by Jason Letts
Mira squinted, not quite understanding. She was a quick learner, but her lost expression made it questionable that she had enough maturity to handle this.
“Everyone has something that makes them special? How does that mean I needed to be kept alone? I don’t get it.” Mira’s breath became short.
Kevin, bouncing one leg under the table from the nerves, jumped into the conversation.
“It’s something we are all born with, a special connection with the world that sets us apart from everyone else. But these powers are not always used for good. Sometimes they are not completely under the control of their users. We kept you here to protect you from these powers and the people who have them, because they can be very dangerous.”
He forced a smile to soften the harsh meaning.
“Because you are different from everyone else.”
“But you just said everyone is different.”
“No, you are different because you don’t have a power,” Kevin said.
Mira blinked in a flurry and her lips parted. She tilted her head, then swallowed hard. Finally, she threw up her hands in frustration.
“But if everyone is special and unique and I’m different too, then why am I not special and unique? Why am I the one who’s different from everyone? Is something wrong with me?”
A new possibility struck Kevin, that his daughter would be received as a monster.
“We watched and watched, looking for any kind of sign, as all parents do. For days and weeks, months and years, until it became obvious there was something different about you.”
Mira struggled to remain calm, but a sudden blush of shame made her look away from her parents.
“Mom, do you have a power too?” She waited meekly for an answer.
Jeana looked her daughter squarely in the eyes and gave a very deliberate nod.
“What is it?”
Jeana tried to speak as plainly as possible. “My gift is simple but immeasurably useful. I make things sleep.”
“Sleep? Like how you kiss me to sleep every night?” Mira’s face took on the contorted look of betrayal. “How could you do that to me? You manipulated me with…your power. I can’t believe it,” Mira said, angry and resentful.
But Jeana held onto her patience. The argument was nothing she hadn’t already thought about.
“You have no idea how many tears I saved you from. You never had a restless night fueled by your fears. You never had to pray for an escape from whatever illness had a hold of you. Every mother in the history of the world has begged for such a gift, and I was not about to let it go to waste.”
“I can’t deal with this,” Mira said, abruptly getting up and exiting the room.
Mira went up to her room to try to get away from the pounding feeling inside her head. Slinking down on the carpeted floor, she wondered what it would be like to have a special power. She thought about making things fall asleep or playing with the water in the air. How did it work? It puzzled her, stuffing her mind completely.
The light streamed through the window much stronger than ever before. She noticed the brightness of it on her leg and felt the warmth it brought to her. This warmth, she thought, had traveled so far and so long to get to her. She rose to her knees and propped her elbows against the windowsill.
She peered at the outside world. Strange noises came from the distant town. Thinking of the people and what they might be doing to make such noise, another question popped into her mind. She went back downstairs.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” she asked.
“Hopefully nothing,” her father answered. “You’ll remain safe and sound and be free to live your life with us.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Mira responded. “What am I going to do now? What do normal people do?”
Jeana and Kevin looked at each other.
“Children your age have spent several years in the academy by now. They’ve been getting an education, much like I’ve tried to give you, and they’ve been learning about their special relationship with the world. All of this is usually done under the instruction of a wise and supportive teacher, who is appointed by the village elder and who works tirelessly to prepare students for the challenges they will face in the future,” Jeana explained with warm sympathy.
“What else do they do?”
“Just normal, everyday things. They spend time with their families, help around the house, and then do things to make friends like playing games and sports and other hobbies. Most of what young people do revolves around the work they do at school.”
Mira smiled at the thought of making and having friends. It piqued her interest. “Is it possible for me to join the academy?” she asked.
Kevin answered with some hesitation. “We think so, but we’re not completely sure. Your situation might pose a little bit of a problem. We’ll have to go and check it out together.” He pronounced “situation” with a careful emphasis. Somehow, it felt like a sensitive topic.
It reminded Mira that she was different, and it bothered her.
Her father continued. “If you want to get in, we’ll have to act fast. Registration won’t go on for much longer and then training will begin.” He stopped, suddenly becoming serious. “This schooling can be a very good thing for you, Mira. And you will get to know others your age. But expect it to be hard, harder than anything you’ve ever done. That won’t be just because of the training, it’ll be because of who you are. We won’t be able to help you there. Do you think you can handle that?”
Mira could see only the promise of laughter and games with new and interesting companions. “Oh, I know it’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it. Is that everything?” she asked.
Jeana had to chuckle. “There will always be something new for you to learn, but we can stop for now,” she said.
“When am I going to be able to go out and explore?” Mira asked.
“You’re going to have to get used to making decisions like that for yourself now,” Jeana said. Mira grinned. It was time to embrace a much larger world.
After a scant few minutes of preparation, Mira was ready to make her first trip into the big world. With her mother, they opened the front door to another sight Mira had never seen before. The small path that led from the front door connected to a dirt road, which ran parallel to the house. Behind the road, tall trees sprang up. Mira took a few steps out toward the road, her heart pounding in anticipation.
She reached into the empty air and rubbed her fingertips together, focusing her gaze directly in front of her. This was where the wall of mist had been, but now nothing held her back. There was just air, and her hand cut through it effortlessly. The road lay just ahead.
“I’ve never been outside the bounds of the wall before. This is the farthest I could ever go.”
“There’s nothing stopping you now,” said Jeana, who felt tempted to give her daughter a tender shove.
Mira took a very deliberate step forward onto the road.
“That wasn’t so hard, right? Going to the left will bring you into town. That way,” her mother gestured to the right, “will lead you up north to the mountains.”
Without hesitation, Mira started toward the town. Soon, the bend in the road came and their home disappeared behind the trees. She huddled a little closer to Jeana. Nothing felt real to her yet.
“Mom, why did you keep me behind the walls?”
“Because life is fragile,” said Jeana, speaking the words like a mantra.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that we risk something being away from our home. Things seem calm during this relaxing walk to town, but you have to remember that the world is dangerous and can hurt you most easily of all. To be honest about it, if someone had a violent inclination toward you, you would have no chance. So you need to be alert, always. Please, can you do that?” Jeana begged.
Mira listened to her mother carefully and gave another tentative nod. Jeana hated making her
daughter fear the things she would find, but anything that kept her alive would be worth it.
“If there’s ever a problem, your best bet is to run away and keep running until you are safe. Nine times out of ten that’s my first move too,” she added.
“What if someone is attacking someone else and I’m the only one around to help?” Mira asked.
“I can picture fifty different outcomes of that situation and in forty-nine of them you don’t walk away. Don’t get involved and run for the hills. It’s not your fault, but you do need to understand.”
“How do you know that I’m the only person like this…without a special power?”
Jeana thought for a moment.
“I suppose I can’t say with absolute certainty, but I’ve never heard of another child born without a gift.”
Mira took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the sky. She braced herself as she spoke.
“When you found out, were you sorry that you had me?”
A little alarm went off in Jeana’s head, and she jumped to answer.
“Oh no, not at all! In a way, we were relieved. You see, the web of the universe can give a baby any kind of gift, good or harmful. As often as it’s a blessing, it’s a curse. Infancy is incredibly dangerous because a gift can disrupt an internal organ or it can spring up at a tragic time. Imagine walking down stairs and suddenly turning to glass. Every child is both incredibly precious and also very lucky. At the very least, something didn’t happen to take you away from us too soon.”
Her mother’s troubled words painted a bleak picture, and Mira’s stride became more subdued as she grew somber.
“How can you call it a gift even when it means a child doesn’t live?”
“Because there’s no telling what a quick end might save that child from.”
Jeana searched for a change of topic, but she couldn’t get her mind off of the peril her own child faced. “Makes me glad I only gave birth once,” Jeana added, but her feigned smile couldn’t cover her heavy feelings. There seemed to be so much sadness out there, and now Mira had to contend with the cold, scary place she had ventured into.
The pair passed a house on the way to town, and an old man appeared out in the front. He tended a small garden, lethargically whacking at the ground with a shovel. Mira immediately ducked behind Jeana, then peeked over her mother’s shoulder as they got closer. She was at once afraid and excited about meeting someone outside of her family.
“Oh, I know him. You don’t need to cower behind me like that,” said Jeana.
And sure enough, the older man broached a warm smile of recognition and gave a friendly wave. He dropped the shovel and teetered toward the road.
“Why, hello there,” he crooned.
“Hello, Mert. How are you?” Jeana asked. She smiled pleasantly.
“Not bad at all. I see you finally got your head out of the clouds,” Mert chuckled. “And is this what you’ve been hiding up there all along? Let me have a look atcha. Well, I’ll be. You look just like your mother. The name’s Mert Bogger. It’s nice to meet you.”
He stuck out his hand for Mira to shake, but the motion startled her a bit and she shuffled back.
“Now, don’t be afraid. You can shake his hand,” said Jeana, pushing her forward.
“A little shy, I see,” Mert said as Mira took his hand. It felt moist and gritty, probably because of the garden work.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mira said. Taking back her hand, she smiled a little.
“It’s because of genes, you know—oh, about why I look like my mother. It’s because of genes. Each parent supplies half of the genes a person has.”
Mert chuckled a little. “Is that so? So young lady, who are you?” he asked, twisting his head and glaring at her from one eye. Mira, confused, cast a puzzled glance at her mother.
“She doesn’t have a gift,” Jeana answered.
Mert’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “How is that possible?” he wondered, staring at the specimen before him.
“We don’t know.”
“Yeah, well, what can you do, Mr. Bogger?” Mira asked. Mert gave Jeana a nod.
“Mert doesn’t need to breathe,” Jeana explained. Mert gave a satisfied nod of approval. Mira, however, responded with even greater confusion.
“Wait, you don’t need to breathe, but do you still have lungs? Does your body still take in and use oxygen? Could you live under water or in outer space?”
Mert laughed loudly, gratified by the attention. “I don’t know anything about that. It’s just who I am.”
Jeana spoke up. “You know, Mira’s never actually watched anyone else use their gifts. Maybe she would like to see a demonstration? Is that OK, Mert?”
The old man shrugged.
“How about I just lie on the ground here. Does that work for you?”
The old man lay flat on the ground and closed his eyes. Jeana knelt down to look at him, then she looked up at Mira, who had a curious look on her face. Jeana softly pressed her hand against his forehead, letting her fingers lightly drag down his temples to his cheek. Mira, squinting, hadn’t detected any change in him at all.
“He looks dead,” she said.
“Well, you might expect that from a man who doesn’t have to breathe,” Jeana replied.
The pair continued down the road, and soon the forest relented to the village’s small buildings. Mira admired the wooden structures that looked so different from her own home. Some houses had walls that featured beautiful images of a crescent moon amidst clouds. Colored glass hung from roofs, causing splotches of red and green to swirl over the design as the wind twisted the glass.
While strolling past these buildings, they heard the noise of a crowd and a drumbeat. People in strange clothing milled about in the streets, moving in the direction of the town center. Jeana and Mira joined the growing congregation.
“Look over there,” Jeana said, gesturing to the left. “That’s Corey Outpost, named after the village elder.”
Mira viewed the imposing building her mother referred to. A tower jutted up above the nearby houses, rising over stone walls. A man was stationed in the lookout.
“What is it for?” Mira asked.
“For town business, record keeping, and storage. Lots of things. Important meetings are held there when government officials visit from the capitol. If there’s an emergency, that’s where people go.”
Turning a corner, they came upon the square, where a performer danced to the accompaniment of a band in front of a crowd. Tents had been set up around the perimeter, offering food or games.
Standing on her tiptoes, Mira struggled to catch glimpses of the female dancer, whose movements were poised and elegant. Most impressive was the dancer’s balance—it allowed her to suspend her weight on one finger and twirl in a movement that defied gravity. The crowd cheered.
“What’s the purpose of all this?” Mira asked, forced to elevate her voice over the music.
“Look over there. Do you see the young men and women in the white uniforms? They will be going off to fight in the war, and this festival is for their good fortune.”
“A war? Who are they fighting?”
“We call it the Night and Day War. Our side is the shade. If there’s one thing you need to know about the war, it’s that some people resent us for our peace. But fighting seems worse than losing, and so I pray that the folk we send off fare better than their older brothers and sisters,” Jeana replied.
It didn’t make sense to Mira. Suddenly, she bumped into someone who seemed to be sprouting oranges from his forearms. He had a straw in one fruit and was sucking the juice. Jerking away, her eyes grew wide when she saw a buff, shirtless man standing beside her. A strange lump raced underneath his skin, and Mira gasped when she realized a small animal had somehow gotten in there. It hissed at her, forcing Mira to huddle back to her mother.
Mira frantically looked around. Each of the people who surrounded her—probably one hundred villagers—ha
d some force that they could exert on the world around them. She wondered what kind of chaos could occur if things got out of hand. It made Mira feel alone and defenseless.
“There’s one more thing you might want to check out,” Jeana said, steering her daughter toward a tent in the corner. No sign hung over the entryway and no sound came from within. Still, Jeana looked excited when they arrived.
“Go ahead. Here’s some money,” Jeana said, handing over a few coins.
“What is it?” Mira asked, but her mother simply gave her a gentle push into the tent. Mira ducked and slipped through the tent’s entryway. She immediately noticed that all sounds from outside, all commotion, had ceased. The narrow beam of light coming from outside revealed a small wooden stool.
She thought she was alone in the tent, but once she sat on the stool the voice of a young child rang in her mind. It spoke absentmindedly, carelessly.
“How do you find something you’ve lost if you never knew you had it?”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?” Mira said aloud.
But the voice only repeated itself.
“What did I lose?” Mira asked.
“You are looking for someone you’ve never met.”
“Who am I looking for?”
“You are looking for yourself, but no one knows who you are. There’s a power in that.”
Mira didn’t say anything.
“Your greatest strength can be in hiding your weakness.”
Mira waited again, but the child’s voice did not return. Adjusting her hands in her lap, she noticed that the coins had vanished. Getting the hint that the transaction had been completed, Mira got up to leave.
She felt she had learned something but didn’t grasp it completely. Intuitively, something came to her about being alone. She understood her isolation in a new way for the first time, how her position was different from everyone else’s. There were some things only she could know.
“What did you hear?” her mother asked, bouncing with anticipation.
Mira gave her a wary look. This kind of situation, in which she alone held the knowledge of something, was new to her. She didn’t want to lie to her mother, but she didn’t know the truth well enough to express it properly.