Stitchers, Jessica Hemsworth [books to improve english TXT] 📗

Stitchers. People with the mysterious ability to sew the fabric of reality. They are highly sought after by travellers, but there are few of them. Maybe it's a certain genetic. Maybe it's random. Maybe it can be scientifically recreated. Whatever the case, there seems to be nothing in common between the known Stitchers.

Two men, one young, one old, reclined in the main cabin.

"Captain." the younger one spoke, "Are we going to hire a Stitcher to help with the shipment to Centauri Delta?" The old man looked at him.

"Kyle, what have I told you about calling me captain?"

"To not do it unless we are in the presence of others, sir."

"Why can't you be cute like when you were little? You would crawl across the control panel and call me 'Grandpa'. What happened?" Kyle glanced at his grandfather.

"I grew up."

His grandfather sighed. "Well, I'll leave that decision up to you."

"Why me? I'm just-" His grandfather gave him a look.

"Soon enough you won't be calling me 'Captain'. I might just decide to retire to a nice home on Delta." Kyle narrowed his green eyes.

"What are you implying, grandfather?" He laughed

"What I'm implying, Kyle, is that you're inheriting everything. My ship, my company, my fortune, everything. I trust that I'm leaving it in good hands. Isn't that right, 'Captain'?" In one look, Kyle could tell that his grandfather would not budge on the matter.

"Very well." he sighed at his grandfather's smile. "Let us head for the arm of KBZ57. I've heard good things about their Stitchers."

Today was a good day.

~~~~~~~~~

    I’m Lisa, better known as _   (in my native language of Theolegen), and ST-98574, and I’m not having a good day. I was late for her morning classes (like always) and I was struggling with controlling my ability. At STAY (Stitcher Training Academy for Youth) we aren’t allowed to sew without supervision from a professor . I rushed down the pristine reflective hallway in an attempt to reach my next class on time. Unfortunately the moment I turned the corner is the moment a teacher stepped into the hallway. ‘Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap’ I thought as I slid right into the teacher.

    Looking up from the floor, I gazed into the infuriated visage of the teacher.

“Number!” they barked.

“ST-98574.” I replied on instinct alone. If you didn’t talk, it was worse.

“Detention for running in the halls and injuring a teacher!”

‘Detention.’ I thought bitterly. ‘She’s not even injured. And it’s some stupid human thing.’ Back home on Theos you would never get this ‘detention’ thing. For punishment, you were forced to stay up all night. It was one of the worst punishments a Theosian could get. Sleep was their lifeblood. They weren’t known as ‘The Dreamers’ for nothing. The only issue with ‘detention’ was that you couldn’t sleep then, and Theosians require a full 10 or more hours of sleep each night. This was non-negotiable.

    Of course, being one of five Theosians at STAY meant that the staff are unaware of our requirements. They were always sleep deprived. As a Dreamer and first generation Stitcher, I wasn’t really doing very well. Nick (ST-98575) was doing much better than me.

On that note, why were we given names like ‘Lisa’, ‘Nick’  and ‘Cathy’ anyways? It made no sense and they don’t carry the meaning of The Dream within it. They are dull, soulless names. And it wasn’t just them. All the others from the League of Allied Races were given similar names. They were all taught the language of the humans as a prerequisite for learning. Just because they were the first race with Stitchers doesn’t give them the right to control us. We were already outcasts in our own societies. Why make it worse? With a mumbled “Sorry” I hurried to the next block.

Today was not a good day.

Publication Date: 06-11-2016

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