Foreseen (The Rothston Series) Page 9

  Kinzie

  Rex waited at the bottom of the steps that led out of the private jet. I stopped halfway down, sweeping my eyes across the secluded airstrip. A muffled whoosh from the ocean in the distance pounded the air. I had seen the waves bashing against the ragged, Maine coast as we landed – my first glimpse of the Atlantic. Beyond the runway, the boulders were worn smooth and spotted with lichen. Short, craggy brush and sparse grass filled in between.

  Sasha crowded onto the stairs behind me. She glanced down the length of the sleek aircraft with a giggle. We’d had a good time on the way out, exploring Rothston’s plane, which Sasha had never seen before either. It was impressive. A G-Five, Rex had told us when we boarded. That didn’t mean anything to me, until I found the specs on board. The craft had a range of over six and a half thousand miles – a quarter of the globe! And all the creature comforts to fly that far, with leather seats as big as my dad’s recliner at home, and tables, and a huge TV.

  When we reached the ground, Sasha bounded over to the black limousine waiting at the edge of the runway. A sun-weathered old man held open the rear door. Charlie Johnson, the driver for Rothston. This place had a guy whose job it was just to drive people around? The trip was becoming more surreal by the moment.

  The limo pulled onto a narrow two-lane road. The foreign scenery slid past the car window, and I caught occasional glimpses down the steep slopes to the angry gray water. The trees in Maine were more twisted than they were in Indiana, and the leaves had already fallen. The wide-open farms that I was used to were missing. I shivered at the chill in the air. Or maybe it was from the strangeness of it all.

  The views of the ocean vanished when we turned inland, and after some twists and turns, we drove onto a narrow lane lined with scraggly brush and naked, dark tree trunks. The gateway to The Rothston Institute, Charlie informed me over the seat. I peered forward, expecting to see something grand, but it was just an overgrown gravel drive with a rather creepy feel. I settled back, watching the bushes go by. After a moment, the scrub thinned and gave way to a manicured lawn and formal gardens skirting a huge stone edifice. The building – a castle it looked like – was perched on a cliff, high over the sea. Immense blocks of tan stone formed towering walls with pale gray granite framing the corners. Lead-mullioned windows dotted the façade. The entire scene was imposing in the way that only something old and enduring could be.

  The moment Charlie opened the door at the crest of the circular drive, Rex strode off toward the building without so much as acknowledging any of us. Maybe I’d been too harsh with him, but I was probably getting an F on my lab for doing what he’d said. I’d tried to do it over, but even with Sasha building the maze, it still wouldn’t work. I turned in a new lab report, with the actual data – the impossible runs of rats going directly from the start to the finish. I was sure Uncle Mark wasn’t going to accept that for a grade, especially after saying I needed to learn to control myself. But I had no idea how. Rex had just laughed at that, telling me I should have fudged the data again, and influenced Dr. Collier to accept it. I didn’t know how to do that, either, and wasn’t about to compound the problem even if I could.

  Charlie offered me his hand to help me from the back of the limo. “Welcome to Rothston, Ms. Nicolosi,” he said, as I climbed out of the car.

  I was speechless, staring up at the wide stone steps that led to colossal arched doors of milled wooden timbers. A woven knot design was imbedded deep into the wood at the center of each door, as if it had grown there on its own.

  “I will get your bags, Ms. Nicolosi,” Charlie said to me.

  “Thank you!” I said pleasantly. “And call me Kinzie, please.”

  The old guy just smiled and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Nicolosi.”

  “C’mon, Kinzie,” Sasha said, beckoning me up the steps in Rex’s wake.

  “This is where you grew up?” I asked in awe. Ancient orders of knights and princes belonged here, not a bunch of kids.

  “Just for middle and high school,” she laughed.

  I looked back toward the limo, and Charlie gave me a friendly wink. He’d said very little during the drive here, but something about him was comforting, though I wished he’d stop calling me ‘Ms. Nicolosi,’ it made me sound like some pretentious rich girl.

  The one I was with called to me again, so I slung my backpack over my shoulder, climbed the steps, and braced myself for the weight of the door. But when I gave it a firm tug, I nearly fell backwards. The door was perfectly balanced to open with the touch of a finger. Sasha giggled again and pulled me through the entrance, grinning wider when my mouth dropped on the other side. Stairs lined each side of a large slate-floored vestibule that was bigger than my whole house!

  “You’ll love this,” Sasha tittered, pulling me across the floor to one of the doors on the other side. I stepped into a cavernous room that resembled the main chamber of a gothic cathedral. Tall, carved shelves filled with books lined the walls and imposing oak tables stood in rows on the stone floor. All of it was magnificent, but the end of the room took my breath away. A three-story stained-glass window depicted a white-draped goddess holding three small men in one hand and a sextant in the other. The same knot-like symbol that I’d seen on the doors framed her head like a halo, and golden glass beams of light radiated from her like rays of the sun.

  I stared up at the goddess-like image as Sasha giggled beside me. “I knew you’d like the library. We must have every book ever written.” I was sure that wasn’t true, but I didn’t have time to correct her, as footsteps echoed sharply behind us. I turned and a middle-aged woman with short, dark hair greeted me.

  “Kinzie, it’s so good to meet you,” she said, stepping forward with her hand extended. She took mine and shook it firmly. “I’m Brenda Thompson. Please call me Brenda. I am to take you to your luncheon with Ms. Whitacre.”

  “Let me take her. Please?” Sasha begged.

  The woman’s eyes flashed as if she didn’t appreciate a disruption in her plans, or probably just as likely, at Sasha’s irritating tone. “No, Sasha. Your grandfather sends word to come see him immediately.”

  Sasha nodded. “I’ll see you later, Kinzie,” she said cheerfully and skipped away. Sasha had never been unhappy at school, but here, she seemed downright giddy. More like a carefree child than the worldly college student I knew.

  “Her grandfather’s here?” I asked the dark-haired woman, as she directed me swiftly into the right-hand hallway. Her skirt swished back and forth over a bottom that was out of proportion with her top half.

  “Yes. He’s a member of The Seven,” Brenda said with reverence.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  Brenda’s eyebrows raised in surprise to be quickly replaced by bemusement. “The Seven are Rothston’s leaders,” she explained as I followed her down the stone and slate hall.

  “And Sasha’s grandfather’s one of them?” I was caught off guard that Sasha hadn’t told me. But then again, she kept assuming I knew things that I didn’t. Brenda nodded, as she bustled along the stone floor.

  “I assume there are seven of them. How do they get picked?” I asked as weak sunlight filtered through the wavy glass of the windows. I tried to peer out to get my bearings. I couldn’t see anything clearly, but from the position of the sun and shadows, I’d say we might be on the north side of the building, heading west.

  “Yes, there are seven. The existing members choose their successors, selecting the most powerful adepts who can see clearly into the future to guide us. It’s our highest honor.”

  “Then what? How long do they stay on?” Every third window, I noted, bore a small stained glass image in the center, like they were telling a story.

  “Until they choose to retire,” Brenda said as if it was obvious. “You must have so many questions,” she marveled. My head was still trying to grasp the details of the hallways. They were grand – as wide as the utilitarian ones in my high school, but twice as tall. All slate and stone, with gracefu
l cornices at the top of the walls, with caps at the corners with that same design again. An endless knot, looping through itself.

  “It is hard for me to imagine walking in here at your age, knowing nothing of how we operate,” Brenda continued. “Two generations of adepts have been raised here. You have a lot to catch up on.”

  Brenda’s shoes tapped out her steps as we passed through arched double doors and into a large room with a high ceiling and rows of oblong tables. A smattering of people – mostly preteens and a few adults – were eating from plates on plastic trays like we had in the Hutchins cafeteria. Several turned as I walked by, some smiling, some simply staring. Not many visitors around here, I guessed, but the attention was making me uncomfortable.

  “How many people live here?” I asked, aware of the muffled thud of my sneakers on the floor.

  “On a permanent basis? Sixty-seven adepts. And a dozen commons. Of course, while school is in session, like now, we have all the adept children from ages twelve until they graduate from high school.”

  “Rex said there were thousands of adepts. Where are the rest of them?”

  “Adepts live all over the country. Mark Collier and his wife in Newberry, for example. Sasha and her family live in Connecticut.”

  A dull pain emerged in my head as we reached the end of the room. The last thing I needed here was another one of these stupid headaches. I rubbed my forehead, as Brenda opened a wooden door set into the wood paneling. Inside was a small dining room where a solitary old woman sat. Her silver-gray hair contrasted with her even coffee-colored skin. She rose gracefully, and Brenda dipped her head before introducing the woman as, “The Honorable Melvina Whitacre, member of The Seven.”

  “Thank you,” the older woman said and Brenda scurried from the room. “Kinzie. It’s a pleasure to meet you again after all these years,” she said.

  I sat down, taking in the brocade table runner and rich wood paneling of the room. “Thank you, Ms. Whitacre.”

  “Please, dear, call me Mel.” Her voice was strong, creating the impression of a very competent grandmother. I unfolded the white cloth napkin and draped it across my lap as she offered me the bread basket. When I opened the cloth, the scent of rich cinnamon and butter wafted up. I took a bite of a sticky bun, noting that the headache was already receding, although certainly not gone. Maybe I just needed some food.

  “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman, Kinzie,” Mel continued. “And from what I hear, you are as precocious as when you left here.”

  “Precocious? But I thought I was only two when I was here.”

  Her eyes lit with a kind smile. “Nearly three. But you were an impressive toddler. You had a very solid vocabulary and refused to be coddled. The first time I met you, I spoke to you as I would one of my own grandchildren, but you would have none of it. You put your hands on your hips, looked me in the eye and said, ‘I am not a baby.’ From then on, no one dared to talk down to you.” I laughed, thinking that definitely sounded like something I’d say. “You were very direct, and highly intelligent,” Mel continued as a waiter appeared with beautifully arranged plates of fruits, greens, and chicken. “And you are going to need it. You have a lot to learn.”

  “Ms. Thompson said that too. Um … can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, Kinzie. You may always ask me anything.”

  “Why didn’t anyone figure out I was adept until now or why didn’t I …”

  Melvina held up her hand. “Given that adeptness tends to run in families, we know who might be adept. Their families know what to watch for. Most children by the time they are four, and certainly before they are six, display their ability to perceive the turbula in some unmistakable fashion. We are not certain why you did not. Perhaps it is simply that you were raised away from Rothston, knowing nothing about adepts.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  The woman took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before she answered. “If you did not know that our attributes were possible, you may have never explored them in your own consciousness, and thus, done nothing to reveal you were adept. In other words, a person can’t do what they believe to be impossible.”

  I nodded. “Then, why did it show up now?”

  Her forehead pinched together. “We don’t know. We will be researching it, though.” Her words brought up images of sterile rooms and wires connected to my head, and Mel must have caught the look on my face. “No child,” she assured me, patting my hand. “We’re not going to be prodding or probing – at least not much. Just asking questions. Beginning today, Rothston is your refuge from the world. You are one of us, Kinzie. You aren’t different here, and you are always welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  A refuge from the world. A place where I wouldn’t be different. It struck me that I’d never had anything like that. I’d always felt different. Even at home. Maybe this was why. I was adept, and this was where I was supposed to be, around people like me.

  Mel set down her fork and handed me a syllabus outlining the coursework adept children cover during their years here. She suggested that I come back for winter break to cover as much of the material as I could get through. I hesitated, knowing I needed to work to have enough money for my second semester books. But then my eyes ran down the page to the more advanced topics, ranging from history to ethics to organizational dynamics to game theory. This place would be fun – and challenging. I’d figure out a way. Maybe I could get a job staffing the snack bar at school.

  “We will pay you for your time here, of course,” Melvina added, as if she could read my mind. Then it occurred to me that she probably could!

  “Paid? To come learn all this?”

  “Yes,” she smiled. “With few exceptions, Rothston’s investments have performed quite well over the past hundred years. As I’m sure you can imagine, having brokers and investment advisors who can perceive the short-term future is rather handy in the financial markets. Therefore, when Rothston began its training program of adept teens over fifty years ago, we did not want them to feel penalized by their inability to hold part-time or summer employment. Hence, we pay everyone over the age of sixteen for any days they spend here at our request.”

  This place was getting better and better, I thought as Mel began her lecture – an overview of the topics we would cover this winter. She began by reminding me of the two adept attributes – reading the possible near futures and influencing the decisions that lead to them.

  “So, how does Rothston decide when someone should be manipulated?” I asked during a pause.

  Melvina held up her hand to stop me. “We do not manipulate people,” she answered seriously. “We merely influence their decisions.”

  I thought for a moment. “Manipulation versus influence. That’s just semantics.”

  Mel’s brow furrowed at my question. “No, Kinzie. There is a significant difference between the two. Manipulation implies that we can force a decision to happen. That is not the case. We merely increase the attractiveness of a choice that a person was already considering. You’ve observed the turbula, correct?” I nodded and she continued. “The tunnels branch, sometimes in multiple directions, each heading to a different possible future. When you begin to read actors – animals or people who make decisions that affect their environments – you will be able to focus on those decision points, the divergence in the paths, and perceive the choices leading in each direction. We can influence the decision by subtly broadening one branch over another, making it more likely that is the decision which will be made. But those divergent paths only exist if the choices exist. In other words, we cannot make a person choose something he would not consider. Even our strongest adepts cannot do that.”

  Mel stopped and studied me for a moment. “I think I understand,” I told her. “But I am not certain how that plays out.”

  She paused for a moment, then set down her fork. “It comes down to what our limits are, Kinzie. We cannot cause someone to select an option they are str
ongly opposed to or would have never considered. And if the individual is emotionally invested in their choice, then it becomes nearly impossible for us to influence them to pursue other options. Take the genocide of the Tutsis in Rwanda in the early nineties. Are you familiar with that tragedy?” she asked. I shook my head, and she hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Hmm. Perhaps over your winter break, we will spend some time on that episode. It is informative as to how, when, and why we work, as well as what can go wrong. In that case, Rothston, along with one of our sister organizations overseas, attempted to avert an atrocity in which thousands of innocent people died. But due to the determination of the participants and the emotional frenzy that developed shortly before the massacre, we failed. On the other hand, if strong emotions are in play, we can easily influence decisions in ways that are consistent with the individual’s emotional state.”

  My head swam with the idea that Rothston influenced global affairs – affected massacres! What role had they played in wars? Or in peace for that matter. It sounded like Rex was wrong about them not doing anything. Or at least, they tried.

  “So, how do you decide when that should be done – influencing an outcome?”

  “That is the question, dear,” Mel answered with a nod. “One that is vital for all adepts to understand. The adepts of Rothston and around the world adhere to a Minimal Intervention Policy which prohibits us from intervening in the affairs of the commons except when necessary to avoid a significantly dangerous or adverse outcome.”

  I picked up the glass of iced tea in front of me, but before I drank, I asked again, “How do you know when that is?”

  “Consider the Cuban Missile Crisis. A much better outcome than Rwanda. It is an example of both our Minimal Intervention Policy at work, as well as what we can accomplish. With the U.S. and Soviet Union on the brink of nuclear war, our adepts were positioned to influence both the White House and the Kremlin. But we did not act immediately. We waited until the results would be disastrous if we did not. At that point, it was important enough for us to influence the decisions being made.”