Socket 2 - The Training of Socket Greeny (17 page)

No more tricks. Please.

I stood in an alcove five hundred feet up the
Garrison’s cliff. I had never seen it from that vantage point.
Bitter wind circled into the opening. I put my toe over the edge.
No rail up here, just me and the elements and five hundred feet to
the ground. I was cold and alone.

Pretty much how it was on the inside.

If I took a five hundred foot step off the
ledge and somehow survived, maybe I could run to the wormhole, get
as far away from the Garrison as possible. But even if I could
survive such a fall, even if I could outrun the long leash of the
Paladin Nation, there was nothing on the other side. No home out
there. A butterfly cannot transform back into a caterpillar anymore
than I could become normal again.

There was no stopping growth. If it would
bring back Pon, I would gladly lay my Paladin membership down. They
needed him more than me. It was a great loss to the Paladin Nation.
A great loss to the world. But there was no bringing him back.
Would he even want me to?

He said they were going to terminate my
training, send me home. That was a lie. They were never going to
terminate my training, never let me return, because I was special.
Even among Paladins, I was one of a kind.

I am telekinetic.

I wasn’t unstable after all. It was all part
of the development, and that was the big mystery. I was hearing
future events, too. The cold wash preceded the insights. The
precognition was enough to make me special, to send me to the top
of the Paladins’ power list, but it was the telekinesis that put me
over the top. No Paladin had ever moved objects with his or her
mind. I not only moved them, I blew them across the room. I crushed
their bodies. That’s what happened in the pre-Trial exercise.
Stress levels built up and I exploded. Spindle was destroyed. They
weren’t expecting it. Spindle had me beat, and then he went flying.
It was like fishing for trout and hooking a goddamn pot of
gold.

They weren’t sure what happened, so they sent
me home. According to the Commander, they cooked up a scheme to put
me under stress to replicate the outcome. They couldn’t make me
aware of the plan because it might skew the results, so they
concocted a confrontation. And lucky them, I set them up with my
colossal failure at the Judgment Day club. Pon behaved like Pike,
pretended to be a traitor. He attacked. And I responded.

According to the Commander.

Then let me see Pon, I told them. Bring him
here and I’ll tell you if he was pretending. I saw it, the eyes
don’t lie. Pike was in there. He held the dagger to my throat. He
had every intention of killing me.

Pigs go to slaughter.

But they didn’t bring Pon to me. Trust us,
they said. Pon is no traitor. But they were hiding something, I
could feel it, sensed it in their minds. Even the Commander. And
trust? They exhausted that privilege long ago. But I had nowhere
else to go. No one else to believe. My own mother withheld
information from me. Who am I going to trust now?

Another gust of wind whipped my hair across
my face, like the world was asking a question:
Sure you don’t
want to try jumping? You never know, you might survive.

I kicked pebbles over the edge and watched
them bang against the cliff until they disappeared. I took a knife
from my belt and unfolded it, touched the reflective steel and
razor edge.

I’m one of them. I can be nothing else.

With one long stroke, I cut my hair at the
scalp and held a handful before me.

Socket Greeny had long white hair. It had
always set me apart, identified me in every crowd. Pon hated my
long hair because it had no purpose, no function. But Pon was gone.
No matter what the Commander said, I would never see him again,
even if they produced a person that walked and talked like him.
The teacher is gone.

With my toes over the edge, looking straight
down, I let go of the hair. It fluttered in a thousand directions,
swirling and separating like strands of silk.

I cut away another chunk, and another, the
hair sucked out and dispersed to the world. The world takes. What
choice did I have but to give them all of me? To surrender. To
accept what am I, whatever that may be. To accept whatever this
moment contains. However ugly. However cruel.

Life, as it is, the only teacher.

“I have come for you, Master Socket.” Spindle
approached from behind. “The Commander would like to see you.”

I cut away the last lock of hair and replaced
the knife.

“You look very different,” Spindle said.

“You know what used to be out there?” I
pointed across the field. “Home.”

“It still is.”

“No, Spindle. It’s where I was born. That’s
all. Nothing more.” I caressed the rough stubble on my scalp. “I no
longer matter to that world.”

“Pardon my opinion,” Spindle said, “but the
world is very lucky to have you.”

I held up the last lock of hair. The strands
slipped between my fingers, flaying in the wind then yanked from my
grip like the world was hungry. There was nothing left to give. I’m
not a boyfriend, not a best friend, nor a son. I’m empty.

“The world can have all of me.”

With my toes perched over the edge, another
gust of wind asked,
Last chance, Socket.
I turned to
Spindle, standing patiently at the leaper entrance, with my heels
over the edge. Spindle titled his head, his faceplate void of
color. He did not lunge after me. The end was a mere shuffle away,
but he gave me the opportunity to choose. He was an android – a
machine – not capable of emotion, created only to calculate. Maybe
he knew I wasn’t going to make that step. He knew I was only
resisting my fate; there was no chance I would step backwards. Or
perhaps he was watching me swim in the ocean and could not save me.
No man or machine could save me from myself. They can only
watch.

I will serve the world.

I stepped away from the ledge. Spindle’s
faceplate swirled with a myriad of blues and greens.

But not embrace it.

We went to see the Commander and to chart a
new course for the Paladin Nation. One that included a cadet that
sensed the future. A cadet that moved things with his mind.

A new age was upon us.

* * * * *

The teacher opens the door. The student
enters alone.

Buddhist proverb

Your past is an anchor that cannot be cut
away. Ignore it, and it will drag behind you, snagging coral and
rock in your wake. Your only choice is to pull it aboard to sail
freely in all directions.

Trey Greeny

* * * * *

A bead of sweat tracked the side of my face,
dangled from my chin.

Breathe in.

My feet were on opposite thighs; my legs
folded in a tight lotus position.

Breathe out.

I closed my eyes, the stagnant air wrapped
around me, pulling sweat down both cheeks. Drip, drip, drip.

Breathe in.

My awareness expanded to the four walls.

Breathe out.

Every tissue attuned to the infinitesimal
swirl of electrons and the pulsing essence within.

Breathe in.

Empty of thoughts.

Breath out.

Just the room.

Breathe in.

Here.

Breathe out.

The walls spit faceless warriors, their
deadly fingers aimed for my throat. The evolvers ignited onto my
arms. I twisted. Long, blue whips flailed from my hands. Fiery
energy burst from the quiet core of my being, waves of telekinetic
power hitting the assailants.

Swipe. Roll.

The whips cut through them. Dismembered arms
thumped on the floor. Clay-like substance spattered the walls.

Feint.

They counter-attacked. Fingers extended.

RrrrrrrrrrrrrrragharaRRRRRRRRRG!

Another subsonic wave burst from my chest.
The warm substance of their bodies splashed over me. I dropped to
one knee, chest heaving. I felt the last twitches of their lifeless
torsos around me.

Except one.

The last assassin was legless, but lifted
itself onto its hands. It craned its neck, and circled around the
room.

The evolvers unfolded from my arms. The enemy
moved carefully over the body parts. I closed my eyes and centered
my awareness. Sensing the room, I located the enemy’s energy and
felt it stalking me.

It bent at the elbows, braced itself against
the wall and sprang like a lion.

I felt the space close between us. I
deflected its arms open and plunged my hands deep into its chest.
The torso flailed, the muscles contracting as I brought it closer,
leveraging my grip, my arms bulging until it ripped apart. The body
split open with a wet, sucking sound, spewing warm fluid.

My bicep was cut open. White and meaty. Blood
beaded on the edges, then began to ooze over my slime-caked
skin.

“
Mission complete,”
the room
reported.

The room was still.

“AGAIN!” I shouted.

The floor quivered. The slimy substance
absorbed into the floor like a sponge until the room was white and
pristine. The smell of wet clay lingered. Filtered air wafted
through the walls, clearing the atmosphere.

I took my place at the center and pulled my
feet into lotus position.
Breathe in.

“Master Socket.” Spindle entered. “I must
insist you rest.”

“When I am finished.”

“You have completed this exercise twenty
times this morning.”

I looked at the gaping wound. “And I have
failed as many.”

“I cannot allow you to continue. You do not
have safety precautions activated. Failure could result in great
harm.”

“How else am I going to learn?”

“Trainer Pon would not condone your
methods.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

Pon was gone but the Paladins and Spindle
still pretended like he had simply been reassigned. He wouldn’t be
available but would instead send orders. And trust us, Socket, do
you really think Pike could overcome a Paladin like Pon?
Then
let me see him, just one look.

You’ll see him again, the Commander promised.
For the moment, focus.

But Pon never came. Instead his orders were
relayed through Spindle, supplying daily exercises. Not for a
second did I believe Pon was actually sending them, so I silently
became the teacher and learned how to swim. I looked inside myself
for guidance, driving myself far beyond the menial exercises “Pon”
was sending. I didn’t want to achieve the goals, I wanted to crush
them. I wanted to obliterate everything set in front of me. I
wanted nothing less than the flawless achievement of total
annihilation.

“I beg you to rest, Master Socket. You have
not slept in three days.” He reached for my forehead to read my
vitals. I pulled away. He didn’t need to tell me how I felt. I had
infinite energy, as if something had been released inside. This
energy came out hot and angry. Undeniable.

I had never moved more freely. I had to keep
moving forward, don’t look back. Home was back there. Chute. The
rest.
Just don’t look
. I found solace in the pureness of
action, when I immersed myself in missions, banished all thoughts.
I annihilated the enemies sometimes wondering who or what I was
actually fighting.

“There are many exercises remaining.” Spindle
stepped back, sensing my agitation. “The Realization Trial is near
and I am afraid you will not be prepared if you do not complete
them.”

“I’ll get to them.”

“Could I send for food and drink? I believe
you are running low on sustenance.”

“You can leave.” I pointed away. “I’ll call
when I need you.”

Colors scattered across Spindle’s faceplate
as he contemplated what to do. He was watching me burn out, but,
just as on the ledge, he did not attempt to save me. He bowed
slightly and left the room.

I didn’t need Spindle anymore. I didn’t need
anyone.

I returned to breathing, calming my mind,
letting thoughts fall away. Soon the room opened to me and, once
again, I expanded into its spaciousness. Silence washed over me,
carried away the heat of anger. Patiently, I awaited the essential
flow of life to open in my awareness.

Instead, cold drained down the back of my
neck.

It spread through my shoulders, down my back.
Voices warbled distantly. Inaudibly, at first. I braced tighter,
pushed the sounds away, but they would not be denied. It wasn’t
what they said that caused the cold anger to flame brighter. It was
laughter.

From somewhere across the planet Pike was
laughing. He would have me in the future is what it meant.
Surrender was inevitable.

“NO!”

I activated the evolvers, lashing whips from
my hands, tearing at the air, gashing deep tracks into the walls. I
spun, twisted and attacked the laughter that rang all around,
thrashing at the invisible voice.

My lungs suddenly deflated, unable to hold
air. My balance swirled inside my head; I couldn’t hold myself
up.

The room dimmed.

Spindle picked me up. The furnace of hate was
still burning.

And laughter trailed in my head.

“To the Preserve, Spindle.”

For some reason, he listened. We loaded onto
a floating cart and sped down the dark paths of the Preserve. The
clouds spun overhead and cold laughter trickled down my spine. I
clamped my hands over my ears like I could stop it.

As we came out of the trees, the vehicle
slowed, creeping up a wide slab of stone. We approached the muscled
branches of the grimmet tree. They crawled from their holes and
perched on the limbs, turning the barren tree bright with color. As
we neared, the cold sensation began to warm. The laughter
faded.