《Lizzy Langdale and the Unassigneds》Langdale History
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Between lessons with Pam every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, library study sessions, and Brody most likely stopping by every Wednesday from now on, my week is pretty full now. To be completely honest I can barely stay awake in my actual classes, and the librarian has had to wake me up from my pillow of books on more occasions than I want to admit to. But Sundays are mine. On Sundays I do my best not to do anything that needs doing - there’s always something to read up on or practice, and the sooner I learn it, the sooner I can (theoretically) leave. At the same time, I also have a sneaking suspicion that the learning curve and resting curve are closely tied together - without enough rest, you won’t obtain any of the knowledge. Therefore Sundays are mine, to relax, to sleep, to sow a new shirt and clear my mind. Today I couldn’t resist a bit of fresh air and a trip to the tower. The only thing to ever changed about the weather is the temperature since the clouds never leave the British corner and the barrier shields us from the ocean winds. In other words, the weather is exactly as beautiful as it is every day.
“You’ve barely been to class all week,” Professor Holt remarks as he steps out the door to the balcony.
“You said they were voluntary,” I remind him.
“I wasn’t reprimanding you, I just thought I’d check up on you, make sure everything is alright.”
“What, you can’t read my mind from a distance?”
“I thought you of all people would recognize when someone’s a mind reader and when they’re not.” Something about that doesn’t sound like the typical Langdale spatter, it sounds more like a reprimanding compliment than a ‘ha, so you’re not as powerful as you think’.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I demand in a slightly harsh tone hoping that’ll put him on the defensive and make him give an answer other than ‘you’re a Langdale’. He laughs instead and shakes his head at his feet, I even think he mumbles something about being proud of me as if he’s talking to someone who’s not there.
“Whose M?” I try, if I got the initial right it might get me something, if not it won’t cost me anything.
“There are certain things you won’t find in those books you’ve been spending all your time with,” he starts out, and his tone is that of a teacher giving a lecture, not a man answering a question. “Like if someone were to explain the rules of basketball they wouldn’t tell you that the ball is round or the court square, that is common knowledge, even for people who don’t know the game. It’s the same thing here, but you’re a Langdale… Maybe football would be a better example, the difference between American football and English football, you come with one set of ‘common knowledge’ while everyone here has a different set, you don’t assume the ball to be round and they assume using hands isn’t allowed.”
“So what common knowledge don’t I have?”
“Certain types of gifts are less common than others, and only extremely strong people can master them. Ever since you got here you’ve been on the lookout for mind readers, you’ve been cautious and scared. To you, mind reading is natural, to everyone here it is strange and rare.
“The ability to read someone else’s mind, to hear what they think, see what they imagine, it takes enormous energy, especially a continued read or a broad read. The few mind readers who come through here can usually only read one person at a time and for a very limited time frame. You seem to expect to find a mind reader around every corner who can read every thought you have at any time.” So by being cautious not to give away my family’s ability in my mind, I inadvertently gave up mother’s.
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“Because the Langdale clan is known for keeping the gifts pure it’s a common assumption that they will have more of the really strong abilities, like mind reading.”
“Where does the purist stigma come from?” I demand. Yes, we stick together as a family, but that’s for support and understanding, not for genetic breeding.
“Who knows, it’s so old. But there are historical sources indicating it was a thing before the family went into hiding. Haven’t you ever wondered about that name? All the family names were based on nature elements, possibly dating back to tribal communities. Over the years the names evolved, they were translated into the native languages whenever the families moved to new areas. Now we have names like Skyler, with ‘sky’ in it, DeBay with the bay, Clifford with the cliff and Forasting with the forest. And then there’s the Langdale name, while ‘dale’ strictly speaking is English the more common word would have been wally, if translated from Danish the words ‘Lang Dal’ means ‘Long Wally’. Historical documents show that the Langdale family kept the ‘e’ off their name when writing it themselves, it was only added when the other families wrote it down, which has led to historians believing that the Langdales were less willing to change and adapt. Well, that and the fact that they were the last of the families to spread to America, and that they generally spread less than the others. The Skylers were believed to be the most adventurous of them all.” I had no idea they had sources like that.
“Where are those sources?” I ask. I haven’t seen anything of the likes of that in my studies.
“Maybe you should give the history classes a try. A good friend of mine teaches the second history class, he’s a timer, and he can literally make history come to life. He reads a passage of a source out loud, and images form all around you, it’s like virtual reality but historically accurate.”
“So you can see the families? How they lived, where they were, how they dressed?”
“Yes, it really is quite the experience.”
“And what kind of sources do they have?” Honestly, it doesn’t matter how lifelike, interesting or beautiful the teacher can make the stories appear if the stories are the same anti-Langdale crap they had in the first history class…
“What do you think the English were saying about the French in the 1400’s?” Well, Joan of Arc was a French saint who the English and their supporters burned for being a witch. If the Officials and the Langdales are anything like that, I don’t think history lessons will be on my time table any time soon. At least not as long as there are other sources I can go to. This might be a risk, but he seems to know a lot, and there’s one thing I still haven’t been able to find out from the books, a hole between the five families and the start of the schools, and when they do comment it’s all nonsense.
“What happened between the families? Why did the Langdales go into hiding?” I take the chance and ask.
“When this school, and its counterparts around the world, was built back in the 16th century, it was decided that an education in abilities was mandatory for anyone possessing them. A few Langdales went here in the beginning, but they disagreed with the concept of the school, so the family stopped sending their children here.”
“So we rebelled?”
“You didn’t start a revolution or anything dramatic. You disagreed, you couldn’t persuade the others, so you left peacefully to do things your way someplace else.”
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“What was the disagreement about?”
“I suppose you will know better than most if this is true or not, but the story goes they didn’t like sending their children away to be taught by strangers. As the only remaining family, they did their best to keep the legacy alive.
“The people who started the school up took it as an insult, as the Langdales saying they were better than the others and could teach their children better. Some even said that it was out of fear of their children finding spouses outside the family line, which might weaken the gifts of potential children. It was all very…” He pauses to find the right word.
“And then they were like such jerks and we were like totally right,” I say in a high tone and make a bitch wrist gesture. He laughs.
“Exactly, like teenagers fighting over nothing. But the damage was done none the less. When the school tried to force Langdale children to attend classes the family went underground. No one knows how many of them there are any more, it could be as few as five, or it could be five hundred. Only the head of the clan will know, and no one is getting to him.”
“Why couldn’t they just be allowed to come for classes and then go home, it seems like the commute is fairly easy.”
“It’s more complicated than that. The official reason is that the power field around this place has to be taken down every time someone enters and doing that twice a day would leave us vulnerable. If you ask me, it was pride. They wanted the strongest family out there to follow their rules. It was a power struggle, and the Langdales won it.”
“So, no Langdale has set foot here since the first ones went home?”
“The occasional Langdale is discovered and brought in, the law still says they have to receive education from a school with certified teachers.”
“I understood that other families have a choice?”
“Well, on paper they don’t, but depending on the case a choice can be presented. If the child is only showing faint signs we offer an education to help strengthen them so they can use their ability, if they or the parents choose not to accept that they have to sign a contract saying that their child will never use their ability again.”
“And if the child has strong abilities?”
“Then the choice is between which school to go to.” I shake my head and look down.
“So you basically rip the children out from their homes and place them in a fortress on an island in the middle of nowhere. Good on you.”
“You have to understand that those children, if untrained, can become a danger to themselves or others. Imagine if you had never learned to control what you move or where you move it to. You could have killed someone like that.” I have never not known what I was doing, but I do see his point. At least the time I stabbed Nina with a needle it was on purpose, and not deep enough to draw blood.
“Still barbaric to take them away from their families.”
“Some families chose to move here, or move closer to the island. The village on the other side of those trees is mostly school staff, but there are a few houses built for families to rent for up to a year, just to give the children an easier start to it all. Apart from that, there are several inns open for visiting family members.”
“Makes it better I guess, but still not good.”
“Strictly speaking I’m not allowed to say this, but I actually agree with you. It would take someone smart and talented to change things though.” I meet his eyes.
“Forget it. I don’t teach.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.” He informs me and looks out at the setting sun. Because of the few clouds, it looks kind of plain, no play of color or giant, generous brush strokes across the sky.
“I’m not a teacher,” I say stubbornly.
“Well, according to my colleagues, you not only know how to deal with troublesome students, you also offer up solutions and help, but in a manner that lets the students work for themselves too.”
“I buried a student in pillows and helped another cheat. I’m not a teacher.” He laughs softly.
“Well, according to Sasha you’re a complete sucker. Would you rather be that?” My head snaps around and I watch his mocking smile.
“The projects. She was never too stressed to finish them, she just couldn’t be bothered,” I realize. I really am a sucker. When did that start? Back in school?
“You see the best in people, and you try to help where you can. Isn’t that what teaching is all about?”
“Don’t you also have to, you know, know stuff?”
“Give it a year or two here, and you’ll have that down. Of course, if someone was to start a new school, there are no rules against that, it wouldn’t be unthinkable that some certified teachers would follow.” Does this man know what subtly is?
“And the reason you aren’t doing this yourself?”
“Fresh blood is always better. Plus, the Langdale name would really give you an edge here.”
“I am not my name,” I say stubbornly.
“But you are everything the name signals. You are talented, strong, and if you don’t mind me saying this: proud and stubborn. People don’t know what to expect from a Langdale, they just know their abilities are purer, and they know to never underestimate one. They have no idea what it all means. They will look to you to show them that, your family will be judged by your actions here.”
“So, you’re saying I’m an ambassador now? No thanks.”
“What I meant to say was that the Langdale name means strength to a lot of people here, they don’t know that the strength comes from practice more than naturally born talents. You could show them that. You could eventually start your own school, do it the Langdale way.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then hopefully someone else will at some point. It just seemed like you were searching for a purpose to being here.”
“So you decided to give me one.” Of course he did. They provide housing, after all, and a syllabus, and Official approved study materials, why not the purpose of life as well?
“Teaching is in my bones, I apologize.”
“No need.” He’s given me quite a lot to think about. Now I just need time to do the thinking without his commentary. “Tell me something else,” I demand.
“What do you want to know?”
“What is this place?” I change the subject.
“There are a lot of talented people here. People who can manipulate the weather, the elements, the ground…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.
“They made the island from scratch,” I realize. “Did they raise the earth or what?”
“Something like that I guess. It took a great many talents to make all of this, and just as many to keep it going.”
“Right, not many people are able to make something permanent.” Even in the Langdale Family a Permanenter goes through years of training just to find out if they have a chance at it.
“The island was built to last, it was made to be held in place by nature itself. The rest of it though, the British corner, the protective force field, all of that has to be maintained constantly. Groups of people take shifts maintaining it, and we’re always training people to take over when others get too old. Back in the 50’s we had a few months between a shield maintainer dying and a new one being trained. It was quite a mess.”
“What is it for? The shield.”
“Making sure we aren’t seen or detected. No electronic devices can pick up our signal, and no human eye can see us. Unfortunately, it also means that there is no internet here.”
“Or cell service. I’ve noticed.” He laughs. He has a laugh like honey and summer, gentle, and yet it doesn’t make him seem soft or like a pushover. There’s a fierceness to summer, a beauty capable of defending itself, a fierceness that shines out of his kind smiles and gentle eyes. Maybe it’s because he’s clearly in good shape, or maybe it’s because he seems to just know things, I don’t know, but the fierceness is there.
“I’ll leave you alone to think this over,” he says. “And if you come to class tomorrow I promise I won’t make you sit on your hands again. I get that it can be frustrating to not get it, and easier to hide out in the library where you can see progress in your work, but I really do think you could learn something in my classes, so I’d like you to come back to them. I’ll even offer you a deal, you come to class on the days you aren’t training with Pam after school and I promise to give you more variation. Think it over.” And with that, he leaves. I guess I have been neglecting the classes, and I have to admit it was nice of him not to mention that I might get an official reprimand for it or something.
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Beast
A threat to the galaxy has come from another, and the Union of intelligent life will go to any length to stop it. Military Quarantine has held for hundreds of thousands of cycles. Traders, merchants, colonists, and Pirates live risky lives along the fringes as the politics from the inner systems fail to see the larger threats beyond their borders. A lone human finds himself far from home with no memories to how he arrived. A failing Trade vessel plays on a desperate gamble, while a malicious parasite searches for a suitable host. ............................................. Author's note: Beast is a story that I wrote a long, long time ago. Some of you might have read it then, back when it was posted on reddit over at r/HFY. It was my first webfiction and made in the spirit of that subreddit's "genre" of humanity being awesome. But, it is also a story that has bothered me a little bit. Just like most new writers tend to do, I made mistakes and errors that feel painful to reread. A Space Opera will be a Space Opera, but I had prose that makes present-me cringe. Still, at the same time, the story is still very much a tale I've never given up on. It was my first adventure into fiction: Beast was a crazy adventure with bodysnatching aliens, galactic war, threats from across the universe... Posting this story here is a way to try and redeem myself a bit. I won't call it a complete rewrite, because it's not, but I have wanted to go through and correct some of the major issues Beast has for a long time and put it somewhere more accessible to read (instead of as posts/comments on reddit) and I figure that now is as good a time as any. Additional corrections you might notice are welcome.
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