Thinking of how the little creature skipped across the forest and clearing floor when it came to him, he had an idea. “Skitter,” he said. “How about I call you Skitter?” As he said this, he sent images of the creature itself skittering across the ground, coming toward Sam.
The creature looked up again, narrowed its expressive eyes in thought, and then clucked contentedly, all the while sending Sam feelings of agreement…and something else. Was that humor? Shaking his head, he petted the creature gently. “Skitter it is. I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.” But Skitter was already dozing, emanating feelings of safety and contentment.
After sitting and petting the napping creature for as long as it took him to recount his experiences in the last—how long was it? Three hours, according to his watch—he made a decision. Projecting images of home to his little companion, he stood. Skitter, obviously understanding his sendings, chittered softly and bounded into the vegetation. Sam watched his new friend disappear and then turned to go back into his house. He had decided on his course of action and now all that remained was to try out his theory.
He went inside and seated himself comfortably in his meditation room again, then slipped easily into a regular breathing pattern, and felt the familiar calm settle over him. Again visualizing the single atom, he progressed through the same process as earlier, doing so more quickly because of his newfound familiarity with it. When he neared the point at which his entire body was vibrating, he modified his oscillations to match those he had started with earlier in the day. Control felt easier than the first time, and when he felt that the oscillations were correct, he felt a slight lurch and opened his eyes.
Sam rushed out the door, through the house, and into the street. He was pleasantly surprised that his neighborhood was back, complete with neighbors walking and children playing. Nodding his head slightly, he resolved to continue experimenting with this new experience after he finished with his work shift.
His work shift! Sam hated being late, but he had spent hours on his journey. His watch displayed the time like an accusation. It was nearly 3:00 PM. His shift started at 3:00! He sprinted to his bedroom and began changing clothes quickly when he noticed the clock on his nightstand. It displayed the time as 10:59 AM. Puzzled, he picked up his cell phone from the dresser and checked the time. Scratching his head, he realized that the clock was correct; it was only now turning 11:00 AM. Apparently the time spent in that other place, wherever that was, didn't take any time from this place, though he was there for hours. For a moment, he thought that he had gone insane. He shook his head again, wondering at the implications, and then set about eating and preparing to go to work, resolved to unravel this great mystery into which he had landed himself.
Skitter was afraid when he first saw the creature. Though it did not look like the great shaggy four-legged animals that hunted him and the rest of his community, it was rather large and scary. How did it balance on only two appendages that way?
“Skitter” was not his name, of course. Citizens had no need of names when they could communicate directly, mind to mind, with pictures and feelings that were more accurate than any words could be. Even the term “words” was confusing to Skitter. When the term came unbidden to his mind during the connection with the strange creature (the descriptor “man” was in his mind from the contact), it did not make sense. Even the label “Citizen” was something taken from the man’s mind and not something he had ever thought of before. It seemed to fit, though. He was a member of his group, his “community” (another word from the man), and the word seemed to indicate the free flow of cooperative efforts carried out in the community. Words. What an interesting concept.
Pictures of lines on a thin material made from trees flashed through his mind, but along with it, the idea of a means of communication, obviously crude, was connected. Skitter had seen scratchings on stone that looked similar, but had no way of determining if the markings were related. It mattered little, he supposed.
It surprised Skitter when the large object suddenly appeared in the forest. He had been looking in the other direction searching for the succulent roots he loved so much, and when he turned around, the object was there, blocking out some of the sunlight. It was frightening!
Even more surprising was when he felt his mind being filled with images. He looked around for the presence of another Citizen, but there were none near. The images were coming from the man! The communication was crude, such as a very young Citizen would use, but it had the intended result: Skitter saw that the man did not mean him any harm.
On top of the surprise of the communication itself was that Skitter could see and understand things that he never would have otherwise, just by letting memories and knowledge from the man flow into his mind. In this way, he not only learned the difficult concept of “words” or “labels,” but he saw a bit of what the man knew of the world. What was this place in his memories, a place with hard, flat strips on the ground, towering structures, and more of the huge, two-legged creatures than he would have thought the world could contain?
As the man tried in his crude way to send feelings of safety and comfort, Skitter read in his inferior mind that he really did not mean any harm. Had he meant “deception,” a term at first unfamiliar to the Citizen, Skitter would have known. So, he ambled up to the man and mimicked the memories of “pets” he saw in the man’s mind, just to make sure the man did not get scared in his dealings with a superior species.
It seemed to work. The man allowed Skitter to snuffle his hand (what is that action for, anyway?) and then was pleased when the Citizen lay down at the man’s feet. Sending crude messages of contentment, the man started to stroke the fur on Skitter’s head and ears. Surprisingly, it felt good, and he found that his eyes were growing heavy. Content, he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and napped.
When the man squeaked and screeched at him, Skitter was not sure at first what it was doing. Picking up stray thoughts from the man’s mind, though, he deduced that the sounds indicated the way the man communicated. He caught the meaning from the man’s thoughts: he wanted to “name” him. The images of Skitter making his way across the clearing were comical and obviously skewed according to the man’s viewpoint. Could the man not see the perfect mix of grace and caution with which Skitter moved?
“Skitter” was the name the man came up with. It was a descriptive term for how the Citizen moved, at least in the man’s perspective. When Skitter detected that the man was asking him a question, he sent an affirmative thought, finding it entertaining and humorous that the crude creature had to put a label on him. Sarcastically (another great word from the man’s mind) chittering and clucking to mock the man’s sounds, Skitter smirked and laughed inwardly. This strange creature was adorable in its simplicity.
Soon, the man sent more crude images, this time of feelings of home. Skitter realized that the man wanted Skitter to go home for some reason. Perhaps he was going to do something dangerous with that large, unwieldy body of his. Looking up at “Sam”—that was the label the man gave himself—he got up and smoothly and gracefully made his way back into the covering of the bushes.
Skitter watched with curiosity as the odd creature went back into its den. He had never seen, let alone met, a creature such as that, but admittedly, Skitter’s experience was limited to his small colony of Citizens.
What really excited Skitter—yes, he would keep the label because it was interesting to him; he’d never had a “nickname,” or any name at all, for that matter—was that he had communicated with the man. The communication was crude, but it held promise of improvement with practice. The Citizen desired to communicate with the man again and looked forward to doing so.
While thinking on this, watching from the safety of the low-lying vegetation in which he was hunkering, the man’s den suddenly disappeared. No, not suddenly. Skitter detected a slight vibration, a shimmer, just before the entire den disappeared. Very interesting. Skitter hoped the man would return. He would like to le
arn more about this primitive creature.
For now, though, Skitter would have to explain to the community what had just happened. Trembling excitedly, he scuttled through the bushes toward the dwellings of his community.
Chapter 2
Work that night was a blur. Excited about his discovery, Sam moved on autopilot, performing the same tasks he did every day, tasks that were second nature, while his mind was filled with questions about his experience.. He operated his forklift, moving items from one area to another in the warehouse or loading trucks mindlessly. His best friend, Nick, worked the same shift, in a different area of the manufacturing plant. As he repeated the same question for Sam for the third time during lunch break, he stopped talking, snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, and asked: “So, what’s the deal? Are you in love or something?”
Sam shook his head and looked at Nick. “Huh? What? Oh, sorry. I’m a little distracted, have a few things on my mind.”
“Uh-oh,” Nick retorted, “sounds like you have another mystery of the universe that needs solving. What is it this time?”
Laughing, Sam smiled at his friend. “Oh, it’s not a big deal. I’m just trying to figure something out. I’ll let you know if it becomes something interesting.”
Seeming satisfied, Nick shook his shaggy head and turned his attention to his sandwich. Sam reflected that one of the great things about his friend was that he was so laid-back. He would not ask Sam again until Sam was ready to tell him about it. He found it strange that he was reluctant to describe his adventure. It was probably just that he wanted to be sure he experienced what he thought he did before mentioning it, that he didn’t imagine the whole thing. Yeah, that was it.
Looking over at his friend, he marveled how much he had changed over the years they had known each other. It used to be that Nick was the smaller of the two, the skinnier one. It was definitely different now. At least three inches taller than Sam’s average 5’10” frame, he was also twice as wide. Not wide as in fat. No, he had very little body fat. He was fit and strong and just…well, large. His long black hair sat on his skull like a very dirty mop and Sam thought that he could only remember maybe three or four times he had ever seen it neatly combed. Hmmmmm. Senior pictures, prom, when their friend Tim got married…and…nope, that was it. He just wasn’t one for primping…or combing…or expending any effort on his looks in general.
Sam, unlike Nick, was slightly built. He wasn’t really skinny, but he wasn’t beefy either. Virtually everything about Sam was just plain. For someone who was not really “normal,” his look was definitely just that: normal.
He, again contrasting with Nick, normally kept his sandy blonde hair short. It was not for reasons of style that he did this. He simply found that it was more practical. He wore a hard hat at work and didn’t like having to constantly comb his hair. He didn’t have to do much of anything with it when it was really short. He tried to explain that to Nick and suggested he do the same with his hair, but Nick always just shrugged his massive shoulders and said: “Yeah, maybe one of these days.”
Sam felt lucky to have Nick as his friend, essentially his only friend. Sam Sharp was never one to have a large group of friends, and Nick was the one constant in his social life, such as it was.
He still remembered, vaguely, when his father died. Flashes of people he couldn’t remember clearly hugging him and telling him how sorry they were. His memories had a gap after that, taking up the story next with watching the movers packing up the truck with everything he had and then he was watching as his mother was driving, and driving, and driving. All the while he napped, constantly clutching the one thing he had saved from the packing, his little statute of the bald, cross-legged man.
The memories got clearer after that. He started school and met the skinny little boy who became his best friend, his only friend. He felt disconnected and alone, but that soon developed into a solitary personality that thrived without extensive social interaction. His mother, gradually over the years, became more social, but never as active as his brief and occasional flashes of memory from before his father’s death. Close relationships just were not part of life for his tiny family.
The simple fact was that Sam didn’t really see a need to implicitly trust and rely on others. He was content with his solitary activities, with doing the things he loved without all the baggage that comes with letting someone into his private world. He just didn’t fit into any of the groups of “normal” people, so why exert energy to try to do so?
It was ok, though he had always felt as if his life should hold something more for him, something more important than working at a manufacturing plant. One day he might find a place where he fit in, where he felt comfortable. For now, Nick provided a bit of that, but Sam was not keen on relying on anyone too much, not even Nick.
“So,” Nick said around the piece of sandwich he had stuffed firmly into his mouth, “what are the plans for this weekend? What exciting things are we going to be doing?”
“Um…” Sam started.
Nick sighed loudly. “Don’t tell me. You haven’t really thought about it and don’t really have any idea about how to spice up another dull weekend. One of these days, my friend, we definitely need to get a life, and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.’ Well, if you come up with something, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll just go and hang out with Stacy all weekend.”
“I’ll try to figure something out and let you know. Oops, time to get back to it. Talk to you later.” As they went back to their respective work areas, all Sam could think about was repeating his earlier adventure. Ideas were forming in his head and he was dying to try them out.
Throughout his work shift that night, Sam kept thinking about his experience. What was that place he had gone to? How did he get there, really? What was that creature he met and how was he able to communicate with it like that?
He had spent his whole life trying to find answers to all the mysteries and questions he could find, but all of that was nothing compared to this. Was he going insane? He didn’t feel different, but what if he just imagined it all. It was all so overwhelming.
He decided to try to stop thinking about it and just finish up with his work. There would be more than enough time later to figure things out. He was only marginally successful.
His shift finally ended, and he was too anxious to sleep. After saying goodnight to Nick, he headed home to take a shower and think. What should he do? Should he go back to that place, if it was in fact a place at all? Was it just his imagination? He would never be able to sleep until he investigated further.
Sam changed into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt after his shower and headed to his meditation room. Going past the full length mirror in the hall, he looked at his reflection. His close-cropped sandy blonde hair was just getting long enough to stick out in some places and lie down in others. He would have to start using gel soon to sculpt it up into his sort of faux-hawk hairstyle. Either that or cut it shorter again.
Fair of color, Sam supposed that some would find him good-looking. With a normal nose, not too long and not too flat, and a jaw that was just strong enough to look manly, but not chiseled and movie hero-like, his angular features made him look strong, but not too hard. His penetrating gray eyes were intense but expressive, if others were to be believed. His mouth, which liked to wear a lopsided smile that made him look like he was up to something, had slight lines on the edges, probably because he smiled and laughed so much.
His body was fit, slender but still a bit more muscular than the average guy on the street. People remarked on his perfect posture (mostly his mother), and his coordination was good so he moved with a certain grace and agility. Overall, he liked how he looked. He didn’t think he was anyone’s dream guy, but a few girls over the years had told him he was “very desirable.” Whatever that meant.
Why had he never acted on that, the girls who told him of their interest? He’d had some girlfriends, all briefly, but it never really seemed ri
ght or comfortable for the long-term. He just figured that they would move on when they tired of him, and he was mostly right, though perhaps it was simply a self-fulfilling belief. Anyway, that was neither here nor there. He had some experimenting to do, so he’d better get to it. Winking at himself in the mirror and chuckling at his antics, he headed though the door to his meditation room. Even if it all ended up being some kind of dream, at least he would become more relaxed so he could sleep.
After more than an hour of trying to recreate exactly what he did before he found himself in the other place, Sam started to get frustrated that nothing seemed to be happening. He was sure he would know by the strange feeling he had if he had succeeded in his traveling, but he still went to the front door, opened it, and peeked out two times, only to be disappointed at the sight of his familiar quiet, dark street.
What was he doing wrong? He had done the same thing, from the total relaxation to the controlled breathing, to the specific atom image he pictured. He just wasn’t able to do what he did before. What was he missing?
Did he actually do it before? He started to doubt himself. Maybe he was going insane after all. Head down, he sighed. Just then, he noticed there on the floor, right next to where he was sitting, several long reddish brown hairs. Though he had a cat, the feline spent most of his time outside. He was not allowed in the meditation room at all, and his fur was short and gray in any case.
Sam picked up one of the hairs, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, considering. He jumped to his feet, sped across the hall to his dirty clothes hamper, and pulled out the pants he was wearing earlier. There, on the right leg of the pants, were many more of the reddish-brown hairs. Right where the creature he met had leaned against him and slept.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 3