And the World Changes - A M Kirk (books to read fiction txt) 📗

that was it and I was going to die right there and then. Well, there was one memory brought me back and made me want to fight on.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Do you know what that memory was?”
“Er – “
“It was you. You standing by a fence, saying ‘I love you’ behind my back.”
“Oh. Well. I didn’t actually think you’d heard that… actually.”
“Hmm. And shall I tell you what else?”
“Well, I think you’d better.”
“I love you.”
Carrie smiled and pulled him close.
When the kiss had ended, Mark looked at her and said, “I don’t really want anything else than to be here, with you. I don’t want to be tested, and scrutinized by minds immeasurably superior to mine – “
Carrie smiled, recognizing the reference to the War of the Worlds album.
“ – I don’t want to be taken away from here, from you –
“Just a stay-at-home fella, ain’t ya?”
“Guess so. But that’s what would happen. I’d never have any peace again if anyone found out what I can do. Scientists would test me and poke me about, and the politicians or the military would try to make me do stuff for them. It would just be horrible. So the best thing I can do is pretend I don’t have any power any more. That way maybe eventually they’ll leave me alone. So it’s our secret, okay?”
“Okay. You’re the blue dolphin in the picture: and the picture is the pattern of your life –
“Right – school, homework, chores for mum, everything I do, and – “
“- no one sees you’re there. Except me.”
“And my mother. I couldn’t really hide it from her. And in fact – “
“ – you wouldn’t want to. I know. Good boy, Daniels. It’s cool.”
They kissed again.
“You know, Carrie, they watch me all the time, the security people.”
“How do you know?”
“The ship. I’m in constant contact with the ship and it monitors everything. I mean everything. The power it gives me is unbelievable. From way out in space, it can read a person’s body language and tell me what they’re going to do, or if they’re lying. Or suppose someone was hiding in that shrubbery over there watching us, the ship’s sensors can detect his breath exhalations and the difference between his body temperature and what’s around him.”
“Hmm. You really know how to impress a girl. Is there someone in the shrubbery?”
“No.”
“Well, thank goodness for that!” Carrie murmured, kissing Mark’s lips.
“Er – he’s in the some trees up on that hillside, about half a mile off to the right. He’s got those electronic night vision things, you know – like binoculars.”
“What?!”
Mark laughed softly. “Don’t worry. He can’t harm us. He’s just doing his job. Part of several surveillance teams they’ve got watching us all the time. Don’t worry about it, you won’t know they’re there.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“And he’s proving I’m normal.”
“But you’re not normal! What else can you do? Can you fly? Can you see through walls?”
“Well… yes, and sort of. The ship’s sensors see through walls in and relay the information to me. And that’s not the half of it. If I concentrate a bit, and really try to imagine clearly what I want to happen, then it happens. I tried flying one night, but it wasn’t very comfortable. You know when you drive down the motorway your windscreen gets covered in dead bugs?”
Carrie nodded.
“Flying’s a bit like that – quite messy. And if you fly fast the buttons get torn off your shirt with the force of the wind resistance.”
“Oh my! I’d quite like to see – “
“Shut up. Then there’s power lines and stuff all over and it’s pretty cold, and it’s just… I’ll take you up if you like.”
“Hmm. Yes, but I’ll dress up more warmly first, if you don’t mind.”
“You’ve seen me go through things, like that fence, but I can shift through space as well.”
“Teleport? Wow!”
“Yeah, I can take you too. But a lot of it’s controlled by the ship. It figures out co-ordinates and all that then I just have to… will it!”
“So… right now, you could just think about it and you and me could find ourselves in… Antarctica?”
“That’s right! Or the moon, or… look, why don’t we go up to the ship? Then I can show you around –
“Yes! But not right now! I imagine that would take some time, and I have to be home at ten. You need to investigate alien ships at a fairly leisurely pace, I am reliably informed.”
Mark laughed. “You’re right. But Carrie…”
“What, Mark?”
“Carrie - the thing is, I’m not sure what to do with all this power. Obviously I can’t go flying about the place, or that would give the game away. Oh, of course I could always wear a costume and change my hairstyle and then no one would ever recognize me…”
“But hold on, “Superman” – I can call you Superman, can’t I? Or can I call you Super for short? Or simply Supe? Or Sue? A boy named Sue? Or maybe we can think up some other catchy superhero name for you. But we have to be clear on one point upon which I must insist – you are on no account to around wearing your underpants on the outside of your trousers. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. I bow to your superior taste in all matters of dress sense.”
“Good, that’s all right then. Of course, at parties and during moments of silliness you may, on occasion wear pants on your head, but that’s a different circumstance. Understood, boy?”
“Yes, ma’am! Pants on the head. Understood.” This time Mark started the kiss.
Then Carrie broke off and held Mark at a distance, looking at him seriously. “You said you weren’t sure what to do with your power. Well, isn’t it clear? You be yourself, and you make life better for people. I don’t mean by making everybody rich or anything, but just helping. You can do things no one else can. So make the world better.”
Mark nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “I can see interesting possibilities.”
“Now kiss me again, ‘Superman’ – I can think of other possibilities…”
They kissed again as the lovely autumn evening deepened around them in the swing-park. The man in the trees up the hillside found his electronic night vision binoculars had stopped working.


36 Another Day

On another day - one of those high, fresh, blue and windy ones in October that bear the promise of the winter to come - when the dusk came early, Mark went alone to visit his father’s grave. Using information his mother had given him, he had traced it to a corner of a large cemetery in Glasgow. It was a simple gravestone, laid flat but not quite flush in the earth. It bore the inscription: “John Daniels” and the dates of his life. On either side were the older graves of complete strangers. His father’s stone has lost the sheen of newness. It had not been terribly well tended, Mark reflected.
He took a small pebble from his pocket. He tossed it in his hand. It glistened in the slanting afternoon light, and Mark looked once again at its strange lustre, and the patterns in the stone’s swirling folds. On close examination it gave off a faint light of its own.
“This,” said Mark, “is for you, dad. I think you would have appreciated it. “ He knelt and, getting his hand dirty, made a shallow hole at the head of the grave and pushed the pebble into it. “It doesn’t come from Earth, dad. We picked it up from one of Jupiter’s moons the other week. But how I got it is our secret, right?”
Wind caught the first falling leaves and threw them in energetic spirals around the gravestones so that they seemed to compete with each other for the fun of taking part in some playful magician’s fanciful game. The wind made Mark’s long coat flap against his legs.
“It’s by way of saying thanks,” Mark whispered. He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. “You gave me this power I have. It was your action that caused this. But I’m taking it slow, dad.” The word was unfamiliar on his tongue and sounded strange to his ears. “I’m taking my time and learning the ropes, trying out a few things. I don’t know where this will end. But I think the time ahead is going to be ‘interesting’ So… thanks dad. You could have killed me, but you’ve made me… well, I’m not quite sure yet what I am. Time will tell, I guess. I just wish I could have … “ But Mark could not finish the expression of his wish. He had no more words here at his father’s grave.
A moment later the only living people in the cemetery were a couple of grave-diggers way over by the perimeter wall, too busy in their task to recognize the boy from the cover of Time and the face from all the news programmes three months before, and too engrossed to have noticed something utterly extraordinary – a boy vanish without a sound amidst a spiral of coloured autumn leaves.


36 Logan #5


Night falls quickly in southern climes, Logan reflects, and begins to relax a little in the little room in the small villa he has the use of. The window is open, for the dark evening is warm still, and offers a view over the lit farmhouses and self-catering lodges that sprinkle the shallow valley. Cicadas grate in the trees. The night is so still. Logan dabs his nose with the now always-present tissue in his hand. The blood flow has stopped again. He forces his shoulders to ease their tension.
Never has he felt so alone. The League is all but disbanded, the supernet connections shrinking daily as Interpol catches up with the members. He did well to cross the Channel and get into Italy without being picked up and he has been keeping a low profile since arriving here in this quiet village. But inactivity, and the pain in his head are driving him out of his mind and he dares not get medical assistance. Capture, he well knows, would mean a very long jail sentence indeed. You don’t leave unexploded home-made nuclear bombs in your flat without incurring the wrath of the powers-that-be.
Tonight he feels restless.
He stalks over to the mirror on the dresser by the window. The face that gazes back at him looks haggard now, pale despite the Italian sun and faint traces of grey lace his slicked-back dark hair. Rings under his eyes testify to the fatigue he feels almost constantly. He is beginning to look… old.
So tired.
Something unusual attracts his attention: through the window he sees in the distance a series of headlights, close together, approaching the turn-off to the villa. The