Eyes of Time - 8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Chapter 8, Answers?

He was caught by surprise with my question. He obviously had no idea how I could know about such a person, whoever it was.

“Wow, girl. You are fast! Where did you hear that name?”

“Girls talking, the bathroom.”

“Damn gossipers, always on top of everything, it looks like.” Deep breath from him, filling his lungs and readying him for what he’s going to say. “Like I said I will only give you advice, on what I believe you should know. Micah is a delicate subject, very delicate. And it’s not up to me to tell you about him.” You have got to be kidding me. He stops me before I can protest though.

“But, if I were to look for that answer there were two persons I would ask: James and Robin. The first one you don’t want to ask, unless you like to put your hand inside snake pits just for fun. The second one won’t react so badly but it won’t be easy either. I believe that if you prove to him that you can be trusted, and you are insistent enough, in a rational kind of way, you might get your answers. I wish you good luck.”

“That’s it?”

“At least now you know where the source for the knowledge you want is. You’re better than before.

I’m sorry Rhina, but that is a matter that is bigger than me. But I don’t think it’s bigger than you, and if you play your cards right, I think you might be able to find out, and use that knowledge to your benefit. I prefer you get the full answer, than a second rate version, and that is all I have. That subject is sort of taboo around here.”

So Robin was the answer right now. That or risking the wrath of James. But I had to be careful how I went about it. Obviously blurting the question at random moments wasn’t going to get me any friends around this place.

“Ok, we’ve been goofy for far too long, and I haven’t showed you more than your own corridor and the common ‘laze about’ room. And I’m getting hungry so,”

It’s at this moment that my stomach decides to make itself known. I can feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. My eyes meet Dylan’s, whose face is just as astonished as mine, and we both burst out laughing.

Making a mental list of my previous activities it’s easy to conclude that I haven’t eaten anything for far too long a period of time. Yesterday, at Sam’s, I was too preoccupied and anxious to actually eat more than a piece of toast and then.. Well, then it had been all the running around for your life routine. Not even before leaving the house in the middle of the night, to think things through, had I thought about food.

“I haven’t eaten in ages. Sorry about that.”

“No, I’m the one that is sorry. Food should have been the first thing on my mind. I even thought of bringing you something to eat in the morning, but I was sort of anxious to meet you, cause of all of Robin’s rambling and.. I guess I forgot. Sorry.” He looks sheepish, and still adorable in his own wacky way.

“Well, you can make up for that now. What you think, late lunch? I would say it’s my treat, but I don’t know if I even have any money on me.”

“Don’t be silly. We don’t have to pay for anything here at the Community. And make it more of an early dinner, you did sleep almost the whole day through. Let’s go.”

Interesting. No money needed? That makes me wonder who was supporting all these people. Somebody certainly had to be paying at least the guards, and some of the people working in the facilities. Unless they were all volunteers, but that seems a bit farfetched.

Again Dylan takes me out of my own thoughts for the time being. He takes advantage of the walk to the cafeteria to do a quick tour of the places in between. Now that I’m looking around I finally acknowledge all the stares heading my way. I’m the novelty of the day, and apparently, with my little show last night, it’s common knowledge that I’m the new it, like Dylan had called me.

We pass several rooms with just couches and recreational areas, groups of people here and there. It doesn’t escape my notice that most of the inhabitants are very young in age. There are some older people here and there, most times in what looks like some tutoring situation of the youngest. Still the youth population is the more obvious in number. That also makes me wonder, and I make a point to think about that on a later time.

“So after you eat something I should probably explain you all the purposes and stuff. You know, the boring parts? But the way Robin was earlier, I got the feeling he wanted to tell you about that himself. Which you should be feeling privileged about. Robin doesn’t talk much. If he does, that means he likes you to some extent. If he babbles a lot, than not only he feels comfortable, but he also is riveted with the chance to get to know more about you. Everything is a science project to him.”

“And now you’re babbling about him. Does that mean you like me too? Or just him?” I bat my lashes at him, playing obviously coy. But the look is hard to maintain as the laughter threatens due to the look and blush on his face. This is just too good teasing material. I wonder if it works the other way around too.

“Dylan, Rhina! Over here!” And what better way to find out.

“Hi Robin!” Hi wave back, across the cafeteria, at the expectant, curious face sitting at a lone table, with trays of food in front of him. Again I am very conscious of the looks I receive as I walk the steps necessary to reach the table.

The cafeteria is half empty, it being too early for dinner. But there are a few that scatter about, having an early meal or just chatting or reading, alone or in groups. As I walk I can feel every set of eyes on me, weighting, judging, wondering. I can almost hear the wheels going inside their heads, some quite bored with the result of their inspection, others with wild possibilities running amok. I’m amid trying to figure out whether it had been my middle of the night visitors, with banshee alarms and all; or if it was something else, heavier and more meaningful; when again Dylan comes to the rescue.

“Never mind them. They’re just bored or gossip queens. Just ignore it and in no time they won’t bother you anymore.” It was whispered in my ear, but the sentiment warm enough to calm me somewhat. Dylan knew what I was feeling. Not even six months ago he had been the freak show, gawked at, judged. Come to think of it, maybe everyone else here had been. I realise that here everybody had a story, a background, an ability that set them apart.

I labelled it in my head as some sort of welcoming ritual and proceeded to ignore it has I reached the table. There, listening to Robin babble about my welfare, and food, and how he had gotten us our plates already, the eyes didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

“... and I have been waiting here four hours, cause I was sure Rhina would be hungry, but then you didn’t show, and then James had to leave too. But some girl told me he saw Dylan with the new girl in the corridor, I still don’t know why she had to tell me that, but I figured out you guys would be here soon, so I got you your food.”

The need to breathe had made an appearance I guess. I struggle not to laugh too hard, replacing it with what I hope is a warm smile. “Thank you Robin. It was very kind of you.”

“Yeah, sorry to leave you waiting, but Rhina wanted a shower first, and she took forever to return. I was even afraid we had run out of water.”

A slight warning jab is enough to make him wince at his comment, but not enough to stop the teasing between the three of us. Well, it was more me and Dylan teasing each other, and Robin giggling about it. I take my time to watch the interactions between the two, as well of everybody else in my range of view. People were obviously interested, but they didn’t get too close.

That would make sense with the personality Dylan had described. Being too shy with most people, and being regarded as a special student, that probably didn’t make Robin too popular among the others, even though I was certain everybody knew who he was. Just like they knew who I was. And to think that I had come to this place to find equality in my uniqueness. It turns out that I’m even weirder than I first thought. A freak even among freaks.

Dylan and Robin were obviously close, but apart at the same time. Robin talked about everything and everyone around him, but not himself, how he felt about the things he talked about. It was also obvious that my presence was restraining some topics, but still. Dylan paid attention, and was quick to make light of everything, but careful not to be too close, ever. He was warm, but also careful in how he showed it.

Overall it is an enjoyable time, but something tells me I have to look into this twisted dynamic of theirs and try to make it right somehow.

It’s sometime later, our dinner finished, that we find ourselves in one of the many lounging rooms. This one more private, on the other side of the building from where my room is located. After the meal the tour had proceeded and I was shown the study and working areas. The cafeteria seemed to be the dividing point of the structure. On one side of it there were the dorms and lounging areas, on the other side of the complex the library, gyms, pool, classrooms and reading areas could be found.

Were it more official, and my circumstances less dire, I might have felt comfortable in this place. Even though it was underground it felt very cosy and warm. The materials very natural, rich wood mingling with the stone from the underground. The lack of natural light compensated with several light points distributed in several places in one room. All very well thought to be helpful but not intrusive, there but not too bright or too dim. Every room had its purpose and was equipped to fit it. Everything had obviously been well planned, and exquisitely assembled. One more thing to consider later on.

Everything was just too good, even the food had been delicious. It makes me wonder what the price of all this commodities is.

“What do they want from us? From me?” I can’t wait for answers anymore. I need something that makes sense. “I mean, this place. Why does it exist, and who paid for all of this?”

My question interrupted the latest silly discussion of what desert had had the most sugar on it. They’re looking at me now, Robin’s eyes wide open, Dylan just looking at me surprised for the interruption.

“Huh, we kind of forgot to explain didn’t we?” Dylan looks sheepish again, for obviously having forgotten another important thing I guess.

“Well, you see,” Robin takes a deep breath, his tone of voice is more serious and paused now. This is no longer brainless rambling, it’s a speech he has made before. “Here, at the Community, we’re supposed to learn how to master our gift, or at least control it so we can live our lives without it being in the way at inopportune times. Your medical record shows you know what I’m talking about. All those tests, people thinking you had some mental condition and all.”

I nod at him, to show him I’m following his words, itching not to make him jump to the important parts of my questions.

“So, what you’re expected to do here is to go on with your life as normal, your studies and all that. The library is equipped with all sorts of materials, the internet is available everywhere. This is not a vacation, you’ll have someone you’ll report to about your studies. They will orient you and keep tabs on your progress. We don’t really have classes because we have too many different backgrounds to make a single class, so we study individually but with someone keeping tabs on our studies. Kind of like a parent figure. That is the regular part of it.

“The other side of your stay is what you came here for. It’s all about your gift, and training to achieve control of it. But again everybody is different in that regard, and there is no specific way to tell you how to do it, because it’s something that depends on the individual. It’s innate. So again, we have tutoring, a personal guide but rarely do we have joint classes. Some of the lower stagers do, but still, the tutor’s job is to reach to the individual in everyone one and guide them in the right direction.

“Your tutor will explain it better to you. Understanding this concept is the first part of your training. Usually it’s about as much the mind as it is the body, so physical exercise will be a requisite. Well, most they just want to make sure you stay healthy, but for some people the exercise really helps figuring things out.”

“That’s it? They get me a tutor? And that is supposed to solve all my problems? ” The sarcasm is a bit heavy and I try to reign it in. “Ok, I get that it will help me, people here obviously have some more experience about this than I do. But that doesn’t answer why all of this. Who is behind this little pet project of ‘let’s help the weirdoes’? Why all the secrecy, and what do they win from helping us?”

“Well, you will figure things a little better as your tutoring goes on, but mainly the secrecy is because there are people out there that will take advantage of us if we aren’t protected. You must understand Rhina, our gift makes us very powerful, once we have it mastered. And some people are able to master it randomly. Once you find your trigger, you can be unstoppable, you have the ability to change everything. Well, at least in theory, there aren’t many records that prove it. But still, just the prospect of this, of the slightest glimpse of insight into the unknown is enough to blind some people into doing everything they can to own you.

“I know it might sound as too much, all at once, but you have to believe me Rhina, we’re not the bad guys.”

“How can you be so sure of that? How do you know they don’t play this as some twisted game of two sides to make you co-operate with them and be so grateful you will do anything they ask you?” I’m very unsettled at this point. This talk made me recall all the anxiety from the days before, all the struggle, all the fears. I’m looking from one to another, even though Dylan is only watching the interaction and looking concern. I’m not sure about which of us really. I desperately need my answers, and everywhere I look only more riddles appear. “How do you know they are the good guys?”

Robin’s eyes are slightly misted with his answer, and I feel a twinge of guilt at pressuring him like this, but I need to know. All this unknown is making me claustrophobic. All I can hear is Leo’s warning ringing in my head «you are but a weapon to them». «Alwaystrust your instincts.»

“Because I have seen the bad guys Rhina. I have seen them do unspeakable thinks to one of us.. Here we are safe.” He isn’t facing me anymore, his admission having cost him more than he could give. I feel the impulse to go there and hug him. I can even see it in Dylan’s face, how he struggles to decide whether he should go and embrace the fragile ‘kid’ or not. But I plunge ahead and I almost feel like throwing up as I abuse his pain like this.

“You mean to Micah?” My voice is small, but it’s nothing compared to the wounded look in his surprised face. A tear runs freely and his voice is just a whisper.

“Yes..”

Something snaps inside me at his response, and I’m halfway a step to go and hug him, and protect him to make sure nothing hurts him again like this; but he’s gone. I find myself looking in the direction of the door, where he ran away at top speed. A frail thing ready to snap.

“I told you to be smooth about it. There was no need for that.” Dylan is distressed obviously, but he hugs me anyway, clearly noticing how shaken I have become with all this talk of evil and keeping sides, and pressuring sweet little Robin to feed my instincts of survival. “It’s ok, he’s a tough one. He’s just very sensitive, and this subject upsets him very much. But he hasn’t talked about it except to say he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I guess it was good in a way.” His hand his warm in my back, making sure I don’t fall apart in my guilt.

“I didn’t mean to upset him like this, it’s just that I..”

“I know, you feel lost without your answers. Just try to go calmer about it the next time. You should look into learning as much as you can, but you have to be sneaky girl, learn under the radar, read between the lines. You have time, don’t stress, ok?”

So Dylan isn’t a brainless follower in this place, he’s like me, a survivor. He knows how far he can push, and especially when to keep his mouth shut. I definitely need to learn that from him it seems.

Dylan kept me company a bit longer, but after a while I had to tell him to go and see to Robin’s welfare. He was too wired and concerned to be good company anyway.

That is why I’m now walking the corridor to my room, hoping for a warm bed, even though I had slept so many hours just a while back. I feel just as tired as I felt before bed.

James is waiting for me at my door though, so no sweet relief just yet.

“Been waiting here long?” I’m not in the mood for his bastard ways and I hope he can tell.

“No actually. I was with Robin when Dylan showed up. He had just left you, I assumed you were returning here.”

“Came to tuck my blankets for me?” Dead tone and sarcasm all bundled together. This won’t be pleasant if he’s mad because of what I said to Dylan, but maybe if I stretch my luck I may get some answers from him. I would have to push all his buttons though. Not an appealing thought.

“Actually I was just coming to wish you a good night, ask if all was well, but then I realised you were the cause for Robin’s distress. He didn’t want to tell me at first, Dylan let it slip, without meaning too. They all seem so taken with you, can’t figure out why, really as already you’re working havoc.”

“Hmm, if you were coming to kiss me goodnight, then you must be taken with me also? No?” His expression tells me clearly he doesn’t appreciate my cheek. He has the stance of a general that is used to not being questioned. Too bad I don’t have much respect for authority like that.

“I was trying to be courteous, and I know we didn’t start on the right foot. I came here to make amends. I can see now that I shouldn’t have bothered. Not only did you upset Robin, even though he won’t tell me how, but you also obviously have no regrets over it if your tone is anything to go by Miss Arrogance. Good night.” He turns away and leaves, just like a soldier would, without the salute, his ramrod straight back evidence to his barely restrained anger. I obviously bring out the worst in him.

But I didn’t come here to make enemies, even though it wasn’t a choice made entirely of my own free will. Maybe I would catch more flies if I used honey instead of vinegar.

“Wait!” I shout for James. He stops. The next words will leave an acrid taste in my mouth, I’m sure. “Look, I’m sorry ok? I know I’m being defensive, and it even might come out as arrogance, but..” But what? I’m scared? I’m lost in a foreign place with no friendly faces around? How should I put it without giving away my weakness?

James is half turned, a few steps away from me, his face a mask of indifference, waiting for what I have to say for myself, one last chance for redemption in his opinion of me.

“Can we please not talk in the middle of the corridor like this? I think last night’s show was enough to feed the gossip mongers for a week.” Some people had actually stopped to watch our interaction already. I hate it.

He just stays still, probably pondering what is best for his position in the food chain. Another shouting match with a girl that clearly didn’t hold the respect he felt was entitled to him. It putting in jeopardy his rigid posture, that he so clearly held tight around him at all times, like a cloak of safety in the distance it held others. Or the obviously vile thought of said shouting match taking place inside a younger girl’s dormitory room, behind closed doors, with a bed conveniently there, and where all the evidence people would have would be their own raving imaginations.

Obviously the thought of gossiped romantic affairs is preferable to me disrespecting him in public, because after a few moments he nods. I turn to my door and open it.

It still perplexes me how they had gone and put almost all the things I held important inside this room. My mind wonders as I inspect the objects on the shelf, only distantly aware of James coming in and closing the door. I know I have to say something, but I’m not sure what. Maybe he’ll talk first and spare me the trouble.

On the desk is a picture of me and my mom. I was around eight in it. It had been taken in one of the crazy road trips she would indulge in. It was part of my growth process she used to say. How surreal that picture looks in this new, anonymous room that someone else redecorated for me, trying to resemble my tastes. It is so out of place, just like I feel right now. So alone in this world, so utterly lost. My mom is gone, my family is in part unknown, and I have no idea who I can trust.

All I have left is to be stuck in a situation in which I have no control over, with a completely irrational attraction to an unknown and dangerous man. Not to mention the other man currently standing in my room behind me. An easily upset soldier like man, that had no qualms in pointing me to blame of all that went wrong around here. The looks of an angel had been my first impression of James I recall, how laughable.

I take a deep breath and turn to face him.