Carnage, Aer-ki Jyr [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

He took in a deep breath. Cal-com was right. It wasn’t his surrounding environment that he was blocked from, it was the universe. Or more accurately this galaxy, which he was responsible for.

But right here, right now, he was only responsible for what was inside the robe. And nobody could see inside…and what they couldn’t see they couldn’t intentionally mess with. So the lack of vision was itself a form of armor.

Anonymity. It was a concept Paul was well acquainted with, but for some reason he’d never…

Damn you, Wilson, he thought, trying to remember the last time he’d actually relaxed his guard. It was back during his original basic training, just before the Black Knight started randomly ambushing them during challenges. They’d learned quickly that there was no ‘safe’ time, and an attack could come from anywhere…particularly in ways you didn’t expect. You did your job so well I’m still on edge after all this time.

Realizing that, Paul made the decision to fully trust in Cal-com and truly let down his defenses. He didn’t want to. A part of him screamed no, that it was reckless and as soon as he did the bad luck monkey was sure to pop out and smack him in the head with his mallet…perhaps lethally…but Paul did anyway, closing his eyes entirely and walking by feel and sound alone for several steps until he bumped shoulders with Cal-com.

He opened his eyes again to right himself, resisting the habit of using his Pefbar to see where he was. Now that they had walked a ways, he literally did not know where they were…and that was refreshing. He was lost. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been lost.

He could fly up above the city streets and have a look around, but that would defeat the point. He didn’t know where they were now, exactly. He knew there was a bridge ahead, but he didn’t know how close they were, which stores they were passing by, or what was ahead of him on the street, or what was coming up from behind.

Paul’s head hurt, but in a good way, as if a pressure was being released from it, and he thought he finally understood what Cal-com meant by becoming ‘small.’

He walked in silence, watching his footsteps and the bit of Cal-com’s robe that he could see off his right foot for guidance, and just trusted his friend to take him where they needed and to keep him safe…which was something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time.

“We’re here,” Cal-com said, walking up to a railing and stopping. “Raise your hood and look.”

Paul did as ordered, coming out of his fabric cave a bit and seeing the river ahead of him with all manner of lights traveling on it as small boats moved up and down it like a highway. The fuel they used produced a not so pleasant smell, and Paul’s nose cringed as he got a whiff of it from one passing directly underneath the bridge, but he didn’t move. He just stood there and looked, feeling his personal universe had just extended greatly…but nothing he saw he was responsible for. He was simply watching and soaking it in.

“It looks different now.”

“How?” Cal-com asked.

“I see more detail. Little things I wouldn’t have cared to notice before because they weren’t relevant. The colors of the boats. The way the light shimmers off the water, daring you to connect the various colors to their sources.”

“You don’t see that in Pefbar.”

“You’re right. I think I’ve been relying on it more than my eyes.”

“And Pefbar allows you to touch everything, establishing a quasi-physical connection. But your eyes, and ears, and nose are simply receivers for emissions. You’re not down there on those boats, but you can see them. Sight without connection.”

“You didn’t have Pefbar with the Voku. So how did you have this problem?”

“We didn’t. Ours was a different problem. A problem of not caring enough because of lack of data. We were taught we needed to feel the galaxy in person to know how best to interact with it. Analyzing holograms and graphs and numbers are not sufficient to develop a feel, and it is our feelings that most likely are tied to our Core in some way. The Elders did not say that, exactly, but I have made a tentative connection since then. Our instincts are not wholly genetic memory.”

“So why do they not respond to our psionics? Why do I need this disconnect…which by the way I do. You were right. I just don’t understand why, though I can feel it.”

“And it’s that feeling you have been lacking?”

“I seem to have reversed myself,” Paul admitted.

“Two different points of view that one needs to be able to switch back and forth between to get a better calibration to reality.”

“And on the bridge of a flagship you can only get one perspective.”

“Indeed. I thought Archons understood this, given your 5 different military disciplines.”

“I’ve maintained all five onboard the ship, so I thought I had plenty of perspective,” Paul said sarcastically.

“As complex as the universe is, I don’t think you can ever have enough perspectives.”

“Wise words to remember. I don’t understand them, but I know they’re important.”

“What else concerns you?”

“I feel right for a reason I cannot understand, and it’s as if I must turn off my logic and experience to get that feeling.”

“That only means your logic is limited, and in order to match it to your feeling it must advance. Until then it is limiting you.”

“Do you know why?”

“You are wiser than me, so unfortunately I do not.”

Paul raised one of his hands up enough that his fingertips poked out of the long sleeves enough for him to look at his fingernails. He used to bite them, a long