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joegoda"Ok." she said, propping herself on the edge of his sofa. "What I want to know is how you did what you did back there. I'm supposed to be dead, right? I felt that bullet hit me, hurt like a son of a bitch, too. There's no hole, there's no blood, there's no pain.. no nothing. What the hell did you do?"
He poured a glass of chilled water from the fridge and brought it to her. "Here. Drink this, it'll help. Water gives grounding, and that's kinda what you'll be needing for a bit"
"Thanks", she said, taking the water. "Now.. tell me the story. Who are you and what happened back there?"
"It's a long story.", he said. "Sure you're up to it?"
"Fuckin a skippy I'm up to it. I know you're not an angel, and I'm pretty damn sure you're not some nutty religious miracle worker." She took a big sip, adjusted her skit to hide just a bit more of what it wasn't hiding at all and nodded to him to start. "How come I'm not dead?"
"Ok, deep breath time." He proved it was time, because he took a deep breath, and turned his head to the side, as if searching for something that was far enough away he had to squint to see it. When he turned back to her, his eyes had that far away look that people get when they aren't quite here, and aren't quite back where they used to be.
"Years ago, back when I was a child, I was brought up on a farm. Only this wasn't the sort of farm that has cute little pigs or cows that go moo. This was the sort of farm that raises talents."
"Whoa!" she cried, putting up one hand to stop him. "Stop right there. Talents? Talents like.. what? Like levitation, that sort of talents? I've been around a bit, you know.. I've read my Steven King." He grew a smile on his face, sad and small, but it caused her to think, 'You know.. he's not half bad, if he'd smile more', then she pushed that thought away, coming back to the now.
"Yeah, it was sorta like that. In fact, it was a whole lot like that. The only reason King's still alive is that nobody believed it. Just like nobody believes the story he tells about the 1950's experiments dealing with LSD and college students." The smile faded to be replaced by that empty face he wore. "My dad was one of those college students. He didn't show any great talent after the experiment, so they just figured he got one of the placebos. Fact was, the talent didn't show up till me, and I was an accident."
"Accident?"
"Yeah. Mom got pregnant, Dad married her, I was born 3 months later. I'm sort of a half bastard."
"Happens a lot, you know," she said "I wouldn't let it bother me."
"It generally doesn't, unless someone asks me to explain it." She look away, embarrassed. "Anyway," he continued, "I developed this talent not long after I was born. I would want something.. stuffed toy, needing to be fed.. something, and it would just... appear. Just like it was there all the time and that's the way it was supposed to be"
"What? You mean you just called it over or something?", she asked with eyebrows raised.
"No, it was nothing that simple" He paused a long time. The only sound was the swoosh of the air conditioner and the thump of the refrigerator doing it's thing. "I mean at first, my parent's didn't even notice it. Small things just tend to move around every so often and it's easy to forget if you gave the baby his teddy or not. No.. it took a while before my father figured it out. See, there are things that happen.. leaky faucets, wrong numbers on the phones, perfectly good tires blowing out. All very normal, happens every day. Except we had more than our share of these things. For a while, my parents joked that if all the bad luck in the world were to congregate, it must have congregated at our house. Odd thing was, there was just as much good luck, too. We never wanted for food, shelter, all those things, and they just came easy to us. At the same time, the oddest things would happen. Like I said.. tires would blow, faucets would leak, picture glass would suddenly shatter. When I was old enough to know what a lottery was, we won the lottery three months straight. I gotta take a leak." He got up and went down the hallway to the small bathroom.
"So... what was it your dad figured out?" she said, calling out to him.
"He started to recognize a pattern to these things. Something good would be followed by something not quite as good. Or, something good would be followed by something else good.", his voice floated back down the hall to her. He reappeared and continued, "Dad was a very smart man. Majored in physics and chemistry and engineering all and that stuff. What he noticed was the pattern, odd things happening, followed by odd things happening. Never one odd thing by itself."
Now, when I say odd thing, I'm not talking about walking on the ceiling or anything like that. No two headed cats or fish raining from the sky. Just your ordinary odd things. Do you follow what I'm saying?"
She nodded. "I think so, yeah. Like the brand new tire blowing out, or winning the lottery three months in a row. Not really odd things, just ordinary odd things."
"Yep... that's what he figured out. He traced it back to me, of course. He figured that when ever something happened, I was at the center of it somehow or other. He and mom might have been talking about wanting or needing something, or I might want something to happen, and sure enough, it would happen. He traced the pattern back to me."
"One day.. I think I was about 8, maybe a little bit less, he took me for a ride in the country. He told me what he figured was going on, that he figured I manipulated probabilities, or potentials. Course, he used different words, something I could understand, sort of. I didn't really understand till I had spent some time at the farm."
"What I do is this: Let's say there's a bullet. And it is shot at.. oh, I don't know.. say me. But on it's way to try to hit me, it passes through a body..."
"Like me.", she said.
"...like you. Frankly, this upsets my idea of fairness in the universe, that someone else should take a bullet for me just ticks me off, especially when they have no reason to."
"Imagine how I felt.", she interjected.
"Oh, I do. I've been shot and hit about 5 times now. Doesn't stop it from happening again. Anyway. What I did was increase the probability that the bullet missed you, rather than hit you."
"But it did hit me!", she cried. "I remember it, I felt it, I know what it felt like."
"Yes, and you would, because it was subjective. You lived it, so you remember it. To the rest of the world, it didn't happen. The bullet passed by you and embedded itself into the guy that shot it in the first place. How that happened.. well.. I'll leave that for the forensic experts to figure out."
"Ok, but how did you do it? How do you manipulate these probabilities?"
"Beats me.", he replied. "It's just like breathing in and out to me. It's as if I can see what might happen as well as what could happen, and then what is happening, and somehow I can choose which one becomes true. There is a catch, though"
"Balance.", she said.
"Exactly. Apparently for me to change the potential in one event, I have to 'borrow' from the potential of some other event. Odd things happen. Watch the news, see what happened that was strange tonight."
"Besides me being shot, you mean?"
"That'll never show up on the news, because it never happened. Except to you, me, and the guy that can't tell anybody anymore, cuz he's dead."
"Your life must be pretty complex at times.", she said. "Can I get some more water?"
"Be my guest. Second shelf in the fridge.", he waved her toward the kitchen. "Actually, it was pretty simple until today. I figured after the Firestorm incident, it was all over. That was over 15 years ago. Guess I was wrong."
She came back from the kitchen and sat back on the sofa, smoothing her skirt. "I can imagine it gets in the way of your normal life, doesn't it? I mean, how 'bout jobs? Girlfriends... or boyfriends for that matter..." she let it trail off into question marks.
"Ha.", he answered grimly. "Fortunately, I don't need a job. When my parents got killed, I got a very large inheritance. Call it 'luck'. As for relationships, I'm very heterosexual, but believe me, none of them have lasted past the first time my libido gets what it wants."
"Ummmmm.. " she said.
"Imagine the possibilities of having your wildest fantasies come true." He let that sink in. "Now.. imagine what would REALLY happen if your wildest fantasies came true. Or worse, imagine that you are me, not having had a decent relationship, i.e. sex life, in about 6 years. Then imagine what your fantasies would be like."
She thought about it, hard. She was quiet for a long time, sipping her water and thinking.
"Oh my god"
"Exactly", he said.
He poured a glass of chilled water from the fridge and brought it to her. "Here. Drink this, it'll help. Water gives grounding, and that's kinda what you'll be needing for a bit"
"Thanks", she said, taking the water. "Now.. tell me the story. Who are you and what happened back there?"
"It's a long story.", he said. "Sure you're up to it?"
"Fuckin a skippy I'm up to it. I know you're not an angel, and I'm pretty damn sure you're not some nutty religious miracle worker." She took a big sip, adjusted her skit to hide just a bit more of what it wasn't hiding at all and nodded to him to start. "How come I'm not dead?"
"Ok, deep breath time." He proved it was time, because he took a deep breath, and turned his head to the side, as if searching for something that was far enough away he had to squint to see it. When he turned back to her, his eyes had that far away look that people get when they aren't quite here, and aren't quite back where they used to be.
"Years ago, back when I was a child, I was brought up on a farm. Only this wasn't the sort of farm that has cute little pigs or cows that go moo. This was the sort of farm that raises talents."
"Whoa!" she cried, putting up one hand to stop him. "Stop right there. Talents? Talents like.. what? Like levitation, that sort of talents? I've been around a bit, you know.. I've read my Steven King." He grew a smile on his face, sad and small, but it caused her to think, 'You know.. he's not half bad, if he'd smile more', then she pushed that thought away, coming back to the now.
"Yeah, it was sorta like that. In fact, it was a whole lot like that. The only reason King's still alive is that nobody believed it. Just like nobody believes the story he tells about the 1950's experiments dealing with LSD and college students." The smile faded to be replaced by that empty face he wore. "My dad was one of those college students. He didn't show any great talent after the experiment, so they just figured he got one of the placebos. Fact was, the talent didn't show up till me, and I was an accident."
"Accident?"
"Yeah. Mom got pregnant, Dad married her, I was born 3 months later. I'm sort of a half bastard."
"Happens a lot, you know," she said "I wouldn't let it bother me."
"It generally doesn't, unless someone asks me to explain it." She look away, embarrassed. "Anyway," he continued, "I developed this talent not long after I was born. I would want something.. stuffed toy, needing to be fed.. something, and it would just... appear. Just like it was there all the time and that's the way it was supposed to be"
"What? You mean you just called it over or something?", she asked with eyebrows raised.
"No, it was nothing that simple" He paused a long time. The only sound was the swoosh of the air conditioner and the thump of the refrigerator doing it's thing. "I mean at first, my parent's didn't even notice it. Small things just tend to move around every so often and it's easy to forget if you gave the baby his teddy or not. No.. it took a while before my father figured it out. See, there are things that happen.. leaky faucets, wrong numbers on the phones, perfectly good tires blowing out. All very normal, happens every day. Except we had more than our share of these things. For a while, my parents joked that if all the bad luck in the world were to congregate, it must have congregated at our house. Odd thing was, there was just as much good luck, too. We never wanted for food, shelter, all those things, and they just came easy to us. At the same time, the oddest things would happen. Like I said.. tires would blow, faucets would leak, picture glass would suddenly shatter. When I was old enough to know what a lottery was, we won the lottery three months straight. I gotta take a leak." He got up and went down the hallway to the small bathroom.
"So... what was it your dad figured out?" she said, calling out to him.
"He started to recognize a pattern to these things. Something good would be followed by something not quite as good. Or, something good would be followed by something else good.", his voice floated back down the hall to her. He reappeared and continued, "Dad was a very smart man. Majored in physics and chemistry and engineering all and that stuff. What he noticed was the pattern, odd things happening, followed by odd things happening. Never one odd thing by itself."
Now, when I say odd thing, I'm not talking about walking on the ceiling or anything like that. No two headed cats or fish raining from the sky. Just your ordinary odd things. Do you follow what I'm saying?"
She nodded. "I think so, yeah. Like the brand new tire blowing out, or winning the lottery three months in a row. Not really odd things, just ordinary odd things."
"Yep... that's what he figured out. He traced it back to me, of course. He figured that when ever something happened, I was at the center of it somehow or other. He and mom might have been talking about wanting or needing something, or I might want something to happen, and sure enough, it would happen. He traced the pattern back to me."
"One day.. I think I was about 8, maybe a little bit less, he took me for a ride in the country. He told me what he figured was going on, that he figured I manipulated probabilities, or potentials. Course, he used different words, something I could understand, sort of. I didn't really understand till I had spent some time at the farm."
"What I do is this: Let's say there's a bullet. And it is shot at.. oh, I don't know.. say me. But on it's way to try to hit me, it passes through a body..."
"Like me.", she said.
"...like you. Frankly, this upsets my idea of fairness in the universe, that someone else should take a bullet for me just ticks me off, especially when they have no reason to."
"Imagine how I felt.", she interjected.
"Oh, I do. I've been shot and hit about 5 times now. Doesn't stop it from happening again. Anyway. What I did was increase the probability that the bullet missed you, rather than hit you."
"But it did hit me!", she cried. "I remember it, I felt it, I know what it felt like."
"Yes, and you would, because it was subjective. You lived it, so you remember it. To the rest of the world, it didn't happen. The bullet passed by you and embedded itself into the guy that shot it in the first place. How that happened.. well.. I'll leave that for the forensic experts to figure out."
"Ok, but how did you do it? How do you manipulate these probabilities?"
"Beats me.", he replied. "It's just like breathing in and out to me. It's as if I can see what might happen as well as what could happen, and then what is happening, and somehow I can choose which one becomes true. There is a catch, though"
"Balance.", she said.
"Exactly. Apparently for me to change the potential in one event, I have to 'borrow' from the potential of some other event. Odd things happen. Watch the news, see what happened that was strange tonight."
"Besides me being shot, you mean?"
"That'll never show up on the news, because it never happened. Except to you, me, and the guy that can't tell anybody anymore, cuz he's dead."
"Your life must be pretty complex at times.", she said. "Can I get some more water?"
"Be my guest. Second shelf in the fridge.", he waved her toward the kitchen. "Actually, it was pretty simple until today. I figured after the Firestorm incident, it was all over. That was over 15 years ago. Guess I was wrong."
She came back from the kitchen and sat back on the sofa, smoothing her skirt. "I can imagine it gets in the way of your normal life, doesn't it? I mean, how 'bout jobs? Girlfriends... or boyfriends for that matter..." she let it trail off into question marks.
"Ha.", he answered grimly. "Fortunately, I don't need a job. When my parents got killed, I got a very large inheritance. Call it 'luck'. As for relationships, I'm very heterosexual, but believe me, none of them have lasted past the first time my libido gets what it wants."
"Ummmmm.. " she said.
"Imagine the possibilities of having your wildest fantasies come true." He let that sink in. "Now.. imagine what would REALLY happen if your wildest fantasies came true. Or worse, imagine that you are me, not having had a decent relationship, i.e. sex life, in about 6 years. Then imagine what your fantasies would be like."
She thought about it, hard. She was quiet for a long time, sipping her water and thinking.
"Oh my god"
"Exactly", he said.
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ok, I'm hooked...
Date: 2005-06-12 11:19 am (UTC)another chapter
Date: 2005-06-15 06:07 am (UTC)More.