CHAPTER EIGHT - APOLLO
Cosmic Awakening
Apollo dipped his head against the window for a better view of the blocks of skyscrapers towering over the city. He could easily see himself getting lost in the web of chaos taking place outside. The roads were twice as wide as the ones in Sauga, and the sea of people walking along the sidewalks with their umbrellas had been mind-blasting. It looked as if nobody had room to maneuver out there.
Inner-city school kids loitered in front of Joe’s Burgers ‘n Fries—a few of them still waiting in line for their orders. Well-dressed men and women marched their way through the crowd without regard for whom they shoved out of their way. The ones on their smartphones seemed oblivious to their surroundings.
Life in the big city didn't seem very appealing now that Apollo was taking it all in. It was far too fast-paced, and it didn't seem like anyone had time to think out there. He couldn’t imagine himself doing that every day for the next twenty years after graduating college. The looks on some of their faces seemed like they didn’t enjoy being there, but maybe it was because of the weather. Walking in the rain couldn’t have been exciting for anyone.
“Arriving at Aldridge station,” the bus driver said over the intercom. Apollo waited until everyone stepped off before making his way inside. The smell of dirt, oil, and something vaguely metallic whiffed by his nose as soon as he walked in.
Apollo looked at the map on the wall to figure out which subway line to take to get to the heart of the city. It was a bit confusing because each subway line had a different color and seemed to cross over one another numerous times. How in the world do people do this every day? Apollo shook his head, walking toward the ticket agent.
“Three dollars,” the ticket agent said.
Apollo reached into his pocket and dropped his coins into the container. “Excuse me, how do I get to Toronno?”
“Kid, you're in Toronno.” The ticket agent’s bushy eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline as he looked at Apollo like he was stupid.
“Sorry, I meant downtown Toronno.”
“Take the Unionvale-Jansen line going east and get off at Kingslington station. That's the yellow line you see on the map. Once there, take the Donford line going south until you reach Valmere station; that's the heart of the city and where a lot of the tourists go.” The ticket agent handed him a pamphlet and marked it down, so Apollo wouldn't get lost.
“Thank you, sir.” Apollo waved and headed down the escalator for the train. When he reached the platform, the train had just closed its doors and taken off. Just my luck.
Apollo glanced around the station, looking for a place to sit while he waited for the next one. An elderly fellow reading a newspaper sat on one of the benches along the wall. He looked to be in his late seventies and wore an olive green top hat and a tattered trench coat that nearly swallowed his frail body. Apollo reluctantly sat beside him, ensuring enough space separated them. Nothing against him, really. It was just awkward sharing benches with strangers who were possibly homeless, and there was no telling what kind of potential diseases he carried. Stop judging.
He looked like a man whose life had been rough on the streets. A reddish-brown face that looked desensitized to tragedy and loss. His slouched posture, long grayish dreads, and beard—which hadn’t looked combed in years—gave Apollo the understanding of how he didn’t want to end up when he reached that age … if he’d reach that age.
The old man’s reading spectacles rested on his nose as he held up a copy of The Toronno Sun, but it was to Apollo’s surprise that he could still read just by how closely he held the paper to his eyes. He might have suffered from macular degeneration and perhaps colorblindness from the different colored pairs of socks he wore.
“Your powers of observation certainly don’t elude you, my young friend, but rest assured, I am not colorblind,” the old man said. Apollo’s eyes grew wide. “And I certainly do not suffer from macular degeneration,” he said matter-of-factly. “I find it quite remarkable during your analysis that you told yourself not to judge, and yet you continued to do the very thing you told yourself not to do.” He laughed like he'd just witnessed his grandchild make a silly mistake.
Did this man actually hear my thoughts? Apollo arched his brows as his heart fluttered. Who was this man?
“Yes, I actually did hear your thoughts, and who I am isn’t nearly as important as what I am.” The old man smiled, turning a page from his newspaper. “You would be wise not to hold preconceived notions on individuals whom you’ve never met before, lesson number one.” He scanned the page from top to bottom before turning again. “Could get you into a lot of trouble one of these days.”
Apollo looked at him thoughtfully. “A-are you—”
“Psychic?” the old man said. “Is that what they call them nowadays?” He folded his newspaper and looked at Apollo closely, his golden-green eyes telling a story that there was much more to this man than what he led on.
“I-I think so.” Apollo scratched his head. “As far as I know, only psychics and magicians can do that.” Apollo tried to hide the shakiness in his voice.
“Is that so?” The old man didn’t seem convinced. “You don't think you'd be able to do it as well?”
“Ugh ... probably not.” Apollo shook his head. “I’m only human.”
The old man chuckled. “Is that a fact or a belief?”
Apollo looked at him, uncertain if he was joking or not. “A fact or a belief if I’m human?” he asked. The old man nodded, holding his playful smile. “I’m pretty sure it’s a fact,” Apollo said. “What else would I be? My brother believes I’m some demon with supernatural powers, but he’s always believed that. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just paranoid.”
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The old man held his grin like he knew something Apollo didn’t. “Sounds more like a belief to me. However, convincing you otherwise is not my duty. Your brother may be onto something, though.”
Apollo squinted his eyes. “So what are you trying to say? That I am a demon with supernatural powers?”
“A demon?” The old man shook his head, pursing his lips. “No, far from it. But you most certainly have abilities many would consider to be supernatural.” Apollo arched an eyebrow. “Surely you can’t be that surprised,” the old man said. “The incident with the police, the incident yesterday when you came home from school, even the incident that took place six years ago with Margaret and Hubert.” Apollo’s heart thumped against his ribs at an unhealthy rate. If the muscles in his legs weren’t seemingly paralyzed, he’d run very far away from this man. “Believe me, Apollo, I’m the last person you need to fear.”
Apollo dropped his mouth open. “H-how … do you … know my name?”
The old man smirked. "Magic!" He shoved his spectacles into its case. “A better question to ask was why I am here.” He reached for the cane resting beside him.
Apollo stared in wonder.
“I came here to warn you,” the old man said, seemingly disappointed Apollo never asked him the question.
“Warn … me? Of what?” The butterflies tumbled in Apollo’s guts.
“Your abilities.” The old man’s features turned serious.
“M-my … abilities?” Apollo’s stomach suddenly gripped him. The bile rising to his throat almost caused him to gag.
“What you have done over the past couple of days goes against everything we cosmotans stand for. Just because we have the power to do things many would deem impossible doesn’t mean we should.” Just as Apollo was about to open his mouth, he spoke again. “And before you ask me what a cosmotan is, it's a long story. To explain the origins of The Celestial Artisan and how he used The Astral Anvil to forge unique cosmic abilities within each cosmotan aeon's ago would take forever. Just know we are beings imbued with cosmic energy and vastly superior to homo sapiens. This is why one of our missions is to protect them whenever we can, not destroy them because we can.”
Cosmic beings? A cosmotan? Him? What in the world was this man talking about? Surely, he must’ve been—
“Not mistaken,” the old man replied before Apollo could finish his thought. “I’ve never been more certain in my life. And, if you couldn’t already tell, we can also read the minds of those we choose.”
Apollo tilted his head, stumbling to find words for a response.
“Have a look around,” the old man said. “Notice anything different?”
Apollo reluctantly moved his eyes around the station, and his heart nearly dropped to his stomach. Everything around them seemed completely frozen in time. The movement of bodies around the platform, the subtle chatter from the floor above, and the clicks of feet running down the stairs all paused. The stillness of life around them felt like being trapped inside a photograph.
“Lesson number two, always be aware of your surroundings,” the old man said as movement and sound proceeded to take place around them again.
Apollo wasn’t sure if his eyes could grow any wider than they already were.
“I know it seems like a lot to take in, but don’t kill yourself over it. That was simply to open your mind into another world. You’ll learn more about cosmotans and what it means to be one in due time,” the old man said. “Tell me something, though.” He groaned as he gingerly rose to his feet, transferring all his weight onto his cane. “Why did you come here?” The question caught Apollo off guard. Given his telepathic abilities, the old man probably already knew the answer, so he was unsure why he asked him. “You’re correct with that assessment, but I want to hear it from you.”
Apollo looked to the dark tunnel of the tracks and remembered his conversation with Odion last night. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I got suspended from school, my brother didn’t want me around the house, and to be honest, I didn’t want to spend my two weeks with that miserable woman at home. So … I decided to come here.”
“But why Toronno specifically when you could’ve gone anywhere else?” The old man pressed, narrowing his eyes.
Apollo looked away again and shrugged. “I don’t know. It was the closest city to Sauga. What’s the big deal?”
The old man looked at him as if he were studying his thoughts. “It’s also the most populated one, which I’m sure you were already aware of.” Apollo watched the suspicion grow considerably in his eyes. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact you’re feeling lonely and looking for friends?” The old man’s brows rose.
Apollo snorted and turned his face away. There was no way in hell he would admit that to a total stranger, even if he could read his mind. How does it feel being a literal piece of shit nobody likes? Sandra’s words sprang into his thoughts for some strange reason, causing his nostrils to sting. “I … maybe, I don’t know.” This is so embarrassing.
The old man screwed up his mouth and made a sound with his voice that suggested he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “While you’re here, be sure not to look for trouble, or else trouble will most certainly look for you.” Apollo fidgeted in his seat at the warning. “And please do keep your emotions under control. I understand it can be difficult at times, but you have to remember you’re not like the rest of these people.”
“Look, I’m not the monster everyone makes me out to be,” Apollo said with frustration.
“I know you are not a monster, or a demon, or whatever other pejorative people like to use, but you mustn’t make it a habit of being so reckless. You have to remember people’s lives are at stake here. If you continue to allow your emotions to get the best of you, you may end up doing something you’ll live to regret.”
“I don’t know why these incidents keep happening when I get angry. I can’t control it.”
The old man sucked in his lips and shook his head. “The word can’t signifies weakness, disbelief, and a severe case of limitation. It shows your lack of self-control while simultaneously displays your impulsivity. In my lifetime, I have come across two sets of people. Those who say they can, and those who say they can’t. Would you like to know the beautiful thing about both sets?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. Apollo nodded. “They are both correct.” The old man politely excused himself and headed toward the stairs, cane tapping against the ground.
“Hey, hang on a sec! Aren’t you going to wait for the train?”
The old man chuckled and then groaned as he stopped to turn around. “When you are my age and nature calls, it is best to obey its command.”
Apollo watched him climb the stairs, a careful step at a time. “You never told me your name, by the way.” He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth so the old man could hear.
“You never asked.” The old man paused on the step he was on and smiled.
I guess he’s got a point there. “Well … what do they call you?”
“They call me many things, but my name is Saigon.” He tipped his hat out of respect. “Just remember what I told you, my young friend. I know you’ve got a good heart.” Saigon reached the top of the staircase and disappeared.
Apollo smiled at his parting words. It reminded him of the phrase his mother used to say whenever he was in a tough situation. You’re stronger than this. There was a presence about that gentleman that couldn’t be articulated in words, and it hadn’t anything to do with the fact he could hear his thoughts or freeze time. No one would know that by looking at him. It was more about the way he came across. Very unassuming. The way he carefully chose his words, not saying more than what was necessary. He was definitely an enlightened soul.
Just because we have the power to do things that many would deem impossible doesn’t mean we should. “A cosmotan, huh,” Apollo said. The creeping engine of the train boomed from the tunnel. I wonder if this was what Ma was referring to about Odion and I having this great power.
Apollo stepped onto the train and took the first available window seat available. He stared into the tunnel’s darkness as it headed to its next destination. I wonder how many more cosmotans are out there.
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