Spell Robbers (2 page)

So that was what had happened. Maybe it wasn’t an accident that Peter had helped him out. “Yeah, I know him.”

“Wonderful. Now, before I admit you to the program, I just have to run a simple test.”

“What kind of test?”

“An aptitude test.”

“Aptitude? Like an IQ test?”

“I suppose so. But I am a quantum physicist, not a psychologist.” Dr. Hughes raised the sensor wand. “This will be a simple visualization exercise in which you will picture something I describe for you. I want you to use your imagination to make it as detailed as you can. Your eyes will be closed, but I will be using this device to measure the environment around us. This device is not measuring you or affecting you in any way.”

This was weird. “Okay …”

“Close your eyes.”

Ben hesitated. “What does this have to do with science camp?”

“All will be explained. Please close your eyes.”

Ben did.

“I want you to picture the hallway in front of you,” Dr. Hughes said. “Just as it was before you closed your eyes. Can you see it?”

“Yes.”

“Now, I want you to picture a small spark in the air. As if someone has just struck a match. And the spark is beginning to grow. It’s consuming the oxygen in the air, getting larger, hotter. Now, it’s a ball of fire.”

Ben tried to imagine what she described. It was hard at first, because he kept thinking about her wand thing waving around him. But he worked to put it out of his mind and concentrate. He imagined the fireball hissing and crackling, sucking up the air around it. He could see the colors, blue at the center, then yellow, then red at the edges of the flames. He imagined the heat it was throwing off, and could almost feel it against his face. He started to think that if he opened his eyes, the fireball would be right there in front of him, churning and scorching the air.

“Open your eyes, Ben.”

He did.

No fireball.

Dr. Hughes lowered the sensor wand. “Excellent!”

“Did I pass?”

“Indeed, you did. Very strong indications of aptitude. The highest I have seen to date.”

That sounds good, whatever it means.
“So, what happens now?”

“Now we begin. You may join the others.”

Ben nodded and reentered the classroom, but stopped short a foot into the room, stunned by what he saw. Peter stood in the middle of a circle of tripods, holding out his hands. Between his hands burned a small fireball the size of a grapefruit.

Not an imaginary fireball.

A
real
fireball.

BEN
didn’t know what to think or say. He just stood there with his mouth open, watching the fireball burn in front of Peter for another moment before it vanished with a puff of smoke. The other three kids stood outside the tripods, acting like nothing unusual was going on.

“Excellent, Peter,” Dr. Hughes said. “But we were supposed to work on water today.”

Peter nodded. “Right. Sorry, Dr. Hughes.”

“That’s quite all right. Class, I’d like you to meet our newest member, Ben.”

They all turned to face him.

“Ben, this is Julie, Abbie, and Dylan. Peter you know, of course.”

“Hey,” Ben said to them, and they said “hey” back.

“We’re just getting started for the day.” Dr. Hughes gestured Ben toward the metal folding chairs. “While I conduct a brief orientation with Ben, I’d like for the rest of you to begin. Focus on condensation. Clouds and rain. Do you think you could lead the exercises, Peter?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Hughes.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Hughes led Ben away from the circle.

He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay and watch Peter. Ben didn’t quite believe what he’d seen. But Dr. Hughes guided him with a hand against his back, and then pointed at one of the chairs. “Please, have a seat.”

Ben lowered himself slowly onto the cold metal chair, watching Peter.

Dr. Hughes took a chair next to him. “I can see you’re distracted. Before we begin, let’s watch for a moment.”

Peter strode to the middle of the tripods and closed his eyes. He held his hands in front of him, wide, like he was holding a huge beach ball. And he just stood there.

“What’s he doing?” Ben asked.

“Just watch,” Dr. Hughes said.

A few moments passed, and then something happened. Between Peter’s hands, a little smudge appeared. Within seconds it had swelled to a wisp, and moments later, a puff. Then it was a cloud. A little cloud. Ben blinked. It was still there.

He stood up. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Physics,” Dr. Hughes said.

Ben looked at her. “Physics?”

“Physics.”

The little cloud had grown even larger between Peter’s hands, and it had darkened in the center, getting denser. And then, a drop of water fell from it and splashed on the floor. Then another, and another.

Rain
.

It was raining. Before long, Peter stood in a small puddle, his pants wet in spots below his knees. A moment later, he opened his eyes and flung his arms wide, as if letting the little storm cloud go free. It dissipated quickly, leaving only the wet floor behind.

Peter looked across the room at Ben. He smiled. Ben smiled back. He had no idea what he had just seen. But it was amazing. And if
this
was what they did here at this science camp, then Ben was thrilled he’d gotten in. But how was it possible?

He turned back to Dr. Hughes. “I don’t understand. How did —?”

“You’re very bright, Ben.” Dr. Hughes reached over and tapped the chair where Ben had been sitting. “What do you know about quantum mechanics?”

But he couldn’t sit. Not right now. And he didn’t want a science lesson, either. “Not much. It’s physics for really small stuff, right? Electrons and quarks and stuff like that.”

“Yes, that is the conventional understanding. Basically, the laws that govern larger objects, like planets and basketballs, start to break down when we get to the smallest of scales. That’s when things get very, very strange.”

Ben knew this was a science camp and all, but a lecture? Really? Now? After what he’d just seen Peter do?

“Look, Dr. Hughes, I —”

She silenced him with an upheld finger. She really was a teacher. “Quantum mechanics inform our understanding and predictions for many things. Every natural process, whether chemical, or biological, or astronomical, ultimately comes back to quantum physics. As strange as it is, the math works perfectly, and because of that, we have things like lasers and microprocessors.”

Ben felt a growl of frustration rumbling just under his breath. “Okay.”

“Have you heard of quantum entanglement?”

“No.”

“It is possible for two particles to become what we call entangled, such that their states are inextricably linked. The measurement of one particle
instantly
affects the state of the other particle, whether they are in the same room, or even on different
planets
. The particles are connected. Are you with me?”

Ben didn’t see how that could be. He thought nothing moved faster than the speed of light. “So when you say ‘instantly’ …”

“I mean instantly. No matter the distance.”

This was new to Ben. “But what does this have to do with that?” He pointed in Peter’s direction.

“Well, in some ways, everything in this world is connected through entanglement. Any two objects that have interacted become entangled on a level we can’t perceive and find difficult to measure. All the universe is a great bubbly fabric, and you are a part of the pattern, down to your atoms.”

This was starting to sound kind of hokey. Ben probably would have walked out at that point if he hadn’t just seen what he had seen.

“‘Thou canst not stir a flower without troubling of a star,’” Dr. Hughes said.

“What?”

“It’s a poem.”

Even more hokey
.

Dr. Hughes continued. “It means that small disturbances can have tremendous, even unimaginable consequences. There are certain people, Ben, whom we call Actuators. They have the ability to disturb the universal fabric with their thoughts, to
actuate
an event. So long as we have the proper equipment.”

Ben looked back at Peter. “So Peter is a — an Actuator?”

“Yes. Someone who can focus his or her thoughts in such a way that the entanglement of his or her consciousness with the world brings about events. Like that rain cloud.”

“Like being psychic?”

Dr. Hughes pursed her lips. “I prefer you not use that term. And I don’t like the term ‘magic,’ either. They are not scientifically accurate.”

“Okay. But that’s basically what it is, right?”

“I suppose.”

“So what are those doing?” Ben pointed at the tripods.

“Those are augmenting devices. They reflect and magnify the quantum energy radiating from Peter. That is how he was able to do what you saw. Without them, he would not be able to actuate that cloud.”

“Can you actuate things without them?”

“No. My equipment is what makes actuation possible.”

This was unbelievable, and Ben was confused. “How can the rest of the world not know about this?”

“When the idea of actuation was theoretical,” Dr. Hughes said, “I was laughed at by my colleagues. We’ve now gone beyond theory, but the technology isn’t perfected. Before I go public, I have to make sure the data and evidence are unassailable. But I do hope to make an announcement in the next six months. Until then, I expect you to keep this a secret.” Dr. Hughes looked at him from under her brow. “Understood?”

“Understood,” Ben said.

“Excellent. Then let’s begin your first lesson.”

A few minutes later, Ben stood inside one of the tripod rings. Dr. Hughes and Ben’s classmates stood outside the circle. It felt to Ben like he was on some kind of stage, with bright lights and an audience staring at him, and he did not want to trip.

“The key to actuation,” Dr. Hughes said, “is how fully you realize the event you are trying to bring about. Like the visualization exercise I just had you do in the hallway.”

Ben took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“The more detailed your visualization, the more complete your thought, the greater the chances of actuation. That means understanding all the consequences, all the precursors, everything about the event that you can.”

“Got it.”

“So now.” Dr. Hughes went to stand in front of one of the computer monitors. “I’d like you to close your eyes.”

Ben did.

“Relax,” she said. “Take a few deep breaths. Hold your hands out in front of you, like you saw Peter do. And now picture a cloud between them. Imagine the moisture condensing out of the air, molecules collecting.”

Ben saw what she described. He turned his normal vision into science-documentary animation, zooming in on the atoms floating in the air around him, the hydrogen and the oxygen. He grabbed two hydrogen, one oxygen, and stuck them together, and he imagined others coming together, too. Hundreds, thousands, millions more. Together, they became a mist, and then a cloud, and then falling water droplets, all between his hands.

Suddenly, he became aware that the room was silent around him. He became aware of his feet squishing inside his tennis shoes, and the coldness of wet jeans against his shins. He opened his eyes.

A charcoal cloud the size of a car churned in the air in front of him. It stretched to the edges of the circle, flooding the floor with rain even as Ben’s excitement burned hot. This was power. This was control. In
his
hands.

The others had all stepped away from it. They looked back and forth between the cloud and Ben with fear in their eyes. Except Peter. Peter was looking past the cloud, right at Ben, his expression blank.

Dr. Hughes’s fingers flicked over her keyboard. “Good. That’s good, Ben. And now I need you to disperse the water in your cloud back into the air, just as you collected it.”

The cloud flashed with an angry little bolt of lightning.

“Close your eyes,” Dr. Hughes said. “Before it gets away from you.”

“Gets away from me?” Ben asked.

“Just do as I say.” Dr. Hughes’s voice sounded calm, but strained. Was she afraid, too?

Ben closed his eyes. He pictured the cloud in his mind, and focused on its molecules. He cracked the bonds holding them together and broke them into atoms, just as he’d assembled them, and scattered them like smoke until they’d dissipated.

He opened his eyes. The cloud was gone. But the floor was still wet. “How was that?” he asked.

No one said anything. They just stared. Like they were still afraid. But not Peter.

Dr. Hughes cleared her throat. “Class, you will continue practicing your exercises. Ben and I will return shortly.”

Return?
Where were they going?

“Yes, Dr. Hughes.” Peter smiled at her, and then cast a dark look at Ben. Was he angry about something?

“Come, Ben.” Dr. Hughes waved for him to follow and led him through the classroom door into the hallway. “Let’s go up to my office, shall we?”

“All right.”

They climbed the stairs to the first floor, and then up to the second, past more creepy old photographs. The wooden steps creaked a little under their feet on their way up to the third. The ceiling on that floor slanted, giving Ben the feeling of needing to duck his head. They walked down a narrow hallway to its end, where Dr. Hughes unlocked a door.

The room inside was round, and lined with shelves and shelves of books. A desk overflowing with papers stood before a single slit of a window, straight ahead.

“Are we in a tower?” he asked.

Dr. Hughes glanced around. “Yes. I asked for this office. I don’t like corners. Things get stuck in corners. Please, sit down.” She motioned toward one of two chairs in front of her desk, and she took her place on the opposite side.

Ben sat. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, Ben. Nothing like that.”

“Then why —?”

“I’m sure you took note of how the others reacted to your actuation.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“The fact is, none of them, not even Peter, has actuated anything remotely close to that. And they have been practicing for weeks and months. You were able to do that on your first try. It’s quite astonishing.”

Ben kept his pride from turning into a smile. But then, what she’d said made him wonder something. “Can you actuate, Dr. Hughes?”

She smiled down at her desk. “No, Ben. I can’t. I haven’t found an adult who can.”

“Why not?”

“I think it has to do with imagination. Adult brains have already decided long ago what’s possible and what’s not.” Her eyes watered up, and her voice got quiet. “But actuation would have meant a great deal to me when I was your age.”

Ben looked away, unsure of what she meant or what he should say.

Dr. Hughes cleared her throat. “During the actuation, I told you it could get away from you. Do you remember?”

“Yes.” Ben leaned forward, grateful for a change of subject. “What did you mean by that?”

“In the beginning, it was your thoughts that created and sustained that cloud. But if you had let it go long enough, or get big enough, eventually, there would have come a tipping point when the cloud would have ceased being an actuation and become an actual cloud.”

“What’s the difference?” Ben’s cloud seemed plenty actual to him.

“An actuation is still just the physical manifestation of a potential, one remote possibility. But an actual thing isn’t potential anymore. It’s there, and it has a material life of its own. A runaway train.”

“So what happens if it gets away from me?”

Dr. Hughes shook her head. “Who knows? Bigger cloud. More rain. Lightning. It hasn’t been a high enough risk to worry about until today.”