Foreseen (The Rothston Series) Page 6

  “How are you feeling today, Kinzie?” I jumped at the sound of Uncle Mark’s cheerful voice as he entered the office. “Are you up for this?”

  “Bring it on,” I answered with a grin.

  Dr. Collier laughed, the same open, relaxed sound I’d heard from him while I was growing up. “This should be interesting. We don’t typically start training with someone at your age,” he said. I could hear the concern edging into his voice.

  “Why is that?” I asked. “Sasha said something too. Like everybody knows they’re adept from the time they’re little.”

  “Generally, yes,” he answered. “We’ve had a few older children, and there are records of occasional adults, but typically, we see it when they are toddlers or not at all. Because you are older, you might find some of this training a little unnerving. But,” he paused and gave me an encouraging smile, “being adept may be easier too, once you’ve tried it and understand what it’s all about.”

  I nodded stiffly, steeling myself to be strong through whatever was coming. “Let’s do it,” I said determinedly.

  The tawny-haired professor-uncle closed the office door, and gestured for me to have a seat before leaning his lanky frame against the front of his desk. “Are you ready?” he asked, picking up a pencil and twiddling it between his fingers.

  I settled back into the office side chair and nodded.

  “Just relax. Close your eyes and steer your mind around the room,” he said in a soothing voice.

  “But …”

  “Try it, Kinzie. Close your eyes and relax.”

  I shut my eyes tightly with my brain jammed on how I was supposed to look around this way. What could I possibly see? I knew this office, but certainly hadn’t memorized its contents. And if I was supposed to use my imagination – well, that had never been my forte. But as my thoughts calmed and my eyes stopped searching the veins on the inside of my eyelids, the details of the office snapped into focus in my head as if I’d lived here for years. Sharp details. The crevices in the tiled floor, the strands of fiber in the Asian rug, the groves in the wood grain of the bookshelves. They had a tangible depth like I could see them, not just remember what they looked like. But it wasn’t like seeing at all.

  “Can you perceive the room?” Uncle Mark asked. I nodded. He waited for a moment then added, “Now, let’s see. Try examining the edge of the desk – as closely as you can. Does it break into small points? They might look like dots?”

  I focused on the rounded trim where the desk was closest to me, but never opened my eyes. It was so clear. The smooth wood grain resolved into low hills and a scratch became a canyon. And still I went closer, down to the microscopic level, and even further, like an electron microscope, seeing the bonded molecules. Inside them to the atoms, the protons, the electrons. And further, until there they were. Not one tiny point, but millions ... billions ... too many to count … bumping against each other, jostling for space. But it wasn’t sight. It was… something else. An awareness. I sat back in surprise, only to find they were everywhere. In the air, in the books, in everything. And they weren’t dots at all. Rather each one was a bubble or a hole or ... a tunnel of sorts, fluidly twisting but solid at the same time. The tunnel grew as I focused on it, and I could see swirling images of the room that shifted down its length. My heart beat wildly with the thrill and I wanted to see more.

  My focus moved to more of the gazillions of tunnels, twisting and shifting, giving everything a turbulent look, like liquid cotton candy. In my head, I could see inside many of these tunnels at once if they were close together. I tried to describe what I saw to my professor, who chuckled at my description.

  “Physicists these days call that quantum foam,” he said. “The nature of time and space. Of course, we’ve known about it for eons. It’s the turbulentia aura, or the turbula, for short.”

  “I see things at the quantum level?” I asked in surprise.

  “You’re aware of it. It’s a different sense. Not like vision.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said as I fell back to marveling at what I perceived with my mind. Quantum foam. The turbula. The indeterminacy of space-time churning away, constantly changing.

  “That’s pretty impressive, Kinzie. I didn’t expect you would accept this so well. Do you want to try more, or would you rather just get used to what you’re seeing now?”

  “Let’s do more,” I answered, feeling my confidence grow. There wasn’t anything strange about this at all. In fact, it seemed natural, like it had always been there if I had bothered to look. My mind briefly pondered why I hadn’t looked at any of this before, when Uncle Mark gave me my next task.

  “Let’s try something more focused. With just your mind, look at something … let’s use this pencil,” he said, setting it down on the desktop. “Try to follow its image through the foam.”

  “Down the tunnels?” I confirmed. “I mean, the turbula?”

  “Yes, but you’ll have to perceive them all together. This won’t be as easy.”

  He was right. I saw the myriad of tunnels making up the pencil and tried to follow them, but points kept dropping out, causing the image to fragment into parallel images rather than a cohesive pencil moving through time. I bit my lip and kept trying.

  “You might have to practice this awhile before you can do it,” Dr. Collier said encouragingly. “Your conscious mind may have a hard time accepting that …”

  I stopped listening when the pencil coalesced in my head. I began moving very slowly down the tunnels. It was a weird experience – seeing the pencil move through time. Seeing the office through the tunnel walls although it wasn’t this office. Or rather it was; it just wasn’t this time. Yet, I remained aware of its present state as well. I watched in the future as the pencil rolled off the desk onto the floor and ... A small “oops” slipped out of my mouth as the minute fragments of the pencil lost their cohesion – splitting off in different directions. The image dissolved, and I squinted trying to understand what I’d seen. Uncle Mark raised his eyebrows in a question.

  “That’s very good,” he said excitedly after I described it. I stared at him in fascination. The dots were in him too. The tunnels. But they were different. Shifting constantly, to the point of being hazy. The desk jostled slightly as he stood up, causing the pencil to roll onto the area rug covering the floor. My eyes went wide. That was what I had seen! I had seen the future!

  Uncle Mark chuckled and patted my shoulder. “That’s a lot further than we expected you to get in one lesson. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said, but my eyes were still glued to the pencil. I’d done it. I actually had seen the future of the pencil then watched it happen. This was all real. Everything they’d told me was true! A grin spread across my face. “This is so cool,” I whispered as I caught my breath.

  Uncle Mark’s hazel eyes crinkled with a grin. “Good work,” he said proudly, “We’ll practice some more, and I’m always around for questions.” He grinned at me again and headed around the desk toward his chair. My eyes dropped back to the pencil, and I flinched, suddenly knowing why its future had dissolved. It was about to break under his shoe.

  “Did you do that?” he suddenly demanded, spinning back toward me.

  “What?” I asked. But a chill ran through me when my eyes searched for the pencil. It wasn’t where it had fallen – where Uncle Mark’s foot now rested firmly on the Asian pattern of the rug. Instead, the pencil lay motionless, five feet away, in front of the bookcase. The man’s brow knotted as he strode over and retrieved it.

  “Did I do what?” I repeated, and he shook his head in answer to some question he hadn’t shared.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I must have kicked it. There is one more thing I need to talk to you about, Kinzie.”

  “Yes?”

  “Your lab report. Some other students saw you writing down results that didn’t happen. Normally, I would fail someone on the lab for that, at a minimum, but under the circumstances, I will give you another
option. I can arrange for you and Sasha to redo the lab on your own time within the next week, and mark you down only one grade level for it.”

  “What?” I gasped, rising from my chair. All the horror scenarios I’d played out in my head yesterday came flying back, and I knew I should be relieved that nothing worse would happen. But instead, outrage filled me. How could I be punished at all? I was adept. They’d be watching for something like this. And it happened. “That’s not fair! I couldn’t help it!” I objected. “And Rex … Rex told me to fake the data. What are you doing to him?”

  “Rex is not a student in my class,” Dr. Collier stated firmly. “You are. And you committed a breach of academic integrity. I can’t let it go with no consequences at all.”

  “But … But how am I supposed to redo it? I can’t stop the same thing from happening again.”

  “As your professor, there is nothing I can do about that,” he told me. “As an adept, all I can say is that you must learn to control yourself.”

  “Fine,” I said, clamping shut my mouth. I should be grateful, I told myself. But it still seemed so wrong.

  ψ

  I sprinted up the stairs to the third floor of Bolt Hall, thoughts swirling in my head. I had to redo my lab. I was mad about that, but it was no big deal, as long as I figured out some way to do it. Maybe I’d have Sasha set up the maze and cover the middle so I wouldn’t know the turns. Then I couldn’t direct the rat. That would work. But I was still pissed at Rex for convincing me to make up data. And just as pissed at myself for listening to him.

  At the top of the stairs, I nearly ran into a couple girls from down the hall. They looked me up and down with a haughty sneer, letting me know I didn’t meet their standards – whatever they were. I wished they wouldn’t do that, but I was starting to get used to it, and right now it didn’t matter. Nor did the psychology lab. I had more important things to think about. I could see the future! As much as I thought I’d accepted the idea of being adept last night, now it was real, and I wanted to know more. What could I do with it? Exactly how did adepts at Rothston keep mankind safe? I rounded the corner of the hall, ready to fly into my room, but skidded to a stop. Rex was leaning against the wall and glanced at me with a practiced nonchalance. My mood fell – I wasn’t ready to deal with him.

  My roommate sat on the floor at his feet, painting her toenails. Her face lit up when she saw me. “How did it go?”

  “We have to redo the lab or take an F on it,” I spat, glaring at Rex. He chuckled like it was funny. “You told me to fake the data. This is your fault, not mine.”

  “Grow up or get out of the way,” he said dismissively. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “I don’t care about the lab. We’ll redo it,” Sasha whined. “Your first training? What happened?”

  “Oh. That was the coolest thing ever,” I told her, deciding to just ignore Rex. Like I should have done on Friday.

  “I know, right?” she laughed as she fanned the fuchsia polish on her toes. “So, were you able to read anything?” She stood up, carefully protecting her wet toenails as she prepared to enter our room.

  “Of course not. She just started,” Rex laughed before I’d had a chance to open my mouth.

  I stabbed him with my eyes as I followed the two of them in. He propped himself against Sasha’s desk while she cooed briefly to the two goldfish on her dresser, Romeo and Juliet. She sprinkled some food into the bowl, then stretched out on her pink tied-dyed bed.

  “I saw a pencil a few seconds into the future, then watched it do exactly the same thing.” I kept my tone factual as I crossed to the desk next to my bed. Sasha sat up with a broad smile, but Rex remained impassive.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “You read the pencil’s future,” he corrected. “You didn’t see it.” This was what our entire date had been like two weeks ago – Rex contradicting anything I said. A total control freak.

  I waved my hand. “So tell me exactly what Rothston has done with these powers,” I asked Sasha, but she didn’t get the chance to answer.

  “We call them attributes. We’re not wizards,” Rex sniffed, correcting my terminology again in an attempt to dominate the conversation. “And we stop wars, protect humanity, and preserve the world order.”

  I flipped some pages of the analytic geometry text in front of me, as I volleyed back. “Big words. Not much meaning,” I pointed out. “I want to know what you actually do.”

  Sasha let out a sharp laugh. “Not a darned thing.” She stretched out on her side again with her head propped on her hand, still mindful of her sticky toenails.

  “Nothing? But you said …”

  “She’s partially correct,” Rex interjected like a line umpire calling a fault. He paced a few steps across the room. “Our mission is to protect humanity. Think about suicide bombers. We could stop them. Or cult leaders. But do we?” Rex asked rhetorically. “No.” I began to ask why, but Rex talked over me. “Rothston is out of date. The world doesn’t work like it did fifty years ago. Technology has changed the pace of information exchange and the need for action. But many of our leaders are old and don’t get that. It needs to change, and it needs new blood in the leadership to do it.”

  I opened my mouth to make a crack about him thinking he should be the new blood – his haughty attitude screamed out that conclusion – but he cut me off again.

  “Enough lecture.” He halted in the middle of the room and glanced between me and Sasha. “We’re going to dinner to celebrate our new colleague.” He stopped and flashed a toothy smile. “Rothston’s treat.”

  “Can you do that?” I asked.

  He smiled arrogantly. “I can do anything I want.”

  I didn’t buy his opinion that adepts did nothing. Sasha said she’d spent years there – training constantly, so the place had to do more than Rex was saying. Hopefully, I could pry it out of them over the course of dinner. But I caught the expectant look on his face, like I should be honored to go with him, and remembered I already had a commitment for this evening. “I can’t,” I said casually, as I began loading my backpack. “I’ve got to meet Greg.”

  “Douche-bag Langston?” Rex asked in surprise. I grinned to myself. Another point to me.

  “Oh … Kinzie!” Sasha said, sitting up suddenly. “You probably ought to know that he likes you.”

  “What? Who?” I asked, confused by the random comment.

  Sasha tossed her head. “Greg, of course.”

  I rolled my eyes, wanting to stay out of any drama Sasha was cooking up. “He’s your boyfriend,” I pointed out.

  “He dumped me last night,” she said, not upset in the slightest. Rex smirked beside her, holding back a laugh as Sasha’s face knotted for a moment in confusion. “Not sure how he did that. But anyway, he’s fair game as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Uh … right,” I responded uncomfortably as those abs flashed through my brain. I shook my head to be rid of that image. It changed nothing. And besides, Sasha had to be wrong. “I better get going,” I said to end the conversation.

  “Your choice,” Rex shrugged and turned to Sasha. “Guess I’m stuck with Reynolds. Get your stuff.”

  “You sure you don’t want to come?” Sasha asked as Rex watched me cross to the door.

  I locked eyes with Rex and gave him a confident smile. He expected me to change my mind but I had a pretty good idea what I’d be missing – Rex talking about how great he was and … well … that was pretty much it. “No, thanks,” I told Sasha, and walked out the door.

  Chapter 6

  Greg

  A fist pounded on the door of my basement room in the Alpha Delt house, jolting me from my dream, something about a girl floating along with me in a canoe. I couldn’t see her face now but … “Langston? Uppie-uppie time,” Pete Deitrich called in a sing-song voice. He didn’t wait for me to fully regain consciousness, but burst through the door, leaping over the low teak table to flop onto the couch.

  “Whadya want?” I slurred, pulling
myself awake. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying to picture the girl’s face. It was gone now but the sleep had worked. The remnants of this morning’s hangover were gone, and my brain no longer felt like it’d been thrown in a cement mixer.

  “You got company,” he said, looking at the door.

  Jenna White, fellow sophomore, stood leaning against the door frame, her eyes scanning around the room, taking in the standard frat issue metal dresser and the mini-fridge with a microwave on top, before coming to rest on the bed where I sat. She licked her lips looking, like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey. Jenna wasn’t the girl I’d been dreaming of – at all.

  “Don’t look so happy to see me,” she cooed. I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to jumpstart my brain. “I heard you broke up with Sasha Reynolds. I thought I’d come down and make sure you were okay.”

  Bullshit. That wasn’t why she was here. I’d dumped Sasha less than twenty-hours ago. And here Jenna was – lined up to be the replacement. Was there some website where girls got the second-by-second status of the guys in their area? Or a tweet? I wondered if they bid on who could be next in line and Jenna had won the auction.

  I must not have responded fast enough. Or maybe she thought I didn’t understand her intentions, because she sidled up beside me on the edge of my bed, placing her hand on my leg. I grabbed the room temperature Coke beside my bed and took a swig, closing my eyes as I swallowed. Jenna’s soft flesh warmed my arm where she leaned into me, and her fingers gently pressed into the meat of my inner thigh. She’d been after me ever since Boomer introduced us last year. And now? What the hell? I might as well go along for the ride. After all, Jenna had perky little tits, and a nice round butt. Her blonde hair was shorter than I preferred. For that matter, nothing about her was ideal, but she certainly wasn’t bad looking. Nothing to kick out of bed, so to speak.