Intrepid Page 11

  On the other extreme were the Shadow Boxers who believed nature must run its course and that Saltadors had come to misunderstand our purpose. It was not our right to help preserve the Multiverse, but to Explore and try to understand the Multiverse in order to find peace with our fates. After the Humanitarian Project Trials, the Shadow Boxers wanted all ten test subjects destroyed because the children were experimental abominations. The Gaian Order demanded the patience of all factions and hid the subjects in separate, secret locations across the Multiverse until they could decide how to proceed with them. But since the Gaian Order is supposed to be the balance between extremes, its parts contained all elements of the very extremes it set out to balance. A Shadow Boxer Delegate leaked the locations of the subjects, and Shadow Boxer spies tracked down nine of the ten children to execute them. Texi was the last one left, only because the one sent to kill her discovered he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Ringo.

  He took Texi, buried her presence in Geronimo, and helped her live a relatively normal childhood.

  I remember asking Corbin why Ringo wouldn’t let Texi call him Dad. Corbin said it was Ringo’s way of distancing himself. He couldn’t afford to get anymore invested, because he struggled with objectivity regarding the girl already, and he felt that something as little as a name could unravel everything he was hoping to accomplish with her.

  Nobu stood up and stretched, then he kneeled so his body interrupted my view of the ocean. “Why have you been given the task of Watching Texi?”

  “To see if she was worth giving a chance.”

  “Do you know everything about her? Every detail? Can you anticipate her?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good.” Nobu’s grin was more sad than happy, and I couldn’t bring myself to return it.

  And just like that, perspective shifted and new truths filtered in. The Knowing became clear, and I felt the tendrils of all the deeper things going on. “I was never meant to be a Watcher, was I?” I put it out as a question, but I already knew the answer.

  “I’m sorry, Liam. I’m so, so sorry,” he said as he patted me on the knee. “Your new assignment will begin after your Change.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We were never meant to go through this alone,” Nobu reminded me. “Remember, I’m here to tie you to sanity, and to stop the madness from seeping in.”

  The Change.

  It was coming.

  I always wondered: if anticipation was in the mind, how it could affect the body so much? Because I felt the anticipation of the Change just as vividly in my body as any physical pain or pleasure. In fact, the feeling tormented me even more because I felt the pain of wanting simultaneously with the pleasure of not yet having. I think we are the most alive when in the realm of anticipation because our senses are the most open to contradiction. To top it off, this was a unique anticipation, because after today, I would never encounter the Change again. I would never again be as altered as I would be today.

  Today, I would Stand on the Shoulders of Giants, and that is a mighty, mighty place to stand.

  The madness? I was close to it, I knew. I’d heard about those who slipped into it during their Change. They were unable to anchor themselves through the pain, and their sanity became trapped in the Nothing. But in waiting for the pain, I tasted the bitter edges of madness within my fear. All I needed to do was give in to it, and I’d be free.

  Another string of electricity stitched through me. If I thought that anticipating the pain was worse than experiencing it, this moment told me I was dead wrong.

  I knew it was coming… Somewhere between the ten hours after the first Jump, the body accesses the rest of the senses. This was the part Splicers and Movers could not survive if they tried to Jump between universes. This was the evolutionary hiccup within Saltadors as a result of our concentrated dose of Original Energy within us.

  I knew the whys behind each stretching of the senses, but logic didn’t exist within the realm of torture.

  And this was torture.

  The skin comes alive so we can feel more vividly than ever before. It allows us a deeper connection to our surroundings so we can better understand them and capture the Culture Pulse within the Vein.

  But all I felt were razors being dragged across every millimeter of epidermis that existed.

  The ears sharpen so we can hear minute details within words and vibrations. It lets us trace the etymology of words to their origins, so we can understand any language in any form within seconds of hearing it.

  But all I felt was acid being poured down my canals.

  The tongue grows heavy with the Knowing so that it can replicate any accent and any language, and it can twist itself to form words that are foreign from our native tongue.

  But all I felt was every tastebud being plucked off my tongue by flaming tweezers.

  Beyond that, the eyes become so aware that colors take on new names. I could see how each one danced in and out of the prisms it lived in.

  But all I felt was a red-hot poker jabbing my at my pupils.

  Then there was the nose. It recognizes the paths of various scents, even when they are married together.

  But all I felt was the wave of nausea when I understood what ingredients really made up seawater.

  The worst part was the inside—the way the organs burst as they strengthened so our bodies could function on planets with different elements from those we grew up with. Our lungs and hearts open up to the Multiverse to drink in all the possibilities they will encounter in foreign airs, and the gastrointestinal system prepares itself for the strange foods it’ll encounter.

  But all I felt was the craving of death and the end of it all.

  I knew that eventually I would learn to tune a sense up or down depending on what I needed, but in the midst of feeling them all come alive at once, I couldn’t see into the future of eventually.

  I tried not to scream. I wanted to get through this with at least a shred of dignity, but I had no control over it. Nobu gripped my hands and talked me through it. He kept saying, “This will pass, brother. This will pass.”

  The Change shouldn’t have surprised me in the ways that it did, but then again, change in general was surprising. With the snap of a moment, calm gets transplanted by calamity, and we have to adjust in order to survive.

  After what felt like a millennia of pain I realized Nobu was speaking. I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, but he never stopped. The voice let me know he was with me, and the familiarity within every syllable gave me a truth to hold on to—that I existed beyond the pain if I could just push through the other side of it.

  I touched the hands of madness as my soul ripped apart. I wanted to fall into insanity so pain would make sense again, but Nobu’s voice kept me with him on the beach until everything folded back into place. My volcanic veins stopped bubbling, my brain stopped erupting, and my marathon heart collided with the finish line.

  My skin crawled all over itself from soaking in the sun and the tickle of the breeze felt more like a thousand feathers drifting along my body. I shivered when Nobu laughed. The sound made me aware of a different heightened sense. I finally heard what his laugh truly sounded like, and I was discovering new truths about it.

  Nobu watched every reaction I had, and said, “You’ll get used to this, and eventually you’ll forget these senses ever felt strange.” It was the same voice I’d heard a million times before, but it was different. I could disect its words and trace its evolution back to its creation. I shook my head and smiled. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

  We sat there in silence for an hour, then two hours, before Nobu spoke again. “We have until tomorrow. Then I have to go.”

  Go. The word held a million other meanings now. I knew how it was invented. I knew how I’d used it in the past, so casually and flippant. But this go was bigger. It meant the change I couldn’t face—the one that was a million times more painful than the one
I’d just gone through.

  How do you say goodbye to expectation? Nobu and I were supposed to spend our lives racing each other up the Hierarchy of Watching. Now, I was supposed to help Texi along in her journey. I was supposed to follow her and help teach her, and that had always been my purpose. Only, Nobu and Corbin kept it from me, because they wanted me to fully understand what it meant to be a Watcher to help keep her balanced while we Explored.

  How do you say goodbye to a dream? I was going to be the youngest Grande Master! But Nobu just told me I’ve been under the radar, and no one knew I existed. All of my work? It had been submitted under a pseudonym Nobu refused to reveal to me.

  And Nobu was moving on to his next assignment.

  He was preparing to leave me completely.

  To go.

  The hardest question I had to answer for myself… How do you say goodbye to family? Even if Nobu was a lying sack of shit, he was the only person I’d known my entire life. He was my brother and my best friend. I wasn’t prepared for this. I wanted to tell him to screw orders, but instead, I said, “It’s okay, Nobu. You can go now.”

  “Liam…”

  “Please. Just. Go.” I wanted to cry, but I didn’t want to do it in front of him. “I know how to get home.”

  He didn’t hide his tears, though. He let me see them completely as he stood up, backed away, and entered new coordinates in his Planck Activation Bracelet. He paused, wanting me to change my mind.

  I couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” he said before he disappeared into the Nothing, but I didn’t want an apology. I wanted him to take back the words that changed everything. I wanted my Change day to be the adventure we’d talked about my entire life. When Nobu’s Change came, he flooded my head with stories of his favorite places he escaped to, and I wanted to see them all.

  I guess I could now. That’s what Explorers did, right?

  “Goodbye, brother,” I whispered to the empty air.

  Texi

  ZZ Top Bearded Convention in Beta Prime’s Sector

  “The blues is a mighty long road. Or it could be a river, one that twists and turns and flows into a sea of limitless musical potential.”

  -Billy Gibbons

  -S-329, V-224454-L9872467, Prod.

  Chapter Twenty

  Early into the predawn morning but late into our discussion, Iago finally told me the part of my story he knew was going to hurt: all Saltador children are considered donations to the Children of Gaia. Their parents see it as an honor—as doing their part to ensure the salvation of the human race.

  Apparently, on Gaia, every child is tested for the Saltador gene upon their conception. If a child is born with the gene, they are assigned to a Watcher at the age of one, because only between the ages of one and three can they piggyback off of someone else’s Energy in a transport sphere. Then, between the ages of three and seventeen, these donations are stuck in the universe they were assigned.

  Iago tried to explain, “In the end, cutting us off from our parents is actually a kindness. Saltadors have to always consider the bigger picture. We need proper training in order to survive the jobs we are meant to do, and we are raised by Watchers in accordance to the culture we live in. If a child is meant to be an Explorer, they grow up in highly populated areas to learn how to connect with a variety people with differing ideals. If a child is meant to be a Watcher, they grow up in isolation because Watchers don’t need the white noise of a million perspectives mucking up objectivity. Both situations cater to specific jobs, and if we stayed with our birth-parents, this training would be compromised.”

  It made perfect, logical sense when he put it that way, but it was still messed up.

  To top it off, Iago tried to sugarcoat the news that not only was I a freak, but a freak amongst freaks—a Teenage-Mutant-Ninja-Texi. The soul purpose of my existence was to be the product of an illegal experiment.

  “So what am I, exactly?” I asked.

  “You’re a… you know… hybrid thing-y,” he said.

  “A hybrid thing-y? Aren’t you supposed to be a scientist?” I retorted.

  “Shoot me, okay. You’re one of a kind. Maybe you should come up with what you want to be called.”

  Maybe I should. Teenage-Mutant-Ninja-Texi would require some kick-ass ninja skills that I was pretty sure I didn’t have. Hybrid? Sounded too much like a car. Since I was one of a kind, couldn’t I just be a Texi? When I asked, Iago just laughed at me and called me a moron.

  I didn’t want to believe any of it, but something deep inside me told me I needed to. I had a choice in this, at least. I could live in denial or in reality. Only one of these decisions made sense to me. There was something that went beyond instinct in this decision, like the entire universe conspired to push me towards one possible path. But I knew that my choice wasn’t up to the universe. Because of what I was, I had power over it, and, better yet, I could see down each path. I could see possibility unfold, a tingling in my gut, a ripping of my soul. And when I felt the burning in my eyes, I realized I could see the consequences of each decision. I could be reasonable or childish. I could experience the peace that came with acceptance, or enter into the long and painful journey that would only prolong the inevitable. I shook my head and possibility retracted in on itself. Belief was the only thing that deserved to exist.

  At least the headaches had disappeared. The moment I’d entered the Nothing and experienced my first real Jump, they stopped. I didn’t realize how annoying the headaches were until they were gone. The only thing I could truly feel was exhausted. Iago was starting to explain that the Change lets our brain access nearly all of its potential, so that our bodies could do things beyond the realm of possible, but just as he started to dig into the explanation, he recognized I was too tired to take in anymore information for the night. My head already felt full of helium, and I could tell that even he was starting to hit a wall. I was glad when he pointed to the room so I could finally lay down.

  I’m not sure how long I finally slept for, but when I opened my eyes, soft afternoon light trickled in through the gap in the floral curtains. I waited for the groggy brain jumbles to scatter so understanding could reorient itself in my head. I immediately regretted clarity because reality was an unforgiving jerk, and I groaned as I remembered my most recent memories.

  I flexed my toes under the blanket and sighed. Iago was right about the cuts. My feet felt as if I’d never walked barefoot across several terrains last night. I pulled one foot into my lap and examined the smooth soles without a single sign of a blister or cut.

  I let go of my foot, and my eyes fell on the old leather bracelet on my wrist—the one that was my mother’s. I didn’t give myself time to think about her last night, but in the morning, it was hard to redirect thoughts. They flooded my head with a foggy hurt. My mother wasn’t real, and I had to recognize the calculated purpose her story existed for. She was just some story Ringo used to make me feel sentimental value towards this bracelet so I’d never try to take it off. No one died in a fire. There weren’t even a few years that existed in my life where my mother had loved me, but then again, I guess no Saltador really gets to experience that. We were just donations.

  I got up and walked to the adjoining bathroom to splash water on my face. I wanted to remember what normal felt like, but that word also no longer existed for me. There was a buzzing at the back of my head, like a million bees swarming between my ears, and I tugged at my earlobe. Maybe the headaches weren’t over with after all.

  I examined my face in the dirty mirror and saw that even my skin was clearer. The pimple I’d felt blooming on my chin no longer existed under the surface, and even my curls lacked their normal frizz. They were calm. I was not.

  The noise in my head intensified and I concentrated on the sound of the dripping faucet as I turned it off. Something was wrong, and I slid down to the dirty tile and tried to catch my uncatchable breath. I started to count to ten, but even that reminded me of Ringo and the fac
t that he wasn’t my father.

  The grout in the tile was dirty next to the cream-colored tiles of the bathroom. I wanted to lose myself in the color, because color was something that halfway made sense to me. Inside my body, my organs moved off kilter and sent shivers of dark pain down my spine. Iago said there was a seventy-five percent chance that the Splicer gene would cancel out the Saltador gene—that the experiment, once activated, would kill me. But here I was, nearly eight hours after a Jump, still breathing.

  Right?

  But if my survival was already determined, what was this tingling feeling on my skin? Was it still possible that I could die? I rubbed the pendant on my necklace, but not even that had a calming effect. I moved my fingers to the bracelet and twisted it around and around on my wrist.

  I didn’t want this.

  I didn’t ask for this.

  I wanted the bracelet off, and I pushed it against my wrist. It was too tight, and I wouldn’t be able to remove it without breaking my hand. I tried anyway as a sudden surge of anger hit me. I pushed and pushed, grunting against the friction between my skin and the leather, but it wouldn’t budge past the bones under my thumb.

  The pain was making me panic, and all the resolve I felt the night before cracked into a million tiny shards of sharp illogic. A Hybrid? What the hell kind of story had Iago told me? And above all, could I really trust him? He said I could never go home. Just like that, I was supposed to leave who I was and bloom into something else entirely. So much of who I had been was because of Ringo. And Sully. And Lindsay. And the Ortizes. How could I be who I am without them?