A Disease of Magic

Knock, knock, knock.

“Callie.”

I rolled over, my legs tangling in my sheets, and glared at the time on my phone. I’d taken the rest of my sick and PTO time this week to get more rest, not to be waken up by Leo pounding on my door at seven eighteen in the morning.

“Go away,” I half-heartedly yelled back.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

“WHAT!”

“Get up!”

“Give me one good reason to!”

“I can do it, too.”

“Do what?” I grumbled, already rolling over to try to go back to sleep.

A pause. I wasn’t sure if he’d walked away, hoping that I’d get up to confront him, or was figuring out how to answer.

“Your fancy glass smash thing. Well, not that, exactly. It’s different.”

“What?” That got me out of bed. As quickly as I could, I took care of morning necessities before charging out my door into the living room. Leo stood with his back to me. I crossed my arms across my chest, regretting not grabbing my robe or a blanket. It seemed as though autumn was nearly here, the temperatures cooler than normal. Our heating system was just turning on, the smell of burning dust slowly permeating the air, the quiet whoosh the only sound as I stared slightly impatiently at Leo’s back.

After about thirty seconds of waiting, I walked closer, ready to shove at Leo for leaving me hanging like that.

Then I saw it.

Hovering in the air a few yards in front of him was a coffee mug. A full coffee mug, actually, the cinnamon sprinkled on top swirling around chaotically. Leo’s right hand was extended, and as I watched, he slowly urged the mug closer to him, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion repeatedly.

Intriguing.

I stepped closer to Leo and watched attentively. Even when he curled his fingers, the mug continued to drift toward him. Was the hand motion actually affecting the mug’s movement, or was is a mental help for Leo? Did he even need to raise his arm at all? From what stories I’d read that included telekinesis, many could move objects just with their thoughts. Though that was all purely fiction. At least, up until now. And as far as I knew.

More importantly, when in the fucking hell had this happened?

The desire to slap Leo upside the head was strong. I crossed my arms tighter. This was so not something to just casually bring up over breakfast. This was a case of cancel everything immediately and check this out right now.

Is this what he had wanted to show me about last night? He could have given me any sort of hint that this was what it was! My mind had immediately gone to something with the bio-screens, not some newfound, up-until-recently-purely-fictional power.

Seriously.

Once the coffee mug was within grabbing distance—with physical hands—I asked in a light tone, “What in the ever-loving fuck, Leo?”

It was a loaded question, multiple inquiries layered together in that one sentence. Whether it was the question or my nearness that startled him, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Losing the hold on the mug, it plummeted towards the ground. I reached out a hand to try to catch it, somehow not having predicted Leo’s strong reaction.

I shouldn’t have been able to catch it. But in the blink of an eye, it was in my hand. Not a single drop of coffee was spilled.

We both blinked at the mug I held. It was still warm, steam lightly wafting up from the surface. Tentatively, I took a sip. Leo drank his coffee black, but this was exactly how I liked mine prepared. It was deliciously warm, the cinnamon a sweet spice on my tongue.

“Did you just…?” Leo trailed off, still eyeing the mug. I shrugged.

“Ninja reflexes?” I suggested in jest.

He didn’t move for several more moments. And then, “I’ll be right back.”

Since we didn’t have a dining table to sit down at, I instead made my way over to the bar stools on the peninsula island and waited.

Leo wasn’t gone long, returning with his computer and settling into the stool next to me. He positioned his computer between us and pulled up a program.

“Can I see your screen, Callie?” he asked. “I need to cross check things.” Since he was to my left, it was easy for me to reach my arm out, granting permission, while still enjoying my coffee with my right. Leo then pulled up a side-by-side comparison of our stats. His appeared in purple here, too, and I was reminded that I wanted mine to be a fun new color, as well. Maybe a sea foam green? Dusky sunset orange?

“This is the last five minutes.” He pointed to parts of the screen, focusing on the gamma reading again. So far, it seemed that was the key. Or at least what was giving us the most information. Leo’s was a pretty steady plateau well above the normal range. Mine also increased, though wasn’t as strong until a sudden, higher spike appeared at the tail end. His faded off relatively quickly, and mine was over in a flash.

“You have theories.” It wasn’t a question; I knew he had at least some idea. Especially now that he could somehow make objects fly through the air.

“It’s connected to the gamma.”

“Obviously,” I interjected.

“Don’t be snarky. I need to keep my thoughts straight. This is as much for my benefit as it’s meant to explain it to you.” I crossed my arms, leaning them on the counter, a picture of perfect attention. Leo’s side-eye burned the side of my face. I schooled my expression into one of innocence. My lips quivered every so slightly, and I gave up on stopping my smile when he let out a frustrated-sounding huff.

“So, gamma,” I prompted.

“I think this is coming from me. This is when you come up next to me, scaring the ever-living daylights out of me.” He pointed to his steady line and then my lower incline. I nodded along to let him know to continue. “This spike is when you caught the mug. Somehow.” I agreed; it looked too identical to what we’d seen when I’d smashed the table to smithereens to be anything else.

“So is gamma the cause or a side effect?” I wondered. “This seems kind of…reactionary to me. I would expect an earlier spike before whatever fancy-shmancy shit we’ve somehow figured out how to do.” I wiggled my fingers at him like I was casting some sort of witchy spell. “And that’s a whole other can of worms.”

“I think you’re right; the gamma is happening as a result of something else.”

“But what is that something else?”

“That, I can’t say. Yet,” he tacked on confidently. “There’s definitely an explanation. We just need to find it.”

“I have another question. How the fuck do you have such good control? And why is yours different? That was seriously some of the coolest shit I think I’ve ever seen in my life.” My tone was a bit whiny, but who could blame me? There wouldn’t bet be many instances in the rest of my short life where I would need to smash bulletproof glass. Unless I took up a new hobby in robbery, it was useless. But telekinesis? Now that was incredible. It would make things so much easier if I could lay in bed all snuggled up under my covers with my old, battered books and turn the pages with my freaking mind.

“I, uhm.” He cleared his throat. “I might have stayed up all night practicing.”

Was I slacking, then? Not unless I wanted to destroy every single mug, cup, vase, and whatever else in the apartment. And what would the point be anyways? I hadn’t decided to start a criminal escapade through the city in the last five seconds.

“How did you even figure this out?”

“It was a lot like you catching the mug. Something fell, I tried to grab it, and it just…hovered. In mid-air. I was so shocked that after a second it bounced off the ground, but then I started trying again. It was sort of like…a hidden door? Like this was always there, but buried somewhere and covered in vines and shit to hide it. Then the door was…there. Still hard to get to, I mean. But.” He shrugged, still staring at the stats on display in front of us. “I combed through everything my screen picked up already. It seemed the same as yours.”

We sat in silence, considering. My brain was trying to process all of this at a speed faster than I could put words to.

“What do we do with this information?” I finally asked.

“I don’t know. If we keep it to ourselves, that’s probably safest for us. I have no idea what would happen if we shared all this with with my father’s company. Undoubtedly lots of tests. Probably admitted somewhere.” That was extremely unappealing. “At the same time, I’m only one person and I have no idea what I should be looking for. Answers will be slow to come, if at all.”

“Do you think this plays into LaShoul’s? Or is it something different and unrelated?”

“Honestly? It could be either at this point. LaShoul’s is the biggest thing we have in common, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing. Maybe LaShoul’s is the side effect of whatever this is? Though that doesn’t exactly track, does it? We should have seen more instances of this kind of thing happening if it were. I’ll do some digging, see if my father has any record of something similar.” He nodded his head once, confidently. “I’ll bring up gamma with him, somehow. See if we can get some more information, or run some tests or something.”

“So…until then, we’ll just keep it quiet?” I asked. “Wait and see what you can dig up?”

“I think that’s the wisest course of action, personally. What are your thoughts?”

I was a little surprised. Normally, Leo made decisions about things and I just tagged along with them. In this instance, though, it affected me just as much as him. It made sense that he’d asked me. But I hadn’t been ready with an answer.

After stalling for a few moments by swirling the dregs of my coffee around in the mug, I answered, “I think we should put a time limit on this secret. If we don’t get our answers on our own by a certain date, we bring it up to the company.”

When Leo didn’t answer right away, I quickly elaborated, “As much as I don’t want to get stuck in a lab somewhere for the rest of my life…I also don’t want to take this secret to the grave if it could help others. It really could be connected to LaShoul’s.”

“We’ll pick a date,” he agreed. “But maybe…if one of us dies before that date, the other should take it to the company. Immediately.”

I could get behind that. I told Leo as much, and then asked, “Okay, going back to my earlier question. Why do you get the cool thing and I get breaking glass?”

Leo laughed, some of the heaviness of the conversation falling away at my change in subject. “I have no idea. Though what do you call you catching that mug earlier? You didn’t shatter it, and there should have been no way you could have caught it before it hit the ground.”

Huh. I hadn’t thought about that, so tied up in Leo’s fancy party trick.

“I…I don’t know,” I replied. “That’s a good question.”

“Well.” Leo closed his computer and stood up from his stool. “Someone stayed up all night playing around and needs a nap.” He pointed to himself, and then pointed to me. “You should see about that mug-catching trick.”

“How?”

“What worked for me was trying to remember something I’d forgotten. You know that feeling, when you know it’s there but it takes that extra effort? That’s what I felt. I looked inside my head and found it.”

Because that would be easy.

I stared at Leo’s retreating back and tried to figure out how one would search their mind for something they hadn’t known was there. I didn’t even know where to look! Did I imaging my brain like a vault and look for something hidden? Did I try to meditate instead and hope it would come without a struggle? Or did I just try to make things appear in my hand again, and screw Leo’s cryptic suggestions?

Yeah. I liked that last one.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the utensil holder. A variety of big wooden spoons and silicon spatulas rested inside the white container, taunting me. I narrowed my eyes, sizing them up and trying to convince myself that this wasn’t an absolute waste of time because this bordered on insanity of another level. That I had even witnessed what Leo had done was making my head spin, and now trying to repeat something that I wasn’t sure even happened? I felt foolish.

But the evidence was there in front of me. I’d smashed bulletproof glass. Leo made things float in the air. Both I’d witnessed with my own eyes. And if there was a chance that there was something else I might be able to do? I owed it to myself and to Leo’s research to at least give it an honest try.

At first, I just stared at the large wooden spoon I’d selected as my first target. It was old, the handle chipped at the end and slightly burned, and I wouldn’t feel bad if I accidentally ruined it in the process. Then I tried attuning to it, somehow, but that felt all sorts of wrong. Staring at it and willing it to appear in my outstretched hand also wasn’t going to work, and I gave up on that attempt after another ten minutes.

My stomach rumbled. Coffee wasn’t a full breakfast, but I didn’t want to let myself eat until I got this stupid spoon into my hand. At the very least, I was getting closer to doing it through the process of elimination.

I took in a deep breath and held it. Closing my eyes and slowly releasing the breath, I visualized the spoon. I created an image of where the spoon rested and where I wanted it to go. Reaching out my hand in both my mind and in reality, I made the spoon appear where I wanted it.

The weight settled in my tingling palm and I reflexively wrapped my fingers around it. Breathing in quick, short bursts, I opened one eye and looked down.

I screamed.

The spoon clattered to the floor at my feet, bouncing once, twice, three times before settling. Looking back to the utensils, I checked to make sure it was gone from its place.

Yep. There was a distinct lack of spoon.

Leaving it on the floor, I closed my eyes again and recreated the image. This time, the spoon was on the floor, matching reality. Again, a weight settled in my hand after several moments of intense concentration.

My heart was pounding, racing like it wanted to escape out of my chest. I took several steadying breaths and vowed not to scream or drop it again. I opened my eyes and stared at the spoon resting there.

Again.

The spoon was tossed back onto the counter a dozen or so more times as I practiced making it appear in my left hand. Why my left and not my right, I had no idea. But by the end, my palm was stinging like I’d gotten a paper cut and then poured lemon juice on it. Why was that happening? Was the pain somehow related? That would be a question for Leo later. He’d never mentioned being in pain, so maybe he didn’t experience any.

I didn’t see any visible cuts, splinters, or other explanations why it hurt besides a slightly pink, tiny warm spot. If that was the price I’d have to pay for a useful trick, then so be it.

That brought up another question I’d need to run by Leo; what did we call this phenomenon? There was definitely a reason behind it, so calling it magic or sorcery seemed over the top. Classifying it as a trick, like bring able fold my tongue into a clover, seemed too basic.

Hit with a sudden thought, I turned and chucked the spoon clear across the length of the kitchen and well into the sitting area. It smacked against the couch, landing well within my line of sight. I memorized what I was seeing before trying again.

It took longer than before, but it materialized in my grasp. I repeated the same experiment several more times until my throw landed it behind the couch instead of on it. I couldn’t see it from here. Instead of focusing on where the spoon was starting, I tried focusing just on the spoon itself. My relationship with it was strong enough now to overcome distance, but would it work if I couldn’t imagine exactly where it was?

The answer, to my surprise, was yes.

As I stared at the spoon in my hand, a rare moment of perfect clarity rolled over me, sending a chill down my spine.

I wanted to make a difference for others. There was no answer yet how this would affect me, or Leo, or other people with LaShoul’s short or long-term, but if it was all connected somehow, I wanted—needed—to be a part of it. And sitting around selling jewelry to people wasn’t going to work for me anymore.

Leaving the spoon behind on the counter, I retreated to my room to call Dr. Goodwin. Stretching out my arm, I closed my eyes and willed my phone to my hand from its place on my nightstand. I felt the weight appear after several long seconds. Looking down with a smile that immediately fell, I discovered I had summoned the spoon again and not my phone.

Damnit.