Broken Souls (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 2) (4 page)

“There weren’t nothing petty about that code. It was worth a decent chunk of change.”

“I’m sure it was, but it seems inefficient and time-consuming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stealing software, ferrying it down to San Francisco and hoping that your
client
doesn’t rip you off. Too many moving parts, too many things can go wrong.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Perhaps. Tell me why you are wearing latex gloves.”

Merv held up the gloved hands, looked embarrassed. “I’ve been morphing. Into everything I touch.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Morphing. It’s like I’m a baby all over again.”

Prado straightened, looking interested for the first time since Merv had sat down. “I’m still not following you. Did you say
morphing
?”

Merv looked exasperated. “You don’t know what I’m talking about either. Morphing, it’s what a newborn does before it imprints on its parents. You know, you’re born with—what do you call it—undifferentiated genomes, something like that. When you’re a baby, you touch something with DNA, and your cells morph, until you get imprinted.”

“Babies touch something with DNA, and they morph?”

“Yeah.”

“Morph as in
change
.” Prado punctuated the word with a subtle drop of the chin.

“Right.”

“Change into what?”

“Whatever they touch.”

“A baby touches a cat and—”

“Morphs into a cat, right.” Merv smiled, happy to be getting through to someone.

“But you’re not a baby.”

“Right.”

“And you said you were morphing.”

“Right. Ever since the plane crash.”

Prado leaned forward and pulled his wallet from his pocket, took out some bills and threw them onto the table. “I think we’re done here. Have a good life being a doctor or a felon or a cat, for all I care.” He scooted over in the booth.

“Wait, I’ll show you.”

Prado stopped with one foot under the table and the other at the end of the booth. “You’ll show me what?” he asked.

“Just one minute,” Merv said, holding up a finger. He stared across the room and watched a wiry, bearded man in a mechanic’s uniform put on a ball cap and get up from the bar. The customer turned and went out the front entrance at the end of the bar opposite the video games. Merv stood, snapped off his rubber gloves and threw them on the table in front of Prado.

“Watch,” Merv said, then crossed the narrow bar and sat on bearded mechanic’s stool. He reached for the empty beer mug and lifted it to his lips. A thin stream of foam slid to his mouth.

Hairs sprouted out of Merv’s jowls over the rim of the glass and appeared to pull away as his skin tightened over his narrowing skull. Within seconds his chins receded, and his Adam’s apple protruded from his neck. His eyebrows thickened and arched downward, as his nose lengthened, and his lips thinned. His cheekbones roiled beneath his skin, climbed higher, pushing on his profile, shoving his ears back and out like airplane flaps being extended for flight. He cocked his head to one side and popped his neck. His shoulders broadened, but his chest sunk, causing his shirt to sag down over his belt. After a few more seconds, his belt and pants sagged, threatening to fall off. He reached down and grabbed them, pulling them back up, revealing his lengthening calves and bursting athletic shoes.

“Ouch, that hurts,” Merv-morphed-into-the-mechanic said, looking down at his feet.

The bartender walked up and said, “What hurts, honey? That empty mug?”

“You got that right,” Merv raised the glass to Prado. “I’ll take another. Can you bring it to me over there?” He pointed to the table where Prado stared back, pale and stone-faced.

“What do you want to know?” Mara asked, extending her legs in front of her on the floor so her feet touched her mother’s knees. The green crystal sat on the ornate throw rug between them.

“Tell me what Mr. Ping has taught you, so I can have the context that you have,” Diana said.

“Sheesh, there is so much. I’m not sure how to begin.”

“Let’s start with these realms, these alternate dimensions, like the one Sam comes from. Explain that whole concept to me.”

Mara reached up to a small drawer in the end table next to the couch and retrieved a pad and pencil. She sat them on the rug next to the crystal. “Okay, let’s start with the nature of creation.”

“Wow, all right then.”

Mara blushed and said, “When most people think about creation, they think of it as something that has already occurred. Like the universe was created. Actually creation is a process that is still happening. It’s a matter of trial and error. Every possibility, every scenario is being tried to see which would be the best design for existence. What people perceive as reality is actually one of these scenarios playing itself out.”

“So each realm is a scenario in this attempt to design existence.”

“Exactly,” Mara said and fanned her arms. “All of this is just perception, one possible permutation of how the universe could be, once the process is complete.”

“I think I understand. So these people in other realms, other scenarios, they are actually us, trying out a different possibility. That snake woman, the version of me who crossed over, she’s me living the life I would live in that realm. While we have different experiences, the essence of who we are, our consciousness, is the same. We are one individual, the same person.”

“Exactly! How can you figure this stuff out so easily? I’m still struggling with the idea that I would ever do the things that Sam said my counterpart would do. How can you accept that so readily?”

Diana smiled. “Mara, I think the older you get, the more you realize that we all have within us the capacity to do both good and, for the lack of a better word, evil. I can’t imagine doing the things my counterpart did, but, on some level, I know I have the potential to do those things. I have to accept that.”

“Why do you have to accept that? How can you?”

“Do you believe that Sam is your brother? I mean, really believe it?”

“Yes, I believe that.”

“And I believe he’s my son. But the only way that can be true is if I accept that his mother, the one with the serpent tattoo on her face, is me. One cannot be true without the other.”

“I suppose that makes sense. That must be why Ping kept telling me I was responsible for cleaning up the mess the other Mara made with the plane crash, that metaphysically we are the same.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense, don’t you think?”

“It’s still hard to accept.”

“So what else did Mr. Ping teach you? What have you got the pad and pencil for?”

Mara picked them up. “I wanted to show you what Ping calls the levels of sentience. He says different people have different levels of awareness about the nature of reality.” She drew three concentric circles on the pad and held it up. “There are three levels of sentience.” In the inner circle she wrote “thought”; in the second circle she wrote “perception,” and in the outer circle she wrote “reality.”

Mara pointed to each circle as she spoke. “Basically people can be aware of what’s in their thoughts, what they perceive in the world around them or in their realm, or they can have a sense of reality, how things actually are beyond the pixels in their reality.”

“Pixels?”

“That’s how Sam thinks of it. Like on a computer, you interact with a user interface made up of pixels, but actually you are interacting with software code beyond what a user perceives. Our realm is our interface to reality, but there is more beyond that.”

“What’s beyond this interface?”

“Reality, the true nature of how things are.”

“And what is that? What is the nature of how things are?”

“I’m still grappling with that. What I understand at this point is that everything is made of Consciousness. Using our knowledge, awareness and beliefs, we can shape our existence by molding and manipulating Consciousness.” Mara shrugged. “I know it sounds flaky, but that’s how Ping says it works.”

“It’s not flaky at all. It makes perfect sense. Sam is tuned in to this sentience at the level of thought, so he has the ability to suggest thoughts to people.”

“That’s correct. Ping calls him a prompter. He says there are people with metaphysical talents or abilities who can manipulate elements at one or another of these three levels.” She pointed to the inner circle on her pad. “Sam’s ability allows him to manipulate the element of Free Will, here at the level of thought. On the Chronicle of Creation, the center crystal represents the element of Free Will. Maybe I should go get the Chronicle so I can show you.”

“No, keep doodling it here. I’m following you. I remember what the Chronicle looks like.”

Mara drew a star in the center circle of her drawing. “Okay. In the next ring out on the Chronicle, there are four smaller gems and four glyphs made of lines. These represent the elements of Earth, Wind, Fire and Water, the elements of perception.” She drew them. “These elements can be manipulated by people called pretenders. That’s you.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You have the ability to manipulate at least some of these elements.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Ping says pretenders have the ability to manipulate the elements of perception.”

“No, I mean, why do you think I’m a pretender?”

“Well, you were—at least your counterpart was—manipulating the heck out of some elements on the Oregon City Bridge a couple weeks ago. You almost blew me away and into the Willamette River several times.”

“I think you are mistaken. My counterpart may have been one of these pretenders, but I don’t think I am.”

“I had doubts in the beginning too. It takes time and practice.”

“Mara, I don’t doubt the truth of what you are saying about these metaphysical concepts, but I think I would know if I had these abilities. I would have no trouble accepting them if I had them.”

“Have you tried, you know, since the bridge?”

“A few times. It’s not a part of me. I can feel it.”

“I assumed that you would be a pretender since your counterpart was.”

“Does it have to be?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, let’s move on. I’ll let you know if I start causing obelisks to glow or spewing fire or something.”

Mara raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t remember any of that night.”

“I don’t, not coherently. Just snippets, random images really. I know what you and Sam have told me, but I don’t have a memory of most of what happened.” She looked down to the pad in Mara’s hand. “Continue.”

“The outer circle. That level of sentience is reality. The elements of reality are Consciousness, Time, Space and Consequence.” Mara paused.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Prompters can manipulate thought. Pretenders can manipulate perception, and what?” Diana leaned forward and tapped a fingernail on the outer circle on the pad.

“Progenitors.”

“Can what?”

“Manipulate the elements of reality.”

“And that’s you, right?”

Mara blushed. “Right.”

“Why are you turning red?” Diana smiled.

“It sounds so crazy when you say it out loud.”

“You’re the only one in this room who thinks it’s crazy. I think it is absolutely logical and very cool.”

“That’s what concerns me. I’ve somehow ended up being more of a metaphysical voodoo priestess than you.”

“Life is full of irony, dear. The trick is to accept who you are and figure out your purpose in the world. It’s very exciting. Imagine what wonderful things lay ahead, the great things you can do with your abilities.”

“I’m thinking I’d like to shift the abilities into Neutral and leave them there, if that’s okay with you.”

“I’m no expert at what you are going through, but I don’t think denying or ignoring your abilities is something that you will have the luxury of doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mara, look at what has happened already. You didn’t wake up one day and make all this happen. It came to you, on that plane, on that bridge. The fact that you are who you are, can do what you can do, will draw people and events to you. You have to accept who you are, what your metaphysical role is. You can no more deny this than you can deny being a young woman. It is what you are.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, you will. I won’t harangue you about it.” Diana picked up the crystal from the floor between them and stared at it for a few minutes. “There is something I want to harangue you about though.”

“What? I’m being all open here. I’ve allowed you to manipulate me into talking about myself under the guise of helping you sort out your own issues—you didn’t really think I fell for that did you?”

“Don’t be melodramatic, sweetie. Talking is good for both of us.”

“So let’s talk. About what now?”

“Your brother.”

“Okay, what about him?”

“Sam has to find his own way in this realm. He can’t do it on your terms or my terms, or he will be miserable, and so will we.”

“Fine by me, as long as he doesn’t go around telling people he’s from a different dimension.”

“That’s the thing. It’s not for us to decide that.”

“People will think he’s crazy.”

“He’ll figure that out and learn how to finesse the issue. But we cannot go around telling lies about him that he may not be comfortable with. He may perceive it as us being embarrassed about him or that we don’t truly consider him part of the family. I will not do that, and I will not allow you to do that.”

“So we let him mangle an unpeeled banana in front of company and let it go?”

“No, we help him when we can, but we don’t do it by lying or by denying him in any way.”

“It’s so embarrassing sometimes.”

“You’re not the first teenager to be embarrassed by her little brother, you know.”

“I’ll give it a shot. I suppose given the burdens you’ve got to deal with, I’ve got it easy when it comes to Sam.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dad? Sam wants to meet his dad. Didn’t you see how excited he was when he found out he had a father?”

Diana blanched. “We’re going to have to buy some time on that one.”