A Disease of Magic

Unsurprisingly, Leo was waiting for me when I got home. When we had met in passing this morning while I got ready for work, I’d told him I was going to the meeting tonight. Once again, he’d insisted I not go, which I once again ignored.

It had been worth going, even though I’d left with yet another decision to make. The information I’d gotten was pretty basic, and what I disclosed in return I’d also censored to be equally basic. The Organization, as I decided to call them since they had no official name on paper, didn’t know I had extensive knowledge already. I planned to keep it that way unless I was given details freely, and after I learned more about their operations and objectives.

David had asked me about my ability. I hadn’t lied, but I also didn’t share the entire truth. Simply put, I said I could move objects without touching them. Which was absolutely true. I just didn’t add that I could do it instantaneously. When David asked for a demonstration, I said that I could only do it sporadically, but I would try.

His vision problems worked in my favor. In the tiniest increments possible, I moved his pen an inch in total. It took at least a minute, but David seemed impressed, typing with two fingers on his tablet as fast as he could.

In return for my demonstration, he shared that there were others who also developed abilities. With practice, I could become proficient. They had a facility where I could do that practice, under observation of course, and even tutors who would help me. I’d thanked him, and told him I would consider it, it was all so new to me, and I was still adjusting and not ready to rush into anything.

After that, he had mentioned that I would be granted the lowest clearance possible, Level 5, with opportunities over time to increase that clearance to higher levels.

The first opportunity was to, essentially, play lab rat for them.

David hadn’t put it that way, of course. But I was alert enough that I caught on quickly to his offer of being evaluated. I had to give it to him, or to whomever had written the script; it sounded like a win-win situation until it was picked apart to the bare bones. To get to Level 4, all I had to do was submit myself to a day of testing, where they would take blood and urine samples, complete a full-body scan, put me under a physical stress test, and hook me up to machines while I practiced my ability.

It wasn’t that I was afraid of the testing; I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to give that much information to them. Granted, they had no idea about the gamma, unless Alex shared that with them. But surely if he had, he would have also told the Organization about me and my ability in greater detail. And I suspected my little interview tonight would have been very different if they had known that I knew more than I let on.

At the end of the almost two-hour meeting, half of which was spend waiting for David to navigate through his tablet and take notes, I said I would consider everything. He’d agreed easily enough, as though it was the norm, and handed me a card that had a list of positions and phone numbers but no names. I could message any of those numbers to organize another meeting, or schedule an appointment to come in for testing if I wanted. The card was tucked away in my phone case, where I wouldn’t accidentally lose it.

I shucked off my work shoes at the door, sighing as my feet could finally breathe and relax again. I saw Leo, knew he wanted to talk, but gave him nothing. Was it a little petty to make him ask questions, instead of giving him the information freely? Maybe. Did I care? Not particularly, especially not after he had been so adamant that I not go.

“So?” was all he said. I picked up my shoes to carry them to my room and looked at him. His arms were crossed, and he looked upset or maybe a bit angry.

“Long day,” I answered. I made my way to my bedroom. He followed.

He was silent as I placed my shoes by my door and set my work bag next to it, leaning against the door frame with his arms still crossed. I let him stew while I gathered my pajamas from the heap of clean laundry on my bed. When I made my way towards the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed, he finally said a full sentence.

“How did it go?”

I turned, standing at the doorway to my bathroom. “It went fine.”

I waited, knowing he’d get frustrated with my lack of details. It didn’t take long for him to prove me right.

“Tell me about it?”

I cocked my head to the side in mock consideration. “I thought you weren’t interested, since you didn’t want me to bother going.”

“Callie.”

“Leo.”

He pushed off the door frame and rubbed his face, grumbling, “You know why I didn’t want you to go.”

I nodded, answering with, “You didn’t think it was worth the information I could get for us.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. Clearly, he said, “You are not worth that.”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “We’re not having this conversation again, Leo. It’s done. These are my decisions to make, and you need to respect them. You know I won’t share information with them, so quit your worrying.”

“Did you learn anything?” he insisted. I heard him take several steps towards me, and I opened my eyes.

“Yes, though probably not information you would think useful. It’s not like they would share all their secrets with me immediately. It’s going to take time. And speaking of time, I need to go to bed. I have work in the morning.”

Leo opened his mouth to argue, disagree, or something, and thought better of it. He nodded, once, and left.

As I showered, I thought about the lab rat scenario. Ultimately, without doing it, I was extremely unlikely to glean any worthwhile information. But by slowly moving up in clearance, I could eventually get somewhere, or even gain enough influence to share my thoughts on helping other people. I knew I would never be a decision-maker, but if I could argue my case, maybe it would make a difference. As some nobody, lowest-clearance individual, I wouldn’t even bother listening to me. I’d need to show my importance, my value, first.

To expedite that process, I would need to bring something to the table, something to get them to take notice of me. Going through the clearance process could take months or years, and I didn’t want to wait that long.

What did I have to offer?

Not much, really. But I could think on it, maybe talk to Alex a bit more and get a feel for what they need, and work on a solution that way.

By the end of my shower, reaching out to Alex was the most promising option I had thought of. Before I collapsed on the clear half of my bed, I sent him a short message, asking to meet. He answered immediately, agreeing, and offering to take me to lunch or dinner tomorrow, or any other day this week. Agreeing on dinner tomorrow, I fell asleep snuggled up against my pile of laundry that smelled like springtime.

He was holding flowers, a small bouquet of sunflowers and peach carnations, when he opened the door to his apartment. It smelled heavenly, whatever takeout Alex ordered making my mouth water.

We’d both agreed to meet privately, to have a chance to discuss things openly without worrying about social etiquette or people eavesdropping. And we’d chosen his place because not only was it close to work, but also because he didn’t have a roommate.

Alex’s eyes raked up and down. I’d worn another dress to work today, this one a deep green velvet that tied at the waist, and I hadn’t changed before heading over.

After a moment, he remembered himself, and offered the flowers. “Thank you. These are gorgeous.”

“I figured as far as an apology goes, I should make a solid effort.”

“Apology?” I asked, stepping inside.

“Eat and talk?” he suggested. I agreed, and we plated our meals in silence. Neither one of us wanted to start with small talk when there was bigger talk to get through, hovering over us like a storm cloud.

After we’d both gotten settled and taken a couple of bites, Alex broke the silence. “You’re right.”

When he didn’t elaborate, I said with a small grin, “I often am, but you’ll have to be specific.”

He smiled back, adding, “About me putting distance between us because of my issues. Sharing it with the group instead of talking to you about it more. Just…All of it. And I’m actually glad you said you needed space, because it gave me a chance to really think about things. And I realized how badly I fucked up. And I’m really sorry, Callie.”

He reached a hand across the table where we sat and grabbed mine. He squeezed it once, and I returned the gesture, before we both returned to our meals. “Thank you for the apology,” I answered, moving some rice and vegetables around on my plate as I searched for more chicken. “And I get where you’re coming from and why you’re concerned and all that. But if something is an issue between us, then just talk to me about it. I’m usually pretty reasonable. I think.”

“You are. And I can do that.” He searched my face, a confused expression on his.

“What?”

He shook his head. “To be honest, I saw that conversation going a lot differently in my head.”

“Different how?” I speared a piece of chicken.

He shrugged, contemplating his answer as he chewed. “I thought it would take more convincing. Not a twenty-second conversation.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. Doesn’t mean you can’t get another chance. Though, I should warn you, if it happens again…” I trailed off, letting him fill in the blank. He nodded in understanding. “Expecting perfection is stupid. But it’s also stupid if I let the same thing happen over and over again with no change. And I also spent some time thinking about your side, how difficult it must be to… Anyways.” It was time for a topic change.

“Anyways,” he echoed. “Did you ever look at the invitation I gave you?”

“Yes. I did.”

“And? What did you decide?”

“Not sure yet. I mean, I responded and went. Was such a fun time,” I joked, then pointed my fork at him. “What level clearance are you?”

“Two.”

“Impressive.”

He shrugged again. “I help with recruitment, which you know, so I have to be a higher level to know what to look for.”

“And what does a recruiter look for?”

“Pretty girls who are exactly my type.” He winked at me, and a laugh burst free.

“No shame.”

“Can you blame me?”

I paused, pretending to consider. “No, I suppose not. But fine. Keep your secrets.”

“There’s really not much. Most of the time, it’s spending time in a support group, like ours, and waiting for questions to be asked or stories to be shared. Like a few weeks ago, when you mentioned having new symptoms. Tingly palms? Exactly that.”

“Yeah, what is it about the tingles?” I hadn’t really felt any more strange sensations in my hands, and had simply attributed it to becoming more proficient with my ability.

“No clue, honestly. But if it doesn’t fit the norm of LaShoul’s, I share that with my team leads, and they decide from there what to do.”

I nodded. “And how does your team decide what to do?”

“Wish I knew. I’m not involved with it.”

“But you told them about me? I mean, I did get an invite,” I pointed out.

Alex took a bite of his food, finishing his plate. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped eating, but half of my food was still untouched. I started shoveling in mouthfuls, not wanting it to get cold.

“I told them I was suspicious of you because of your description of your palms. That was…” He trailed off, thinking, as he took his plate and rinsed it off in the sink. “Maybe two weeks ago? I don’t remember exactly. And the timelines are never the same. Sometimes it takes close to a month for an invite to be sent, and other times nothing comes of it. Above my clearance.”

I put my chin in my palm, scraping together the last bit of rice. “Aren’t you curious, though?”

“Not really. Honestly, I’m glad it’s not something I need to worry about. I wave the flag, they do the decision making.”

“I’m curious,” I said.

“Color me surprised.” The sarcasm was thick, and I scrunched up my nose and narrowed my eyes in mock offense. “Maybe you could work your way up there, be my boss, and then you’ll know.” He said it casually, like it was totally possible.

“How long did it take you to get to where you are?”

“Over a year.”

I set my fork down, abandoning my last bite. Over a year? And that wasn’t even the highest level; he admitted to having no decision-making power.

“Would you ever want to? Get a higher clearance, I mean.”

“Maybe, but it takes a while to move through the system. They’re very careful, for obvious reasons. And I’m happy where I’m at. I can still work a job I love. Get too high, and it takes up all your time, and then it’s the only thing you’re doing. And honestly?” He leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms. “I really don’t want to be there, all day, all the time. I like this balance I have.”

I stood up and brought my own plate over to him, which he took off my hands and set in the sink. He didn’t bother to rinse it, instead wrapping his arms loosely around me. After a moment’s hesitation, I returned the gesture, even going so far as to rest my cheek against his collarbone. I took a calming breath and willed my body to relax into the embrace.

“Any other questions?” I could hear the amused smirk in his voice, and I pulled back. Not enough to break his hold on me, but enough to look slightly up at him.

“None that you can answer, you Level 2,” I teased. “How many levels are there?”

“Seven, I think. There’s Level 1 and 0 above me, and then some other designation for the very top people. I don’t know what it is. They don’t interact with us lowly 2’s.”

“One more question. How quickly could someone move up?”

“Absolutely no idea. Why? You interested?”

I gave him a shrug. “Maybe. I enjoy my interviewing and traveling, don’t get me wrong. But a different purpose could be good. And I have this idea...”

Before he let me get too into a very detailed description of my app idea, he interrupted me and directed us to the couch to sit. I curled my legs under me and faced him, forgetting I was wearing a dress until his eyes glanced down and then quickly away, his cheeks looking a little pinker than usual. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over me to cover my lower half, my own face probably turning a bit pink.

For nearly twenty minutes, I talked non-stop, describing my idea while also spitballing tweaks and other ideas as they came to me. Alex, to his credit, didn’t ask a single question until I was done and seemed to follow my disjointed thoughts.

“That’s quite an idea,” was his first comment. “Honestly? I think it has a lot of potential.”

“Do you think the Organization would be interested in it? To help monitor stuff?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Possibly. But I don’t think there’s resources to build it from the ground up, unfortunately. Who would do it, you think?”

I looked down at my lap, fidgeting with a frayed edge of the blanket. “Um, me?”

Alex didn’t laugh, or smile, or react beyond asking, “Do you have any experience?”

I huffed out a frustrated breath. “No. But I don’t trust someone else to do it the way I want, or to understand what the problems are and how they need to be solved. And I can learn. Besides, I don’t have any money to pay someone to do it for me.”

“You ever consider applying for a grant? Then maybe you could pay someone to build your design, under your management?”

I laughed, once. “You can’t really think that someone out there would give me a grant when I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“It’s a good idea,” he insisted, shifting closer. “And I think someone would. We just need to find the right someone.”

I thought about that, seriously considering it. For two seconds. “I think my time might be better spent learning how to do it myself. If I can at least get a prototype started, then I think it would be easier to get other people on board. Right?”

“Probably. Do you want help?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course. But who would? I have exactly zero resources.”

“I would,” he answered simply. “At the very least, I’m happy to be a sounding board. Though you gave me a lot of information, and I’m sure I’ve already forgotten some. We’ll need to organize ideas somehow. We can do that later. And I might be able to get in touch with other people who deal with that kind of software design, pitch it to them, get their input. Worth a shot, right?”

I looked at Alex. And I mean, really looked. Here he was, offering his unwavering support of this idea. He didn’t know I wanted to use it to get clearance faster, just that I thought the Organization could benefit from it, that it could give me a serious leg up. He wanted to help me just to…help me.

There was no denying that that was a very attractive trait.

Instead of answering him outright, I leaned forward onto my hands and knees and into his personal space. He watched me approaching, his eyes dropping to my lips and then the neckline of my dress before meeting mine again.

“Thank you,” I whispered. And then I reached just the tiniest bit farther to place a soft kiss on his mouth, which he responded to with enthusiasm, reaching forward to drag me sideways onto his lap. The kiss conveyed a few things; that I was grateful and appreciative of his offer, yes, but also that I had forgiven him, and no longer needed distance and time between us. We’d talked like adults, apologies were made, and we would move on and be stronger for it.