Hello. Welcome to Chapter 10. I hope you enjoy it.
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10
Shattered Glass
Shawn said nothing from the time he saw my Vitalis magic. His primary emotion was anxiety with a background of fear. There seemed to be a problem, but I didn't know what it was. When I tried to ask, he shook his head without looking at me. I bit my tongue as we followed Ars one floor down into another corridor of black glass and then into a room of the same.
The room was about the size of a child's bedroom. It had the hush of a space thick with sound proofing, but none was visible. A gold pillar, as thick as my wrist and encased in clear glass, sprouted from the center of the floor. It stood about waist height. On top of it was a dull-grey dome with a handle on the side that reminded me of an inverted mixing bowl. Built out of the corner of the room was what I took to be a control booth. Ars moved into the booth. Shawn followed and closed the door.
Ars' voice rattled over a speaker I didn't see. "One moment, young man, merely a moment while I calibrate the equipment. Under that protective cover of reflection material, there is a large catalyst that will convert magic energy to electricity. It is this electricity that we measure. Testing conversion magic users requires an extra step, tedious, tedious indeed. Direct magic users are so much more convenient, sadly rare, but very convenient."
I waited and played with my watch while I did it. There was nothing diverting to look at, nothing to think about that didn't scare me, and no comfort from Shawn. I felt as out of place as when the blonds from Shawn's building were staring at me. My thoughts started to spin. `Freakishly tall, freakishly fat, freakish habits, freakishly powerful...why did he put me in heels if I'm already taller than everyone? Why dress me like a birthday cake if I already stand out? How do I know if any of this is even real?'
Ars' voice, grated through the unseen speaker, and interrupted my musings. "I am ready Mister Philips, yes, more than ready. Please, if you are ready, and I assume you are. I hope you are. Ready that is. Either way, please remove the dome from the catalyst, place both your hands on it, and activate your direct magic. Give it your all. We must know the extent of your abilities. Yes, we need to rate and rank you accurately. A tool is only useful to someone who knows its purpose and use."
Did he just call me a tool?' I asked myself. I felt a little indignant, but dismissed it. Anyone who rattled as much as Ars, was bound to say something off-putting from time to time. I lifted the dome and set it on the floor. Under it was a clear glass ball roughly the size of a bowling ball. The gold column penetrated into the center of the glass. Above the flat end of the column, was a flat, pink diamond the size of a playing card, with its bottom point resting on the top of the gold. I put my palms flat on the ball. As it did it, I wondered if I had gone mad, or if I really was on a parallel world getting ready to activate my magic...my magic. What choice do I have? This is the reality in front of me. I have to deal with it.' I thought. I pushed Vitalis energy into the ball and thin lightning bolts ran from my hands to the pink diamond. The look of the ball reminded me of one of those weird electric globes that you touch and it makes your hair stand up.
Ars had been quiet for something like ten seconds. His voice over the speaker proved he wouldn't make it to eleven. "Yes, excellent, excellent, except surely you are capable of more than that. I am not impressed Mister Philips, not impressed at all."
I'd purposely started small because I didn't know what to expect. Ars' taunting made me angry. OK fuck-head,' I thought, how's this?'
I bore down on the magic. The lightning bolts in the glass grew to solid columns of white light. An electrical hum filled the room. Ars was silent. I assumed that meant I hadn't impressed him yet, so I tried harder. The entire ball started to glow. I felt the energy being born inside me, it felt warm and creative, it felt right. It poured from my center, down my arms, and into the glass. I pushed harder. Even my thoughts of `Fuck you, Ars' faded away, submerged in the joy of creating power. I felt amazing. An almost-orgasmic thrill simmered inside me as power and life poured from my body into the ravenous equipment.
The glowing ball grew too bright to look at. I closed my eyes, shutting out the wonder of what I'd been watching. Closing off the distraction of my vision seemed to sharpen my resolve. I found power I didn't know I had. I reveled in the strength. More,' I thought, more and more and more and MORE!'
The electric humming grew to a growl, then a keening whine. A violent crack rent the air, snapping the keening to silence. The ball between my hands exploded into heavy shards of glass that bit into my flesh. The pain didn't hit until I opened my eyes, then it seared like a hot iron pressed to my skin from my forehead to my stomach. I looked like a mangy porcupine with quills of jagged glass. Blood soaked my shirt, ran from my wounded arms, and dripped from a gash on my forehead.
Shawn and Ars stared at me from the control booth, both rooted in place, wide-eyed with shock. Fear poured from Shawn, more than fear, he was terrified of me. It was nauseating, like I was drowning in rancid vegetable oil. The pain reminded me I needed help, and that no one was moving to help me. I called out to them. "HELP ME!" I pleaded.
My plea got the automatic part of Shawn to function. He ran from the booth to my side, guided me to the wall, and sat me against it. Gentle fingers pulled shards from my flesh while warm touches healed the damage. Shawn didn't speak a word or meet my eyes while he worked. He focused exclusively on his task and his emotions seemed to shift to neutral. I was hurt badly, but not badly enough to not be amazed by Shawn's healing talent.
Shawn worked without gloves or any concern about disease. His delicate hands pulled the glass from my flesh and set it aside on the floor, into a growing bloody pile. As fast as he removed the glass was as fast as his touches closed the wounds. If he missed some glass, the healing process expelled it from my skin as it closed.
I watched him closely, but not so closely that I didn't notice Ars leave the room. He was gone a long time, long enough for Shawn to close all my wounds and sweep the other shattered glass into a pile. Ars returned with some cloth wipes and a lime-green jacket that looked like hospital scrubs. Shawn took a cloth to clean my blood from his hands and I used the rest to clean away as much of the blood on my skin as I could. I expected to see scars under the red, or at least the pink of new skin, but I saw neither. Once the blood was removed, there was no sign I'd been injured. Even the hair on my skin and the callouses on my palms were in place. Shawn's healing magic was incredible. When I thought about it a little, I was glad he could help me without a full connection. The way he felt, as much fear as he seemed to feel for me, I doubt he could have calmed himself enough for the process.
I finished with the wipes and swapped my bloodied shirt for the coat. It was too tight everywhere, but it covered what it needed to cover. I thanked Shawn and tried to set a grateful hand on his shoulder. He shrank away from me; his thick fear returning full-force. I wanted to say something to calm his fear, but I didn't understand what he was afraid of, or what I could say to make it better. Ars took over and led us back to his office. He sat, Shawn sat, I tried to sit but the too-tight jacket threatened to burst open. I moved to the transparent wall and leaned against it. Ars picked two plastic cards from his desk and shuffled them in his neat hands. "Mister Philips." He held them out to the air.
I crossed the room, took them from him, and went back to lean against the wall. The first card appeared to be a government issued identification. It had my photo on it, an image I assumed they'd gotten from a security camera, and gave my name as Church P. Incolumitas. It listed an address I couldn't decipher, my true birth date, and showed my employer as The HALL Organization.
The second was a different style identification, again with my photo and some printing. It read, `Church P. Incolumitas, Level 1 Special Consultant, Telekinetic Ð Class 4AAA, Vitalis Ð Class 2AAA, Full Access, No Escort.'
I looked up from the cards. Ars met my eyes for a second, then averted his and explained. "I just had them printed. Those cards, Mister Philips, are your new federally-issued identification and your new HALL pass. I selected the last name because Philips' is not like any name we have here. Your first name is also unusual, but I cannot ask you to change everything about yourself. Level 1 Special Consultant' means you answer to me and only me. Your magic affinities are listed with your ranking and rating. The rating is the highest rating we have ever given to anyone. That said, your true rating, if it were possible to rate you, would not fit on that card."
He heaved a breath and made eye contact. "Mister Philips, I am not a powerful man. I am a fifth-class empath with a C rating. I have spent my life around powerful people. It has always been the powerful who are the most useful to this organization. You, sir, surpass them all. The power you displayed today makes the achievements of the others seem like paltry sleight-of-hand illusions. The catalyst shattered because your magic had nowhere to go. You fused all the equipment, destroyed it beyond salvage. I am both encouraged that you have the power to help us in our time of crisis, and terrified that power like yours exists in the control of one man. I sincerely hope your compassion for your fellow beings is as large as your strength."
I put the cards in my wallet, sliding them in front of my now-irrelevant driver's license. "I don't know what to say." I said.
Ars nodded like he understood completely. "Then do not say anything. I am sure what you experienced today has left you with much to think about. It has also left me with much to do. Today is Friday. Take the weekend. Practice your power, work on your control. On Monday, be here in the morning and we will begin the mission in earnest."
He turned his attention to Shawn. "Nephew, please look after Mister Philips." Shawn didn't move or look up. It was if he hadn't heard his uncle at all. Ars called again. "Nephew...NEPHEW!"
Shawn shivered. He looked at his uncle like Ars had just appeared before him. "Yes?"
"It is time for you to go, nephew." Ars explained, softly, gently.
"Yes." Shawn got up like he was a very old man. "Time to go."
I followed him out.