Perennial

Chapter 14 -- Perennial

It's easy to avoid Aether during capture the flag. Unfortunately, he's still my assigned escort until I can get the hang of where and how things are in Icarus. So the walk to Telepathy is more than a little awkward, with me staring straight ahead to avoid eye contact, while he tries to make eye contact every chance he gets.

We arrive right on time, which I am grateful for. I just wish I wasn't so angry with myself for getting caught using telekinesis. Aether can apparently tell that I'm mad, though from the way he's acting, he appears to think it's at him.

I should probably say something to fix that. But I'm not sure what. Do I apologize? I'm not sure how to do that without explaining myself and, in the process, showing my hand to a DSHA operative-in-training.

So I do the best I can to look at him, into his (fake) brown eyes and thank him. It's kind of like applying a band-aid to a gushing wound.

He seems taken aback by this, but nods and says a quick, "You're welcome," before leaving.

When I look around the classroom, the first thing I notice is that Phix is late yet again. She's been making that a habit. Psaqua is already here, though. She meets my eyes worriedly, but says nothing.

I wonder what's happened to make her so anxious.

A moment later, I can hear her voice in my mind. 'Is everything okay? You seem off.'

"Everything's fine," I reply aloud as I sit a little more forcefully than is necessary. "And please try to stay out of my head if you can help it."

"Okay?" Psaqua doesn't sound too convinced, but she keeps her word and stays out of my mind.

We sit in a palpable silence until Phix finally does show up.

When she does, she walks right up to the white board, snatches up a marker, and writes, "MIND - SCAPE" in big capital letters.

She turns around and smiles. "Alright, girls. Which of you can tell me what this is?"

Psaqua hesitantly raises her hand and gets called on. "It's a mental plain that can be created and accessed by telepaths."

"That's right." Phix nods approvingly. "Now, who can tell me some practical applications for mind-scapes?"

"Therapy," I suggest, because it's true. Sometimes DSHA will hire a telepath to help rehabilitate important mental patients. This is usually done via mind-scape.

"Very good. What else is there?" Phix jots a bullet point down and writes 'therapy' next to it.

"Picturing someone's mind as a mind-scape can help sort through their thoughts and memories," Psaqua says.

Phix nods enthusiastically and writes 'mental navigation'.

"I've read that you can use mind-scapes to battle other telepaths and overpower their minds," I mutter.

"Unconventional, but true." Phix gives me that one and writes "overpowering telepaths" on it.

Psaqua takes another turn and says, "Mind-scapes are also a great way to communicate without worrying about someone listening in."

Phix adds "secure communication" to the list. "Anything else?"

When neither of us answers, she turns and jots down "mental illusions/hallucinations" on the board. "Mind-scapes are also used to help create mental illusions." She then nods, mostly to herself, and caps her marker.

"Try to keep in mind girls, that in order to initiate a mind-scape you need to be at least forty-five points on the Philips' Scale," Phix says. "Eventually, I can see Psaqua doing this, but not you, Perennial."

The pointed look she gives me is almost scathing.

Rude. If I were still twelve I'm sure I'd be throwing myself a little pity party and trying not to cry, but by now I'm very used to the idea that my telepathy is below average. (Well. You know. As below average as you can get for a super-human.)

(By DSHA's super-human standards, though, I'm actually not that much more powerful than the average super-human. My chlorokinesis has only become passably good with practice, and as mentioned many times before, my telepathic capabilities are pathetic..

My only outstanding power is my telekinesis, which is something DSHA doesn't know about.

Which is something that Aether now knows about.

Which is something that I should not be thinking about while sitting in a room full of telepaths.)

Phix continues her lecture. "Remember that when dealing with non-telepaths, it's easier to just send telepathic messages, not initiate a mind-scape."

I glance over at Psaqua.

It's very important that she's paying attention to this, because she's the only one who's going to need to remember it later. She seems to be pretty good at this whole telepathy thing, though. I have no doubt that someday she'll be able to pull off mind-scapes like they're nothing.

If I manage to stick around that long, I'd be interested in seeing her in action.

"Now, it's probably no secret by now that I was hoping we'd get to experiment with mind-scapes this year. But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can skip this course." Phix's gaze is locked on Psaqua as she says this.

My eyes dart back and forth between my classmate and my teacher. Why does Phix need to ask? Isn't she the teacher? Isn't she in charge? Can't she just make us do whatever thing she wants?

Phix never looks away from Psaqua. It occurs to me that only Psaqua's opinion matters in this decision. I'm not even being factored in. (That's actually fine. I don't really care.)

The simple act of asking Psaqua for her permission to go along with practicing mind-scapes implies that the practice might not sit well with her.

This, in turn, begs the question: Why would she be uncomfortable with mental illusions? It's an incredibly handy skill to have, and for someone like Psaqua, it probably wouldn't even be that hard to pull off.

"We can try..." Psaqua mumbles her agreement.

Phix perks up immediately, as if she can't hear the resistance and fear in Psaqua's voice. "Good. This is going to be so fun! We won't be starting today, of course, but over the next few weeks, we'll prepare to practice some mind-scapes. How's that sound?"

Fantastically boring, but she's going to make us do it no matter what I say.

Phix continues talking, but I tune her out. (Tuning someone out is easy once you realize that nothing that's being said is of any importance.)

I turn my attention back to Psaqua, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She's fidgety and keeps glancing away from Phix. This is a little odd because she's usually a diligent student.

I begin to do a little piecing together of what I've observed during my short stay here.

1. Psaqua is holding back her telepathy (which is not healthy, by the way).

2. a) Phix asked her for permission to do stuff.
b) Phix is a new teacher. She's implied this is her first year.

3. They've both implied something happened last year. I think Mr. Suit did, too, when he mentioned something about DSHA wanting me for my telepathy.

Conclusion: Something traumatic must have happened during the telepathy course last year. Something Psaqua was involved in that left her with a fear of her own abilities.

Of course, I could be wrong. I'm only human. I make mistakes. But I'm pretty sure that I'm not that far off this time.

I need to find out if I'm right.

Asking Psaqua might not be the best idea.

But I don't necessarily need to talk to her. Aether would probably know what happened. Theoretically, I could ask him. But that would involve actual conversation, which I am not prepared to start up again, not since he found out my secret.

But suppose I did want to talk to him in private. Where could we do that? The answer to that question makes me wince at the awkwardness of it all: at night, out on the testing range.

After my first accidental meeting with him out there - and then the whole escapade that led him to finding out about my telekinesis - I'm a little hesitant to even step foot in that direction.

Besides, he probably won't even be there again. Right?

"Perennial, are you paying attention?" Phix interrupts my thoughts. She's obviously not happy with me.

"I am now, ma'am," I mutter as I move to sit up straight.

"Any questions?" Phix is glaring at me as she asks.

Neither Psaqua nor I have anything to say.

"Good. Now let's get started on your homework assignment." Phix begins drawing up things on the board, telling us what we'll have to study later.

Maybe I would be paying attention if she was assigning us to learn about something that actually had some real bearing in my life.

Maybe I would be paying attention if I was actually planning on studying tonight.

Maybe I would be paying attention if I wasn't trying to think of what I'm going to say to Aether when I meet him later. (There is no way I can get out of this responsibility. I have to talk to him again, and soon.)

It's something I'm not particularly looking forward to.