The human’s eyes widened in surprise, and so did mine as I turned to face my brood. They were beginning to hatch already, far sooner than any normal insect would. Not that it mattered to me. Unlike the human, I wanted to meet our new family as soon as possible.
Illuminated by the rising sun, the pile of eggs shook with activity, shells shifting and falling off the pile as the creatures inside stirred awake. Tiny fissures appeared on their surfaces as internal pressure built, and slowly the cracks widened, revealing a translucent skin beneath. Within, the larvae wriggled and squirmed, their silhouettes visible through the thin veil of the egg. A collective effort pushed against the confines of the shells, and with each pulsating motion, the larvae inched closer to freedom. The eggshell, weakened and fractured, yielded to the persistent efforts of the emerging insects. One by one, the nearly transparent larvae squirmed out, their soft, pliable bodies covered in a glistening fluid from the hatching process.
They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. My own flesh and blood, my children. Their whitish skin so fresh, soft, and smooth. Yet so vulnerable without an exoskeleton. Mandibles small and petite, like little prickly fangs. Many legs lined their bodies, each so short and stubby. It was hard to believe these things were my own offspring. My body was so unbalanced, inconsistent, and yet my children seemed perfectly complete.
The standard of judgment wasn't human, but I could care less about a human perspective. My children were adorable, and far more appealing than the bipeds that sullied the environment. The human wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and so my attention turned to my little ones as I inched closer to the growing pile of eggshells. I picked a few of them up and gave them some gentle strokes in appreciation, only to hear a mass of cries arise from the abundance of maggots. My children can speak?
I'm not sure what other qualities my babies had inherited, but it was apparent that they could communicate like I could. Our own little language, a crude combination of screeches and clicks. I'm sure the humans would fail to comprehend the subtle screeches and cries, but I understood them just fine. They spoke the same language I did.
Humans never understood when I tried to mimic them, arguing that my attempts at speech were closer to a wild animal. It's not my fault I lack human vocal cords. I spoke what could only be called an “insectoid” language, and if I were to translate it to the human language I had been taught, my children were hungry, crying and calling for help.
Assuming their diets were anything like mine almost anything was edible, with the exception of green stuff. If I found plants inedible to the point of regurgitation, I could only wonder what they would do to tiny, less mature me's. That being said, they were beginning to scatter in search of food, most heading back towards their place of birth. Eggshell was a food opportunity too I guess, and I goaded the rest of the strays back to their first meal.
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It took all of 10 minutes for them to finish off the eggshells, leaving both the human and I captivated at the pace at which they grew. They looked stuffed, but still expressed an interest in finding something else to eat. I could already tell that keeping their bellies full as they grew would be a demanding task. It was rather fortunate that I chose this particular spot in the forest, the colorful appendages on the nearby bushes making an easy snack.
In seconds, I created a small mound of the vibrant treats at the center of the clearing, prompting my children to head towards my preferred food source once more. Surely those would keep them occupied for a while. Long enough for me to check up on the human at least.
《What are these called?》 I asked Henry, pointing to the pile that my children were feasting on.
“They're ummmm….fruits. Berries from berry bushes.”
《Ok. Keep cooperating and I'll consider setting you free.》I tease, his face lighting up in a hope I hadn't seen before.
“Really? You would let me go if I just answered your questions?”
Were humans really this gullible? I'm sure he valued his life, but could he not tell that his predicament was unescapable?
《Sure I would, although it might be a bit weird being a single mother though. Our children will be without a father.》
“Our children? W…Wait, those things are my children!? How!? When!?”
《The only thing you need to know is that they are your offspring. You helped create those little monsters. You are the reason they exist. Do you want to meet them up close? Pet them?”》I inquire, observing the fear in the human's eyes as my playful banter evokes a widened response, revealing his apprehension.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He was clearly scared of the little blobs, even if they posed no threat to him. I mean what's the worst they could do? Bite him?
《Observing your silence, I cannot help but wonder if my sense of humor is outdated, incorrect, or odd. I tried to mimic what little I inherited from you humans, but you fail to catch on. Nonetheless, a more pressing matter is at hand. With a considerable distance between us, I fear your human companions may arrive soon if they hold you in high regard. I must explore my powers swiftly if I am to defend my children, you, and I. Fortunately, I have a live human subject to test on.》The human shuffled back against a tree at my words.
《Do not fret, I only need you for mental tests. First comes the physical.》I explain, picking up a nearby stick.
According to the scientists, I should be able to move this kind of thing with minimal effort, yet I fail to exert any influence on it. Am I doing something wrong? Is it impossible for me? Or am I just looking at this incorrectly?
It’s an object, one without a will of its own. I cannot manipulate it like I could a sentient being. I just need to move it. I have to move it. Focus. Relax. I can do this.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, attempting to channel my will. The forest falls silent as I concentrate, visualizing the object responding to my commands. In the stillness, a subtle vibration emanates from the object. It’s moving. A sign that I’m gaining control. With a renewed determination, I extend my hands towards the object, hand trembling with the effort to translate my will into action.
But the stick remains on the ground, unmoved.
Doubt creeps in. Am I lacking the strength of mind, or is there a hidden resistance I cannot perceive? The scientists' assurances echo in my mind, yet the reality before me once again challenges their claims.
I redirect my attention inward, striving to center my entire body. The room seems to blur as I delve into the depths of my own consciousness, attempting to unlock the supposed power within.
As seconds drag on, a glimmer of success flickers. The object shifts ever so slightly, responding to the persistent call of my mind. Encouraged, I push further, attempting to lift it into the air.
Suddenly, with a subtle but undeniable motion, the stick yields. It inches forward, confirming that the connection between mind and matter is not a myth. I had total control over the object. Like the mind, it was mine to manipulate. A mix of relief and awe washes over me, realizing that the key to this power lies not only in belief but in the unwavering focus of the mind.
I continue to concentrate, guiding the stick with precision until it hovers infront of me, and a sense of accomplishment fills the air. In that moment, I understood—the power to manipulate what I want is within, waiting to be harnessed by none other than myself.
But there was more to movement than a simple drifting in the air. With enough effort, something as small as this stick could easily become a weapon. I moved on to more complex maneuvers, increasing the speed at which I pushed it through the air. I could move the stick in less than a second now, rotating and moving it between the trees as I liked. The human marveled at the sight, and I couldn’t help but do the same. But there was more to this than simple sticks. Yet, this went beyond mere sticks. If I could manipulate sticks, why not a whole tree or even a human? The difficulty couldn't be that much greater now that I had grasped the concept.
Wrong. Instead of flowing smoothly, the energy in the air became a chaotic maelstrom within my mind as I attempted to shift the human. It was as if the very essence of my concentration shattered under the strain of the ambitious task. My failure exerted its weight on my mind, creating a mental pressure that echoed in the depths of my consciousness. The energy generated, once promising, now lingered unused, a reminder of the consequences of my haste. It was extremely tiring, and I could only imagine how much worse it could’ve been if I tried to move a tree.
It was clear to me, both focus and patience were needed to succeed. I acted too fast. The stick was easy. Small and easy to visualize. It could be possible, but I need to take a little more than a second or two for movement of an entire human.
Gathering my focus once again, I began to let my imagination lose, only to find interruption in the form of small chirps. I would have to work on maintaining concentration when outside interference was present. That being said I was glad I lost focus this time around. Somehow my little buggers were still hungry. Did they not tire?
I would feed them, but the nearby supply of available and edible berries had already been exhausted. Surely there were more nearby.
I gave a short cry for my children to stay put, making sure they actually followed my command before I left to search for something to feed them with. It’s quite unfortunate the rock had to meet the human’s head once again, but I needed to be sure he wouldn’t try anything in my absence. His active mind was off my radar, and I would quickly hurry back if it awoke.
Observing the proximity of these plants to one another, it proved relatively easy to locate additional berries just a short thirty seconds away. Once I verified their edibility, I gathered as many as I could carry and headed back. However, upon my return, the human was gone.
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The Psychic Disciplines
A psychic’s matrix control is not homogeneous. No two psychics have access to the same matrices. The energy each matrix produces is organized into different disciplines, each of which grants the psychic access to very different abilities. Thus, it is possible that a psychic who can read people’s minds with the power of telepathy may be unable to use Powers of a different area – such as those related to temperature control. His power is simply not able to tune into that particular psychic discipline.