Scene 9 - October 15th

Interior Hospital, Evening

Quinn Kaufman

“...and that’s why I think it might have actually worked,” I finished. “But if it did, I don’t really know what it gave me.”

“Hmmm...” Dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hard to say. The theory was that everyone’s abilities would have been somewhat different, because everyone’s mind is somewhat different, but the thing was meant to grant psychic abilities. Telepathy, telekinesis, extrasensory perception, that sort of thing.”

“Some combination of those could certainly explain today,” I mused. “Mostly the perception thing... but I haven’t noticed any new senses. Wouldn’t I have?”

He shrugged. “Could still be settling in, could be that your brain just folded whatever new thing its picking up into the senses you’ve already got. That seems more likely, to be honest.”

“I guess so. Neural plasticity and all, I’d probably be more likely to get induced synesthesia. But again, I haven’t noticed anything different about my senses. Haven’t seen anything weird, I didn’t hear anything special when the frisbee was coming...”

He flicked me in the middle of the forehead. “Use those bio classes I’m paying for, kiddo. You have more senses than the five obvious ones.”

I frowned. “Equilibrioception, thermoception, proprioception, nociception...”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take those classes. Which are those?”

“Sorry... equilibrioception is your sense of balance. Thermoception is temperature. Proprioception is the position of your body parts. Nociception is pain.”

“Well, I sure hope it’s not plugged into your pain sensors.”

I shook my head. “Definitely not. That I would have noticed. But...” I considered. “It might be plugged into my proprioception. That’s a pretty subtle sense to start with.”

Dad cocked his head. “What would that mean, exactly? To sense the world around you as though it was part of your own body?”

I blinked at him, and suddenly realized that that was exactly what it felt like. “That’s it...” I said slowly. “That’s... Dad, you’re a genius!”

“That’s what it says on my business cards,” he agreed. “Why am I a genius?”

I jumped out of my seat. “Now that I’m paying attention, I can actually feel it!” I explained. “Everything around me... I know exactly where it is! How it’s moving!” I focused, closing my eyes. “I can kind of sense other stuff, too... their temperature, pressure...”

“How sharp is it?” Dad asked curiously. “Could you read a book from across the room?”

“No, it’s not like seeing.” I told him. “I’m not getting color at all. If it was braille, maybe... well, if I knew braille. But... there might be something else.” If I was feeling the world around me as though it was a part of me, then... could I move it as though it was? I thought I had done something of the sort with the eraser earlier, so...

I stared at my dad’s glasses, little half moons perched on the tip of a wide nose, and tried to imagine them moving. No, wait, that was wrong. You don’t move your arms by just imagining them moving, you just move them. I tried again, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Kid?” he asked.

I didn’t answer, and instead tried a slightly different tact. I was certain that I could do it without moving, but it seemed like it would take practice. For now, perhaps... I made a kind of ‘come hither’ gesture, and his glasses flew towards me. Before they struck me, I held my hand in a ‘stop’ motion and they halted in midair.

“Dad!” I shouted, ecstatic.

“Whoa!” He stared at his glasses hanging in mid-air. “I guess that settles it - you’re a metahuman, Quinn.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t stop grinning. “I guess I am."