Broken Realms (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 1)

by Moneypenny, D. W.

  “Sam, what other abilities did your sister demonstrate?” Ping asked.

  “She moved stuff around and blew stuff up. That was mostly it. I never saw her create any purple tigers, although I’m sure she would have been too embarrassed to admit it, if she did.”

  “Moved stuff around? How did she do it?” Mara asked.

  “You saw her on the plane. She pointed at you and threw you into the door, remember? Oh, and remember me sliding up the aisle on my butt? That was her.”

  “How did she learn to control her abilities? Who taught her about them?”

  “I don’t think anyone taught her. She just figured it out when she was young.”

  “And she blew stuff up. How did she do that?”

  “She picked something and concentrated on it and ka-boom, it would explode into a million pieces.” His arms flew up and expanded over his head. “You think you can do it?”

  Mara smiled and grabbed the basketball that sat next to Sam’s knee.

  “No, not that! Don’t blow up my basketball. I just got it.”

  “We’re not going to blow up anything, are we, Mara?” Ping asked.

  Mara stood up and walked the basketball over to the periphery of the light a few feet from the table that held the projector. She bent over, put it on the ground and turned around. “I don’t know. Let’s see.”

  “Come on. I’m sorry I made fun of your tiger,” Sam said.

  Mara sat back down on her mat. “If it actually blows up, I’ll buy you a new one. Deal?”

  He shrugged. “Cool, go for it. But I have a game tomorrow afternoon.”

  Mara nodded and turned to stare at the orange ball for a moment, then closed her eyes. She kept its image in her mind’s eye, focused on it. After a moment the basketball luminesced, and then its rays expanded to fill her field of vision. It surrounded her. She was inside the orange glow. She smelled rubber, sensed the ridges of its black lines slicing through the light. She reached out and touched it, felt the texture of its skin, its tautness, the pressure of air pushing to get out.

  “Uh-oh, something’s happening,” Sam said, cringing and holding his hands over his ears.

  Mara opened her eyes. The glowing basketball jittered, vibrated. Its shaking intensified and lifted it off the cement floor, erratically rising three feet, jerking back and forth as if something inside struggled to get out. Continuing to quake, it began to spin, turning into an orange blur. She could make out a faint rubbery squeaking noise. The basketball expanded, its glow intensified, then contracted and dimmed, over and over, like it was wheezing. Jiggling and spinning and wheezing.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Blow it up!” Sam said.

  Mara closed her eyes, saw the image in her mind again, tried to focus on it. She couldn’t quite get it. All she could see was a bright blur. All she could hear was the wheeze. She concentrated on the orange smudge and willed it to stop. A loud squeal, like a balloon being twisted, echoed throughout the warehouse.

  “Whoa, what did you do to it?” Sam asked.

  She opened her eyes. An indistinct orange smear hung in the air, unmoving.

  Sam got up from his mat and ran over to it. He circled it, leaning forward examining it. As he passed behind it, Mara could make out his silhouette. The blob was semitransparent, still a fuzzy orange with some spots of black mixed in, but translucent, especially along the edges.

  “So what happened? Can you tell?” Ping asked, walking over.

  “She made it all blurry,” Sam said. “It’s the basketball, but it’s suspended and out of focus.”

  “Look along the edges,” Ping said. “It’s all jagged.”

  Sam reached toward it.

  “Be careful,” Ping said.

  Sam flicked the edge of the blob with a finger. A tiny orange-tinged translucent cube flew toward Mara. It faded into nothingness as it arced in the air, completely disappearing before reaching her.

  “It’s pixels,” Sam said. “She pixelated the basketball. Look, if you squint, you can make out the individual pixels.”

  Mara stood up and joined them. She circled the blob one time and looked at Ping. “That is so strange. What do you think happened?”

  “I’ve no idea. Maybe this realm really is just pixels,” he said.

  “I think blowing stuff up might be more useful. I mean what good is it to be able to make stuff look like a lame webpage?” Sam asked.

  Mara rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. Maybe we can find you an alternate reality with more entertainment value.”

  “The most likely explanation is you are still learning how to translate your thoughts into reality. On the other hand, you did this without using a mechanical device like the radio or the projector, so that’s promising. You can manifest your abilities without relying on a talisman,” Ping said. “Why don’t we have a seat and continue. I think we are finished with our attempts at blowing stuff up for the evening.”

  Ping and Mara walked back to their mats. Sam stood next to the floating remains of the basketball, making no move to return. “What are we going to do with this?” He pointed to the blob. “We can’t just leave it here, can we?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?” Mara asked to Ping.

  “Hmm, interesting question.”

  “I know. Watch,” Sam said, backing up ten feet into the dark, just at the periphery of the lighted portion of the warehouse.

  “Sam, what are you doing?” Ping asked.

  The boy jogged toward the pixelated basketball.

  “Sam, I don’t think that’s a good idea!” Mara yelled.

  He ran up to the blob and flung his right foot at its center. The mass exploded, knocking him to the ground and sending a burst of translucent orange cubes into the air. A wave of compressed air blew past Mara and Ping. After regaining their bearings, they ran over to Sam.

  “Oh, my God, are you okay?” Mara asked, standing over him.

  Sam rolled on the floor and laughed. “I guess you halfway blew it up. You just didn’t finish the job.”

  Ping reached down, grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him up. When he stood, he held out his hands and looked up. He caught shimmering orange cubes sprinkling down from the ceiling. They alighted on his palms and faded away. He swung around and tried to catch some more, but soon it had all disappeared.

  “Well, it kinda looked like snow,” he said.

  “You’re an idiot,” Mara said. “I thought you were hurt or worse.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know it would do that.”

  “You need to think before you act. Maybe it would be a good idea for you not to come around when we are doing this stuff.”

  “I was just trying to help.” His face reddened. He turned, sulked back to his mat and flopped down. “Don’t forget you owe me a basketball.”

  CHAPTER 46

  SAM TURNED HIS mat so he didn’t face Mara and pulled out a textbook from his backpack. He flopped it open on his lap. Mara glanced over at him and was about to say something when Ping raised a hand and shook his head. “Why don’t we return to our discussion?” he asked.

  “I need to talk through some of this progenitor stuff,” Mara said. “What are the rules? What are the limitations to these abilities, beyond my obvious lack of control?” She waved toward where the basketball had been.

  “Rules? What do you mean?”

  “I mean like the laws of physics. There are things that can be done and things that cannot be done, right? Like the speed of light. You can’t go faster than the speed of light. What are the laws of progenitors?”

  “I’m not sure about the speed of light, but progenitors have very few limitations. As I told you before, they can use consciousness to shape reality. Consciousness is the raw material from which everything is made. That raw material is shaped by knowledge, awareness and belief.”

  “So do progenitors have more consciousness than regular people?”

  “No. They can draw on consciousness to shape reality bec
ause of their knowledge, awareness and belief of how things work. Remember the levels of sentience? It’s the knowledge, awareness and belief of the highest level that makes someone have your abilities.”

  “Nonprogenitors, regular people, have knowledge, awareness and beliefs, but at a different level, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “They cannot shape reality.”

  “Individually they cannot. Collectively, people define their reality, their realm, with their knowledge, awareness and belief. For example earlier you mentioned the laws of physics. In this realm the laws of physics are defined by the collective knowledge, awareness and belief of those who live here. What they know and believe organizes consciousness into the laws of physics they ascribe to.”

  “The laws of physics can vary in different realms?”

  “Absolutely. The speed of light may not be the limit it is here.”

  “If reality is determined by the knowledge, awareness and belief of people collectively, how can a progenitor single-handedly reshape it?”

  “Having a higher level of sentience allows a progenitor to change specific things around. You might be able to make a brick float, but you can’t repeal the laws of gravity.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the collective knowledge, awareness and belief of everyone else in this realm has organized consciousness in such a way that gravity is part of it. The only way you could get rid of gravity is to force everyone in this realm to believe it doesn’t exist.”

  “Make everyone change their minds.”

  “And you can’t do that, at least not using a metaphysical power. People have free will.”

  “What about prompters, like Sam here? He changes people’s minds.” She pointed to his back. He snapped a page forward and looked out into the dark as if he had some deep academic matter to ponder.

  Mara smirked at Ping.

  “That ability is limited to a few specific people at a time, at most. And as you have seen, its effects are temporary,” Ping said.

  “I’m still not sure I get it.”

  “Give it time. You obviously have some insight into how all this comes together, or you wouldn’t have the abilities you have.”

  “So help me understand how this helps. What do we do about this pretender who’s lurking around? He’s still after the Chronicle. And what about the other passengers from the flight? Some of them could be dangerous. Do we just sit around and wait to be attacked?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. If we simply take a defensive stance, we might be more vulnerable. However, we should take some time and let you develop your abilities a little more, build up your confidence, before we get aggressive.”

  Sam snorted. “You could always pixelate him.” He licked a finger, flipped another page.

  Mara rolled her eyes.

  “Also there might be some strategic advantage in letting the pretender reveal himself to us. There are over a hundred passengers from the flight. It would take months to investigate them, and we still might not be able to determine which is the pretender,” Ping said.

  “Why do you think the pretender wants the Chronicle?”

  “I’m not sure. I had assumed he wants to use it to return to his own realm, but, without you to activate it, I would think it would be useless.”

  “Why not just ask me like the Sandovals did? I’d be glad to get him out of here and send him back where he came from.”

  “Perhaps he has an agenda we are not aware of.”

  “That still implies it has some value to him. Are you sure there is no other way to activate the Chronicle?”

  “There are all kinds of myths and legends about the Chronicle of Creation, but one thing is consistent in all of them—only a progenitor can use it to move people metaphysically from one realm to another. That power comes from the progenitor, not the Chronicle itself. The Chronicle is simply a guide and a focusing mechanism.”

  “Well, he wants it for something.”

  Ping looked over at Sam. “What do you think, Sam? Why would the pretender want the Chronicle?”

  “Why are you asking me? I’m just an idiot.” He flipped another page.

  “Look, I’m sorry I called you an idiot. I was upset that you were going to get hurt,” Mara said.

  “So do I have to stay away when you guys are here in the warehouse?”

  “As long as you promise to be careful, you’re welcome to come,” she said.

  “And you’re going to replace my basketball that you pixelized, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What was the question?” He scooted his mat around.

  “What does the pretender want with the Chronicle?” Ping asked.

  “That’s easy. He either wants to go to another realm or help someone from another realm come here.”

  “But how would he do that without a progenitor to activate it?” Mara asked.

  “Now that I can’t answer.”

  “Okay, let’s put that aside for a minute. What about the other passengers? Don’t they have a right to go home if they want? Wouldn’t it be better for them to return to their realms?”

  “I suppose there are some who would want to. On the other hand, like Sam and me, there may be some who want to stay. Either way I don’t think it would be a good idea to advertise that you have the Chronicle and the ability to use it.”

  “What about the passengers who are dangerous? Shouldn’t we do something about them? I mean, you said I was responsible for everyone crossing over. And just for the record, I have a serious issue with that concept considering the pixel-kicker here and his sister were the actual the culprits.”

  “You are the same—” Sam said.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Same person, trying out different scenarios in different realms. Whatever.”

  “Not all mistakes can be undone, no matter who’s at fault,” Ping said. “As I said before, it is not practical for us to find and assess every passenger. Some of them don’t even live in Portland. A few may not even live in the country. These people are part of this realm, for now. I think the best approach is to deal with them as circumstances warrant.”

  “You’re saying this could go on for years.” Mara slumped.

  “It could go on for the rest of our lives,” Ping said.

  “So what do we do in the meantime?”

  “I think we should go to Mount Hood and see the snow,” Sam said. “What’s the point of sitting around here worrying about something that might not even happen?”

  Mara put her head in her hands and closed her eyes.

  “It was just a suggestion. There’s no point in pouting about it. I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  Ping raised a hand. “I think Mara is just tired. We can talk about driving up to Mount Hood later. Maybe we should just call it a night.” A cool draft blew out of the darkness, sending a shiver down his spine. “Besides, it’s getting a little chilly in here.”

  Mara turned her face upward, her eyes still closed. The right corner of her lips turned upward.

  “What are you smiling at?” Sam asked.

  Something dappled the light around them, turning it a crisper shade of blue as subtle shadows fluttered over them. Sam looked up and squinted into the fluorescents and could only see broken rays of azure shining through falling tufts of white and silver, drifting aimlessly toward the floor. He caught his breath. As the first snowflake alighted on his forehead, he exhaled, sending a plume of vapor into the air.

  He jumped to his feet, extended his arms and twirled with his face turned toward the falling snow.

  Mara opened her eyes. The cold air kissed them, and she wiped away a tear. She looked over at Ping who smiled, nodded and held out a hand to catch a flake in the dusting that fell between them. She did the same. A flake landed on her palm and melted. Soon another took its place, then several more.

  The snowfall became steady, dense enough to form eddies and currents in the air as sheets of flu
ff swirled and coiled, formed blankets that whipped into the light from the darkness of the warehouse. Mara felt it blow across her face, sensed the tingle as pins of coldness dissolved on her cheeks.

  She looked down at her legs, still crossed in a lotus position, and realized they were covered. The floor around her was cottony.

  “Look, it’s starting to accumulate,” Sam said, kicking at the floor. He turned and ran into the darkness. “Watch this,” he called back to them. He ran toward them, jumped as soon as he entered the light, landing flat-footed, sliding between Ping and Mara, throwing off a wall of snow in his wake that fell in their laps.

  “Hey! Watch it!” Mara jumped up and leaned over to help Ping stand and dust himself off.

  Sam laughed from the dark on the other side of the classroom where he had slid. “Hey, Mara, come out here for a minute. You’ve got to see this.”

  Mara glanced at Ping with a look of mock exasperation and shuffled through the snow, already several inches deep, leaving parallel furrows as she slid her feet toward the boy in the dark. Sam stood forty feet away from the lit area in the center of the warehouse.

  “What do you want me to see out here in the dark?” she said.

  “Turn around.”

  She looked back at the illuminated center of the warehouse. Dense snowfall filtered and refracted the light into a frosty blue, and softened its edges into an ambient dome over the makeshift classroom. As snowflakes fell from obscurity into the light, they glinted and sparkled, whipped around inside as if riding liquid currents. Ping stood in the middle of it, looking unseeingly toward them, unaware of the tableau in which he stood.

  “It’s like a life-size snow globe,” Sam said.

  “It is kinda cool.” Mara stared for a couple minutes. “Better than blowing something up, you think?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know about that, but it is a lot more fun.” He took off running toward Ping.

  “Watch out, Ping. Here comes trouble.”

  Ping raised his arms to cover his face as Sam slid past, spraying Ping with another wave of snow. Sam stumbled on a snow-covered mat, tried to regain his balance but fell into a roll, spraying slush for several feet until he slammed into the metal cabinet next to the whiteboard.