Games we don't want to play ~
With the dishes cleared, cleaned, and put away, I finished wiping off the table and took my seat with everyone else.
“So, now what?” Chess asked, inspecting his calloused hands with boredom. “It’s too early to go to bed and the Chief’s not back yet.”
“Speak for yourself, person, I could totally hit the sack and be asleep before my head even touched the pillow,” I muttered, resting my head in my hands.
“We could always play Sharps,” Who chimed in. This was met with a chorus of complaints, from my neighbor and myself.
“Why would we want to do that? Dude, you always win,” Pixie pointed out, finishing her tirade. I agreed with her, and he deflated somewhat.
“What if I promise to lose?” he asked, perking up again, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
“It’s no fun if we win by default,” I informed him. How many times were we going to go through this?
“I’ll do it.”
We all glanced at Chess, and Pixie and I smiled at each other; it had begun.
If Who was known best for his self-righteousness and exaggerated sense of self-worth, then Chess would’ve been known for his competitive spirit and winner attitude, topped with his obsession of showing off. Put these two against each other head to head, and it was great entertainment.
“Alright!” Who exclaimed, giving Chess a high-five as he jumped from his seat.
“Only on one condition though,” Chess intoned.
“Anything, bro.”
“You don’t let me win. If I win it’s because I outsmarted you, and I’m totally going to kick your. . .”
“Oh, you are so on,” Who challenged, running out of the room.
“You know you’re going to lose, right?” Pixie asked, looking skeptically in Chess’s direction.
“There’s a first time for everything, and I guess you, will just have to wait and see.”
Same winner everyday ~
“Huh, I could’ve predicted that outcome before you even started.” Pixie said distractedly as she glanced up from the couch, where she was sprawled with her tech-pad, to the two boys panting heavily in the center of the lounge. Knives lay scattered around their feet, and Who triumphantly twirled the last one in his hand. Once again he had won.
I stretched from my perch atop the arm of one of the recliners and hopped down.
“Well, that was interesting,” I quipped, “It took you five minutes longer then last time to lose,” I informed Chess. “You’re getting better, forty-three minutes is pretty good with six knives.”
Chess brushed me aside and crashed with exhaustion into the recliner I’d just unoccupied. I ignored him and, going over to the scene of his defeat, picked up the five knives on the ground.
Sharps was a game that Lion had taught us to teach us hand-eye coordination and to learn how to anticipate the unexpected. It consisted of any number of players, with any number of knives. The more knives and players the harder it was (obviously). All players would stand in a circle and start chucking knives at each other, there were always more knives then people so there were always some knives suspended in air. When there were more than two players a player was out if he dropped more then two knives, but when there were only two players they kept going until there was only two knives left, the player who dropped the next knife would lose.
When we had first learned this game, of course there were lots of accidents, but we’d been playing so long, that now it was a rare occasion that anyone ever got nicked by a knife, let alone injured.
Returning Who’s prized knife set to him, I brushed off my hands and sat myself down next to Pixie on the couch. Looking over her shoulder at the screen, I found a spiral of colors whirling around on it. The fingers on her right hand were resting gently on the screen, and her eyes were closed, giving her the appearance of sleep. I immediately recognized that she was in a chat room, and was conversing with someone. Not wanting to disturb her, I reached along the side of the couch and grabbed my own tech-pad that I’d placed there earlier.
Laying my hand in the center of the screen, a blue light ran from the top of the screen to the bottom, blinking twice when it recognized my finger print. Making myself comfortable I waited the few seconds for it to turn on.
Tech-pads were what we used for just about everything. We uploaded things on them, downloaded things, read things, communicated with other people, ordered things, printed things, you name it, it did it. Well, anything to do with information; it couldn’t cook or clean, but hey nothing’s perfect and we all have our flaws.
Tech-pads came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Lion had bought each of us our own on our birthday the color of our hair, several years ago. The tech-pads we had were standard ones. Rectangle shaped about the size of a sheet of paper and a couple centimeters thick. They were made out of metal and indestructible (unless your name happened to be Pixie, who’d gone through three so far.)
All that this thin rectangle piece of metal boasted was a screen, (and several ports to hook it to different devices) but that’s all you needed. It was a touch screen with mind-link, and only the owner could activate it with their finger print.
The screen flickered on, and the page I’d been doodling on earlier popped up. I put my finger to the screen and thought “delete”. The page disappeared instantly and my screen-top popped up. An image of the four of us when we were five, sprawled out on the kitchen floor covered in chocolate, flour, sugar, and other baking confections, blinked up at me. I smiled as it reminded me of the time when we’d tried to make a surprise cake for Lion’s birthday and failed miserably. He’d ended up having to clean up most of the mess too, but he hadn’t been the least bit mad, and had appreciated the thought.
That was Lion for you, calm and patient. Well most of the time. It seemed that as we’d gotten older, this part of his nature had frayed a little, and rightly so I’d say. Raising four teenagers on your own, and having to play both the role of father and mentor to them, would wear one down after a time. Especially when these teenagers weren’t your average run of the mill teens.
Pixie, Who, Chess and I had all been born with a rare gene. This special gene gave us the ability to do certain things that every normal person lacking it, could not. The gene was not hereditary, it would just randomly show it’s self, and there wasn’t a lot known about it. The only outward evidence of our difference, were our violet eyes, other than that we resembled every other person on our planet.
The Order called us Powers, and had derived that we were too powerful to be allowed to mingle with society.
Lion, like us had been born with that gene, but he had been the only one in his generation and The Order had allowed him to live as a normal person. He had not done well living as something he was not. Lion had the power to ‘Read’, he could read others minds just by looking into their eyes. He had been treated as a freak, and was accepted by none.
Outwardly he was rich, and well off. The Order hired him to do their dirty work, and he was well paid. But inwardly he was a lonely, tortured, confused soul. When he was 30, he’d met Mauve and they’d gotten married a few years later.
From the minute he’d met her, he promised never to use his power on her, but one day she got really sick, and went into a coma. No one knew if she would pull out of it, and Lion wanting to check on her, had read her mind. What he found there destroyed him. Mauve had never loved him; she had only used him for his money.
After that Lion closed up, he buried his pain in alcohol and severed all ties to his old life, including using his powers.
Then 16 years ago, the Order sought him out. They explained to him that three others like him had been born a month earlier on the same day. They wished that he would train them, so they would not end up like him. The Order did not want these Powers running around lose like he had been allowed to. They needed to be contained, and kept in check.
Lion refused their offer, and they had left him alone for a time. But a year later they came to him again with the same offer, and once again he refused. Then the Order passed him a writhing bundle of cloth, that when he uncovered, it revealed a newborn baby with a shock of bright pink hair; me.
The Order then told him that my mother had tried to kill me, I was now an orphan and had no where else to go. Something changed in Lion then. He agreed, and within the next month, our family had grown to include three more, year old babies. We all shared the same birthday, and as we grew older, Lion had converted his house into a dorm/school. The property outside was vast, but surrounded by a massive wall that was meant to keep us isolated from the world. We were not free, but at least we were not lost, and we all had each other.
In our sanctuary, Lion had taught us the basics, of course; reading, writing, math, history science, geography, all that jazz. But on top of that, we were given special offensive and defensive training that The Order required we have, so that if ever a time came, we could be used as a formidable strength against their enemies.
Over the years our powers had manifested and we had learned to control them. Everyone’s but Chess, who’s remained dormant, and that Lion predicted would most likely remain that way.
Who had been the first to obtain his power of ‘Touch’, when he was five years old. If he touched an object that a person had recently handled or the person themselves, he was able to glean information about that person, and could see what were going to do in the next few seconds. So for instance, when he was playing Sharps and touched a knife that his opponent had just thrown at him, he could see just what second they were going to throw the next knife and at what angle, hence the reason for his constant victory in Sharps.
Pixie had gotten her powers not long after. She was able to ‘Morph’, change her form into that of anything she pleased, which of course had gotten her into endless trouble, her being quite the little prankster.
My powers to ‘Shimmer’ and ‘Shift’ had activated a year later on my fifth birthday. ‘Shimmering’ gave me the ability to become invisible, along with anyone or anything I touched with my hands. While ‘Shifting’ I could move my body through solid objects. These powers had given me the ability to go beyond the barricade that divided my world, and walk amongst the people without their knowledge, or that of my makeshift family
I occasionally would still visit that world, and only one of my family members had ever discovered my secret over the years. Chess, who on the outside seemed to cope well with his lack of power, but it was obviously a sore point for him. He had caught me coming back one night, and let me in that he’d known for quite a while. I’d thought for sure he’d rat me out, but surprisingly enough I didn’t even have to beg for him to stay quiet. He’d promised that he wouldn’t tell, just asked that I’d be careful.
An alert popped up on my screen, breaking me out of my reminiscence and bringing me back to the present. Touching my finger lightly to the screen I thought “open”. I listened as the voice message played in my ears, from the small speaker implanted there and sighed; of course, now I got it. It was a message from Lion, telling me he’d be late for dinner, and not to wait for him. Lame. He could’ve just called, but then again maybe he couldn’t be distracted from what ever it was he was doing.
The Order would routinely call on him, and then Lion would be gone for days on end with no explanation for it when he got back. It seemed as if that was going to be the case again. Great, more independent study tomorrow. School was so much more interesting when Lion was around to actually teach us, instead of leaving assigned work for us in our planners on the tech-pads.
“Hey guys.”
I looked up from my screen as Pixie spoke.
“I was just talking to my brother on the telepath, he’s on a school field trip in the next galaxy over, and it sounds like they’re having the time of their lives.”
“So?” Who intoned distractedly, looking up from where he was polishing his knives. “That’s nice and all, but who cares, it’s not like we ever get to do anything fun.”
“Exactly,” Pixie stated, a sly grin crossing her face.
“Your point being?” Chess prodded when Pixie didn’t elaborate.
“That we should totally make Lion take us on a field trip. I mean come on, everybody gets to go on at least one school field trip outside of our galaxy. We’re 16, minus Key, and we’ve never even visited the nearest moon.”
“I’m almost 16,” I mumbled in my defense, not really caring if anyone heard. No one was really paying much attention to Pixie anymore as she went off on one of her frequent tangents.
“Ouch!” I complained as Pixie poked me hard in the side.
“Guuyys,” she wheedled annoyingly. “Doesn’t anyone want to go?”
“Pixie, just drop it,” Chess warned. “It wouldn’t matter if all of us wanted to go; we all already know what Lion’s answer would be.”
“And what exactly would I be saying no to this time?”
All four of our heads turned in unison, as a dark figure appeared in the door way.
“Lion!” Pixie squealed, leaping off of the couch toward the weary form of our mentor, oblivious as her tech-pad made contact with the floor.
“Hey guys,” Lion said wearily, absentmindedly patting Pixie’s head as she plowed into him. She was a weird one, all grit and grease to everyone but Lion. She, more than any of us, had a father complex, which Lion put up with surprisingly well.
“Sorry I’m late, did I miss anything interesting?” he asked, making his way to the couch where he proceeded to collapse.
Concerned, I glanced over him to make sure it was only fatigue that ailed him. His golden hair was caked in sweat and dirt, and looked as if he hadn’t taken a shower in a week, which I knew for a fact wasn’t true, as he’d had one just that morning before leaving the house. His clothes were equally dirty, and his purple eyes met mine, as he realized I was scrutinizing him.
“Don’t worry, Key, I’m fine.”
I raised my eyebrow skeptically, but knew by now better than to pry.
“There’s dinner in the Frigid Air, would you like some?” I asked, changing the subject.
He nodded, and I headed for the kitchen to get him leftovers, the sound of Pixie’s voice following me out, as she filled him in on our afternoon revolving around her hovercraft.
Good job, you get a cookie.
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