Socket 1 - The Discovery of Socket Greeny (6 page)

“When the hell did I do that?”

His face darkened, but he let the
hell
curse word slide. “It will all be explained to you after the
preliminary evaluation. However, it is imperative that we remain on
schedule. You need to report to Agent Pike immediately.”

I grabbed him as he turned. “Wait, I’m not
going anywhere until you tell me what’s going to happen at this…
evaluation.”

“Agent Pike is a minder; he has extraordinary
psychic ability. He will assess your potential.”

“So I
am
a Paladin?”

Pause. “That is up to Agent Pike to decide.”
He stepped quickly before I could grab again. I was trapped in a
short hallway inside a mountain about to meet a man named Pike.
It’s just a little stick, Socket
.

We walked into a leaper at the other end of
the hall. “We will be traveling at 189 mph in a northwest direction
exactly 33 degrees above ground level, covering 5,133 feet. Are you
ready?”

Hell, no
. A falling sensation twisted
my gut.

“We have arrived.”

It was another short hallway, a gray archway
at the far end. Spindle walked with his shoulders square, his head
held high. My knees were unreliable, but I forced myself to follow.
I wanted to hold his arm, but I wasn’t going to look like a pussy.
Even if I felt like one.

“You will have to enter alone,” Spindle said.
“I will wait here.”

I brushed my fingertips across the chilly
gray archway. “So you’re saying he’s just going to ask questions,
nothing else?”

“Yes,” Spindle said. “And assess you.”

Assess me. Goddamn, I don’t like the way
that sounds.
“Where’s Mom?”

“She is sorry.” His fluid voice faltered,
just a bit. “She is very aware of you.”

Was that supposed to calm me down? Don’t tell
me the truth or I’ll freak out. I was turning numb and couldn’t
stop nodding.

“Agent Pike.” Spindle patted my shoulder. “He
is waiting.”

The weakness in my knees was now in my chest.
If I waited any longer, I was going to fill my shorts. As I saw it,
there was no choice. Nowhere to run.
The nurse never says the
shot’s going to hurt. She’ll say its just pressure, that’s all
you’ll feel.
I put my foot through the archway, felt Spindle’s
hand slip off my shoulder, and plunged to the other side.
But we
all know that shot’s going to hurt like shit.

Pressure.

It was around me as soon as I entered,
wrapped around my body, dimpled my skin like a golf ball. A frail
man sat on a chair, his hands on his thighs. Stubble shaded his
scalp. His narrow sunglasses partially wrapped around his head, the
lenses convex and black.

“Have a seat.” His voice was clipped, cold
and dry.

A similar chair emerged from the floor in
front of him. I pulled it away. We didn’t need to sit that close.
Tiny cracks appeared around his mouth.
More pressure
.

[Agent Pike has mental pressure at level one.
The subject is feeling discomfort, but seems to be controlling his
nerve response unconsciously.]

The thought was in my head. I looked around
the room, white and empty, and there was no one here except me and
this gecko-looking nutjob.

Agent Pike twitched. Nothing noticeable. His
eyebrows lifted a few microns. How did I notice that?
Gecko
.
There, it happened again. He heard me.
Is that right, Mr.
Gecko?

“I am Agent Pike,” he said, no warmer than
his greeting.

A servy emerged from the wall. Three arms
grew from the middle of its body. I pulled my arm away. It stopped,
turned its eyelight to Agent Pike.

“The servy simply needs to monitor your vital
signs and take a few samples. It will be painless.”

The eyelight returned to me. I could’ve
fought the thing, but they were going to get samples one way or
another. I had the feeling I was going to need all my strength by
the time this “evaluation” ended. One of its arms wrapped around my
elbow, turning it numb. The other two arms touched various parts of
my back, neck, and chest.

“You performed an unauthorized timeslice
today at 11:25 a.m.,” Agent Pike said.

“Yeah, I didn’t do anything.”

“Timeslicing is a stoppage of relative time.
Since this incident, you have heard random thoughts. Has this not
happened to you?”

I don’t like this guy.

“We know this to be true, but your
cooperation will make this transaction easier.”

He didn’t need me to answer. He
wanted
me to answer. So I nodded. Fine. There’s your
transaction
,
weasel.

The servy pulled its rubbery arms off, merged
back into the wall. Three spots of blood beaded on my arm.
Blood, skin, tissue, muscle. You forgot a chunk of
brain.

Agent Pike eyebrows shifted again.
More
pressure.

The dimpling sensation was deeper, more
intense. I grabbed the bottom of the chair. A line of sweat popped
up on my lip. That last wave went deep, like the dentist forgot to
numb me before drilling.

“Only Paladins have the ability to cease
relative time,” he said. “It is not magic. We have the ability to
alter our metabolism to move and think infinitely faster than the
ordinary human, to
experience
time stopping. The ability can
be performed only in short bursts before the body consumes all its
energy. You were very hungry after timeslicing, were you not?”

He paused.
We know this to be
true.

“Your timeslicing ability was activated by an
unknown presence that approached in the form of a shadow. This
person was traced to the Garrison, but we do not know the
identity.” His nostrils flared, blowing hot air. “Tell me who the
shadow is.”

I barely remembered what happened; how would
I know who the shadow is? This guy was a moron if he thought—

My eardrums popped. The air thickened.

“You are sixteen years old.” Agent Pike’s
voice was now unusually loud, slightly echoing. “Paladin cadets do
not timeslice until they are twenty. Your activation is an
anomaly.” His lips moved softly, no more than a whisper, but the
words rang. “WHO ARE YOU, SOCKET GREENY?”

[Agent Pike, back down the mental
pressure.]

His stare locked me in the chair. I couldn’t
move. It was a full blown seizure. The chair legs rattled.

[Agent Pike! You are ordered to back off! The
subject is unstable; you must stop the pressure immediately!]

A black tunnel collapsed around me. My head
split. No, not my head.
My mind
. Pike went looking for
answers. Psychic fingers pushed inside like cold spikes. I let out
a howl that died in the dense air. Memories hurtled out of the
blackness, falling at random. Things I’d forgotten played like
movies.

Two years old. Dad pulled me from the car and
Mom came around. The room was large and dank. Musty.
The parking
cave
. Dad carried me and his footsteps echoed. A man greeted
him. Shook his hand.

“He’s showing signs,” Dad said.

The man ruffled my hair. His breath minty. I
hid my face in Dad’s shoulder. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” the man
said.

Icy pain cut me. Pike dug deeper.

I was four, holding Dad’s hand. The carnival
lights illuminated the night that smelled like straw and sugar. I
ate something fried on a stick. Dad tore off a piece, popped it in
his mouth. “You want to go on that one, Socket?” he said.

A capsule ride shot straight up, disappeared
above the lights.

“Trey,” Mom said. “I don’t think that’s a
good idea. He’ll get scared.”

I held his rough hand and we climbed inside
the capsule. It was humid and smelled like puke. We strapped into
the seat and I was thinking Mom was right. I grabbed Dad’s arm when
we blasted off, buried my face in his coat.

“It’s all right, Socket,” he said. “It’ll be
all right.”

Mom waited for us when it was over. She was
wringing her hands but she was smiling.
Smiling
.

Pike plunged deeper. Memories popped like
bubbles, overlapping each other. Confusing one with the other. I
was spinning. Faces passed. Days went by. The memory wheel
stopped.

I was five. The colorless sky was cold.

Men were dressed in dark uniforms with white
gloves, standing in line. They lowered a casket into the ground,
draped a flag over it. Dirt thudded on the lid. A few people cried,
but most were expressionless, like soldiers that knew the line of
duty. Mom was dressed in black. Her face was sallow. Eyes were sunk
in the dead zone.

A man rustled my hair. “Your father was a
good man.”

His breath was minty. My stomach was hard and
cold, that block of ice I would carry the rest of my life had
already formed.

Memories fell faster, each one stacking on
top of the next. Pike flipped through them like playing cards, each
one ripped from somewhere dark and quiet. The catalogue of my life
reeled in front of me.

I was tearing.

He was coming in. I couldn’t keep him out. I
wasn’t big enough to contain him.

The memory of the Rime appeared, fast
forwarded to the shadow. The view was fading. Pike grappled with
the memory, trying to bring it into focus. His mental fingers grew
colder. Sharper.

WHO IS THE SHADOW?

It just hurt.

Too much.

“You are not authorized to enter this room!”
Pike slithered out of my mind.

I was back in my skin, slumped in the chair.
Empty and violated. Several people entered the room, emerging from
the seemingly solid walls. Their hair was short. Their uniforms
tight and black. Two of them wore black glasses. They stepped on
each side of Pike like bookends. Pike jumped up, his chair falling
back and dissolving. Spindle wrapped his arms around me and kept me
from falling.

“You were ordered to back down twice!” Mom
shouted. “YOU WILL NOT BREAK HIM!”

“I am in charge of this preliminary!” Pike
retorted with equal venom. “You have no right to be in here!”

“He is my son!” Mom shot back. “And this has
become a psychic lynching! You were not authorized to probe
deeply!”

“There is a traitor in the Garrison. I will
use whatever methods necessary.”

“This preliminary is over. You will be
removed from this assignment.”

His face reddened. “I am primary minder. I
decide methodology. I assess traits, my decisions are final.
Understand,
civilian
, I will not go.”

“You can have this conversation with the
Commander, if you like, but either way, we are finished.”

Pike turned, the glasses slipped, revealing
white eyeballs. No iris. No pupil. He fixed his glasses and stared
at Mom, but she didn’t flinch. She stood in front of me, her hands
clenched. Veins pulsed in Pike’s neck. Tension hissed.

“Try it.” Mom stepped closer to him, her nose
almost touching his. “Go on, get inside me and try it.”

The room charged with static. Her hair
floated out.

“If you dare to penetrate my mind, you will
not see the outside of a prison cell for eternity, I will see to
that, personally, Agent Pike. If you do not contain yourself in the
next few moments and leave this room, I will bring a team of
minders in here to incapacitate you for the rest of your life. If
you don’t believe me, then try it.” Her lips were very thin. “Back.
Down.”

The vein throbbed on Pike’s neck. A bead of
sweat rolled down his temple. He calmly adjusted his black glasses.
He sucked air between his teeth, took his time turning and glided
through the wall. The two black glasses-wearing men followed as did
three black suits. Two men stayed in the room, hands behind their
backs. At attention.

My mind was still cleaning up the memories
Pike uncorked, trying to put them in their rightful places. They
swirled like papers finding their way back to the ground.

“Get him to the infirmary,” Mom said to
Spindle and the men. “I want a medical minder to begin
decompression wave therapy immediately. Have the medical mechs
monitor his vitals and administer sedatives but do not put him to
sleep. Once normal brain activity resumes, I want him asleep for
twenty-four hours. All activity is to be sent to my office, keep me
updated of every second, Spindle. And I mean every second.”

A stretcher floated inside the room. Servys
laid me on it, guided it down the short hall to the leaper. Mom and
Spindle walked along side.

“I will be updating Commander Diggs with what
just happened,” she said. “Contact all my appointments for the rest
of the day and reschedule for tomorrow.”

“But you have an appointment with the
Director of—”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I need some time
with the Commander.”

I took her hand. It was hot. Wet.

She pushed her hair back. The rigid muscles
loosened along her jaws and around her eyes. She stopped the
stretcher before it went inside the leaper, squeezed my hand and
pushed the hair off my forehead.

“You made it,” I croaked.

She nodded, feeling my forehead. She
whispered, “Get some rest.” She stood back. “I’ll be with you
soon.”

We moved onto the leaper. She watched from
the hallway. She would not rest. Not tonight. There was too much to
do.

* * * * *

Time does not exist.

There is only the present moment.

The past and future are merely thoughts about
the present moment. If you think about it, you have already missed
the point. One must live life in the present moment to be real;
otherwise, your life is a collection of thoughts.

No different than data.

* * * * *