17

What was left Sweet Lake’s former primary school wasn’t really worth the watery rays of sunshine that shone down on it.

On an obscure patch of land, on the other side of Sweet Lake’s main road, off in the forest, stood the ruins of a building that used to be a happy, vibrant place for children to escape their parents five days a week, play with peers and learn to be valuable members of society.

Ten Pupils and one Elder stood before the sombre exterior and gazed at it in a mild state of shock. Even the growing layer of snow failed to give it an inviting, huggable look.

“What happened here again?” Anton asked, with a mild frown.

They were standing on the pavement outside the building, littered with shards of glass, broken bricks, death plants and worn-out furniture, after having snuck past the temporal fences with ease.

“We merged with the primary school in Sound Lake,” Vanessa answered dryly, holding back a sigh. “There weren’t enough students attending, since our generation… you know, isn’t really in a position to reproduce, so the building is going to be demolished soon.”

Pavan patted her fatherly on the shoulder. She had been transferred, during the merger. She still had a job, so the consequences for her personally were limited, but it was another reminder of the regional downfall.

“Well, the place looks lovely,” James complemented cheerful. “I’m sure we’ll have a jolly good time.”

“It’s private. That’s what counts,” Pavan said, ignoring his sarcasm, like old people often did. Marith wasn’t sure if he was just overjumping it or if he maybe hadn’t caught it to begin with.

“Why doesn’t it have windows?” Kyle asked hesitant.

“They were thrown in on purpose to prevent the homeless from using it as shelter.”

“You might want to keep your coats on. All utilities are shut off, so don’t expect central heating,” Pavan said as he moved towards the gaping, doorless opening in the front of the structure.

Welcomed by crunching glass under their feet they let their eyes adjust to the dimness inside. They only needed a brief moment, before following Pavan further into the building. Marith still had vague memories of the interior. The colours and the set up seemed to have changed somewhat, especially in the lunch area, but the layout had remained much the same.

Pavan led them to the back of the building, to the wing that was illuminated by sunlight. A stillness hung between the walls and they followed him dejected through the deserted hallways, until he halted in front of another opening with empty hinges. They used to support the door to the 6th grade classroom, the one Pavan had taught for most of his career. Watchfully the Pupils entered.

Apart from a whiteboard the walls were vacant, stripped of student artworks and other school projects. Left-over furniture stood scattered on the dusty, linoleum floor.

There was a massive, square, framed hole in the side wall, where a window once had been, and behind that a wide clearing in the forest. Doubtful sunshine dove through the snow-covered treetops and lightened up the opening with irregular shapes. A startled, striped chipmunk had woken up from hibernation to look for the seeds and nuts it had stored during autumn, frantically clawing at the frozen surface of the clearing.

As snowflakes started to flutter to the ground it looked like a Christmas card that just lacked a reindeer in the centre and some carolling bells in the upper right corner.

A winter breeze rolled into the room and carried the fresh fragrance of the pine trees and the crystal clear mountains with it. Marith was relieved to notice some soft chattering of birds out back, looking for food as well, in the cold, white world. They were curious to see human activity in the building, but not alarmed. Their presence indicated the absence of another creature and that was reassuring to the people currently inside the old school.

Pavan half-leaned against and half-sat down on the desk that was still lingering in front of the whiteboard. The Pupils took a seat on top of the remaining student desks, facing him, something they had never been allowed to do as elementary students, but was now somehow acceptable, since they were all adults.

The Elder folded his hands in his lap, cleared his throat and looked at each of the Pupils, before he took off.

“You are here because since your early childhood you have been given glimpses of how the Universe works. You have always known there is more to this world. You could feel it, but not touch it. It has given you hunches, to begin with, and specific talents, since your Rebirths.

“Today I will begin to teach you how to unwrap those powers, how to set them free from the safe envelope that is your mind.”

The former teacher and headmaster in Pavan seemed to have awakened. He had made himself comfortable on the desk, his legs dangling over the edge, his feet swaying above the dingy, baby blue linoleum floor. Just like the Pupils he kept his yellow coat tightly closed.

“The Web, as you know, is as old as life itself and there have been an Oracle, a Watchmaker and a Runner, since the first intelligent human. There have been Pupils and Chains, since the Kid murdered his parents and the Well graced Earth with asteroids.

“The density of the Web around the impact craters is thicker. That is what causes the abnormalities, but the members of the Chain are not indiscriminately affected by the elements the asteroids brought to Earth. As a child you have to be extremely sensitive to external stimuli and exceptionally susceptible to your surroundings in the first place and the Well has to allow you to become one of us later in life.”

Various frowns and expressions crossed confused faces while that novel chunk of information was being processed.

“What Pavan is saying, is that if we wouldn’t have been born in this area we probably would have been pretty whacky people anyway, but it wouldn’t have come out as strong as it does for us now,” Amber’s strident voice rang. It was one of the first things she had said that morning. “The fact that we are here today means there is a need for us.”

James and Kyle smirked, but the rest remained serious, feeling this was one of the few occasions to absorb crucial information that had to be applied in the very near future.

“A-and how do we do that? The unwrapping?” Marith inquired.

“Rewriting the laws of physics,” Pavan answered simply, “and that doesn’t just apply to the Mages. Runners and Prophets are able to do the same.”

“Shouldn’t we go to a school or academy for this sort of stuff?” Jonathan asked.

“No, this is not a four year bachelor’s degree. This is not some course in magic at a castle or manor in an enchanted forest. This is all you’re going to get. You’ll have to practice and reinvent yourself, as Pupils, as a Chain, to fulfil your purpose.

“Just like ordinary humans we can have more than one purpose,” Pavan went on. “Serving the Web by joining the Chain might be your greatest purpose, but it is not necessarily your only one. This life has more to offer than struggles.

“You have to learn that this world is yours as well, even though you might have never been taught that by your parents, even though you might have never felt that way. It is yours. You have every right to use it and to claim your talent within it, your part of the Web.

“In order to use it you’re going to have to let go of common sense and the physics lessons you’ve had in high school.”

“Good thing I never payed attention then,” Brad joked, interrupting his lecture.

Pavan sighed and shot him a weary look, before continuing.

“You’re going to have to feel it. The flow, the energy, and the power you can siphon from that. And you’re going to have to do that both as an individual and as a group.”

“How do we know it’s right? What we’re doing?” Anton asked, in his thick Russian accent, that seemed to be fluctuating from day to day.

“You’ll feel it in the core of your being.”

Will frowned, but Marith thought she understood. “Is it what we’ve felt during our Rebirths?”

“To some degree. You were never in control of your Rebirth. It happened to you. Now you’re going to have to take control of your talents and your powers. It cannot be something that comes and goes as it pleases. You need to feel you’ve mastered it, before you have a shot at beating the Kid.”

“Speaking of shots...” James glanced at the gun that was leaning against Brad’s desk.

“Just in case! It worked the last time. You guys haven’t seen this thing for real. You’ll thank me when he shows up again.”

What goes for spiders went for the Birdman, Marith thought. They scare the life out of you when you see them, but when they disappear the horror is even greater.

“We’ve all seen it in our dreams and shared visions. We all know what we’re up against.”

“I don’t expect him to show up again,” Pavan calmed the group.

“It showed itself to Marith’s little sister!” Brad retorted, nodding in Marith’s direction.

“And then he didn’t kill her.”

“How much does she even know? About all this?” Anton asked Marith.

“I told her it was part of the nightmare that drew her to the lake in the first place and that it was otherwise probably an hallucination.”

“Did she believe that?”

“Debatable,” Marith shrugged. “She hasn’t talked about it since.” Marith hoped she would be occupied with teenage stuff, like graduation and prom, and wouldn’t bring it up again.

Anton nodded. The group managed to focus on the Elder again, who was patiently awaiting a recurrence of their attention.

“No one can see it, some can feel it, and only the few can use it. We belong to the few,” Pavan spoke as he addressed the invisible, vibrating field they were all wired to in one way or another. “You might be sick and tired of hearing about this elusive Web, but I urge you not to be.

“Each aptitude is unique and both connected to you and the Web. Working your gift is a skill that you can develop by concentration and practice. Applying your talent is moulding the Web.”

Pavan explained that the term ‘talent’ was actually a disingenuous way to describe what was going on. It insinuated that it was something that came to them with ease, as if they just had to fine-tune it.

He quickly cleared up that this only happened to some degree. They each had unique skills, but they had yet to get acquainted with them, before mastering and expanding them.

“What is the difference between a good pianist and a great pianist, what is the difference between a good neurosurgeon and the best neurosurgeon, what is the difference between a decent hitman and a hitman with the highest success rate?

“You may bring practice, years of experience, dedication, passion and fire to the table and you would be very right. They all have that. Everyone at the top of their field has those things. But what is the discrepancy between the great and the absolute best?”

“Grit?” Juliette suggested.

“Those ten thousand hours?!” Kyle informed triumphantly.

“The Kid is awake. I don’t think we’re going to be able to squeeze those hours in before it comes to a confrontation,” Brad shared his thoughts.

“You were getting somewhere, Kyle, lukewarm. It is in their strings to the Well, in the strength and agility of their connection to the Web and their capacity to train their brain to tap into the Web whenever they need it.”

“It is like a dialogue with the Web,” suggested Vanessa.

“Exactly.”

“Sooo…” started Jonathan.

“What has this got to do with the likes of you? Understandable question. What you’ve got, is multiple times more powerful than whatever allows them to communicate with the Web. Your brainwaves vibrate within the Web in such a way that you are continuously on the same frequency as the Well.”

The Mages and Prophets let this sink in. The Runners, having a shorter attention span and a lower tolerance for the theoretical part of their supernatural existence, had started to shift on their desks, swaying their legs in all sorts of directions and gazing outside with intervals that were getting fewer and fewer in between.

“Let’s get to the practical part, starting with the Mages,” Pavan continued, sliding off the desk to stand amidst the Pupils. “The powers of the Mages have everything to do with electric impulses and their imagination. It might also depend on the life you used to live before your Rebirth.

“Your talents are connected to the soul, not the body. Using your hands to exercise your talents is often unnecessary, unless you need them to spread or channel energy.

“So, what you don’t want to do is make elaborate, overdone hand-gestures, like in books, movies or television shows. You start with the mind. We already know that the powers of Brad and Vanessa don’t require hands, for instance.”

He gestured at both Mages. Vanessa stared back at him intently with her dark, piercing eyes. Brad had his arms crossed in front of his torso and nodded curtly when he was addressed.

“Marith,” Pavan opened his hands welcomingly, “let’s start with you. Vanessa and Brad are already aware of their gifts and William still needs a Push, so you’re an interesting one today.”

“W-what would you like me to do?” Marith squeaked, feeling like she was actually back in school again.

Her stuttering and panic-stricken voice even brought the focus of the Runners back to the group, though temporarily.

“Search for the miracle within you.”

With each passing sentence Pavan started to sound more like a hippy from Amsterdam. Marith prayed this wouldn’t lead to mental healing through senseless performance art or pressure to use hallucinogens to reach a certain state of mind.

“What comes to you first?”

Marith reluctantly searched for the part of her brain that was supposedly able of miracles. It was hard to focus with ten pairs of eyes on her.

Forcing herself to enter the lucid dream state she’d had experienced in the forest with Vanessa, right after waking up from her Rebirth, she soon felt the pinpricks of the Web’s electricity on her skin. It was a strenuous endeavour, but she knew she was able to do it.

The tentacles in her head started to reach and fan out to nothing and everything. Her eyes travelled with them, scouring the vicinity. The strings in her mind hit the brick walls, slid past the grubby floors, the stone cold radiators and hurried by the bathroom stalls. There was nothing there.

The snares escaped the glassless windows and registered some of the forest animals she had seen before, still searching for food around the perimeters. She allowed herself to linger there briefly, making sure they were absolutely alone, before continuing her search for relevancy inside again.

“What stands out most?” She heard Pavan ask in the distance.

After wandering about the nearness of the death and empty school her chords got stuck and fixated on something much closer, a regular electrical pulse. In fact, there were many of them. Those heartbeats belonged to eight of the Pupils and the one Elder. They were all unique, but sounded languid, healthy and powerful. The organs were almost beating in sync. Initially she had skipped those stimuli. Since they were such a natural part of her Chain she hadn’t considered paying extra attention to them.

Apart from the vibrant, vigorous beats she noticed there was another one, a less peaceful variant. There was a dull, swooshing sound to it, indicating a turbulent blood flow. There was no harmony to the mechanics behind the heart. The stream of blood to and from the powerful muscle seemed unsettled. As a result the organ was fluttering restlessly in the last human’s chest.

The wandering, vibrating strings in her head were tightly strung, perfectly tuned and led her directly to the odd one out.

When she fully focused on William the Web let her know she was on the right track by sounding like a tuning fork that had just been struck. She opened her eyes and looked into Will’s horror stricken eyes. He couldn’t feel her, but her sudden gaze was enough to make him jump.

“William.”

“What?”

“William comes to me first.”

“Because he’s still human?”

“He appears to have a heart murmur.”

“That’s correct!” William began, surprised. “I do have a heart murmur. They found it years ago when I was in the hospital after I broke my collarbone. It’s benign,” he assured. “How do you know?”

Marith ignored his question. How could she explain?

“Can I try something?” She countered his question with one of her own.

She was very aware of what Pavan had just told them about the usage of hands, but she couldn’t help it. Her arms were tingling and the feeling was travelling down to her palms. It felt right, it felt natural.

She walked towards him and without hesitation put her hand on his hefty chest. He understood what she was trying to do, but it didn’t have the effect she was aiming at or that he was wishing for.

William swiftly unbuttoned his coat and presented her with a knitted sweater vest. She sought brief eye-contact, before she finally placed her hand back over his heart, touching the prickling fabric.

Closing her eyes she returned to the home base in her mind, where she now knew she could activate the strings. They focused on the heart murmur, without having any influence on the benign abnormality. Meanwhile the palm of her left hand, that was resting on his chest, started to tingle again.

“I can breathe easier!” He shared exuberantly after a loud sigh.

Marith tried to zoom in on the channelling of energy Pavan had mentioned earlier. She let it flow from her mind, her consciousness, down her arms, towards her wrists, where her pressure points acted up, mildly interested by this sudden surge of activity. Finally it reached her palms and she forced it towards the organ that was now calmly and fluently doing its designated job. She placed her right hand on the side of his torso, under his armpit, for extra effect.

“Whew,” was all that escaped Will’s lips.

“I don’t expect it to be a permanent state,” Pavan shared, hurried.

After a while her arms started to feel heavier and slightly fatigued, so she took her hands back. William instantly grabbed her by the wrist and placed her left hand over his heart again. Shocked, Marith stared him in the eyes.

“I am s-so sorry,” he quickly let go of her hand. “It just felt so good… uplifting. I didn’t mean to grab you.”

“It’s okay.” She nodded. “Really. My lungs and my eyes became healthy after the Rebirth, so maybe that will happen to your heart as well.” She pinched his arm, hoping it came across as friendly as she intended.

“Good reason to jump off that cliff one day then.” He grinned anxiously. “I felt as light as a feather.”

He had never realised how much he had been hindered by his heart defect. Having chronic shortness of breath, and being severely un-athletic as a result, had become his ‘new normal’ a long time ago.

“Try it on someone else. A Runner maybe?” Pavan encouraged.

“What would you like me to do with a Rebirthed Pupil then? They have healthy hearts by default.”

“Try it anyway. See if you can influence or affect it in any way.”

Marith didn’t hesitate to pick Anton. He seemed the most patient and, if needed, forgiving one.

She shook out her arms, as if she had just done a work-out, in an attempt to re-energize them.

“I am sorry in advance,” she whispered at him, coming closer.

“It’s okay,” he muttered back.

He unzipped his coat, put his scarf aside and cleared his chest, until only his pullover was left.

She repeated what she had done with William, which is exactly when nothing happened.

“Anything?” Pavan inquired, after an uncomfortable while.

Anton shrugged, Marith frowned, her eyes closed, her left hand hovering over his chest. She tried both hands, to no avail.

Frustration led her to touch him. Awkwardly she pushed on his well-developed chest muscles and made movements back and forth, through the air, like she was patting a dog in slow-motion.

“Nothing.” She shook her head, stepped back and turned around to face Pavan, who had now resorted to leaning against the desk again.

“How do you feel?” The Elder inquired, crossing his arms, to find out if the exercise had worn her out in any way.

Marith shrugged. “Disappointed?”

“Why?”

“I feel my talent is quite useless, because the Kid is a Runner… and the Birdman is God knows what… and I can only seem to influence William’s heartbeat.”

“If that is your talent it is your purpose.”

“Maybe it’s not my talent then?” She asked semi-hopefully.

“Was it the first thing that came to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did it feel natural?”

“On William it did.”

“It seems to me this is your talent then. Not to say it can’t be developed further, until you find an actual use for it.”

Marith grinded her teeth and nodded reluctantly.

“My first tendency was to recognize when my students had problems at home or difficulty in a certain subject, then knowing how to support them by sensing their abilities, their strong suits, so to speak,” Vanessa tried to help. “Now, I can identify Pupils, cast protective domes...”

“Prevent bullets from entering flesh,” Brad murmured under his breath.

“Right.” Vanessa sounded as if she just remembered that neat little trick.

“And I seemed to have a natural inclination for knowing the best routes to track and trace perpetrators... somehow I just always knew where to find them. Later I learned I could practically find anyone anywhere. Recently, it even expanded to inanimate objects,” Brad summarised his own journey.

“You don’t necessarily need great feeling with it from the start, as long as you have the discipline to practice your gift,” Vanessa informed. “It will develop into something that serves the Web.”

Pavan was quick to explain that even Brad and Vanessa had more work to do. Now that the Chain was close to completion their powers were about to be amplified and could be extended. Marith had considered them to be veterans in their fields and was relieved everyone had room for improvement. Shared hurdles where uplifting to her in all the wrong ways.

“But how do I practise?” She longed to know. This time the question was addressed to Vanessa and Brad.

Now that Marith’s little show was over the Runners had appeared to lose interest again. There was a constant unrest in the back of the classroom, that the others tried to ignore.

“Honestly? For me it was in the repetition. Keep trying to access that state of mind you just entered and apply the skills you have within there and then repeat, repeat, repeat.” Brad talked, while Vanessa nodded.

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from working with young, impressionable kids is that you need to create new neural pathways to learn new skills,” Vanessa added. “Which, basically, can only be done by constant repetition.”

That made sense to Marith. She thought back to the contents of her Psychology textbooks in which the axiom of neuropsychologist Donald Hebb stated that ‘neurons that fire together, wire together’.

“Forging new neural pathways to strengthen your connection to the Web is important for each and every one of you,” Pavan said, picking up the red thread of the morning.

“Now, the Prophets,” Pavan continued. “You need to train your mind to access the information that travels through the Web fast. For you, it is not necessarily about learning mannerisms by hard. It’s about training your mind to become flexible enough to instantly reach for intelligence,” he informed Amber and Kyle, who nodded diligently.

“Your talent is slightly more straight-forward and mostly directed by the reception and responses of Oracle. She has structured the workings of your gifts, so to speak. Apart from that, I am a Mage and you kids have been doing this for quite some time now, so there is unfortunately not much more I can assist you with.”

“C-can I ask a question?” Amber started hesitantly.

“Sure.”

“Why is it that we can never know time and place simultaneously when we see future events in our visions or dreams?” Amber informed.

“Yeah, that’s very inconvenient,” Kyle commended.

“That…” Pavan started enthused, “is a very good question.”

Having an opportunity to exhibit his passion for science he grasped a marker and embarked on a futile endeavour to explain the quantum mechanics behind Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle and the concept of Schrödinger’s cat, using the whiteboard.

In a slightly frenzied manner he started to explain how sub-atomic particles can exist as a combination of multiple states, called quantum superposition, until it interacts with or is observed by the external world. The possible states will then collapse into a definite state.

“And this applies to our real, non-sub-atomic, world?” Kyle asked.

“It applies to the Web,” Pavan blurted out halfway through his anthology.

The Elder explained that until the event is observed the state is not decided yet, meaning that until the event is happening time or place are a mystery.

It came to no surprise to anyone that the Runners had in fact now lost their last sliver of patience and were putting their energy, strength and balance to the test within the confines of the classroom.

Every time Pavan turned around to face the group the Runners appeared to be in a different position, showing off another human pyramid or bridge, formed in between tables and chairs, or on top of various chairs stacked on tables. He was aggressively ignoring them.

“… also, we’ve got Brad to determine the location of events now,” he tried to comfort them.

“Didn’t you just say that we had to let go of the laws of physics?” Jonathan inquired over his shoulder, from the bottom of a flyer, supporting Juliette’s feet with his hands, alongside Anton and James.

The guys were wearing everyday clothes - jeans, belts, shirts, jumpers, topped off by scarfs and heavy coats - but Juliette stood out by wearing a bright purple tracksuit with baby blue sleeves that emanated strong 90’s vibes. Her hair was braided tightly back in six, thick rows. She clearly lived for the aerodynamics of running.

“Correct,” Pavan gestured through the air with his marker, before pointing it directly at him, peering through the golden frame of his glasses.

“According to most modern day scientists Schrödinger’s cat only applies to events on a quantum level. There was never any evidence found that this applies to larger particles than those vibrating in the probability waveform. Schrödinger created this thought experiment to illustrate that our physical reality cannot be split in between all possibilities. However, to us, these laws of nature are not pertinent, because our Prophets can look into the Web and see future events, or snippets thereof, unfolding.”

After drawing and dissecting atoms on the whiteboard for illustration – they bared more resemblance to the planets and stars of a reasonably sized solar system, tossed in a box and repeatedly rumbled through, than to anything else - he turned around again.

“So, is the cat death or alive then?” Amber asked with a frown.

“Both!” Pavan shared enlivened. “Until the animal is observed nothing is certain. The state needs to be measured, before it can be determined.”

“Can’t the cat determine whether it’s death or alive?” Brad chimed in again.

“No, the suffering subject doesn’t count,” Marith remembered what she had been told about the presence of Daan at the time of the train accident during their first gathering in the woods.

“Right.”

“However,” Pavan continued, unbothered by their quibbling, “there is a phenomenon called ‘entanglement’. The cat doesn’t exist on its own. It is entangled with the Web, just like anything else in it. Because Pupils can sense and use the Web unlike anyone else Prophets can often accurately predict whether or not the cat is dead, even though they haven’t observed the cat with their eyes yet.”

The Runner’s movements in the back of the room were swift and barely noticeable. Hardly any audible sound escaped their exertions.

“So it is true that we think reality into existence?” Kyle, who had been doing some previous research on the topic, inquired.

“No, we observe things into reality,” Vanessa supplemented to make matters more confusing.

Marith was wrecking her brain trying to recollect what Oracle and Anica had told her during her Rebirth. It was something along these lines, but slightly different. That night seemed so long ago and she had been too fazed and amazed to have detailed memories of all the things that had been trusted upon her.

“Visions experienced alone are just visions. Share them together and they might become reality,” Pavan shared cryptically, talking over his shoulder, while feverishly erasing his drawings and the evidence of their presence from the board again.

That was definitely not it, Marith thought. Maybe the message they had tried to pass onto her was specifically tailored to her, as a Mage?

The last time he turned around, with the eraser and the marker still in his hands, the Runners were re-enacting a civil war battle scene with Brad’s gun. They looked like a bronze statue in a Southern state. The only thing that was missing was an unreasonably muscled horse. They stopped forming a new effigy mid-air when Pavan finally acknowledged them.

“Is that loaded?” He asked, regarding the elongated rifle.

“No, sir.”

“Yes, it is,” Brad interfered, rolling his eyes.

Amber stared at him, smitten. Sometimes Marith almost forgot about her infatuation with him, until she saw her gaping mouth and heart-shaped eyes after each word that left his mouth.

“I see. I guess it is time to go outside then,” he sighed, dropping the marker and the eraser back into the gully under the whiteboard.

The Runners enthusiastically jumped off the furniture and tossed the firearm carelessly back to Brad, who caught it with agility, preventing it from going off.

They hurried outside, followed by the Prophets and the Mages, the Elder in their midst, moving at his own tempo. Amber asked all sorts of questions about the antique firearm to Brad, which he happily answered.

Outside, on the former schoolyard, Pavan faced the group again. Swings, slides, seesaws and other playground equipment had either been removed and discarded, leaving the anchoring and some forgotten bolts and rivets behind, or plainly abandoned.

“Runners,” Pavan regarded them sternly. “As you know the Kid, our adversary, is one of you. He is the oldest and strongest Runner around. He is also the last immortal creature among us.

“Similar to the Prophets and the Mages you need to train your connection to the Web, remain as sane as possible under the circumstances, but in addition to that it is your obligation to train your physique constantly to stay at the top of your abilities. Think about what you’re going to have to be capable of when you need to outrun him or his anchor, hunt for either of them, or… what you would do if they decide to come for you.

“Since you all seemed so fond of Brad’s gun just now, I have come up with a nice exercise for you, if I do say so myself,” Pavan announced, rather proud of himself.

He made eye contact with Brad who got the gist of what was expected.

The Runners, quite specialized at generating their own warmth, particularly when running, got ready by taking off their winter garments and tossing them in a heap. They also attempted to fasten any piece of fabric that could flop around in the wind when speeding, like a motorcyclist would.

“Oh, so sexy,” Vanessa mocked the guys, with an enticing flip of her lustrous hair, when they stuffed the bottoms of their pants in their socks.

James mimicked her, annoyed, but teasingly, while crouching.

“Okay, where to?” Brad inquired, very earnest, cocking the rifle.

“Where it cannot do any harm and will be able to cover some distance,” Pavan instructed.

Brad pointed his weapon at a piece of nature that was slightly less overcrowded with greenery. The Runners assembled around him, two on each side, in a sharp line, to grant each other equal opportunity to reach for the bullet.

“Got your clockworks?” Pavan inquired.

The Runners nodded.

“Don’t trip,” was the last thing the Elder told them, dryly, pointing at the remnants of the playthings on the perimeters.

The Runners took a stance not unlike speed skaters competing in the Olympic games would. They placed one leg back and squatted ever so slightly, their arms hovering in the air, one behind their backs, the other arched forward, in order to make the ultimate jump start.

Stillness and concentration washed over them, while seeking for the right mental place.

“Ready?” Brad whispered.

Jonathan followed everybody else’s lead, but felt terribly inadequate to be participating in all this. Juliette was quiet and determined. She even had her eyes closed. Anton was his introverted, composed self, peering between his knees at the ground, and James just had to let himself be heard.

“Respawned ready,” he mumbled, gazing intently at the green and white mass he was about to hurtle himself into.

A loud bang threw Brad’s right shoulder back, although his overall posture remained unchanged.

The bullet dashed through the wired fencing, into the never-ending forest and off they were.

The demonstration was hard to follow. The four left a cloud of snow behind, which was all Marith caught, even with her enhanced senses. The average human being probably wouldn’t even notice a Runner passing by.

The only evidence of them bolting into the wall of trees behind the playground was the gently swaying of the portable fencing panels, they had apparently jumped over, as if they were simple hurdles.

“So, what do we do in the meantime?” Kyle informed.

Pavan tilted his head and gave him an amused look, followed by a kind, but teasing smile. Kyle followed the movement of the yellow coat. His eyes trailed a brightly sleeved arm that pointed at the massive pine trees they were encircled by.

Juliette emerged from the woods tossing the cone-shaped chunk of lead from one hand to the other through the freezing, static air. The bullet was still hot and so was the Runner.

She briefly accelerated again and swung herself over the anchored gates, with ease. Juliette appeared in front of the group, waiting on the school grounds, in a purple blur.

“Wow,” was all Kyle brought out, astonished.

“Deep,” Amber giggled.

“Just wow,” Kyle retorted.

Juliette had returned before Marith could put her newfound talents to the test. She wanted to be able to sense the Runners taking off, retrieving the bullet and returning. The one and only time she had ran with Juliette she had clearly held back. Marith imagined how that run must have felt like a casual stroll for Juliette.

She couldn’t believe how much work she had yet to do to reach the level she aspired to. It was ambitious, exciting and disheartening at the same time.

“Juliette,” Pavan started, “the laws of physics are weeping in a corner and all of nature applauds you.”

Juliette took a humble bow. “Thank you, thank you.”

Marith noticed actual steam ascending from her back and shoulders.

Behind her Anton and James appeared on the brim of the forest, flustered.

“We’ve been out of it for too long,” James excused their lack of nimbleness, referring to himself and Anton and their travels through Europe, when they neared the other Pupils.

“Speak for yourself. I almost caught it,” Anton made a rare joke, happy to be putting his abilities to the test again, elated by the time-bending sprint.

“Suuure.” James narrowed his eyes and threw him a sceptic frown.

They joined the group as casual as possible, dragging their pride behind them through the snow.

Everyone in the group got a turn holding the hot bullet. They threw it through the air so that it made long arches, allowing it to cool down, between the hands that tossed and caught it.

“Did anyone snatch that bullet already?” They heard behind them. It was Jonathan, shouting from in between the trees.

He had apparently missed Juliette intercepting the bullet altogether and had kept going, until he had found himself all alone reaching the next town and had realised the others had likely turned around.

“Juliette did!” Amber shouted back to him.

He nodded. Instead of taking the hurdle of the fence again, he just shoved one of the anchored fencing panels aside to pass. He looked worn and his clothes were torn. He was clearly done with it for the day.

“So, what is the difference between Vanessa catching those bullets during the attack and Juliette just now doing so?” Kyle asked intrigued. He had regained his ability to form full sentences.

“The Runners can physically out-speed a bullet, Vanessa did it completely mentally. It goes without saying that both Pupils used the Web, although in a different manner, to accomplish their remarkable results.”

“She hacked the Web with her mind,” Brad remarked, without specifying which woman he was talking about.

“She did indeed,” Pavan commented, “and so can all of you. When you kids practice you have to feel your subject, your target vibrating in the Web. You need to steer your talents, or your weapons, in that direction, not just with your hands, arms and shoulders, but with your mind. This is great universal practice for everybody. You need to learn how to focus and apply and practice your gifts.”

He looked up at the unblemished, blue sky and blinked against the white light shining down on them. The sun dragged itself across the heavens, struggling to affect the temperature up in the mountains in any positive way. The Elder determined their morning together was coming to an end.

“I think I’ve said all there is to say,” he shared thoughtfully. “The rest is up to you. Practice alone, practice together, practice and repeat. “You won’t be seeing much of me anymore,” he continued. “I don’t live in Sweet Lake at the moment.

“Remember, your calling came from the highest source, the Well itself. It is your duty to illuminate this planet with your talents. The Earth is yours and you are here to serve the living creatures that inhabit it. Take your responsibility and aim for a better future. For the sake of our mental wellbeing we must assume there is a lot of it.”

“What is in it for me?” He asked, with a teasing undertone.

His voice was as pale as his skin. Combined with his light blonde hair he lacked colour in every sense. His eyes were darker than usual with light skinned humans. Marith noticed a sliver of blue in his irises, but in the current light they seemed as black as his pupils. Maybe it was a medical issue, she thought, and it would be inappropriate to ask about it, so she didn’t. Maybe it was caused by the spectacles with a thick black, trendy frame that was balancing on his thin, straight nose.

Great, one of those, Marith thought. It felt weird, standing in the portico of her old home, unable to just enter it without ringing the doorbell first.

“I was thinking you probably want these.” She dangled two keys on a hook in front of his face with a slight smirk.

“What are those?”

“The keys to the garage doors.”

His eyes twinkled. “Yes, I’d been wondering how to open those doors!”

She stepped over the threshold of the lake house for the first time in years and followed Samuel inside, through the hallway into the living room.

Marith felt quite dumb for not picking the sheet music up when she got the car, but at that point she hadn’t realized that certain pieces were missing or how crucial her grandfather’s notes would be for the upcoming recital.

She found herself standing amidst the ruins of her childhood. It was nostalgic in a dark, traumatic way. This was where she and Lieke had grown up, went to primary school and had had an amazing time at the lake. It was also where the marriage of their parents had fallen apart and where she’d been forced to say goodbye to her father, knowing she would only see him over summers, if they were lucky, even though he was the only semi-sane parent.

The place looked like time had ceased to exist, since the last time she had visited, except for the fact that entropy had no mercy on emptiness either. The living room smelled quite musty. Zooming in on the individual parts of the colourful house she noticed signs of aging and little or no upkeep.

The paint on the white window frames and sills seemed to be peeling off. The mildew in the wood must have affected the moss green curtains, because they were turning grey, in a blotchy, almost artistic way. The red couches, adorned with embroidered, baroque throw pillows had turned pallid and the side tables and cabinets were in dire need of a decent cleaning and varnishing.

“I don’t remember it being so...”

“Old?” Samuel asked.

“Yes.” Marith grinned as if she had a bad toothache.

The house was in an alarming state of decay. Since she had returned to Sweet Lake she had only eyed it from a distance on various hikes and from several car rides.

The one time she had come close to actually entering it she had been so excited about hijacking Gene’s car she hadn’t noticed the questionable state of her former family home.

Her eyes wandered over the black, baby-wing in the back of the room, close to the opening that led to the kitchen. She didn’t even want to imagine what it sounded like, years after it had gone unattended, unplayed and untuned.

“I better go upstairs.”

“Of course, be my guest.” Samuel invited her to feel free to look for what she came for.

She climbed the creaking stairs and noticed, not much to her surprise, that the rest of the house, was in various stages of deterioration as well. No wonder no one would rent it, despite its exceptional location.

The whole place had an unkempt touch to it. It didn’t just appear uninhabited or uninterested, the atmosphere was death, as if the house had decided it was beyond saving.

She looked for the musical notes and sheet music in Gene’s old study first, which was at the front of the house and looked out over the placid lake through a large, triangular window. It wasn’t there, but to be fair, not much was. All Nick and Gene had packed, when her father had been forced to leave for the Bellevue complex, was either work related or very personal, like clothing and toiletries, which made that his home office was practically cleared out.

She wandered back to the landing. Clouds of dust seemed to be emanating from the carpet as she walked past the master bedroom on her way to her old bedroom. The door stood open, just a crack. At first she hesitated and pointed her ears to determine where Samuel was. Sounds of a waterjet hitting the sink, some porcelain clanking and the opening and closing of a cutlery tray travelled upstairs. He appeared to be concerning himself in the kitchen.

She allowed herself to gently push the door open a little further, just a few centimetres, and take a quick peek. What was the harm? She used to live there and he had left the door open anyway.

The bed was made with familiar linens, the nightstands were empty, except for the little lamps that had always been there, for as long as Marith could remember. One of the fitted wardrobes was gaping and empty as well, apart from some towels and more bedlinen. Not too distracted by the state of the house she observed that Samuel had barely brought any personal belongings.

This was getting too weird and close for Marith. Gene’s latest tenant was bringing about questions she couldn’t possibly ask, without being intrusive or impolite, and she didn’t want to be snooping. Now that she had tried it out it made her feel onerous.

Her bedroom was an ode to her pre-teen years. The single bed, next to the window was covered in a pile of collectible stuffed animals. Under it stood flat, elongated plastic boxes on wheels, filled with Barbie’s and toy horses. She could remember Lieke and her fighting over them. Which seemed frivolous now and she wished they hadn’t had those battles when they were younger.

She wished they could have formed a united front against their crazy mother, but they had been too young to understand her mental illness back then and unknowingly had themselves be used, as tame lambs, being interchanged from golden child to scape goat, sometimes suffering several converts per week.

On her desk stood a pin-board with pictures of good, old times, that were in reality often overshadowed by drama’s that unfolded behind the scenes. Not bothered by the need to take some with her to reminisce over she left them alone and started to turn the drawers in the desk upside down.

She soon found the papers she was looking for, waiting under old poetry albums and sketch books.

After Marith was done upstairs she peered into the kitchen to say goodbye. She was getting strangely light-headed and felt in need of some lunch.

The pale young man turned around with a kettle, filled with boiling water, in his left hand and her grandmothers antique, mosaic tea-box, that kept almost every known flavour and herbal mixture in it, in his right.

“Tea?” He invited her to the kitchen table.

The eerie feeling that he had planned this creeped up on her. Usually Marith would have declined, but the pot was already made and he was now very forwardly fetching two mugs from the cupboards.

“Yeah, sure.”

She took place on the opposite side of the table, facing the kitchen cabinets, and laid the sheet music down. The little, wooden doors used to be teal, but now seemed to be fading away into their own shade of grey. Looking around, Marith felt as if she was viewing a black and white movie. Their surroundings had no colour, no vibrancy, no depth.

Samuel glanced at the fan of sheet music between them and smirked. He, or at least certain ethereal parts of him, had been there when the most profound pieces of humanity had been written, when great composers had become addicted or gone mad and turned destitute, getting buried in unnamed graves, only to be rediscovered hundreds of years after their deaths.

‘The Devil’s violinist’ by Paganini, ‘the Devil’s trill sonata’ by Tartini, ‘Danse Macabre’ by Saint-Saëns. He had been their muze, their inspiration, their momentum, their magic, and nobody knew about it, or about him. Tartini had surely channelled his influence the most vigorous and had subsequently run his mouth about it, but everybody regarded it as a fabricated story, so his anonymity was still guaranteed.

Of course, those were not the pieces that his table partner had just carefully sought out and was planning on reciting. Sapless, hapless, boring bitch.

She flipped the box open and leafed through the options. It didn’t take long to find a bag with ginger and lemongrass, her favourite. Samuel fished out an Earl Grey. Marith had always wondered what kind of monster enjoyed that, especially without sugar or milk.

He poured them both a cup of hot water. They hung their tea-bags in each.

“I see you haven’t unpacked yet?” Marith carefully inquired.

“Hmmm?”

“I-I couldn’t help but notice a lack of your stuff, when I was upstairs. I figured you would have brought modems, screens and keyboards and such, being a software developer and all.” She looked around, wondering why the air was so icy. “Nick told me about your occupation,” she quickly added.

“Ah, you’re very observant, I see. I like that,” he lied. “I… I planned on buying new hardware.”

Marith nodded. She couldn’t think of anything intelligent to ask, being completely devoid of any technological knowledge.

The drowsiness seemed to stay with her. She sipped her tea and wished he had offered her something to go with it. Cookies, mini-muffins, dry toast or uncooked noodles, she felt like she could eat anything and wouldn’t be able to stop if she did.

“What do you do for a living?” Samuel asked, with a honey sweet voice, that still lacked colour, but at least had some effort behind it.

“I am a cellist,” Marith shared, hesitant as always.

She didn’t feel like an accomplished musician in any way, shape or form and didn’t want to come off as a pretentious fraud. The Imposter Syndrome had nestled itself into the wiring of her brain and had not appeared to make plans to leave anytime soon. Her Rebirth had not been able to change the unwelcome feeling she carried with her through life.

“A musician. Cool.” He nodded impressed. “What does that entail?” He went on to ask with a vague gesture. “Do you play like in an orchestra or an ensemble?”

“Well, back in Europe I was sometimes hired to play in quartets… you know, at weddings or birthdays, sometimes even funerals. I also had an agenda filled with students. That used to be my main source of income. Now that I moved here I hope to gain some students as well.” She smiled wryly at her last wish. “Right now, I’m preparing for a Christmas recital.” She gestured at the sheet music in between them on the table.

“Those flyers in the Sweet Tooth and the convenience store,” he stared at her intently, “are yours?”

“Yes!” She remarked enthusiastically.

“Just connecting the dots.” He smirked satisfactory.

“You want lessons?” Marith informed, a little too eager.

Samuel chuckled. “No, my musical abilities are kind of limited to singing in the shower.”

He’d been watching movies in which people did that, so he figured it must be a thing. He was relieved to see Marith smile. It must be an activity more people engage in then.

“But if you’re free some time you can show me around,” he suggested.

He knew he would find a way to insert himself into their lives soon enough. Being invasive and obtrusive was one of his specialties after all. But then they knew that, so he was aware he had to be cunning about it.

Marith was going to say there wasn’t much to see except poverty, decay and homelessness, but if anyone was an expert on feeling anxious and alone it was her. She didn’t wish the same for him. She could at least attempt to be a nice person with all the spare time she had been saddled with lately.

“I am not completely settled yet, as you’ve astutely remarked before,” he tried again.

“Sure,” she finally forced herself to say.

The intervals between her meet ups with Nate and the Chain were pretty irregular. She could use an extra friend and so could he, by the looks of his skinny, slumped figure, his pitch black outfit and his lack of vibrancy. Altogether, he seemed to have an exhausted and unhappy way of doing.

“Can I have your number then?”

Marith had to refrain from shivering. Had the lake house always been this draughty? Had the walls crumbled to a point in which the winter winds could enter?

She kept losing her train of thought. It might be all the nostalgia and the lost years hitting her in the face. It might be the situation in which a perfect stranger was living amongst her family’s belongings. It might also have been the fact that it brought up a lot of resentment towards her mother. Would she have shown some human decency and basic morals and values during the divorce Gene could still be living here, and so could Lieke and she.

A whirlwind of distress occupied her brain all at once and made it difficult to focus on the guy sitting opposite her.

She shook her head wearily. “I am so sorry. You were saying?”

“I only got your e-mail address from the flyer,” he clarified his need for her phone number.

“Yes, my number,” Marith remarked, gaining control over her mental lingering. “Let me put it in your phone then,” she offered.

Samuel got up, walked to a side table, opened an almost vacant drawer and picked a smooth, shiny, square object out of it.

Marith took the phone from him. “Is it charged, though?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded convincingly at her, with his hands on his hips.

“You need to open it for me,” Marith gave it back, slightly irked by his way of doing. Who just shoved a locked smartphone in someone’s hands expecting the other person to operate it?

He took it back and clumsily fumbled with it, while a hopeless expression appeared on his face. “I have to come clean with you.” He sighed. “I hate these things. I hate constantly being in touch with everything and everybody. I just got it, because I moved here, you know… to the middle of nowhere. My old phone was of the more simple kind.”

Marith nodded when hearing his explanation. “Keeping up with every corner of the world can be tiresome,” she commended his attitude towards the constant flow of needless information and continuous impulses.

She took it from him again and helped him with the settings, his facial recognition and a password.

“You haven’t even transferred your data yet,” Marith commented, adding herself to his contacts with a frown. “My number is the first.”

“Consider yourself special then.” Samuel crossed his legs smugly and continued to stare intently at her proceedings with his device. He was watching and learning. Anytime soon he would rule this electronic world.

He leaned back, took a languid sip from his lukewarm tea and mused about the possibilities that were opening up to him.

Having to watch humans live their silly, backwards lives from the Empty, with their utterly deplorable decision making skills, had been torture at times. Which had gotten him to believe that they shouldn’t be making decisions on their own at all. They deserved what was coming for them. They deserved his wrath.

Of course he hadn’t been able to watch all of it. If the stars and the planets were doing their thing - he still didn’t know what exactly it was, aligning maybe - he got some glimpses of the progress in his current dimension of residency.

Especially the part in which the womenfolk got a say in societal matters had been excruciating to witness. These creatures where loose projectiles living their own lives, making their own unpredictable decisions, and never the right ones, of course.

Or when laws were made so that humans couldn’t own other humans anymore. Why the hell not? It was very convenient for a lot of parties. Okay, maybe just one party, but it had been his idea and he still thought it was a great one.

He had invented and implemented all those rules, before he had been expatriated. Who were they to abolish them and live in freedom? No, they really had it coming. Especially those Pupils, as they called themselves. The nerve! Pupils of whom exactly? That self-righteous half-wit in her sleek outfits? They should be under his command.