1.11.2

Past and Future

In the days that followed, Astrid worked to replicate her results. She was even able to demonstrate to Karth and Anders as time passed. It took all her waking hours between arms training and protocol lessons to hone her new skill, and she steadily, a mere inch at a time, increased the distance at which she could pull.

Eventually, Anders insisted she slate an hour a night specifically to wind down, which promptly took the place of her evening meetings with Doctor Ishioka, when the woman deemed the data gathered adequate.

It was in one of these rare hours that Romo approached Astrid while she sat curled in a sitting chair in the commons, flipping through one of the novels the Keeper sent with her. A favorite, and already well committed to memory.

“The captain passed these along. They’re from his personal collection.” Romo presented her with a tidy stack of hard cover books, three in total. “When Dell informed him your limited library, he insisted you have a chance to read these.”

Awed, Astrid closed her own tome to reach for the bold face lettering of the topmost book, moved by the gesture.

“That’s… that’s very kind of him. I’ll have to thank him.”

Astrid fell speechless at the immense gift. It took her a moment to realize the agent neglected to depart after his delivery.

“Is there something else?”

“I... yes. But it's personal." Romo rubbed at his neck. "Is it alright to ask more about Endra? Or the Sanctuaries?”

“I suppose it’s too on-the-nose to declare myself an open book at this point…” Astrid waved her hand to the seat next to her in hopes the man would sit.

Romo hesitated a moment, but acquiesced. He leaned forward in his seat. His elbows braced atop his knees.

“Dell and I are close, so I don’t want you to think he’s sharing the details of your life carelessly. But he mentioned a particularly protective nature you have. Specifically, he said your power flared when you were talking about the kids, back at the Sanctuary. The children you cared for.”

“Yes. The older students often help the younger ones. They struggle more.”

“But it’s more than that. He said it sounded… personal.”

Even now, it pained Astrid to imagine how Opal might've taken her absence. To think of how difficult it might be for the sweet girl to adjust to regulating on her own. But Opal wasn’t the only one she missed.

Harlowe, a boy so timid the Guardians thought him clinically mute for his first six years, also spoke to her in soft whispers when no one else could draw him out. Astrid could only hope that someone else would connect with him and help him find his voice before his personality disappeared altogether.

“The Keeper cares for us, but there’s so many. And she isn’t allowed too close. Children come to the Sanctuary in great loss. They’re essentially orphans. Out of everyone I left behind, I think of them most often. I wonder… I hope, they’re okay without me.”

“That’s a lot to bear.”

“Yes. It is,” Astrid admitted.

Romo stared into nothingness, contemplative.

Astrid waited, patiently, for him to continue. Uncharacteristic to see him so somber, she appraised what weight that could make him so.

“Do you ever get Channelers that aren’t brought in as infants?” he finally asked. “Children who slipped under the radar until they were older?”

“Not that I can recall. Not at Sanctuary Endra, anyway. Rehabilitating someone who started life outside would be so much harder. They’d likely be sent somewhere more regimented for training. A more controlled environment.”

Again, for a long moment, Romo said nothing.

“Why do you ask?” Astrid prompted.

Romo leaned back, as if exhausted. “A long time ago, before I joined up, I used to run with a gang on Earth. It wasn’t a great neighborhood, and there were a lot of kids. We tried to look out for each other. Kind of like you described…”

He sighed before he continued.

“We had one kid. His name was Zeke, but we called him ‘Jinx’ because things would go just haywire around him. Lights, the tv, the stereo. I didn’t realize it at the time, but since getting to know you, I think he was a Channeler. I know his mother had died and his father was never around.

“Then, one day, he just stopped turning up. We never found him. He was only seven or so. I thought, maybe…”

“Oh, Romo,” Astrid lamented as her heart sank. “Our powers don’t go unnoticed forever. It gets harder to control, and more erratic with puberty. I’m afraid I don’t know of him. If he was, or is, a Channeler, I hope he was found and delivered somewhere he could get help.

“But there are over a dozen Sanctuaries. And they would have changed his name if he’d been taken to one.”

“But he would have been taken to one, right? Not… euthanized?”

Astrid could feel how much the word felt a toxin on Romo’s tongue. Like it poisoned him to consider it a possibility.

She moved her book off her lap completely and leaned closer to him. “That is only in extreme circumstances. As a kid, even if extremely dangerous, I’d like to think the worst they would have done is drugged him until he aged out of any tantrum stage. Maybe gotten him some therapy.”

“But you don’t know?”

“To be honest, there’s no way I could. I’m sorry.” Astrid hated that she couldn't comfort him. “It doesn’t serve their interests to tell us those things. The Guardians, the Keepers, even the Statics outside pulling the strings, would want us to believe as little resistance, and oppression, is employed as possible.”

Romo’s face fell. “I guess I’ll never know.”

To see him so frustrated and helpless, Astrid reached for any way she could possibly make a difference.

She rested her palm over his wrist. Her first emboldened attempt to intitiate physical contact on her own. But she needed him to know how sincerely she wanted to help. Under her fingers, behind Romo’s static she felt his surprise, then relief. Sadness, but solace.

It made the daring gesture worth it.

“Wherever this role leads me, I promise I’ll do what I can to gain any insight on the situation. I wish I could tell you more. Perhaps this is something I should look into. By keeping us in the dark there’s a lot of cracks for kids to fall through.”

“I’m sorry to put this on you. There’s probably enough pressure being what you are.”

“Maybe. But I've had a whole lifetime of practice being what I am.” Astrid offered her best reassuring smile.

“I don't mean just being a Channeler," Romo corrected meaningfully. "I meant the pressure of being the first one out here."

Astrid blinked as she took in his words.

“It’s not just about whether you’re a good or bad example,” he deemed. “Even if we make you a good one, it seems like there’s so much work to be done for the others.”

Astrid swallowed and her gaze fell to the books at her side. It suddenly felt selfish to court free time at all, even to read. To just be getting through the day made all these other issues seem so far out of reach but… was he right? Were they, too, her responsibility?

Romo stood, looking thoroughly weary.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re the one with us.”

Astrid couldn’t help but flip through the many possible faces it could have been. Others perhaps more deserving of such an opportunity.

“Thank you, Romo. That means a lot.”