by Lisa Lace
"Someone's following me," I said. "I'm in a vehicle."
"Which planet are you on?" came the familiar voice of Miroll, my regular Recorder.
"I don't know. The car is driving itself. Does that help?"
"Did you say a car?"
"Yes, it's a car," I said, feeling mildly annoyed.
"Continue to monitor your surroundings for signs of the location," Miroll's calm voice instructed me through the communications unit I wore behind my ear. "What else do you see?"
"It's night. I'm scared."
"Are you male or female?"
I glanced down at my hands and clothes. I had breasts. There were some things about being a Precog I would never think were normal.
"Female," I said.
"Why are they following you?" she asked gently.
"I don't know. I think someone wants to hurt me."
"Hurt you how?"
"I'm not sure. This sounds ridiculous, but I think they want to burn me."
Miroll continued with her quiet questions. She asked me what I could see and what was happening. She wanted to know the colors, sights, smells, and sounds. Recorders were trained to get as many pertinent details out of Precogs as possible before the vision ended.
"She's important, Miroll."
"Please estimate on a scale of one to ten." We were taught to give the importance of the person in a vision a number.
"Eleven," I said immediately. I could sense Miroll's surprise. "Wait. There's a road sign coming up," I said. As it got closer, I inspected it. The writing was in an unfamiliar language to me. Fortunately, the words were not unfamiliar to this woman's body, and I could understand them in the vision. "Or-land-oh? Ten miles," I said, reading it aloud.
"Spelling please," Miroll's gentle voice requested.
"O-r-l-a-n-d-o. It's sweltering here, Miroll."
"Yes, you've said that..." There was a pause as she counted under her breath. "Five times, sir."
They were going to a police station. She was traveling with a man, and she was afraid of the people in the car behind her.
I felt the woman jump out of the car and sprint for the doors of the police station. Something pinched her neck, and I felt her pass out.
"She's unconscious," I said.
"How did that happen?" Miroll asked, sounding surprised.
In real life, I heard a noise. I crashed back into reality as my girlfriend, Sornalee, walked into my room.
"Hey babe, why are you still awake?" Her voice trailed off when I glared at her. "Were you working?"
She had the grace to look like she was sorry. Being sorry wouldn't bring back the scene in my mind. I hadn't found out why she fell unconscious. The woman might die if we didn't do anything, but now I had no way to learn how she would be knocked out.
"When I receive a Precog, a light activates on my door. That means that you can't come in, Sornalee."
"I know, Airik, I know. I forgot to look."
"I was having a Precog about an important person in a dangerous situation. You interrupted before I could get enough information to save them."
"Oh no." She put a perfectly manicured hand up to her lips. Sornalee was the picture of dismay, but I sensed she was annoyed.
I completed my call with Miroll, but there wasn't much more to say. My vision was gone. Sornalee got into bed with me, but neither one of us could sleep.
When I asked Sornalee to move in, it seemed like it would be perfect. We had been dating for over a year and a half. I thought I knew her. She understood the difficulties and challenges of my job. She was tall, blonde and loved sex. What could go wrong?
As it turned out, everything could go wrong. After a few weeks of living together I realized I had made a terrible mistake with Sornalee. She was terrific in small doses, but I couldn't stand to be around her all the time. Before, I could go home when she started annoying me, or I could hang up the phone, and she vanished in an instant. I could ask her to leave if I needed to work.
Not anymore. Sornalee was a constant presence in my life. She rarely left because she didn't have a job. Her father was independently wealthy. She had a trust fund in her name that provided her with more than enough to survive.
I don't know what she did all day, but she was always home when I needed a break, except for girl's night out. I needed to end this and tell her to move out. I couldn't believe I had been ready to ask her to marry me. That would have been a nightmare - being saddled with her for the rest of my life.
"Sornalee, you know I care about you."
She frowned. "I don't like how this conversation is starting. You're not breaking up with me, are you?"
"I'm afraid we're not working out," I said, shaking my head.
"Is this because I walked in on one of your stupid visions?" she said. "What a waste of time. I can't believe I went out with you. Now I only have six months to find a life partner, thanks to you, Airik. You bastard."
"I was going to ask you to marry me, but I just feel like it would be a big mistake."
"Did you foresee that?" she spat out sarcastically.
I tried to remain calm. "I don't need a vision to tell me the future of our relationship. Do you think we have problems?"
"Of course we do, but I wish you had broken up with me earlier. We're both so close to The Akuna. Now I have to go looking for a mate all over again. It's a pain."
I gazed at her compassionately, wondering how I had ever thought that she and I might be a good match. She was right, though. We were both getting uncomfortably close to The Akuna.
"Sornalee, you're exaggerating. You have at least half a year still. You know there's a two-year minimum for people to choose their life partners. That gives you two years and six months."
"I know," she said, her eyes tearing up a little. "But I have always dreamed of getting married on my Akuna. You know? Like in the story books?"
I sighed.
"I'm sorry, Sorna. I really am."
"So am I," she said, not looking angry anymore. "I'll have a hard time finding a life partner who's as good looking as you are, Airik."
"And as rich," I added as a joke. She took it seriously.
"That too."
I shook my head. Good thing I dodged that bullet. What had I been thinking?
* * *
I walked into a large room filled with Recorders. The area was a disorganized mess. They sat, stood, walked on treadmills, or wandered randomly at will, all while extracting necessary information from their assigned Precogs. I spotted Miroll in a corner throwing a ball against the wall as she talked to another of her Precogs.
I made my way over to her. Recorders who caught my eye waved to me. I waved back and smiled at them though this level of interaction wasn't necessary for someone of my rank.
I rubbed my third eye, which tingled. For thousands of years, the spot had been recognized in spirituality as a place of great significance in the body. We now knew better. The cortex of intuition and precognition — the part of the brain directly beneath the third eye on the forehead — could receive visions of the future.
As I walked to her, Miroll held up one finger, and I patiently waited for her to finish. After a few minutes, she pressed the communications unit behind her ear.
"Hello, Director Buhari. What happened to the Precog?" she asked. I rolled my eyes, still irritated that I had not received the complete vision.
"My girlfriend walked in and startled me out of it, Miroll."
"Oh," she said, looking uncomfortable.
Too much information, I supposed. Being the Director of the Precog Division was a great honor and something I had been striving for my whole life, but it also kept me apart from my people. The separation wasn't something I had anticipated or desired. I pushed my personal thoughts out of my head and focused on the vision.
"Did you pinpoint the location yet?"
She nodded, tapping her temple. I knew she was activating her personal computation device. It was an ocular implant used by knowledge work
ers, allowing her to see a computer screen and access information from huge mainframe computers, all private to her line of sight. She stared at something I couldn't see for a moment and blinked a few times.
"Here it is," she said. "It's on Earth." She looked at me in dismay.
"Earth?" I couldn't believe it.
The planet was one of the most backward and economically disadvantaged in the galaxy. Most civilized species ignored the humans. If we deigned to notice them, it was usually because some do-gooder decided they needed charity or one of them broke a law.
I didn't know why they were allowed to join the Union. Their civilization was barely ready for interstellar contact. In my opinion, they had pockets of social unrest that should have prevented their acceptance. That planet had problems to fix.
"Earth," she confirmed. "Director, have you ever had a vision of someone off-planet before?"
I shook my head. "Never."
"You ranked her significance at eleven?"
"I did at the time. I'm not sure anymore."
"Let's debrief you and see if we can find out more about this Earther."
"Okay," I said. We walked through the buzzing room, and Miroll pulled out a debriefing checklist, a bunch of questions designed to draw out more information about a Precog vision.
"When you think about the woman, the subject of your vision, how do you feel?" Miroll asked.
It was a standard question. I closed my eyes, trying to recapture the feeling of the Precog. When I opened my eyes, I felt my skin heating up, and I was thankful for my dark skin that hid my blush.
"Director?" Miroll said, confused by my hesitation. She repeated the question. "When you think about her, how do you feel?"
I thought momentarily about lying. Most Recorders were empaths, so there was no point in concealing the truth. She would know. It didn't matter whether she called me on it right now or not. She would have to note it on my file. In any event, my integrity was important to me. I would never jeopardize it by lying to prevent a momentary embarrassment in front of my Recorder.
I looked away from her and recited my feelings quickly.
"Love, happiness, and…" I hesitated. This was ridiculous. "Desire."
"Noted." That was the only thing she said, but when I glanced at her, she gave me a speculative gaze. "I will send you a full report in the morning, Director Buhari."
"Thank you, Miroll. Long life."
"Long life, Director."
When I looked back at her, she was reaching up to activate the communications unit behind her ear. There was another Precog coming in already.
As I stopped to put on my coat and hat before I headed out of the government building and back home, I thought about my vision. Why was I dreaming about a woman from Earth? Why did I think she was significant?
When was she going to die?
Chapter 3
QUINN
I wanted to scream. My body wouldn't obey me. I couldn't move, but I was aware of everything happening around me. The pain in my neck spread down my torso, past my thighs, and all the way down to my toes. I didn't know what drug they used on me. I just knew it hurt, and I couldn't move or open my eyes.
"Pick her up and let's get out of here. Nobody inside noticed her collapse."
"What about the old man in the car?"
"Michael's covering him."
I felt someone pick me up and toss me over their shoulder.
Since they hadn't mentioned Dad again, I assumed he was still in the car. That was a bright spot. I didn't want him risking his life for me. I realized now that it was bad enough when I dragged him into my mess with the Sons of the Heavenly Father. I was a grown woman. I should have handled it on my own and left my Dad out of it.
But that was a moot point right now. I had bigger things to worry about, like how to avoid being their next victim.
If they took me away, they were going to kill me. I wondered how they would do it. Burn me, probably. At the stake. It would be funny if I weren't going to die. I couldn't do anything to stop it. I had to see what was going to happen. I could try to save myself when I had control of my body again.
Unless they never let you wake up.
The thought was chilling, and I hadn't considered it before. What if they had drugged me enough to keep me conscious but unable to fight back. And what if they were going to tie me to a stake and burn me alive?
I began to panic. As different thoughts raced through my mind, I felt trapped, and I knew I would make myself crazy. I need to calm down. But what could I do?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
I felt frustration and anger rising in me. The futility of my wasted life hit me like a slap in the face. I realized I had spent over half of my life hiding, and I hadn't truly lived at all.
Now I was going to die.
Rage filled me, and my face began to get hot. Maybe blood was rushing to my head from being carried upside-down.
"Hey, man. There's something wrong with her," the man holding me said, stopping suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"Feel her skin."
Someone touched my hand.
"It's hot. She feels like she's on fire."
"Maybe the witch is sick."
"She won't be sick for long. Don't worry about it. Just keep carrying her. We're almost to the car. When we get where we're going, she's not going to worry about having a fever."
I should have been afraid, I suppose. But I wasn't. I was pissed. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I felt like I was going to boil over with rage, especially since I couldn't unleash my fury on anyone.
"Something weird's going on, Rick. She's sweltering."
"You can't handle a girl all by yourself? Give her to me."
I felt them transfer me, and I got madder and madder. I was little more than an object to these punks.
"You're right. She's scorching hot."
Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. In my mind, I screamed my frustration. My voice never made a sound, but I knew the energy went somewhere.
"She's burning me!" I felt someone drop me on the ground. "I can't carry her like this."
I could feel the night air against the skin of my hands. It didn't feel cold at all. Someone touched my hand.
"Ow! Look at this, Rick. My skin is smoking."
"She is a witch. Here come the cops the cops. We'll have to come back for her another time."
"No way, man. I'm not coming back. They can send a lone assassin to kill her. I'm not risking my life to deal with a real witch."
I heard their footsteps moving away from me. Doors slammed. A vehicle's tires squealed as it sped away.
Some time later I heard my Dad's voice. "Here she is."
I wanted to warn him that something weird was happening, and he shouldn't touch me. I still couldn't move. When he picked me up, he didn't complain about me being hot, or anything like that.
Weird.
I was carried back in an unknown direction. I hoped I was back in my Dad's car. After a long time, my Dad spoke again.
"Phillip, thank God. Please help me carry her in." Phillip was Dad's best friend.
"Justin, what happened?"
"Someone attacked us. No, that's not right. Someone attacked her. I was tied up. That's why I couldn't reach her in time. They drugged her, and she's knocked out."
Not knocked out, I wanted to say, but my body was still unresponsive.
"But what happened?" Phillip asked as they laid me down on the couch. We were probably at Phillip's apartment.
I listened as Dad told our entire story again. Right after they shot me with a dart, another member of their group had tied Dad up in the car. Someone from the police station came out when they saw what was happening on the video feed. They drove off before the police could arrest them. The cops were still searching for my attackers. Dad had taken me to the hospital. They ran tests on me, but the doctor said I wasn't in any danger and just needed to sleep the drug off.
I fel
t Dad tucking me in with a blanket. Phillip suggested they let me sleep. When they went into the kitchen, I couldn't hear any more. Knowing that I was safe, I let myself fall asleep.
* * *
The next morning, my mind felt normal when I woke up. My body felt like I had run a marathon yesterday without any training. My muscles ached, and my movements were leaden. I sat up on the couch but didn't have the nerve to go any farther. While I was still sitting there, trying to find the courage to get off the couch, my father entered.
"Quinn! I'm so glad you're okay. How do you feel? Can you move at all? Does it hurt?"
I put my hand to my neck and felt a bandage where the dart pierced my skin.
"I'm okay, Dad. It's all right. Don't worry. I can move. I'm just sore. I know everything that happened last night."
"I thought you were knocked out," he said, looking puzzled.
"Someone hit me with a dart in the neck. My body felt like it was knocked out, and I looked out of it, but I was still conscious."
"Do you know why they left you?"
I dropped my eyes. "I have an idea."
"What, Quinn? What is it?"
"I think it had something to do with my visions."
"Your visions. What do you mean? Wasn't that why they wanted to take you?"
"I was getting angry. I was furious I was going to die because of these stupid, bigoted jerks. I felt myself getting hot…"
"Like a fever?"
"At first I thought my face was feeling hot because I was in an awkward position. But then something odd happened."
My dad looked at me. He was interested in what I had to say but wasn't judging me.
"I started burning them."
My dad stared at me. "That sounds like an extraordinary gift."
"I know. It was like all my anger converted into heat. They got scared, and then the cops showed up."
"My goodness, Quinn."
"I'm even more of a freak than we thought."
He sighed. "You have to leave Earth," he said slowly. His head and shoulders slumped forward.