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joegodaTalking away
I don't know what I'm to say
I'll say it anyway
today's another day to find you
Shying away
I'll be coming for you love O.K.
Take on me
Take me on
I'll be gone
in a day or two
So needless to say I'm odds and ends
But that's me, stumbling away
Slowly learning that life is O.K.
Say after me
It's no better to be safe than sorry.
Take on me
Take me on
I'll be gone
in a day or two.
The things that you say
Is it live or just to play
My worries away
You're all the things I've got to remember
You shying away
I'll be coming for you anyway
Take on me
Take me on
I'll be gone
in a day or two
The music played softly in the background as they talked. He sat in his easychair, wearing plaid shirt and jeans, black tabi shoes, watching her. He could see that her pupils were dialated, and her nostrils were slightly flaired. The scent of pheromes drifting through the air caught his attention, and triggered the automatic 'Uh Oh' alarm in his head.
She, red-headed cropped just above the ears, and dressed in blue blouse, short jean skirt, and white sneakers sat across from him on the sofa, facing him. Her legs were crossed at the knee with the infoot pointed in his direction. She appeared to be listening attentively and asking all the right questions. Questions about his childhood, of which he didn't have much, where he went to school, what he remembered about his parents. All the typical interview questions people ask when they are want to seem genuinely interested in your life.
"So," she continued, "your dad figured out that you were the center of all this.. probability stuff. Did he ever try to make you use it for what he wanted?"
"No," he replied. "Dad was actually very apologetic about it. He was smart enough to know that it was his genetic material that had carried over to me. He was very big about trying to teach me what to watch out for, the things that could trigger the reactions. We figured out that it was desire, just the simple act of wanting something that would sometimes trigger the thing. Not little things, like I want a glass of water, but big things.. the 'What if" things. See, if I wanted a glass of water, it more probable for me to just get up and get one, rather than the probabilities being manipulated so that one would just pop up in front of me."
"But what about when you were a baby? You said that things just appeared" Her right shoulder turned a bit more towards him
"That's true," he answered. "See, a baby is nothing but desire, and strong desires. A desire to be fed, a desire to be warm, a desire to be dry. Not a lot of heavy duty what iffing going through their little heads. For a baby, it's not a matter of what if, it's a matter of 'Right now'. That's what triggered those incidents."
"Oh. Well, that makes sense, I guess.", she said. "So, what happened when you got older? Did you learn to control your desire?"
He sighed. He could tell what was coming soon. "Well, not exactly. On the day my dad took me for a ride, telling me that he knew what was going on, he took me to a little place way in the country. It looked like a farm, and there were growing things, so it might as well have been one. There were horses around and a lake you could fish on. Dad told me that it was a special school for kids like me and that he had already enrolled me in it. I, of course, didn't want to leave my house, my friends, and I started crying. He told me that it was a good place and that they would let me come home every weekend. It was a lie, but it was a good lie. I calmed down, got enrolled and spent the next 9 years at The Farm, being poked and prodded, questioned and tested. They taught me quite a bit about control. Like my father, they had no idea where it came from, and even the MRI mapping of my brain didn't tell them a thing. Let me show you one of the tricks they did teach me. I call it 'The Penny and the Ice Cube'" He reached in his jeans and pulled a penny from his pocket. "Put your glass of water on one edge of the table"
She did, and then he said "Call heads or tails" and flipped the penny into the air. "Tails", she called out.
The penny flipped end over end, reached the topmost climb and started back towards the table. At the same time, the glass of water started to steam a bit, and frost began to form on the outside. The penny continued it's decent and just as it was about to hit the table, stopped about a quarter of an inch above it, and floated there, neither heads nor tails, but on edge. The water in the glass had frozen completely.
She sat there for a long time, mouth open. Then she said "..um.. how long will it stay like that?"
"Beats me." he shrugged. Once the improbabilities are set in motion, they tend to stay in motion. I mean, you can pick the penny up, flip it again, and it'll hit the table and act like a regular penny. It is a regular penny, but right now, there is a very small high pressure bubble of air underneath it that is holding it up from the table. It was something I learned at the Farm. By focusing, I can cause the air to thicken, form bubbles, or move around. I just have to have something to create a balancing improbability in, like the glass of water."
"Good for parlor tricks", she said, "but what were they training you for?"
"Assasination, espionage.. that sort of thing"
"You're kidding!", she said, leaning forward, elbows on knees, looking at the penny.
"No, really. The Farm is a quasi-governmental operation, just like King wrote about. It doesn't exist, least as far as the rest of the world knows. Now, it doesn't exist at all.. burned to the ground. Or at least I thought it didn't exist... apparently, it started back up, and they've found out where I am. Which means that my life is now in danger, and so is yours."
"Whoa.. my life?", she asked, eyes growing big.
"Yeah. Just knowing me is a trip, ain't it? If there was someone watching that botch attempt to kill me, then they know you came home with me. That means that it would be best if you go home, forget you ever met me, and got on with your life."
"I don't know if I can do that", she answered, "I mean.. this is all kinda unforgettable, you know?"
"You can do it," he said, "I have faith in you." He stood up, held out his hand. "So let's get you out of here, before something happens, Ok?"
"You're sure I'm in danger?", she asked as she stood up. She was apparently dissapointed to be shoved out so quickly.
"Yep, I'm sure. They killed my parents, so I doubt it would be a big deal for them to get rid of you."
"Well that's rather cold.", she sniffed, put off by his matter of factness.
"Sorry. Really and truely, I just don't want anything to happen to you. I mean, it's not that I'm not attracted to you, I am, and yes, if the world were different, I'd like to see you again. Unfortunately, I don't see that right now." He opened the door.
"Sure I can't stay on your couch, just for the night?", she asked, trying one more time.
"I'm sure. I'd hate to wake up and find a dead you on my sofa"
"Maybe sometime, then?", she put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.
'She just doeesn't quite get it', he though. "Maybe.. if I quit being hunted and the world forgets that I even exist, you bet. Have a good life, and if we see each other again, say hi, ok? If you remember me, that is."
"Uh.. ok." She kissed him on the cheek, trying for his lips, but he turned his head. "I'll remember you, I'm pretty sure, don't you worry about that." Now she was upset. She'd never been brushed off so quickly or turned away so fast. Why, he didn't even appear to notice all of her come-ons. Angrily she stomped down the stairs and out of sight.
He closed the door behind her, crossed to his chair and sat down. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, saying 'Thank God that's over' to himself, and unfocused his eyes. His mind, on the other hand, focused razor sharp.
On the table, the penny started to smoke and the frozen glass started to mist. Very quickly, in a matter of seconds, the ice in the glass had turned to water, the penny had started to turn orange and was doing the penny squeal that shows it was under extream pressure. At the same time the penny started to scream, outside of his windows there was a squeal of tires and a short woman's scream. The glass shattered, and the penny finished it's delayed drop to the table, unrecognisable as a glob of melted copper.
Three days later, the newspapers would report that Barbara Sutter had recovered from the coma she had been in. She had been struck by a van, as she crossed the street, and knocked unconsious. When she woke up, she could remember nothing about the entire night, nothing about where she'd been, what she'd done, or even the accident.
A man sitting at home, read the article, buried deep in the papers. He tore out that particular article, walked over to his bookshelf, took out an old scrapbook and placed the torn page inside. "Leaving no witnesses, eh, David?", was all he said, before going back to his chair, his pipe, and his tea.
