“I think I can help find out who’s doing this.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “And just how do you propose to do that?”
“I know how busy you are, so I won’t waste time on details.” Bob looked down at his feet, “From all the time we spent together, you know I have special abilities. Just trust me and open up some ports for me to scan the multiverse.”
I looked at Bob. Memories from our long-past childhood friendship flashed to mind. There was nothing to lose. “Go ahead, but feed us back anything you find.”
In any case, I’d keep a close eye on him. I dispatched several agents to watch his movements. “You got it, Jimmy.”
I closed the connection, returning to the escape simulation. A giant fireball filled my primary mind.
“Looks like it’ll work,” said Samson. We were scheduled to present our plan to the Council within the hour. “Why don’t you take a quick break, decompress before the meeting?”
That seemed like a good idea. Samson could handle it from here.
The fireball slipped away and I relaxed, letting my mind wander back to Bob’s offer. I was surprised he had any interest in helping out, but then again, the last time he’d helped me out had been the biggest catastrophe of my childhood.
As a kid, I’d secretly thought of Bob as my big brother, and in another twist of fate, that’s what he’d become when his family had adopted me at Patricia’s suggestion.
I always had a hard time fitting in. The easy way the other pssi-kids socialized and made friends always elluded me. Bob was the only one who’d tried to be there for me, doing his best to help me when the others ignored me.
My special pssi skills had brought me to the attention of the Solomon House Research Center at a young age. Academically, my life had taken off early, but my interpersonal skills had foundered hopelessly.
As I got older and gained in pssi power, I finally managed to escape from the oppression of my parents. I learned to slip past their every attempt to corner me, and as I blossomed into a teenager, I was finally beginning to taste my own freedom—but Nancy Killiam’s thirteenth birthday party was the disaster that defined the rest of my life.
My own thirteenth birthday had been just around the corner. I was worried that nobody would come to my party, most especially Cynthia, the girl I’d developed my first crush on.
While girls my age generally ignored me, one day Cynthia had magically taken an interest in me, asking about my research work at the Solomon House. I had no idea how to react or what to do, so I went to the only person I knew to talk to.
“Look,” said Bob back then, “you just gotta stop acting so weird.”
He squinted into the slanting sunshine and raised one hand to shade his eyes. We were walking across the beach toward the circus tent where Nancy’s party was being held. Waves broke softly in the background, and the air was filled with the smell of cotton candy and the sounds of children at play.
I shrugged. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. All that snooping around, hiding where you’re not supposed to be.” He looked me square in the eyes.
My face flushed red. The other pssi-kids had already begun their tentative sexual explorations of each other, not just rag dolling or flitter-switching, but taking a real interest in their blooming, newly adolescent bodies.
I watched it all happening, awkwardly, hanging in the shadows. Sometimes, unknown to them, I would slip in between and into them as they kissed, sharing sensations and stimswitching with each other. Pain was my childhood specialty, but these new emotions and sensations intrigued me.
“Everyone’s talking about you, you know,” Bob continued, scratching his head as we passed into the shadow of the tent and moved toward the entrance.
My dad had come ahead of me, the only one dragging a real gift under his arm, which I found embarrassing. I saw him standing off to the side under a glade of palms talking with some other adults, patting his prize affectionately.
More kids and parents were quickly arriving in ones and twos through portals near the entrance: here a furry, argumentative little minotaur being dragged by his mother, and there two screaming pink teddies trailing fluorescent balloons. Everyone’s reality skins fused and melted together as they entered, producing a confusing kaleidoscopic mash-up around the entrance as they stopped and looked around before fanning out inside. Some parents were arguing with their kids to merge their realities with everyone else properly, arguments that were erupting into tantrums from both sides.
Bob looked around for somewhere quiet to talk.
Organ grinder music started up, and little monkeys dressed in evening suits appeared, scuttling between the assembled guests, handing out information packs for the evening. Drinks and snacks floated and bobbed in refreshment islets. Bob took my arm and led me to a bench off to one side, under the shade of some saw palmettos.
“I know you don’t have many friends,” said Bob in a hushed voice, “and I know it can’t be easy for you.” He paused, searching for words. “First thing, quit with the splatter skins, those were funny when we were kids, but it’s a bit odd when—”
The head of one of the nearest adults shattered in a gory explosion of brains and skull fragments, as if hit by high-caliber rifle fire. The headless, bloody victim casually picked up a drink that floated by, pouring this into his gaping neck wound.
Bob glanced at this and looked back at me, shaking his head reproachfully.
I smiled awkwardly and switched it off.
“I know you’re the king of the rag doll, but nobody wants to play that anymore, get it? And stop asking people if they want to come inside your body with you, it’s starting to get weird.”
I nodded. I knew these things, but I couldn’t help it. I promised myself, right there, that I’d stop.
“We all know you’re this specialist at finding cracks in the pssi system,” he continued, “but you gotta stop sneaking around. We’re adults now and adults don’t sneak.”
Of course we weren’t, and, of course they did. I nodded again, regardless.
“You’ll quit sneaking into people’s bodies when they’re not looking?” He waited for me to nod, and then added, “Why don’t you come surfing with me, whaddya say?”
“Sure, Bob, you’re right. I mean, yes, of course, I’d like that,” I mumbled, anxious but grateful.
Bob had always been nice, but this was the first time he, or anyone, had a heart-to-heart with me. It was both scary and exciting.
“So you’ll come surfing?” Bob smiled toothily.
I grinned back. “I will.”
He gave me a little punch in the arm—we were buddies now, I guess.
“So about Cynthia… she’s a girl, and girls want you to open up, be sensitive.” He laughed, looking into my puppy-dog face. “Okay, you already have the sensitive part down.”
“She said she wanted to see something fun,” I suggested helpfully.
He considered this. “Yeah, girls like cool stuff. Perfect! Just open up to her a little. Why don’t you show her some of the stuff you’ve been working on at Solomon House? That should impress her. Girls like smart guys.”
“You really think so?”
I had some new neural interface models I was testing with Dr. Granger. He’d taken a keen interest in my abilities. I kept the models in my personal workspace and hadn’t let anyone in there before.
My private worlds were very private.
After learning ways of keeping my mother and father out of my special worlds, I didn’t really let anyone near me, emotionally or physically, and I spent most of my time alone with my proxxi Samson and our simulated friends.