Mindseeker

Chapter 4: Fantastical Failures

My third period is English, at least I think so. I can't tell you the teacher's name or anything we did in there.

The only thought on my mind is Kota and why he is so depressed. I query the Synthnet but come up empty. Just like they are immune to our powers, Psychords don't connect to the network the way other people do. A Psychord's mind is a complete unknown to the Synthnet until the Binding. Maybe that's part of what makes it special. Without any knowledge of Kota's family or friends, I have nothing but the equivalent of a bad Google search.

Fourth period comes, music, and the warm rope of the Tether around my chest tells me this is another class I have with Kota. The teacher, Mrs. Kendricks, is very much into her subject. She is animated and seems to say every word with her hands as much as her mouth so that it looks like she is conducting the class as much as teaching it.

She also seems especially warm toward Kota, sitting him near the front. She is going over something related to string instruments, and at least half of her questions are directed at Kota. He gives quiet, short answers, but each of them is met with an excited "correct!" or "absolutely!" as if she is trying with all her power to draw out an excitement only she seems able to see.

I am struck by the fact Kota has so many right answers. I'd have to query the Synthnet to even begin to understand what the teacher is talking about. He might not know anything about Roman history, but he apparently knows a lot about string instruments.

We don't have any chance to interact during that class, so I have to endure the increasing heat level of the Tether until the dying buzzard finally rings again.

Lunchtime. Perfect opportunity to try my best at Operation Make Kota Feel Better.

I follow him at an inconspicuous distance, assuming he will head straight to the cafeteria with the rest of the mob.

Except he doesn't.

He is heading for a side door, one that leads off campus but isn't quite as well monitored as the front doors. Just before he reaches them, another boy, brown-skinned, short black hair, stops Kota. They have what can only be an argument, hands waving, words threatening to pierce the din of the crowd. The other boy steps away, shaking his head in disgust. Kota pushes open the doors with unnecessary force and bursts out of the school.

I linger for a second, taking mental notes on the black-haired boy. The Synthnet provides his name, Ren, and the fact he is Kota's friend, or at least they have a long history of consistent interaction. Maybe he is a mortal enemy. The Synthnet can be vague sometimes, as if the programmers don't quite understand how to classify certain kinds of information. I guess that's not entirely shocking, considering those programmers are aliens. I don't think he is an enemy, though. He's hurt by Kota's words.

After I am sure Kota is a good distance from the door, I follow him out. I don't need the Tether to tell me where he's going. This side door hasn't been chosen impulsively. It stands on the side of the school facing the park.

For all of lunch, I get to watch Kota getting stoned again. He buys a new bag of weed from the dealer. He must go through the stuff fast. At least he starts back for school in time to catch the bell.

I have plans more important than whatever's happening in fifth period.

The dealer is still hanging around. He gives Kota space to smoke, but he won't go too far from potential additional customers. His face brightens when he sees me.

"Hey dude," he greets. "What's hangin'?"

According to the Synthnet, James is twenty-four years old, a high school dropout, and a gang member. He's got nothing violent on his record, and he isn't a very aggressive guy. Actually, he's quite personable and decently attractive. That alongside his sharp instincts has made him a very successful dealer.

Until today.

I don't even bother with greetings. James isn't anyone I need to know. My Infixation is powerful this time, easily stronger than anything I did to the creeper. I despise James. I despise what he's done to Kota, how he's ruining a boy's life for money. Those emotions fuel my psychic efforts.

During training, we were never told what it's like to be on the receiving end of an Infixation. Maybe the Consulars figured nobody would ever be doing it to us. Or if they did it was a situation we weren't supposed to resist.

I only have one word for what I do to James: brutal.

He stands there like he is having a stroke, slack jawed, unfocused eyes, his entire body drooping like he is a puppet hung up carelessly for storage. I peel back his mind like layers on a rotting onion, sinking the thoughts of my Infixation as deep as I can get them. I nail his brain with terror after terror, thoughts of police and FBI and a lifetime in solitary isolation, ideas that a psychopathic murderer stalks the woods, someone who kills for fun and likes to scalp his victims and wear their fingernails on a necklace. I drill him with all sorts of horrible ways he is going to die and suffer if he keeps dealing drugs in this park.

A regular Infixation is temporary, like what I did to that greasy creeper before. That guy ran off, and in a few hours the thoughts faded away.

It isn't going to be like that for James. I've burrowed these horrors so deep into his mind he is never going to get out from under them. The particular details might fade. His fear will become irrationally all-consuming. I've guaranteed that his gang won't be able to get him to set foot in this park ever again. He might not be able to deal drugs ever again. Threatening to murder him will be insignificant by comparison.

When I release my hold over him, James's eyes bulge as if a horde of zombies have just burst from the trees behind me. He runs as fast as his out-of-shape legs can carry him, yelling and cursing, and as close to tears as a man like him can ever get.

"What the hell are you doing, man?"

The words freeze me. My sense of satisfaction drains like sand from a ripped bag.

I don't need to turn around to know that Kota is behind me. The Tether hums its familiar heat against my neck. I hadn't felt it during the Infixation. Kota must have noticed me confront James, doubled back. I hadn't realized it because I'd been too focused on James. Drawing on the Synthnet for such a powerful Infixation had blocked out the Tether.

Shit.

I turn, try a disarming smile.

Like an idiot, I realize only then that I'd never properly introduced myself in history. Both the music and history teachers had introduced me, so assuming Kota was paying any attention he knows my name, but none of my plans for meeting him the right way have happened.

"Hey, it's Kota, right?"

Kota grimaces. "Yeah, it's Kota. And you're the history nerd who gets way too excited about Visigoths."

Hey, kudos, at least Kota had been paying a little bit of attention to the discussion questions.

I play it cool. "Guilty."

The coolness is lost on Kota. "So you just think you can get into my business? What do you think you're doing out here, anyway? And what did you say to that guy that got him to run off like he was being chased by a panther?"

"I didn't tell him much of anything," which is true, depending on how you look at it. I didn't even say one word to the guy.

Kota seems unsure, like he doesn't know how angry he should be, how much he should let me know. He points a finger at me, jabbing it for emphasis. He's a little unsteady, and his anger makes him wobble. "Why don't you just mind your own business? Don't ever follow me around at lunch again, got it? I've got enough shit to deal with without having some new senior stalking me. You got that?" He jabs again, closer this time. "Leave. Me. Alone."

With that, Kota spins on his heels, turning further than he meant to so that he actually starts off in the wrong direction for the school.

I am left standing there like an idiot.

Operation Make Kota Feel Better is officially afantastic failure. I didn't even tell him myname.