After the Calling

<<Madness: Part VIII

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Tobias crushed his third cigarette out under the toe of his boot, and hoped the cool night air would blow away any trace of cigarette smoke from his breath and clothing. If Aeryn found out he was smoking again, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He had managed to drop his nicotine habit for a whole two years. But since they had been dorming with this odd group of strangers, the only thing he could think about was cigarettes. 

He reached down to retrieve the evidence of his dalliance when he heard a voice behind him.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” the voice called out from behind a garden divide.

“Jericho?” Tobias said, turning around to see the teen tucked away from sight. “You’ve been out here all this time?”

“Longer than that,” Jericho replied.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Not today, no.”

Tobias walked toward the teen, who had made himself a little nest in between some empty plant pots. “I thought you were… recovering.”

Jericho blew air out of his nose. “I came out of it days ago. But I find, the longer I milk the whole zombie look, the longer I can get away with not having to answer any questions.” He smiled. “And Mickey touches me. A lot. What are you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding?”

“No one comes up on a roof, by themselves, to do anything productive,” Jericho said, not smiling. “I told you that I won’t tell.”

“I quit smoking 2 years ago.”

“You mean you were supposed to quit smoking 2 years ago.”

Tobias smiled. “Aeryn says that there are enough things in the world that can kill me.”

“Whipped.”

Tobias’ smile expanded into a laugh. “Well you don’t mince words. You mind?” Tobias motioned toward a large pot, packed with dirt.

“It’s not my roof. Sit where you want,” Jericho said flippantly.

Tobias sat down and glanced around. “Who takes care of all these plants?”

“Layne,” Jericho answered. “He’s sensitive.”

Tobias laughed out loud, and smiled down at the teen. “He didn’t strike me as the sensitive type,” he said, getting comfortable on the pot. “But you foresaw that I would insult him?”

Jericho snorted. “Ha. I wish.”

“Well, what did you see?”

“A sun. In the sky. At night,” Jericho pointed upward. “Not Layne’s corny glasses. Or you for that matter.”

“Is that what you saw in this last vision?”

Jericho paused for a long time, eying Tobias. “I don’t know what I saw,” he said finally, looking out through the fence at the neighboring buildings.

From his tone, Tobias’ decided it was best to change the subject. “Hey, what’s up with the tattoos?” Tobias motioned towards his eyes.

“What tattoos?” Jericho asked, shrugging.

“Your mom, and Mickey. They have tattoos around their eyes.”

Jericho smirked. “I don’t know the full story, but, back when The Calling was going to shit, certain psychics were being branded, I don’t know why –”

“To show their rank, allegiance, ability…all in that order,” Tobias said, filling in the blank. “It made it easier for certain psychics to be recognized. Mostly the strong ones that could pose an actual threat against the rising regime.” Tobias shook his head. “But I had always thought it was a rumor. I’ve never seen a branded psychic in my life.”

Jericho raised his eyebrows and continued. “Well, my dad was branded at some point. And I saw it with my own eyes.”

Tobias raised his hands in submission, motioning for Jericho to continue.

“In protest, those who followed him and believed in what he was trying to do branded themselves. It started out as just a ploy to try and confuse the regime. The more branded psychics that started to pop up, the less sure they’d be about whom had a legitimate Calling issued mark on their face. Eventually, more people started to do it just to do it. The brand stopped being a message of oppression, and became a message of defiance, capability, and strength of will… well, at least that’s what my mom told me.”

“Wow, very intense,” Tobias mused, but he didn’t elaborate. Everyday that he spent on this quest was opening his eyes to things he never knew about The Calling. He knew that it had had a dark underbelly, but it was beginning to seem like he’d been oblivious to so much more. He and Jericho sat in silence watching the stars for a long moment. “Hey, how old are you?” Tobias said suddenly.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I used to teach. With the Calling. You look old enough… well, young enough, to have been in one of my classes. But, I don’t remember you,” Tobias explained.

“I’m 16,” Jericho said, “But it doesn’t make a difference. I wouldn’t have been in any of your classes.”

Tobias furrowed his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“I was never involved in The Calling. I was home schooled… isolated my whole life,” Jericho’s voice was bitter. “My father prophesized that The Calling would fall, and that a cognitive would be killed. In his vision he saw my mother, screaming out for ‘Jericho’. I had just been born at the time, and was already showing signs of being cognitive. They had named me after my father, and everyone just assumed that the coincidence meant that the prophesy was about me. That I was the Jericho my mother was screaming for. So they kept me as far away from The Calling, and all psychics associated with it as they could. For years. ” Jericho’s face hardened. “How surprised were they when they realized they were overprotecting the wrong cognitive.”

Tobias let his face fall. “It was your father.”

Jericho sat back. “Everyone thinks that prophecies are so definitive. That they are the absolute. But here, a man prophesizes his own death, and yet…” Jericho’s voice trailed off. They fell back into silence for a moment before Jericho began speaking again. “So what did you teach?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Telepathic control… clairaudience training, among other things,” Tobias answered. “Empathy and ethics… on occasion. ”

Jericho chuckled. “Empathy and ethics?”

“Well, empathy is a type of psychokinesis where the sentiments of another can be sensed, even felt. In stronger psychics, auroric energy can be manipulated to influence the emotions, and sometimes the actions, of others,” Tobias clarified.

“I know what empathy is,” Jericho grimaced

Tobias chuckled. “Well, than you know that there is a lot of foul play possible in empathic practices. A code of ethics has to be put in place. And I teach it,” Tobias’ smile faded. “Taught it.”

“Aren’t you latent?” Jericho asked.

“Latents probably know more about psychic ability than most psychics do. Most of the time, we can fall back on our own abilities.”

Jericho nodded thoughtfully. “If you have psychic ability, why do they call you a latent?”

“I have no sense of auroric energy.”

“None at all?” Jericho asked, disbelievingly.

“Not mine, not yours, nothing.” Tobias answered. “I also have very little control over my clairaudience.”

“What’s that like?”

“Imagine that 30 people are whispering in your ear, all at once. And they never shut up. Ever,” Tobias said. “That’s a good day.”

“Suck.”

“Suck is right. I mean, I’ve learned to tune it out, sort of, but definitely, suck.” Tobias smiled. “When I was a kid, my parents were told that I was schizophrenic. They put me in all sorts of institutions. I was on all sorts of medications. Nothing worked. It wasn’t until I was about your age that I found out that nothing was really wrong with me, I just seemed to have a direct line into everyone’s head.”

“So you can hear my thoughts?”

Tobias shrugged. “Probably, unless you were blocking me. I’d have to weed it out from the thoughts of more than a few others, but if you were thinking loud enough, or with strong enough energy waves, you’d probably be easier to hear.”

“Okay, what am I thinking,” Jericho said, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t pop a blood vessel,” Tobias laughed, listening for Jericho’s thought. He raised his eyebrows when he caught wind of it. “That is a very vulgar word. Good thing you only say it in your head.”

Jericho grinned. “Cool.”

“For someone surrounded by psychics, you are very easily amused.”

Jericho’s grin turned into a smirk. “I’m surrounded by fortune tellers, energy movers, and… my brother. I’ve never witnessed real telepathy of any kind.”

“Aeryn told me that Mickey read her thoughts when she was healing her.”

Jericho shook his head. “She didn’t read her thoughts. Mickey is not a telepath, she’s a healer. When she’s knee deep in someone’s aura, she’s bound to pick up something, and if she does see something, it’s almost always the incident that injured the person in the first place. She’s more of a back-alley post-cognitive, if anything.”

“Hmmm,” Tobias nodded. “Well, I can promise you, my little bit of hearing is nothing in comparison to what a real telepath can do.”

Jericho shrugged. “You seem like a real telepath to me.”  He picked up some gravel and tossed it through the holes in the fence. “Were you pissed at them? Your parents, I mean, for drugging you up and stuff.”

Tobias paused to look at Jericho, before waving it off. “Nah, they didn’t know better. They weren’t psychics. Just two humdrum, regular smegular people.”

“I wish my parents were humdrum, regular smegular people,” Jericho said.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Tobias’ smile returned. “I wish my parents were phenomenal, cognitive, self-branding psychics.” Tobias replied.

Jericho huffed. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

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Madness: Part X>>