her psi was plenty powerful.

  When Taemon was very young, he hadn’t even realized there was such a thing as psi. After dinner, the dishes would float to the kitchen and hover over the garbage pail. There they paused while the mess and food bits flung themselves into the pail. Then the perfectly clean dishes would drift into their places in the cupboard. Other things were like that, too. Doors knew when to open, water flowed from the faucet when needed, quadriders drove people from place to place.

  One day when he was about three years old, Taemon realized dishes didn’t wash themselves. Someone was using psi to tell the dishes and the doors and the quadriders what to do. You couldn’t see it, you couldn’t hear it, but when an object moved, someone nearby was doing it with psi. Da said even the Earth had her psi. She used it to fetch rain from the clouds and rouse the seeds in spring.

  His mother’s voice interrupted Taemon’s thoughts. “Fierre will be here soon.”

  “Good,” he said, although he wasn’t sure of that. Uncle Fierre and Da clashed when it came to politics. And Uncle Fierre was spending the summer solstice holiday with them. Tomorrow they would all drive out to the coast. Taemon hoped Da would keep the arguing to a minimum.

  Taemon sat down on a stool next to the countertop where the dough was dividing itself into little pasty blobs. Watching the dough form itself into balls around pinches of spicy pork filling, Taemon decided he could put up with a fair amount of arguing if it meant pork balls for dinner.

  His belly rumbled. Using psi, he lifted an apple from the basket on the counter. It hovered in front of him. He pictured clearly in his mind a large chunk of apple separating itself and drifting into his mouth. He held the image in his head for a split second and reached out with his mind toward the apple. Be it so!

  And it happened just as he had pictured. Taemon opened his mouth and let the fruit chunk float in. His jaw tightened with its tartness.

  “Not such big bites,” Mam said.

  How did she know? She had her back turned, looking out the window. Probably watching for Uncle Fierre.

  Taemon directed another bite, only a tad smaller, from the apple toward his mouth. Using psi wasn’t that hard, once you got used to it. You had to be able to picture it exactly in your mind, which meant you had to have some knowledge of the thing you were doing. Breaking off a piece of apple was simple. Other things were more complicated, like driving a quadrider. His brother Yens was sixteen and had gotten his license just last month, though Mam and Da rarely let him use their quadrider. Not till he’d learned to be more cautious, Mam said.

  A thunderous roar ripped into the quiet afternoon. Taemon lost his concentration and the next apple chunk plopped on the counter. The pork balls dropped to the counter too, but Mam had let them down gently. The noise came from down the street.

  “What in the Great Green Earth?” Mam craned her neck to get a wider view from the window.

  Taemon walked over to Mam to take a look. He saw a byrider speeding down the street. No, not a byrider. It was one of those new unispheres. Instead of two wheels, it had one big ball that pivoted and swiveled like the tip of an old-world ballpoint pen that Taemon had seen once at the museum. The rumble paused as the unisphere changed gears, then the throaty growl broke out again.

  Could anything be more thoroughly cool?

  Mam sighed. “They never should have made those things legal.” She turned back to her pork balls, and they began dipping themselves into the boiling broth.

  Taemon leaned forward and squinted. “It’s Uncle Fierre.”

  Once again the pork balls were abandoned as Mam turned her attention to the approaching unisphere. She huffed. “What is Fierre doing with one of those monstrosities? He’s forty-six years old, for Sky’s sake.”

  Uncle Fierre, a unisphere, and pork balls. Tonight ought to be interesting.

  Taemon leaned back in his chair and waited for dessert. He had already eaten two bowls of sweet tuber stew and nine pork balls. If he ate any more, he would burst before the nut cake was served. As usual, the adults were taking forever to eat. They were too busy talking.

  “The Emerald team has a real shot at the gold cup this year,” Yens said. “Did you see the match last week?”

  “I saw Kantall sink a few lucky shots,” Uncle Fierre said. “But they’ll have to be more consistent. He’s too easy to predict.”

  Yens was the school’s star athlete, and Uncle Fierre took it upon himself to give his nephew a few psiball pointers, seeing as Da had no interest in sports. Da saw the game as a fine way to teach youngsters psionic skill but not a proper pursuit for grown men and women.

  As the psiball discussion continued, Taemon watched Da carefully to see if he would rise to the bait. So far, his father seemed to be showing restraint.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll be elected captain of the team this year,” Yens boasted, “which will help my chances when the high priest decides to choose the True Son.”

  Uncle Fierre nodded. “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “It’s not for the high priest to decide who the True Son is!” Da slammed down his mug with psi. “The Heart of the Earth will decide.”

  Uncle Fierre frowned, lifted his napkin with psi, and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. “That’s not what the priests are saying. They’re working on selecting the True Son. It could very well be someone from our own family.” Uncle Fierre fixed his gaze squarely on Yens.

  Yens beamed.

  Taemon used psi to make spiral patterns in the grease spots left on his plate. Could Uncle Fierre be right? Would the high priest choose Yens? After all, Mam was a descendant of the prophet Nathan, and that’s the line the True Son was supposed to come from. And Yens’s birth sign was Knife, which was the only other thing the scriptures specified.

  “Have another pork ball, Fierre, and stop putting foolishness into Yens’s head,” Mam said softly. “We’ve waited two centuries for the True Son, and we may well wait two more.”

  “We’ll know soon enough. They’re going to announce the date of the next cycle sometime in the coming weeks.” Uncle Fierre used psi to float three more pork balls to his plate. Taemon sat back in his chair. At this rate, he might be eating nut cake for tomorrow’s breakfast.

  “The Heart of the Earth will choose,” Da said. “Not you, not I, and not the high priest.”

  “It’s the same thing,” Uncle Fierre said. “The high priest speaks for the Heart of the Earth.”

  Da frowned. “In theory.”

  “Stop right there.” Uncle Fierre held his hand up, palm outward. “I sincerely hope you’re not voicing these opinions in public, Wiljamen.” He locked eyes with Da, a prickly silence growing between them.

  Taemon lowered his head and stealthily glanced from face to face. Mam fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth.

  Yens plunged into the argument again. “He’s right, Da
. You of all people should accept the priests’ authority.”

  Taemon watched Da press his mouth into a line and take a deep breath. Da was a religion teacher, the one who imparted the teachings of the prophet Nathan to schoolchildren. He and Yens often argued about the appropriate uses of psi. Da clung to the traditional rules that safeguarded the use of psi, while Yens followed the popular ideas that pushed its limits. They were always at odds, Yens and Da; even their birth signs were opposite. Yens, the Knife, causing division and strife. Da, on the other hand, was Stone, firm and unyielding. No wonder the sparks flew between them like flint and steel. Now would be a good time for Mam to bring in that nut cake.

  “What do you think, Taemon?” Da asked. “Do the priests follow the Heart of the Earth?”

  Taemon froze. This was a new element in the argument. Did Da seriously expect him to answer? How was he supposed to know why the priests did what they did? He should stay out of this. Say something neutral that wouldn’t make anyone mad. He coughed to stall for time.

  Da sighed and continued without Taemon’s answer. “Psi is a gift from the Heart of the Earth,” he said, measuring his words with exaggerated patience. “A person unites with the Earth’s spirit, and if his heart is pure, his will becomes one with the will of the Earth. Psi was meant to accomplish that which is good for humankind. Not selfish gain. Not idle amusement. If Elder Naseph is planning on choosing the True Son himself and dictating the start of the New Cycle, then I’m telling you he is acting outside his authority.”

  Uncle Fierre gasped. “You go too far, Wiljamen! That’s blasphemy. What possible reason could the high priest have for going against the will of the Earth?”

  Taemon was just as curious as Uncle Fierre to know the answer to that question. But before Da could respond, Mam, ever the peacemaker, spoke up.

  “Why don’t you boys have a look at the unisphere?” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s time for dessert. Is that all right, Fierre?”

  “Sure,” Uncle Fierre said, obviously grateful for the distraction. “You can even sit on it if you like.”

  “Is it safe?” Mam asked.

  He nodded. “It’s stable enough with the emergency brake in place.”

  Yens was instantly out of his seat, heading for the back door, which was already opening with the help of psi. Taemon followed.

  Uncle Fierre called out after them: “But you don’t have permission to start it.”

  Yens reached the unisphere first and planted himself on the seat. “Ever seen one of these up close?” he asked.

  Taemon shook his head.

  “I have.” Yens leaned forward and squeezed the hand grips. “Andon’s brother has one. He showed us how it works.”

  Taemon took a moment to admire the machine.

  The tire, if it was even called a tire, was a big black rubber ball with a tread that was patterned after alligator skin. The tire-ball had a cap on top, like an upside-down bowl that covered more than half the ball. The sun gleamed off the shiny chrome of the cap, except for where an alligator symbol was etched in black on the sides. The fierce emblem made the unisphere look dangerous even when it sat in the driveway. On top of the chrome cap was a black leather seat that had a slight curve to it.

  But where was the engine?

  Even a unisphere had to have an engine of some kind. You couldn’t just roll the ball forward. It wouldn’t go very fast, not unless you exerted a lot of psi. And you’d get tired in a minute or two, just like with running. Psi engines didn’t need fuel like in the old days, but there had to be gears and cams and springs to transfer the energy so a person didn’t have to exert himself so much. There had to be an engine somewhere on this thing.

  Taemon frowned. Usually he could figure out the general idea behind a machine, even if he didn’t know enough details to operate it. But this unisphere had him stumped.

  Of course, that was the whole point of psi. You had to know how something worked. You had to picture in your mind exactly what the machine looked like, parts and all, and then tell those parts what to do. If you didn’t know clearly and precisely how something was to be done, you couldn’t use psi to do it.

  The more he stared at the unisphere, the more Taemon had to know how it worked. He was tempted to do something he hadn’t done since he was a little kid. He was tempted to let his mind wander.

  When Taemon first learned to use psi, he used to send out a small tendril of his mind to explore the world, like an ant scouting things out. It wasn’t quite the same as using psi, because it could only explore, not move or change anything. But Da had made it clear that mind wandering was bad. Never to be done, never to be spoken of. He had been strict about it, so much so that Taemon had never told anyone else about it, not even Mam or Yens. Now that Taemon was older, he had figured out why. It was different. And different was suspicious. And suspicious was dangerous.

  So Taemon stood there staring at the unisphere, wishing he knew where the engine was and how the crazy thing worked. If he used his mind wandering, he could figure it out. As long as he never acted on that knowledge, no one would ever know.

  And that was the whole point, right? No one should ever know.

  Taemon closed his eyes and let his awareness drift across the hard, rough concrete that was the driveway. Along the ridges and patterns of the unisphere’s ball tire. Skimming the smooth surface of the chrome. He let his mind wander under the seat, where Yens sat tall and proud, as though he owned the thing. No engine there. Just thick padding and springs for shock absorption. He sent his mind lower, exploring the underside of the chrome cap. He could see it all in his head. Nothing there. He went deeper, inside the ball itself.

  So there you are, thought Taemon.

  Such a clever engine it was, too! Springs coiled tightly so the driver could release the energy as fast or slowly as needed. Tread on the inside of the tire as well, which fit perfectly with the cam. Only this was more complicated because —

  “Hoy, freakling,” Yens said sharply. “You getting on or not?”

  Taemon nodded and scrambled up behind Yens. The seat was made for one, but they were both skinny and the inward curve of the seat kept them pressed together.

  “Bet I could drive this thing,” Yens said.

  “We don’t have permission.”

  That was the great safeguard of psi. You couldn’t do anything that was outside of your authority. If you tried it, the internal conflict inside you blocked psi. So it was pretty much impossible to use psi to do anything that went against your conscience even in the slightest.

  “So?” Yens said.

  A bad feeling was growing in the pit of Taemon’s stomach. What was Yens planning to do?

  “He said we didn’t have permission to start it. He didn’t say we couldn’t release the emergency brake.” Yens’s voice was quiet and frightening.

  “Why?” Taemon asked. “So we can roll down the driveway and fall over? That would just be stupid.”

  Instantly Taemon regretted the last part of that comment. He had probably just multiplied Yens’s determination to do whatever insane thing he had in mind.

  “I’m getting off,” Taemon said. He tried to swing his leg over the seat, but Yens leaned back, pinning Taemon in place.

  “Not yet,” Yens said. He reached down with his left hand and released the brake. Immediately they began to roll backward.

  Taemon gasped. He pulled his legs up as high as he could. When they fell over, he’d prefer not to get crushed between the ball and the ground.

  But they didn’t fall over. They kept rolling. Yens must have been using psi to balance the seat above the ball.

  Now they were past the driveway and into the street. Yens couldn’t start the engine without permission. So they were just going to roll the whole time? Taemon began to relax. Their street didn’t have much of a slope. They wouldn’t get far.

  “Now comes the fun part,” Yens said.

  The bad feeling in Taemon’s stomach was back in an instant
. A quadrider was coming toward them on the street, and Yens seemed to be steering toward it.

  “Uh, Yens?” Taemon tried not to sound terrified. “Shouldn’t we try to avoid the quadrider?” His voice cracked.

  Yens laughed and stayed his course. “That’s the ticket, Tae. Put your life on the line, and you can do anything you want with psi.”

  Life on the line? Holy Mother Mountain!

  The quadrider honked frantically. There was no room for it to pass — not with the unisphere in the middle of the street.

  “Yens!” Taemon cried.

  Just then, Taemon felt the engine starting up underneath him. The unisphere jerked and whined. Suddenly Taemon realized what Yens had done. In urgent danger, the survival instinct sometimes became stronger than a person’s conscience and psi could be used if the person kept a calm head.

  Sometimes.

  They picked up speed. The unisphere sputtered. Lurched. Wobbled. This is exactly why psi was such a tricky thing. Authority, knowledge, state of mind — all of these played against each other and you could mess things up if you didn’t stick to what you absolutely knew you could do.

  Yens was losing control.

  The quadrider honked again, mere feet away from them.

  Before Taemon knew what was happening, Yens launched himself from the unisphere and tumbled into the grass at the side of the road.

  Taemon wobbled, but even as he did so, he could feel his psi taking over. Once he made the decision to stay on the seat, all anxiety left him. His mind was clear and calm.

  He knew how to drive the unisphere.

  In one complete image, he pictured it in his head. The spring releasing the stored energy. The gears moving forward in a burst of speed. The steering mechanism pulling hard to the left. The seat staying balanced above the ball. It all came to his mind precisely and instantly. He gathered his psi and directed it toward the unisphere. Be it so!

  Taemon hung on as he rocketed forward off the road and onto the grass, missing the quadrider by inches. He righted his course, then bounced back onto the road, flinging dry pine needles behind him.

  He exhaled slowly. It wouldn’t do to crash now. He had to stay calm a little longer.