by Jason Letts
“There is so much we need to tell you. There are things we’ve kept from you, things you can’t know just by seeing them,” Jeana said. She put her calloused hands out to comfort her daughter, but Mira was still too stunned to take them.
“You see, when each baby is born, a special gift comes down from the web of the universe to make the child special and unique. It’s what we believe makes us who we are. Your father’s gift made the wall around our house. There is something we can all control, an extension of our being.”
Mira squinted at this, not quite understanding. She could be a quick learner, but her lost expression made Jeana wonder if she had enough maturity to handle this.
Kevin, bouncing one leg under the table from the nerves, jumped into the conversation. “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 his meaning.
“Everyone has something that makes them special? I don’t get it.”
“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 sometimes great and are not always used for good. Sometimes they are not completely under the control of their users.”
“But if everyone has this, then how does that mean I needed to be kept alone?” Mira’s breath became short, giving away that she had an inkling of the answer. Kevin exhaled a deep sigh and spoke as evenly as he could.
“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.
The girl blinked in a flurry and her lips parted. She tilted her head and then swallowed hard. Jeana and Kevin wondered what raced through her head. 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?”
She reminded them of all of the people whom she had been hoping to encounter and the worry that she would now be received as a monster. The concern contorted her face and she leaned back in the chair, dejected.
“We watched and watched, looking for any kind of sign, as all parents do. For days and weeks, months and years, and 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. After a moment, something struck her and she set her eyes upon them.
“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 of the head.
“What…what is it?” she asked.
Jeana tried to speak as straightforwardly and plainly as possible.
“My gift is a simple one, but it has proven to be immeasurably useful. I make things sleep.”
“Sleep?” Mira repeated, making Jeana want to say something about her kisses every night. A sick feeling came to Mira’s face, one of violation and betrayal. Jeana didn’t want her to think she had used something she didn’t even know existed against her.
“How could you do that to me? You manipulated me with…your power. Did you think that was the right thing to do? It’s so awful. I can’t believe it,” Mira said, voicing a wellspring of anger and resentment.
But Jeana held on to her patience. The argument was nothing she hadn’t already thought about.
“You have no idea how many tears I saved you from, enough to fill an ocean. 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.”
The conviction of her tone struck Mira’s ears, and she hesitantly nodded at what she heard.
“I think I need a break. Is that ok?” she pleaded.
***
Her parents consented, and she went up to her room to let what she had heard sink in. 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. It puzzled her, occupying her mind completely, refusing to let her think about anything else. How did it work?
The light streamed in through the window much stronger than ever before. She noticed the brightness on the skin of 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. Getting up, 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. In order to ask it, 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 before answering her.
“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. But a lot 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 become a part of the academy?” she asked.
Her parents 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.”
Kevin pronounced “situation” with a careful kind of stress. It had already become something of a sensitive topic, which needed to be handled properly, or perhaps it always had been and Mira had never noticed it. Either way, the reminder that she was somehow different 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. I suppose we’re lucky we have an academy in this town. Some smaller towns don’t.” He stopped abruptly, refocusing on his daughter with an air of seriousness.
“This schooling can be a very good thing for you, Mira. And you will get to know others your age. But you can also expect it to be hard, harder than anything you’ve ever done. That won’t just be because of the training, it’ll be because of who you are. You’ll have to do it all on your own. Do you think you can handle that?”
Mira heeded his warning, but in her mind’s eye she 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, referring to the explanation.
Jeana had to chuckle. “There will always be something new for you to learn, something that’s out there that you haven’t been told about. But we can stop for now,” she said.
Together, they cleaned the table and washed the dishes from breakfast.
“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. “But we can go now, if yo
u’d like?”
***
A sudden thrill swept over her, making the answer all too obvious. She ran up to her room to prepare. Just a few minutes later, she was ready to make her first trip into the big wide world. Together, they opened the front door to another sight Mira had never seen before. The small walk that led from the front door connected to a dirt road parallel to the house. Behind the road, tall trees sprang up, their leaves stretching out over the road and providing some shade. Mira, with her mother behind, took a few steps out along the walk toward the road. Her heart pounded from the excitement and anticipation.
Stopping suddenly, she reached out into the empty air. She 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 a few feet before her.
“I’ve never been outside the bounds of the wall before. This is the farthest I could ever go.”
“Well, there’s nothing stopping you now,” said Jeana, who felt tempted to give her daughter a tender shove.
After a moment, Mira took a very deliberate step forward out onto the road. She looked as far as she could in each direction, but each way offered nothing more than trees before twisting into uncharted territory.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, right? Going to the left will bring you into town. That way will lead you up north to the mountains,” her mother said, gesturing to the right.
Without hesitation, Mira started toward the town. Soon the bend in the road came and their home disappeared behind the trees. Noticing this, she huddled a little closer to Jeana’s presence.
“Mom, why? Why did you keep me behind the walls?”
“Because life is fragile and accidents happen,” said Jeana, speaking the words like a mantra. She could tell her daughter still grappled with what she had been told, and she knew the grappling might last for a lifetime. Nothing felt real to her yet.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that we risk something being away from our home. Things seem calm now during this relaxing walk to a quiet town, but you have to remember that danger still exists, and it can hurt you most easily of all. To be honest about it, in the face of a carelessly used gift or a purposeful one, 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 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 hate to say it, but my advice is not to get involved and to run for the hills. I can picture fifty different outcomes of that situation and in forty-nine of them you don’t walk away. Do you understand me? It’s not your fault. It’s just…you.”
“How do you know that I’m the only person like me…I mean, without a special power?”
Jeana thought for a moment, looking up and to the right.
“I suppose I can’t say with absolute certainty, but I’ve never heard anything remotely like it.”
Mira took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the sky, struggling to spit out something that just wouldn’t come. Looking away from her, Mira closed her eyes and 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, and that includes both good ones and harmful ones. As often as it’s a blessing, it’s a curse. Babyhood 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 baby 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 her mood 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 came along the next house on the way to town, and a man appeared out in front of it. Lethargically, he tended a small garden, whacking at the ground with a shovel. Jeana’s fearful words still with them, Mira immediately ducked behind her. Mira peeked over her shoulder as they got closer, at once afraid and excited about meeting someone outside of her family.
“Oh, will you stop that. I know him, so you don’t need to cower behind me like that,” said Jeana.
And sure enough, the man, an older man, broached a warm smile of recognition and gave a friendly wave. He dropped the shovel and teetered over toward the road.
“Why, hello there,” he crooned.
“Hello, Mert. How are you?” Jeana asked. She smiled at him, pleased by the encounter.
“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 at’cha. 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 her 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 to Jeana as Mira took his hand. It looked moist and gritty, probably because of the shovel and garden work.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mira said. Taking back her hand, she smiled a little and stifled a sigh of relief.
“It’s because of genes, you know—Oh, about how you said I looked like my mother. It’s because of genes. Each parent supplies half of the genes we have.”
Mert chuckled a little, lost.
“Is that so? So young lady, who are you?” he asked, twisting his head and glaring at her from one eye. His piercing squint confused Mira, and she cast a puzzled glance at her mother.
“She doesn’t have a gift,” Jeana answered. Mert’s eyebrows jumped in astonishment, dropping again in an intense scrutiny.
“How is that possible?” he wondered, staring at the specimen before him. Mert wiggled his fingers with the temptation to poke and prod at her, but her first skittish recoil dissuaded him carrying through with it.
“We don’t know, exactly.”
“Yeah, well what can you do, Mr. Bogger?” Mira asked. Mert gave Jeana a nod, signaling that she should answer the question.
“Mert here doesn’t need to breathe,” she explained. Mert gave a satisfied nod of approval. The girl, however, responded with even greater confusion.
“Wait, you don’t need to breathe, but does that mean 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, seemingly gratified by the attention.
“I don’t know anything about that. It’s just who I am.”
At this point, Jeana spoke up.
“You know, Mira’s never actually watched anyone use their gifts. Would you like to see a demonstration? Is that ok, Mert?”
The old man shrugged, politely keeping any judgments about Jeana’s parenting to himself.
“How about I just lie on t
he ground here. Does that work for you?”
Jeana moved beside the old man, who lay flat on the ground with his eyes closed. She knelt down to look at him. Then she looked up at Mira. She had a curious look on her face, like the man was where she should be. Jeana softly pressed her hand against his forehead, letting her fingers lightly drag down his temples to his cheek. Suddenly, she hopped up and took her place next to her daughter. Mira, squinting, hadn’t detected any change in him at all.
“He looks dead,” she noted.
“Well, you might expect that from a man who doesn’t have to breathe,” Jeana replied.
***
The pair continued on 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 of the walls had an image of a crescent moon amidst clouds that was at once beautiful and confusing. Colored glass hung from their roofs, which caused 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 from the center of town. People of all shapes and sizes milled about in the streets. They slowly joined the growing congregation.
“Look over there,” Jeana said, gesturing to the left. “That’s Corey Outpost, named after the village elder. This is our town.” 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, storing supplies. Lots of things. Important meetings are held there when officials visit from the capitol. If there’s an emergency, that’s where people go.”
Signs of a large gathering diverted their attention. 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 both 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.