MILO
“I don’t like this,” Sam said, leaning in the doorway as Milo prepared to meet Commander Meyer. “I see the logic, but I feel that you are jumping into things. It took me years to convince you to sign up for my crew and I don’t really think it was my charm, but rather the incident with the criminals that solidified the argument.”
Milo finished the cup of coffee. “I am not being hasty and you heard him, I have little say in the matter. How can the Commander uphold the law if I ran around throwing lightning bolts at people?”
“You always have a choice,” Sam said. “I have heard weird rumors about him. How he treats his people. I don’t like it at all. Polarized behavior. Some are put on pedestals, some are treated like dirt with no apparent reason.”
“Maybe you should have led with that, instead of complaining that I made rash decisions?” Milo said.
Sam stepped inside. “Don’t be like that. Even with the no-gun restriction inside the city, maybe we should sneak one inside your overalls. A small, projectile hand cannon?”
Milo sighed. “No.”
“Just a small one,” Sam said. “The Police will not be that upset.”
“No. And that's it. It is besides the point, but have you ever seen me wield a lethal firearm? No. Because I have zero training,” Milo said. “People will be hurt.”
Sam looked down. “The thermos. You will need to bring the thermos, at least. Then you could give them a good whack if your lightning will not spark. And have access to decent coffee. My crew don’t drink printed coffee.”
“Will not spark? Ah, you just had to go there,” Milo said.
“Lighten up, Blue. Are you that nervous, maybe you should stay home?” Sam asked. “Do you even know where you are going?” Sam asked before Milo had time to reply to the first question.
Milo stepped up to Sam. A giant of a man. If that pub brawl ever was started he sure hoped that he stood on the same side as the Captain. And the dark skin from the African side of Sam’s heritage made it somehow even more imposing.
“Yes. He sent a route. Look here,” Milo said and showed the text with his hand terminal. “One of the police training facilities. Walking distance from this cart station.”
“I see. You know how to contact me if you face an emergency. I might be doing some shopping for spare parts in that neighborhood during the day, so I will respond fast. I will be armed,” Sam said and winked. “You are crew now. I have a duty to uphold your wellbeing, otherwise you might be rendered unfit for service.”
Milo looked down. “Thank you. You are a great friend.”
“Don't be crying on me now,” Sam said and patted him on the back. “It’s a cruel world. Friend and crew, it’s important. Go on now or you will be late.”
“Yeah, “ Milo said, nodding.
Sam handed him the metallic thermos and Milo grabbed it.
“Don’t forget this,” Sam said and smiled. “Just in case. The coffee is prepared with sugar already. Avoid the police coffee. Who ever enjoys it printed? A degenerate, that is.”
-
Milo wore his ship overalls and clutched the thermos under an arm. Every quadrant of the city had its own police station. They were huge! The Mythical Cat encompassed one level of a rising building. This police station alone owned the entirety of these buildings. Thousands of rooms and kilometers worth of corridors. Milo stood outside and marveled. He felt dizzy looking up the towering building. Was it connected to the city inner shell? Its height is too great and the angle all wrong to make it determinable.
Four combat suited police men stood outside the entrance. Their helmets turned towards him as he walked up to the scanner. What would happen if the access token provided by the Commander didn’t work? The size of the building meant many people would need to move through the entrance. Any system could not function perfectly. Too many moving parts. Hardware degradation, not updated routing tables, tokens which didn’t exist in the system yet. False positives and false negatives would happen eventually. With his hand terminal he sent the token across.
A red light lit up on the scanner’s display and Milo held his breath. This was bad. The combat suits stepped forward.
“Dipshit,” one combat suit said and shoved his friend. “He is wearing one of those new ship overalls. Metallic threads. You need to adjust the scanner’s parameters. Send your token again.”
Milo did as he was instructed, his fingers trembling against his hand terminal. A green light lit up on the scanner’s display. Accepted. He let out a sigh of relief. The combat suits looked away. He was not an object of interest anymore. The scanner must have done some invisible check to determine if he carried weapons or bombs on him. A thermos could be made to hide a bomb inside. The scanner accepted that his thermos held real coffee.
Floor: -5, the scanner displayed.
Right, buildings went downwards also.
Milo walked inside the building, but before he made it to the elevator system the Commander saw him and waved him over. They went into the elevator together.
The Commander glanced at the thermos. “Hmm, interesting.”
Milo nodded. Not knowing how to react to the response.
“Before we can begin we need to determine how much you have understood already, how much of that is correct and correct all the things you have mistaken,” Commander Meyer said.
The elevator arrived at the destination.
“To the left, through the corridor and the door on the left,” Commander Meyer said and showed him the route.
Multiple corridors branched from the elevator, bleak and dull decor. There might have been a smell of disinfectant, but Milo could not be sure. They walked the path the Commander had detailed.
“Milo Marshal, please tell me. Of your manifestation, what do you know?” Commander Meyer asked.
“Manifestation?” Milo hesitated.
Commander Meyer sighed. “Alright. Let me start from the beginning instead. Then you can interrupt when it gets confusing.”
They arrived at the door. It slid to the side on their approach and revealed a large, opened gymnastic hall. Some equipment for training lay spread around the area, but no other people than the two of them. They entered and the door slid closed.
“Put down that,” the Commander said, Milo obeyed and put the thermos on the floor.
Bizarre. The City’s Military Commander was about ready to tell him all about powers and its mechanisms. And train him. It was so alien from how his life and routines looked like just a few weeks back.
The Commander stood straight and his chin held high. “You are a manifestee. This means that your individuality, your being, has manifested or translated into a manifestation. In your case, electricity. But it’s more than that. Everyone is unique. The parameters that are factored in to build your individuality are thousands upon thousands. Genetic makeup, experiences and what not. But some pieces are more involved than others. To summon your manifestation you need to hook it. Like a button press,” the Commander said, pausing.
Milo followed Commander Meyer’s reasoning. These things he had mostly already discovered, except the terms were different. With the hook the Commander probably meant the emotion Milo used, empathy, to call forth the electricity. Simple enough.
“The hook is constructed from what we call your ‘enlarged emotion’. Sometimes more than one, but often it’s only a single emotional state that serves as the hook,” the Commander said. “You might have observed that your manifestation is more easily ready in certain scenarios? This is because in that scenario you are in the correct emotional state to hook and summon it.”
“Yes!” Milo blurted out. “I know what you mean. When I put myself in the state of Rachel as she is under assault the power...sorry, the manifestation comes forward. All of a sudden the electricity becomes distinct from my other thoughts and I am able to control it.”
Commander Meyer nodded. “Good. But don’t celebrate yet. You might think this is the correct emotional state, but it might be wrong. It is a wide spectrum and we need to pinpoint exactly which is the trigger. Empathy is an array of several emotions at the same time. We will have to do that later. First, more theory. Pour some coffee for yourself so I can quickly go over the presentation of the facts in my head. I want to make it easy for you.”
“Right,” Milo said and unscrewed the thermos lid. He poured the hot liquid into the it, the warm aromatic steam flowing into his face. Airways in his nose opened and breathing improved. He sipped the coffee and felt refreshed.
“After the manifestation has been hooked and summoned it needs fuel. You probably have already figured out that the body’s own supply of water is this fuel. The taste of sweetness in your mouth tells you that the body water is fueling and that it is not depleted. The more you spend, the more your body is dehydrated. Thus, there exists a limit for your manifestation’s duration and strength. That once passed you will damage yourself and ultimately die.”
Milo sipped coffee. This narrative was inline with Diego’s warnings and conclusion. That the power drained his body. It made sense with his experiences.
“The limit can be altered because it is inherently linked to your body’s state, but we will talk more of that in a later session,” the Commander said. “Even though every manifestation is individual there still exists overlaps,” Commander Meyer said. “Manifestations have attributes. Attributes can be internal or external. Attributes are the results of a specific usage. For example, say that a person’s manifestation is super strength. An internal attribute can be that this strength can be translated to mental strength. Another example is that the same person’s strength can be translated into an external physical barrier. In this particular case the person’s barrier took the form of a metallic like surface across the person’s body.”
Cool. The individuality of every manifestation would produce an infinite amount of attributes! Maybe not infinite, but at least too many to count.
“That is something else,” Milo said.
“Two persons with similar manifestation could have vastly different attributes. Or just changes in the power level of the attributes,” the Commander said. “Do you follow me? In the second attribute example; metallic skin. Is it internal or external?”
“External,” Milo said, excited.
“Good, good. So given these facts, can you list your own manifestations? Or a few of them. So many you could and try to determine if they are internal or external,” Commander Meyer said. “Also, define how well you control each and how powerful they are. Or at least how powerful you are able to make them. Take your time. Think, analyze and form your sentences with care. Be specific.”
Milo finished the coffee and screwed back the mug to the thermos. Shooting lightning from his palms would be an attribute, external of course. His immunity against other electrical sources would also be one as well as his ability to absorb from the same sources. External attributes probably. Shooting lightning bolts required his manual action to achieve, but the immunity did not. Why the difference?
“Some attributes need my attention to activate, some trigger themselves,” Milo said. “Why is that?”
The Commander smiled. “Great! That is perceptive of you. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to give you the chance to stumble onto it and think for yourself. Beyond defining attributes as internal or external they are also characterized as active or passive. Good work, Milo. Add this second layer to your list. But first, explain the difference between active and passive. Be specific.”
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“An active attribute requires my decision and me triggering it. On the other hand a passive attribute doesn’t, it works anyway,” Milo said.
The Commander nodded. “Great. You are on point too. But it is also important to understand the advantages and disadvantages of them. An active attribute requires that you are awake. But a passive…”
“A passive attribute is triggered even though I am unconscious?” Milo asked.
“Yes,” Commander Meyer said. “Give me your list of attributes and their characteristics.”
“Alright. I will try to be specific,” Milo said.
The Commander shook his head. “We don’t try, we do. Believe in yourself.”
“Right,” Milo said. “Shooting lightning bolts, external and active. Immunity to electrical sources, external and passive. Absorbing from electrical sources, external and active.”
The Commander raised his hand. “Let me stop you. I think you are getting tired. Let me explain a little bit more and then we end this session. In some cases attributes can be both internal and external at the same time. The same goes with being active or passive, but those instances are even rarer. But that is not the reason why I stopped you. You can break down your manifestations into many more attributes. For example, how do you create sparks? How do you make the electrical tendrils move? Think on that and compile your list again before the next session. Did you get the directions for the dinner?”
“Yeah,” Milo said, grabbing the thermos.
“Good, see you tonight.”
-
Milo strode through the city with a smile on his face and soon returned to the Final Sight’s birth. Proper power training with an experienced teacher. He was chosen. Special. The things he would be able to do. If he had not ran into action to save Rachel this would never have happened. He would never have learned how his power...his manifestation worked. Also, there were others out there in the world. He strode into the ship, his smile widening as he processed everything Commander Meyer had told him.
What would he tell dad? It was still a few days until their next coffee meet up occurred. Was it time to tell him the truth? He would have to figure something out. Right now he wanted to bathe in the feeling without worrying too much. Dad had wanted him to go on an adventure, to test the world. Why would he object to this?
Which more attributes could he list? Commander Meyer had hinted at a few which he had missed. Creating electrical tendrils from his hands had to be one. External and active. Lightning bolts were made from merging several tendr...
“Ehh, Mil…,” Diego said
Milo walked into him, their shoulders colliding. “Sorry. Did not see you.”
“Arse. Don’t make this a habit,” Diego replied harshly, but there was a smile on his face. “I have everything set up to test our own taco making. I even got Claire to help me with the dough. You would expect her to be strong, but damn she can knead.”
Milo smiled, he could not help himself. “I know you looked forward to it, but I have other plans.”
Diego’s eyes widened in interest. “Going on a date? You?”
You could hide nothing from the Mexican’s radar, he really liked ship gossips. How could Sam stand it? Milo strode away and into his quarters, barely noticing that Diego followed him. The overall came off quick and he stepped into a pair of black pants. He pulled his arms into a white shirt, buttoning it up. His worn leather jacket went over it.
“Have you seen the Captain today?” Diego asked, leaning inside with a smile in his eyes. Diego knew about Sam, how the Captain had been ‘looking’ for spare parts.
“Are not crew quarters supposed to be private?” Milo said and looked at himself in the mirror. He had lost weight, but his gut still made its presence known. Maybe he should start exercising?
“I need to know what happens around here. Has the Captain not given you his speech about the crew being a family? Secrets are cracks that shatter that family,” Diego said. “In these tight confines truth is key.”
Milo straightened the sleeves of the jacket. Diego’s words made sense. “He has. Commander Meyer confirmed your suspicion about the link between manifestation usage and dehydration. And other things.”
“Manifestation?” Diego asked, stepping inside.
“Yeah. The power is a manifestation of the person’s individuality. Their driving emotions,” Milo said.
Diego stepped up to him and put his hands on Milo’s shoulders. “You should be careful. Ask yourself, why would Commander Meyer know all this?”
Good question, but why would he worry? The Commander would not have been the city’s Military Commander if he could not be trusted. It made no sense.
“What if I hurt someone, Diego?” Milo said. “What then? I would not be able to forgive myself. I was given the opportunity to train with a real tutor. I have to take it.”
“I thought you were training with Captain Samuels? I know he can be rough around the edges. Few words and usually harsh ones,” Diego said, squeezing his shoulders. “But he is a good man, a good Captain.”
Milo sighed. “But we were not going anywhere with it. Just making things up. Commander Meyer knows how it works!”
“Alright. You are a grown man and you make your own decisions,” Diego said. “And live with the consequences. Commander Jacob Meyer is scary. Do not come knocking on my med bay if he has put a laser through your face.”
“I don’t get it. Why are you making it such a big deal? First Sam and now you. I have observed no reason to avoid Commander Meyer. No reasons at all,” Milo said.
Diego let go of his shoulders. “This profession is tough. I have shipped with the Final Sight and Captain Samuels for fifteen years almost. He has grown more brutal, more savage over the years. He would never acknowledge it, but I see it. War is not pretty,” Diego said. “The Commander is even more seasoned, has seen more violence, hurt more people and watched his own men die as a result of his orders. Commander Meyer is Captain Samuels tuned up tenfold. How would that affect his mind?”
Diego knew how to provoke one into thinking from new perspectives. It came with his role as doctor to mend mental injuries. The wellbeing of the crew. Managing post-traumatic stress and the likes. Was this an examination?
“I get where you are coming from. I will keep my eyes opened,” Milo said. “How do I look?” Milo said, adjusting the collar of the shirt.
“Good. Not fashionable, but clean at least. The most clean I have seen you for the past month,” Diego said. “Claire could have helped you. There is too little time now, but she might have been able to salvage the situation.”
“Thanks for the confidence booster. Now I feel much better,” Milo said and left.
“Good luck!” Diego yelled from behind.
-
Was it dread? Anxiety? That last moment before you really committed to a social gathering, before the door opened and revealed what it hid. Or you could have backed out at any time during your approach. Maybe during the cart ride over or maybe even before you left your own apartment. But not after the door had been opened, never, then you were committed to stay. A cold chill crept up his spine as the door opened. Too late.
The Commander answered, wearing an expensive suit, tie and all. “Milo! You came. Good, good. Please, welcome to our humble home.”
Milo walked in as Commander Meyer gestured.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Milo said, not really meaning it but as a social gathering required of him to say or else he would be perceived as ungrateful.
Humble was not the right word for describing the Meyer’s residence. The space of several rows of standard issued apartments cobbled together created a spacious home. All four levels of floors were visible, stairs jutted up to each of them. Glass guardrails kept anyone from falling through the open space. The decorations and furniture looked sleek and designer made, probably expensive too. How humble. It even looked larger than the gardens outside the Mythical Cat. Also, about gardens, flowers in various colors and shapes were planted in pots and hung from the walls instead of paintings. But the highlight was a rough and thick redwood tree in the middle of the apartment. It rose from the floor, reached to the ceiling and beyond. The bark of its trunk, its branches and leaves, it looked so real. Had it been moved from Earth? No, how would that work?
“You must be rich,” Milo said, forgetting who he was talking to. “I would have thought that a military man as you would rather enjoy a spartan style and this, Commander Meyer, is not that.”
The Commander chuckled. “Well, I cannot say that my taste has something to do with this. My wife is a designer. It is nice, but I think it is a little too much. The large open space is jarring. Jacob is fine, no need for formalities. We know each other.”
No they didn’t.
“You can touch it if you like,” Jacob said.
Milo hesitated. “Touch it?”
A girl jogged down a spiral staircase. “The tree, stupid. Put your hands on the redwood,” Rachel said as she descended the last steps. Her blonde hair was tied in a practical ponytail and her dress colored in a combination of gold and red.
“Yeah,” Milo said, stepping forward to the towering redwood tree.
The tree’s bark looked rough and old. Milo eased his hands to its surface. Yes, rough. It felt genuine, it had to be real. What a strange thing to own in the middle of space. It must consume enormous amounts of water, too. Some people are rich, but some people were really, really stupidly rich.
“A real, genuine redwood tree. How in hell did you transport it from Earth?” Milo asked.
Jacob grinned. “Trade secret.”
“Trade secret? You are a military Commander. Did you point a gun at it and barked swear words?” Milo said.
Rachel laughed the loudest.
“Jessica, come here and say hello,” Jacob said and a woman with long blonde hair walked over to them from the side. She wore a clean, white apron and a happy face.
“The lasagna is ready,” Jessica said and walked up to Jacob’s side. She reached out to shake Milo’s hand.
Milo shook it and greeted. “Lasagna? I love lasagna.”
“With real milk, real meat, real cheese,” Jessica said and smiled. “No artificial crap.”
“I love you,” Milo said, his mouth watering. Maybe he could convince Sam to invest in a lasagna?
Rachel laughed. “Come here, let’s sit.”
Rachel pulled him aside, towards a large dining table on the side but still within the large open space. It was already set with plates and cutlery. She pulled out a chair and put him down on it before sitting down in the chair beside him. Genuine wooden chairs and table. A scent of wonderful flavours hit him as Jessica put the lasagna dish onto the table. The kind of childlike giddiness you felt when a superb home cooked meal was served to you. His smile widened. He just knew it, this lasagna would be the best he had ever eaten and alone worth the effort to be social.
“Guests first,” Jessica said and gestured.
Milo grabbed the serving spoon and filled his plate with smoking hot, cheese-stringy lasagna. He passed the lasagna to Rachel without taking his eyes off his plate.
“Before we start, we just wanted to thank you for saving Rachel’s life. Without you we would be down a family member,” Jacob said.
Milo’s cheeks reddened. “Nothing. It was nothing. You hear a person in distress and you need to act on it. Can’t let the bad guy win.”
“On point. I like you,” Jacob. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Because of you, evil was not victorious that day.”
Milo nodded to that.
The lasagna was passed around and Milo could barely contain himself from starting before everyone had a chance to fill their plate. Social gatherings, why did you need to wait before eating your food? Stupid, it sat there on the plate, ready to be enjoyed.
“Let’s eat,” Jessica said.
The first mouthful carried a warm and fuzzy feeling through him. Like a lover’s hug. Milo’s plate became empty too fast and he almost felt disappointed with himself. Eating like a barbaric, not at all like one should behave during a social gathering.
“This dinner is more than consumption of food and talking. This is session number two,” Jacob said. “Please try to list your attributes once more. Also, assigned their characteristics.”
Milo paused. He had not prepared for this. Should not a dinner just be a dinner? But it was not his decision to make.
“Creating electrical tendrils. External and active,” Milo said. “Also, I can shoot lightning bolts, but other mechanisms are needed before that. Controlling tendrils. Merging tendrils. Both are external and active. To shoot lightning bo...”
“Good, good. Enough,” Jacob said. “You were given a problem, analysed it and arrived at a conclusion. Fine work. I have done some work at figuring out your manifestation’s hook. You suggested empathy, but I disagree. It has to be a smaller component. Since empathy consists of several emotional components I believe that it is your own suffering. If you are going to master your manifestation you will need a tight leash on your emotions. Rachel, show him. Use the knife, if you please. Rachel will shove a knife into your hand. Please do not overreact.”
“Rachel?” Milo said, mumbling with a mouth full of lasagna. “Knife into my hand? What do you mean?”
Rachel slammed down a knife into his left hand, essentially nailing it onto the table. Milo screamed. Blood seeped out from the wound, the pain bloomed. The whole Meyer family looked at him without concern. Lunatics! There was a knife through his hand! A knife! Sweetness rushed into his mouth and thin tendrils of electricity snaked out from his free hand. They merged. He raised the palm.
“Relax,” Rachel said, putting her hands on his nailed hand. “Breathe in. Out.”
Milo barely registered Rachel’s smooth hand since the agonizing pain overwhelmed his attention. A focused frown came to Rachel’s face. His hand tickled, he hesitated and looked at it. Rachel yanked out the bloody knife and the wound sealed itself with new, fresh skin. Eyes widened as he watched the wound heal. The tickling sensation intensified as the healing process finished.
Rachel smiled and let him go. “Look, no worries.”
Milo inspected his hand and wiped away the blood on it. Without the leftover blood there was no sign of the wound. He stared in disbelief. The tendrils faded as the sweetness retreated.
“Whaaat?” Milo stuttered, he had never stuttered before.
“Like new,” Rachel said and kissed him on the forehead.
Milo almost did not notice it, but Jacob frowned just as Rachel’s kiss landed.
“You guys are crazy,” Milo said and stood up.
“Please do not go. We did this to you because of a couple of reasons,” Jacob said. “Look how effectively Rachel healed you. Without proper training, she would not be able to hook her manifestation in tense situations. Did you notice how calm she was?”
Milo shook his head. “I noticed a knife in my hand.”
“It also confirmed my suspicions. That your hook is your own suffering. There was no empathy in your eyes when the knife went into your hand. But still you hooked your manifestation! You created electrical tendrils,” Jacob said. “Please, calm down.”
Milo looked over their faces. Made Jacob’s reasoning sense? It had been dramatic, but the point had been made clear and Rachel had mended the wound.
“I will see you at the next session. We cannot stop, I need to learn. This is strange. I am going home,” Milo said and left.