Threader origins, p.14
Threader Origins, page 14
At that exact moment, the oldest in the troupe—Darwin thought of her as the leader—stopped scanning the crowd and looked straight at him. She began to move, never taking her eyes off of him. As if he was the trigger for the start of the show. It unnerved him, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
The dance was simple at first, the troupe moving along the stage in slow languid motion, looping between each other but never directly interacting. The movements looked like a martial art, but they were smoother and suppler. Definitely slower. It took Darwin a few minutes of absolute boredom to realize the audience was enthralled by the performance, moving in time with the dancers and occasionally gasping out loud. It was as if they were watching a different show.
What if they were? In theory, everyone here could See, in some form or another. What if the Threads were part of the dance? Darwin opened his Sight, and gasped.
The Dancers weaved amongst each other, sometimes running and jumping, sometimes barely moving at all. The Threads, multi-colored and shifting between vibrant hues and muted wisps, wove between them, creating a tapestry of color and making the individual dancers a single cohesive unit. Where the leader went, the patterns changed and the colors shifted. One half of the stage was a brilliant version of the Aurora Borealis he remembered from camping as a kid. The other half looked like a tartan, shifting and changing its pattern in sync with the aurora. In the middle the leader blended the two into a curtain of color that she threw over the audience until a huge Bald Eagle made of Threads flew from it, its beating wings shifting the patterns once again. Darwin had never Seen Threads like this before. Not even Rebecca had done anything close to what he was Seeing.
“They do not See.”
“What?” The voice shocked Darwin from the artistry being created before his eyes. An old man had sat down beside him. When he had done so, Darwin couldn’t say. He had been pulled too deeply into the performance.
“The dancers, they do not See,” the old man repeated. “It is said they feel, and the intensity of the emotions changes the color and strength of the Threads.”
Darwin turned back to the dancers. They stood in a rough circle now, with the leader at its center, and as she spun and danced, Threads arced between her and the rest of the troupe, creating the images Bill had told him would only slow down his learning. He watched, mesmerized at the immeasurable beauty on display in front of him. The old man beside him was completely forgotten.
It was over before Darwin realized. The troupe of seven stood sweating in the center of the stage and bowed once before leaving. Threads flickered off their bodies like flames, slowly dissipating as they controlled their breathing—their emotions. The old man beside him waited until Darwin looked at him again. He held out his hand.
“I’m Enton. I think you and I should talk.”
* * *
• • •
Darwin and Enton stayed seated as the audience moved out of the amphitheater, their voices carrying in the curves of the ground, merging into a dull drone. Enton said hello to those who passed close by, calling each one by name. He didn’t say anything else to Darwin, and when Darwin got up to leave, he simply placed his hand on Darwin’s shoulder and continued to acknowledge those who walked past them.
The last to leave were the Dancers, now out of their performance clothes and into well-worn blue jeans and t-shirts. The lead woman came up to them. She nodded at Darwin and looked at Enton, smiling.
Enton introduced the Dance Master.
“Where do this one’s talents lie?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet, Baila,” said Enton. “He just came to us today.”
“A bit old to be recently discovered.”
“His circumstances are quite unique.”
“Hmm. It’s a shame he’s so old. Even with the Sight, I would have been able to teach him to dance. He has the ability to become a Master, this one. Perhaps he still does.”
“Thank you, Baila. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She turned to Darwin, and he was immediately drawn into her almost black eyes, unable to break contact. “I and my students believe emotions are key to the Threads, and emotions run deep in you. Learn to trust them, to control them, so they don’t control you. If you do so, the Threads will do your bidding. If you do not, you will fail.”
The Dance Master left with her troupe behind her, leaving Darwin confused. What the hell had just happened, and what did she mean?
“Apparently, you’ve managed to impress several people during your short time here. Bill was quite overwhelmed, though Michael not so much.”
At the mention of their names, Darwin flinched, the pain of Bill’s loss still too fresh, and he turned away.
“Yes,” Enton said, tightening his grip on Darwin’s shoulder as if reading his mind. “Bill will be missed by all. He was one of our best teachers, and a dear friend. When he volunteered to infiltrate the Qabal, he knew the choices he was making. We were fortunate he was there to guide you. You, on the other hand, have no idea what your choices are, and when you make a decision, no idea of the consequences. A person’s life is made of choices. Some are easy, some are difficult, and each one molds you into what you are today and what you will become tomorrow.”
Darwin pulled his shoulder out of Enton’s grasp with a sharp jerk, uncomfortable with the intimate contact. “So you’ll be making decisions for me?” His voice was harsh, and the anger that had become so familiar after his mother died rose to the surface. He didn’t know if it was because of Enton trying to take control or because of Bill’s betrayal.
“No. We are not the Qabal. Your choices will be your own. We will simply give you the information you need—or help you find it yourself if you wish—to make an informed decision. Having you here is an anomaly no one had even thought of. The many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics had been discarded long ago. Traveling between the worlds, between the decision trees if you will, is quite remarkable. Can you imagine the branches, the complexity, if every decision made by humans alone created a new world, a new path? What if the choices made by animals or fish did the same thing? The mind boggles at—”
Enton must have seen the look in Darwin’s eyes, and he abruptly stopped, apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I tend to ramble at times.” He changed the subject. “I heard about what the Qabal did to your tent last night. It seems they don’t like you.”
“That’s an understatement.” For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t the Qabal who did it. Maybe it was some of Enton’s people. Maybe they were trying to convince him they were better than the Qabal, trying to guide his choices. Everyone had been surprised the Qabal had struck so close to SafeHaven. Were they trying to control him, just using a different method than the Qabal had?
Enton just smiled. “It’s late, and an old man like me needs his sleep. I’m sure you have many questions. We’ll get together in the morning. Just ask anyone you meet; they’ll tell you where to find me. You’ve been assigned a room in the house behind the mess hall. Get some sleep.” Enton turned to go, then paused to look back over his shoulder. “And welcome to SafeHaven.”
“So I’m just supposed to trust you? I get brought across the country, most of it as a prisoner, and suddenly everything is fine?”
“That will be your choice to make,” said Enton without turning around.
* * *
• • •
Darwin was woken up by a bell ringing outside his window. It took a few seconds for it to sink in that it was the call for breakfast. He hadn’t set his internal alarm clock to wake him up, and had obviously slept in. Either that or they had breakfast pretty damn early here. He stood and opened the curtains to bright sunlight. He figured that answered the question. He’d slept in. He pulled on his shoes and left the room to find a table.
As soon as he left the house, he felt the chill in the air. His breath misted and he pulled the cold air deep into his lungs. He still hadn’t gotten anything more to wear than his t-shirt, and the slight breeze cut through the thin material. This wasn’t quite the warmer south he’d expected. He ran across the open area to the mess hall.
The place was fuller than it had been last night. The odor of people was overridden by mixed smells of porridge and toast and eggs. He’d never seen so many people so eager to start their day. It made finding a quiet place to eat alone impossible. In the end, he decided to brave the cold and took his food out to the street and sat down in the sun, leaning against the building. He wolfed the eggs and buttered bread down as fast as he could, missing even the weird-tasting coffee substitute the Qabal had served, and was almost finished when someone sat down beside him.
Mellisa’s raspy voice spoke before he even knew she was there.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hey.”
“Nice day to have breakfast alone, out here.”
If she was being sarcastic, he couldn’t tell. “I don’t know anyone, and I . . . I don’t feel comfortable in crowds.”
“Because of the accident?”
Darwin stared at her. “How . . . how do you know about that?”
“Carlos told me.”
“I never told him. I don’t tell anyone.”
Mellisa shifted uncomfortably on the curb. “When they were looking at your wounds from the dog attack they saw the scars. Even buried beneath the surface, a trained healer can See them. You were hurt pretty bad.” She raised her hand to her throat.
If anyone else had said that, had noticed that he was different on the inside, he would have been hurt. Maybe it didn’t because she was damaged as well. You could barely see the scar on her throat, but the voice was a dead giveaway.
“I know how you feel,” she said. “It took me a long time before I could just be myself again.”
“It must be different here, then,” he said, fighting the urge to run his finger along the invisible lines on his face.
“Different?”
“It has been a long time, and I still don’t fit in. At home or here.”
“You’ve just gotten here. Give it time. We’re not bad people, just ones trying to live and laugh and love. You should try it sometime.”
He didn’t answer her. What was it that Enton had hinted at yesterday? He didn’t belong here. He finished off his plate before changing the topic. Mellisa didn’t try to fill the short silence.
“I’m supposed to meet with Enton today,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I saw him last night. Is he always so weird?”
Mellisa laughed, the sound coming out low and gravelly. “I thought he was a bit strange when I first met him as well. He loves to go off on these tangents. Sometimes you need to rein him in and get him back on track.”
“Kind of like Carlos.”
She gave another short laugh. “He wanted to know about your dad, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. It was weird.”
Mellisa laughed again. “It sounds like he talked about your old house. It was a huge highlight for him. I guess everyone has their thing. Did he tell you he knew your dad before the change? Carlos was the military liaison and he was there that day to watch the demonstration.” She changed the subject abruptly, as if she’d said too much. “What did you and Enton talk about?”
“Nothing really. Just that I was supposed to see him this morning. Do you know where he is?”
“Chances are he’s just about to begin his walkabout to see how everything is going. Your best bet is to catch up with him in an hour or so. You’ll find him in that building over there.” She pointed to a house with a faded blue door on the corner of the street.
Darwin stood to put his dishes back. Mellisa followed suit, placing her hand on his forearm.
“We aren’t the Qabal, Darwin. We’re family here. We take care of one another. Take the time to learn that. Give us a chance to show you before you decide to write us off. Please.”
She took his dirty plates from him and left him standing in the street.
* * *
• • •
Darwin spent the time waiting for Enton in the room they’d assigned to him. There was no real heat in the building, but it was definitely warmer than it was outside. He left his room twice to check the place Mellisa had said Enton would be. The door was never locked, but Enton wasn’t there yet. The second time, Darwin considered just staying and waiting, but he wasn’t sure what the protocol was, so he went back to his room. At least the sun was shining through the window and warming the place up a bit.
When he went next, Enton was sitting behind a desk reading from a stack of papers filled with handwritten notes. He smiled as Darwin walked in.
“Darwin, good morning! I hope you had some breakfast already.” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Don’t you have something warmer to wear? I’ll have to have a chat with Wally and Carlos about how they treat people. Come on, let’s go to stores and see if we can’t find something you like. This paperwork is pretty boring anyway.”
“Umm. Good morning.” Darwin wasn’t sure if Enton even wanted an answer, but it was nice to be able to get a word in. He followed the older man back out the door and onto the street, turning away from the mess hall.
The storeroom was similar to the room they’d holed into when Darwin first arrived, but a hell of a lot bigger. Someone had knocked down the wall in one of the houses, creating a large open space filled with racks and shelves of clothing. He went straight for some thick winter coats before Enton stopped him.
“Those are probably a little heavy for what you want. We’re in a bit of a warm spell, so it will probably get over seventy-five degrees today. You just need something for when the sun goes down.”
He picked out an insulated windbreaker, a dark blue that wouldn’t stand out, and they left the building, once again turning away from the mess hall. Darwin was the first one to break the unexpected silence.
“How do I get home?” As soon as the words were out, he knew he’d sounded rude. Before he could correct himself, Enton answered as if he hadn’t heard Darwin’s tone.
“I really have no idea. We don’t know how you came here in the first place. If we knew that, maybe we could work backward from there, but who knows. Threads don’t behave the way we always think they should.”
“Rebecca said that maybe there was someone out there who knew how to get me home.” He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.
“Maybe, but I doubt it. I don’t know how much the Qabal told you, but the world is a different place than it used to be. In your world, the Threads have just started. You still have phones and computers and ships and airplanes. We have none of that. The knowledge is still there, but there’s no oil or gas or electricity to keep things going. The shipyard in San Diego is trying to build new ships, but the skills required to make them haven’t been used in over a century. It takes time to relearn. If some group had the ability to travel to other worlds, I’d think they would be able to travel in our world as well. That hasn’t happened. We’ve grown to live in small enclaves, separate groups that trade with one another.”
“I don’t get it. Why did everything fall apart like that? It’s not like the Threads stopped everything from working, is it?”
Enton sighed. “No, but it may as well have. There was a lot of fighting. In some places all-out war, but mainly small skirmishes. Those that couldn’t See the Threads were scared of what we could do. They didn’t understand. When you’re that scared of something, it’s human nature to try and destroy it. Both sides lost a lot of good people. Threaders destroyed almost everything non-Threaders needed like communications hubs, oil refineries, shipping yards, and airports. They didn’t think about how devastating that would be. Non-Threaders just tried to destroy us. The end result is what you see . . . smaller groups trying to survive, trying to rebuild what’s been lost as best they can.”
That explained the devastation he’d seen when he’d first been pulled from the Qabal’s grasp. How many more places had been razed to the ground by the war?
“How many died?” He hated the question as soon as it came out of his mouth.
“We’re not sure. I can say that I lost more than half of the people I knew. I don’t know if you can extrapolate that out, but I’d say it’s pretty close.”
Darwin stopped talking, keeping pace with Enton as they walked through SafeHaven. More than half of the population gone? The numbers were astronomical, and his dad had just started the same chain of events in his world. How many families would be broken—destroyed—by what his dad had started? What he had helped start? A new reason to get home nestled into his brain. He had to shut down the QPS.
They continued on in silence as Darwin mulled over everything. How long had it taken before the fighting had started? If he went back now, would it be too late? Would it matter? If he could shut down the QPS everything would go back to the way it was. Wouldn’t it?
“Rebecca . . . the Qabal thought they could get the information out of me. That’s why Bill taught me how to use the Threads, so they could get in there and not do any damage.”
“Huh. Interesting. They thought you had the knowledge but didn’t know it?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
They’d reached the eastern wall of SafeHaven and left through a small gate, moving south to catch more of the sun’s warmth.
“Come then, sit. Show me what Bill taught you.”
