As I continue to talk, I sense when the moment is right.
“Now I want you to think about your task. What is it?”
“I need to memorize the sequence for the …” and he says the thing that Mirelle mentioned, and it makes even less sense this time.
But it doesn’t matter if I understand it. All that needs to happen is that he understands it.
“You know it already,” I promise him. “Do it there, in your mind. Slowly. Methodically. Step by step. You know it perfectly. Let your body carry it out.”
He sways back and forth, moves his hands. Little gestures, tightening and loosening his fists.
“Tell me what you’re doing.” I concentrate on the light.
“I’m starting the auto-seg,” he begins. “Then I adjust the input variables.” He goes on, his voice fluent and strong, through a—and I’m not exaggerating—ten minute long recitation of complicated instructions. Also, they are somewhat boring directions. But through it, his body is soft and relaxed, his voice flowing without a hitch.
When he’s done, he breathes deeply.
“That’s it.” I nod. “You have it. Do you feel it inside you?”
He inclines his head. “Yes, I do.”
He opens his eyes. Blinks. Looks a little disoriented for a second. Frowns, like he’s concentrating. He moves his lips, like he’s reciting something, then his eyes widen in surprise and delight.
“I know it. I know it!” He leaps to his feet. “By the star, I know it!” He sounds incredulous, then determined. “Mirelle, I have it now. I can do it.”
He whirls on his heel, then turns to me. Bows his head formally. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
He opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but shakes his head. “I must go.”
After he leaves, Mirelle hugs me. “Oh, Kee, I knew you could do it.” Her voice is triumphant, and when I look at her, she has tears in her eyes.
I’m confused. “Why are you crying?”
“Because you needed this.” She sniffles and swipes her eyes. “Kee, you have a gift. And if you share it, I think you’ll be happier. I know you will. I wanted to give you that.” Her voice is tremulous. “I wanted to make you happier.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But warmth spreads through me, like a glow.
“Doesn’t it feel good to help others? I mean, you do it all the time at work. But something like this, something unique?” She looks into my eyes, squeezing my hands. “Isn’t it something else?” Her voice grows hushed. “Like magic?”
I close my eyes and focus on the light. The grass rustles in the wind and Rhianna squeezes my hands. She’s my mother, and she loves me.
I let go before I push too hard. But the thing is inside me now—I was loved, and deeply. I’ll never get Rhianna back, but that love is in me, and I can use it, share it.
I open my eyes, and Mirelle is there, looking at me with love. She’s not my mother, but she’s my best friend, and I grab her in my arms. “It is like magic.”
Now I’m the one crying. All I know is that maybe it won’t matter as much, about Mykl, about Arc and Bow, about my missing past. If I can help people and share this great feeling, it will fill enough of the gap to keep me going.
Chapter 6
Kianna
* * *
I’m asking for trouble. And I do mean literally, asking for trouble.
I stand at my workstation with my bare legs slightly parted, my ass tipped up. Before I came to work, I put on a short, too-small tunic without leggings and a pair of thigh-high boots. The fabric clings to my curves and the boots highlight my legs. It’s every bit as provocative as I mean it to be.