Threader origins, p.8
Threader Origins, page 8
A knock on the door pulled him from examining the change anymore.
“Come in.”
One of his guards walked in. “The Revered Mother would like to see you.”
Darwin got out of his chair, suddenly filled with apprehension. Maybe she’d found a way to send him home.
* * *
• • •
“Darwin, please come in. Sit.”
He shuffled in, leaving the guard at the door, and lowered himself slowly into the offered chair. He couldn’t explain the anxiety twisting through his gut and the fine layer of sweat that covered the palms of his hands. He gave them a quick wipe on his pants and waited, trying to analyze what he was feeling.
Why did she have this effect on him? What was it about her that made him want to either run and hide or confide his deepest darkest secrets to her? The longer he sat, the more the feeling faded, replaced with a calmness that left him even more confused, until even the confusion disappeared.
“What did you think of today’s services?” Her voice was serene and conversational.
“I, uh . . .”
“They can be a bit disconcerting when you’re at the early stages of learning. There’s so much going on, it can be overwhelming.”
He stayed silent, not sure how to respond to her and waiting to find out why she had called him here in the first place. There was no way he was going to tell her how the Threads in the QPS room made him feel, how it brought memories of his mother back so vividly.
“Well.” Rebecca paused as if waiting for him to say something. “I asked you to come to see what you thought of your progress with Bill. Is he pushing you too hard? Not hard enough?”
Darwin shrugged.
“Well. Good. He is quite pleased with where you are. He thinks we’ll be able to find out what you know in a couple of months.”
“Months?” A pit yawned open in front of him and he felt himself falling.
“Yes. We need to make—”
“Two months? I thought . . . I thought we could try sooner . . .” The calmness, overriding the background anxiety he felt, drained from him faster than he thought possible, pushed out of the way by the sinking feeling in his stomach.
“We want to make sure we don’t harm you when we start looking. You need a base knowledge so you don’t fight our attempt.”
“I know, but . . . but I thought it would only be a week or two.”
Rebecca stood and moved around the desk, sitting in the chair beside him. She rotated to face him and grabbed one of his hands. “I know it feels like a long time, but it’s better for both of us. There’s less chance of harming you, and a significantly higher chance of finding the information we need to send you back home.”
“I need some air.” He pulled his hand from Rebecca’s grip and lurched to the door, filled with a sudden distrust he couldn’t explain. He yanked it open, only to be blocked by the man who had brought him here. Darwin glanced back to look at Rebecca. She nodded her head and the guard stepped out of the way. Darwin moved to the railing overlooking the entryway and placed both hands on it, leaning over to look at the floor below. The receptionist desk below him lay empty and abandoned.
He breathed in through his nose, the way Bill had taught him, and out through his mouth. Two months? It was a long time to be away. He’d miss the start of the new school year. How was he supposed to catch up? He stopped a quick, panicked laugh. What a stupid thing to think of when you were trapped in another world.
He was left alone for a few minutes before Rebecca joined him at the railing. She stood beside him without speaking.
He was the first to break the silence, asking a question that had been on his mind since Michael had tried to pull him through the blue mesh. This was the first time he’d had a chance to ask it.
“Where’s Lyell? I haven’t seen him since my first night here. You said you talked some sense into him. Where is he?” He was afraid of what the answer would be, but at the same time so desperate to hear it.
Rebecca paused for a brief moment before responding.
“He decided not to stay here anymore. He went off to look for Michael. We gave him what supplies we could and sent him on his way.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. What else did you expect? That we would punish him?”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. The warnings from Lyell and Michael, the hints from Bill about how he didn’t allow politics or philosophies into his classroom, made him imagine the worst. He gave a small, wavering smile, unsure of how to feel.
None of it made sense or fit in with what he had seen of them, and he was too tired to fight about it. He just didn’t want to anymore. The wave of calmness weaved back into him, and he pushed off of the railing.
“Can I go back to my room?”
“Of course. Monty here will walk with you.”
He sighed. Of course he would. He found that he just didn’t care anymore.
* * *
• • •
Darwin’s waking hours turned into a comfortable pattern of classes with Bill, deep blissful sleep with the occasional dream of Rebecca standing over him benevolently, trays of food delivered to his room, and the intermittent sightings of his mother that he wrote off as exhaustion and the young teenager that had brought him food once. In the third week, he watched as Bill manipulated the Threads, pulling here or pushing there, thinning or thickening the Threads to make the stick fall where he wanted it to, though he didn’t teach Darwin how to do it. By the fourth week, he had difficulty remembering any other way of living. All that mattered were the Threads and the Qabal. They had become his life. Defined who he was.
He didn’t even think of questioning it.
By the time the second month rolled around, he truly felt like he belonged. Most of his meals were taken in the large cafeteria of Quantum Labs, where he’d found a group of people to sit with. People he thought of as friends, who cared about him. He left most of those meals feeling happier than he had in years. The anxiety of being around so many people had receded into the background.
He opened up to Bill. In between lessons they would talk about life, about their pasts, and in Darwin’s case, what he hoped for the future.
His future plans shifted the longer he stayed with the Qabal, from wanting to go home to wanting to learn more about the Threads, to how he seemed to fit in. At times like these, Bill would stop the conversation and start a new lesson.
Darwin didn’t notice.
He tried to talk to Bill about the images more than once. Each time, Bill was sympathetic, trying to convince him that Seeing anything more than the Threads would slow down his progress and make it harder to move forward. That perhaps the images were vestiges of an emotional connection and should therefore be shunned. Emotions and Threads were never to be mixed.
Darwin didn’t notice when the second month slid into the third.
His walks to the classroom went unescorted. There hadn’t been a guard outside his room or Bill’s class in he couldn’t remember how long, and the doors were no longer locked behind him. The limited free time he had away from class was spent with his new friends or practicing. The Threads were a constant part of his life, and he lived with them, breathed them in, until he couldn’t imagine being without them. The Revered Mother continued her visits, though they had slowed down somewhat. He looked forward to them. Forward to the wisdom she had to share, to the one-on-one time.
Today, he pondered the words she had spoken during the last service. Her talk of family, of how family encompassed more than blood ties, spoke to him. He felt the same toward Bill and the Revered Mother as he had with his dad. They had more than filled the hole in his heart that had been created when he’d come over. The Qabal was family . . . not just the few that attended the services in the sanctum, but everyone in the building. Even those who couldn’t See the Threads. He had more friends now than he’d had since the day he was born. His life had become richer, more complete, since he had met them. He tried to remember the last time he thought of his dad and couldn’t. He knew he should have felt guilty, but when he searched, there wasn’t anything there.
He remembered that the service had been subdued, muted. The Threads less vibrant and less active than he had ever seen them.
He hadn’t noticed that Bill wasn’t in his usual place beside him, by the empty window frame.
Today, when he opened the door to the classroom, Bill wasn’t sitting behind the desk. Instead, he stood near the back of the room, where he had been the day they had first met. This time, Darwin saw him easily by the movement of the Threads.
Bill moved to the desk and sat down. None of his fancy instruments sat on the table. Darwin took his place without a word and waited. Bill smiled, though Darwin thought it had a sad edge to it.
“I have only seen one or two people learn as fast as you have, Darwin,” he said. “It is really quite remarkable. The Revered Mother has informed me you no longer have the inhibitor placed in your meals. It’s been missing for the last few days, though you probably didn’t notice. I’ve been told she’s been reducing the inhibitor since your first lesson, so there wasn’t much to get rid of. You’ve already noticed, but you will See all the time now, if you’re not careful. Listen to what I’ve taught you. Don’t try to follow every Thread. Your brain will snap at the effort. As my teacher once told me, a bird can roost but on one branch.”
“Am I getting any more classes?” Darwin sat still, too scared of the answer to move.
“Maybe in the future, but not now.”
He suddenly felt empty and hollow. What was he supposed to do now? His life had become classes with Bill and long talks with Rebecca. He leaned back in his chair as the realization of how he felt drove home. He cared for Bill and the Revered Mother—for his life here—more than he did for his life back home.
“I couldn’t have done it without your help.” He stumbled over the words, not willing to say what he was thinking, what he was feeling. It was all too new to him.
“You should know a teacher is nothing without a good student, and you have been very good.” Bill sighed. “I have taught you all I am allowed about Seeing Threads, but there is so much more. Only experience will allow you to master the intricacies, the possibilities, of the Threads, allowing you to manipulate them as I showed you months ago. And I’m afraid only experience will teach you about life. That is the way with everyone, but more so for you. The Qabal limit what I See. Especially when it comes to you. But what I do See . . . you have some difficult decisions to make, Darwin. And the Qabal have already started changing you. I don’t need the Threads to see that. Remember, the Qabal is but one way. Do not discard the others simply because you do not understand them. A wise man first learns, and then chooses. Not the other way around.”
Darwin latched on to Bill’s comment about manipulating Threads, ignoring the inherent distrust of the Qabal in Bill’s words. “When will I learn to do it, to manipulate Threads?”
“I don’t know.” Bill sighed again. “My task has been to teach you to See and to control yourself, so you don’t try to follow every Thread. From here, you would normally be tested for your strengths, to find out which Threads you have more affinity for. If you can See and follow the Threads in the human body, healing would be a good path. If you can follow the Threads of a bird flying through the air, hunting and tracking may be a good path. Or war. Most pupils would go from here and apprentice with a Master for a few years.” He paused, obviously thinking about his next words. “The Qabal may not let you do that.”
Bill got up, walked to the wall shelves, and picked the two rails and stick device Darwin had first worked with so long ago. He brought it back to the table and balanced the stick under his finger. “I’d like you to have this, as a memento. It is the simplest test, but shows that no matter what, there is always an alternate choice, an alternate way.”
Darwin sat in silence for a minute before asking, “What do you mean, the Qabal may not let me do that?”
“Nothing. I’ve said too much already.”
“This is my life, Bill. I have the right to know.” For the first time in months, he felt uncomfortable to be in the classroom.
Bill searched his face before coming to a decision. He lowered his voice and leaned forward, still balancing the stick under his finger. “The Qabal limits everyone’s rights. Yours and mine.” He looked over Darwin’s shoulder at the closed door. “Trust the Threads. Read them. Follow them. And trust your heart. Your mind can be easily fooled, but the heart is stronger. Listen to it.”
Darwin didn’t know what Bill was talking about, but the words sent a shiver down his back that he couldn’t control. Suddenly filled with dread, he pushed the feeling aside, choosing instead to focus on the stick under Bill’s finger. The Threads wrapped around it, embracing and permeating the wood, constantly thickening and thinning, always moving. Images of the stick split from the original. But not just the three images he had seen when he started learning. This time, there were five. The months of training had focused his Sight, and the Threads held a faint hint of green, like the skin of a ripe pear. When he’d asked Bill what it was, the answer had led into a dissertation of color and Threads. It all came down to green indicating an element of time, and since Darwin was essentially predicting the future, time was a part of the Threads he saw.
“Let go of the stick.”
Bill hesitated. “But why? This is child’s play for you now.”
“Please, let go.”
Bill released the stick. It balanced on its tip for a long second, until a rail snapped and the stick fell, free from the confines created for it. Darwin fell back into his chair, an acute, piercing pain slicing through his head before disappearing as quickly as it had come. He tried to hide the sudden exhaustion that swept through him.
Bill stared at the broken instrument and then up at Darwin, a smile on his lips. “Do you know how you did that?”
Darwin paused for a long while. The last time he brought up the topic Bill had dismissed it as a distraction, something to be discarded. But he knew he couldn’t lie. Not to Bill.
“I chose the image that showed it.”
5
THE BALANCE OF LIFE AND THE COLOR OF DEATH
“REVERED MOTHER.” DARWIN bowed as Rebecca walked into his room. She hadn’t visited him in a while, and her presence filled him with unbridled joy. He hadn’t thought about why he felt like this in a long time.
“Please, Darwin, sit. The formalities are for when others are around. Alone, we are family. Sit.”
Darwin lowered himself into the only available chair while Rebecca paced around the room.
“Bill tells me your lessons are complete,” she said.
“Yes, but I feel there is so much more. I—” He almost blurted out how he had made the rail break, but Rebecca continued before he had a chance.
“There is always more to learn, Darwin, but it all needs to be paced. Too fast, and all your skills may be lost. Too slow, and time is wasted. We try to find a median that works best for every student. You need to remember that our goal was to teach you enough about the Threads so that you didn’t involuntarily fight us when we tried to find out what you knew. To send you home. Are you ready to try?”
He focused on the Threads surrounding the question, finding the ones that led to the possible decision. Before he could follow them, they faded away. New Threads formed to replace them and disappeared once again.
He looked at Rebecca. “Why won’t you let me See the possibilities?”
“Your knowledge of the Threads is not strong enough to follow the complexities of the question. You wouldn’t understand all you would See. They may suggest a path that is not correct.”
He sat in his chair, watching her pace in front of his door. How long had he been here? Two or three months? Maybe a bit more? It briefly bothered him that he couldn’t remember. It bothered him more that he wasn’t allowed to follow the Threads. He should be permitted to do that by now. In fact, he shouldn’t need permission. How much of what Bill had said was true? Could he really trust Rebecca, or was it Bill trying to turn him from his new friends? Neither option made sense, or fit in with what he knew of this new world.
A Thread flickered to his left and disappeared before he could look at it, and the thoughts fell away. He had a choice to make.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know if his unconscious mind held the information the Revered Mother was looking for. It would mean he would have to go home. Or would it?
The Qabal had taken care of him, taught him. They had become his friends, and his family. Was he willing to give that up to go back to being alone? To be the loner? The social outcast, harassed and teased for just being? The years of surgery had put him behind in school, and any friends he’d had moved on. He’d worked like a maniac to catch back up, but it hadn’t helped. He had been ostracized even more for it. It had made his anxieties worse, and he’d withdrawn even further from society. The doctors had told him he would come through everything stronger and able to face anything the world would throw at him. They hadn’t calculated how cold teenagers could be.
The only person who would miss him if he never went back would be his dad. The second the thought entered his head it faded away, and for just a moment, he lost control of the Threads and the maelstrom almost drove him to his knees. They were gone before his body could react, leaving him dizzy and a little nauseous. He was left with a single thought.
“If it works, would I be able to come back, or . . . or stay here?”
Rebecca smiled and stopped her pacing. “Of course, Darwin. You have a home here. People who care about you, about what happens to you.”
