Strange Beginnings by Treesong
silver tablet with a sly smile.
“Wonderful, Mr. Travis. In the seven years that I’ve been with this program, I’ve never seen a score like this. Ninety-nine percent. You weren’t perfect in your olfactory identification, but that may just be due to a history of sinus infections or a genetic deficiency in the olfactory nerve. On the whole, I’d say that you’re the most telepathic individual to complete the inventory.”
Hugh grinned. “I’ve been practicing as much as I can. It’s hard to be sure I’m right, though, when I can’t talk to most people about it.”
“Yes, yes. I imagine so.” Dr. Pratt tapped and swiped on his silver tablet before continuing. “Now, let’s move on to the next step. Follow me, please.”
Dr. Pratt lead Hugh down a long, narrow hallway to a room similar to the one they had just left. The dimensions were the same, but this room contained a slightly curved transparent desk, an executive leather office chair, a simple steel chair for guests, a leafy green potted plant, and an ornately framed painting of a caduceus. The painting was a photorealistic depiction of two silver snakes entwined around a smooth silver staff. The staff was topped with sharp white-feathered wings lying on black velvet under a bright spotlight.
As Hugh stared at the intricate details of the painting, Dr. Pratt sat in his office chair and motioned for Hugh to take a seat. Hugh nodded, sitting down and taking one last look at the painting. Dr. Pratt set his tablet on the desk and pushed it aside, his sharp blue eyes studying Hugh carefully.
“Mr. Travis.” He placed his hands on the desk, his fingertips idly tapping the smooth, clear surface several times before continuing. “Your excellent performance on the telepathy inventory has narrowed our options. Specifically, you may now choose between two options.”
“Options?”
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, tapping the desktop several more times. “Mr. Travis, I haven’t been entirely straightforward with you. Our research project is part of a broader program which identifies and recruits individuals with uncommon abilities. We call these individuals Prodigies.”
“I see.”
The two men went several long moments without speaking. In the ensuing silence, Hugh noticed that Dr. Pratt was keeping his mind very quiet by focusing on his breathing. When Dr. Pratt noticed that he was being read, he cleared his throat and spoke.
“Your ability is a tremendous gift. However, in the wrong hands, it could be a dangerous weapon.”
Hugh nodded. “Yes. I’ve had to learn how to tune out some of the incoming information. Other people seem to have an expectation of privacy about their thoughts. I don’t fully understand why, but I—”
Dr. Pratt raised a hand to interrupt him.
“Mr. Travis, I’m authorized to offer you a choice between two options.”
He lifted his silver tablet for a moment, sliding a black folder out from underneath it and pushing it toward Hugh. Hugh stared at the folder blankly for several seconds before deciding to pick it up. He started reading the document in the folder as Dr. Pratt continued.
“Option A is the preferred option. Your prodigious abilities would be put to use in service of the common good. You would receive remarkable financial compensation for your work. For security reasons, your work would be conducted in secret.”
Hugh skimmed over the details. The starting salary was unbelievably high. The position’s benefits included comprehensive medical insurance, life insurance, lifetime coverage for any children, and an early retirement option. One paragraph, however, left Hugh furrowing his brow in concern.
“Identity severance?”
“Ah, yes. For your security and for the integrity of the work, you would sever all ties with your current identity. You choose whether you would prefer to have a staged death or simply turn up missing.”
Hugh shook his head slowly, setting down the folder and pushing it back toward Dr. Pratt.
“I don’t know. It’s a tempting offer, but that’s really weird. What’s Option B?”
“Option B.” Dr. Pratt slid the folder back to Hugh. “Option B is described on the last page of your packet. Option B allows you to continue with the current trajectory of your life. You would be registered under Section A as an Anomalous individual. You would receive a monthly stipend and regular visits with a caseworker who would help you reintegrate into society. In return, you would avoid any activities or communications concerning your anomalous condition.”
Hugh skimmed through the paperwork, flipping back and forth between Option A and Option B. As he read the details, his expression soured.
“These are my only options? There’s no Option C?”
Dr. Pratt leaned back in his chair, the hints of a smile on his thin lips.
“Trust me, Mr. Travis. I would not recommend Option C.”
For several long moments, Hugh studied the document while Dr. Pratt studied Hugh. When Hugh put down the folder and started to speak, Dr. Pratt raised a hand to interrupt him.
“No need for a hasty decision. You have twenty-four hours to decide. Personally, I would recommend Option A. It offers remarkable financial compensation and a unique opportunity to serve your country and world. But the choice is yours.” He stood suddenly, extending his hand for Hugh to shake. “Good luck, Mr. Travis. I will see you here at noon tomorrow.”
Hugh gave Dr. Pratt a slightly puzzled look, nodding slowly and reaching forward to accept the handshake.
“Yes. I’ll see you then.”
McGuire’s Pub was mostly empty. It was after midnight on a weeknight, so most of the college students weren’t there and most of the locals had gone home. The dimly-lit main room had a long wooden bar, a dozen stools, several booths along the wall, and a half-dozen aging wooden tables in the middle. The only bright light in the otherwise dark room came from the glow of a few neon signs and the glare of a wide-screen TV high on the wall in one corner. There were three people watching the TV, two people at the bar, and one bartender behind the bar. Aside from the buzz of the TV, it was very quiet.
Hugh looked down at his half-empty pint glass. He was halfway through his third beer and still no closer to making a decision. Option A was by far the most appealing, but could he really sever ties with his family? He hadn’t visited or even spoken to his parents since Christmas, but they were still family. And what would this new job ask him to do that would require such high pay?
The bell above the door rang as a new patron entered the pub. Hugh didn’t look up to see who it was until she stepped up to the bar. She was a slightly short woman in her early twenties with long red hair, bright blue eyes, pale freckled skin, a dark green T-shirt, and black jeans. The woman approached the bar a few feet away from Hugh and ordered a beer, sitting down on one of the stools and quietly waiting for her drink.
After looking at her for a moment, Hugh looked back down at his drink. While he was gathering his thoughts, the woman spoke.
“Hi there.”
Hugh looked up at the woman with a smile.
“Hi.”
As their eyes met, he noticed that she was already smiling. She accepted the beer from the bartender, taking a drink and leaning toward Hugh.
“My name’s Vicky.”
“I’m Hugh.”
“Hi, Hugh. Are you new here?”
“Not really. I don’t come very often, but I’ve been coming here for years.”
“Same here. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you.”
Hugh shrugged. “I’m not usually here on a Tuesday night.”
“Me neither.” Vicky scooted onto the bar stool closest to Hugh. After taking another drink, she leaned in closer. “Tonight, though, I’ve got something on my mind.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
She leaned forward, whispering in his ear.
“Telepathy.”
Hugh’s eyes widened. “Can you do it too?”
“No.” She looked around the mostly-empty bar, casually scanning her surroundings. “But I do h
ave information you need to hear. And we don’t have long.”
“What information? Is this about my options?”
“Yes.” She looked into his eyes, placing her palm on the back of his hand. “You’ve probably been given two options. But there’s more to this than meets the eye. Some of us choose to live free. Some of us want to create a world where those of us who are different don’t have to be registered and catalogued.”
Hugh placed his free hand on top of hers. “Is it really that bad?”
“Worse.” She took another drink. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re very loyal to their employees. Working for Order pays very well. It may even seem like a harmless job at first. But everything Order does is part of a calculated strategy to control the world’s governments and economies. Anyone who doesn’t go along with their plans is an Anomaly who must be neutralized.”
Hugh took a long drink, staring down at his glass as he mulled over Vicky’s words. He noticed that she had a very guarded consciousness. She was eager to speak with him, but in the moments of silence, she kept her mind intently focused on a memory of the sound of a metronome. The handful of other people whom he had told about his ability over the years had all tried something similar, focusing on a particular sound or image to block out other thoughts. Vicky, however, was better at it than most.
“So tell me, Vicky. What’s your counter offer? If this is all true, I imagine they won’t let me just walk away.”
“No, they won’t.” She leaned in close again, lowering her voice. “There are only a few dozen of us
“Wonderful, Mr. Travis. In the seven years that I’ve been with this program, I’ve never seen a score like this. Ninety-nine percent. You weren’t perfect in your olfactory identification, but that may just be due to a history of sinus infections or a genetic deficiency in the olfactory nerve. On the whole, I’d say that you’re the most telepathic individual to complete the inventory.”
Hugh grinned. “I’ve been practicing as much as I can. It’s hard to be sure I’m right, though, when I can’t talk to most people about it.”
“Yes, yes. I imagine so.” Dr. Pratt tapped and swiped on his silver tablet before continuing. “Now, let’s move on to the next step. Follow me, please.”
Dr. Pratt lead Hugh down a long, narrow hallway to a room similar to the one they had just left. The dimensions were the same, but this room contained a slightly curved transparent desk, an executive leather office chair, a simple steel chair for guests, a leafy green potted plant, and an ornately framed painting of a caduceus. The painting was a photorealistic depiction of two silver snakes entwined around a smooth silver staff. The staff was topped with sharp white-feathered wings lying on black velvet under a bright spotlight.
As Hugh stared at the intricate details of the painting, Dr. Pratt sat in his office chair and motioned for Hugh to take a seat. Hugh nodded, sitting down and taking one last look at the painting. Dr. Pratt set his tablet on the desk and pushed it aside, his sharp blue eyes studying Hugh carefully.
“Mr. Travis.” He placed his hands on the desk, his fingertips idly tapping the smooth, clear surface several times before continuing. “Your excellent performance on the telepathy inventory has narrowed our options. Specifically, you may now choose between two options.”
“Options?”
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, tapping the desktop several more times. “Mr. Travis, I haven’t been entirely straightforward with you. Our research project is part of a broader program which identifies and recruits individuals with uncommon abilities. We call these individuals Prodigies.”
“I see.”
The two men went several long moments without speaking. In the ensuing silence, Hugh noticed that Dr. Pratt was keeping his mind very quiet by focusing on his breathing. When Dr. Pratt noticed that he was being read, he cleared his throat and spoke.
“Your ability is a tremendous gift. However, in the wrong hands, it could be a dangerous weapon.”
Hugh nodded. “Yes. I’ve had to learn how to tune out some of the incoming information. Other people seem to have an expectation of privacy about their thoughts. I don’t fully understand why, but I—”
Dr. Pratt raised a hand to interrupt him.
“Mr. Travis, I’m authorized to offer you a choice between two options.”
He lifted his silver tablet for a moment, sliding a black folder out from underneath it and pushing it toward Hugh. Hugh stared at the folder blankly for several seconds before deciding to pick it up. He started reading the document in the folder as Dr. Pratt continued.
“Option A is the preferred option. Your prodigious abilities would be put to use in service of the common good. You would receive remarkable financial compensation for your work. For security reasons, your work would be conducted in secret.”
Hugh skimmed over the details. The starting salary was unbelievably high. The position’s benefits included comprehensive medical insurance, life insurance, lifetime coverage for any children, and an early retirement option. One paragraph, however, left Hugh furrowing his brow in concern.
“Identity severance?”
“Ah, yes. For your security and for the integrity of the work, you would sever all ties with your current identity. You choose whether you would prefer to have a staged death or simply turn up missing.”
Hugh shook his head slowly, setting down the folder and pushing it back toward Dr. Pratt.
“I don’t know. It’s a tempting offer, but that’s really weird. What’s Option B?”
“Option B.” Dr. Pratt slid the folder back to Hugh. “Option B is described on the last page of your packet. Option B allows you to continue with the current trajectory of your life. You would be registered under Section A as an Anomalous individual. You would receive a monthly stipend and regular visits with a caseworker who would help you reintegrate into society. In return, you would avoid any activities or communications concerning your anomalous condition.”
Hugh skimmed through the paperwork, flipping back and forth between Option A and Option B. As he read the details, his expression soured.
“These are my only options? There’s no Option C?”
Dr. Pratt leaned back in his chair, the hints of a smile on his thin lips.
“Trust me, Mr. Travis. I would not recommend Option C.”
For several long moments, Hugh studied the document while Dr. Pratt studied Hugh. When Hugh put down the folder and started to speak, Dr. Pratt raised a hand to interrupt him.
“No need for a hasty decision. You have twenty-four hours to decide. Personally, I would recommend Option A. It offers remarkable financial compensation and a unique opportunity to serve your country and world. But the choice is yours.” He stood suddenly, extending his hand for Hugh to shake. “Good luck, Mr. Travis. I will see you here at noon tomorrow.”
Hugh gave Dr. Pratt a slightly puzzled look, nodding slowly and reaching forward to accept the handshake.
“Yes. I’ll see you then.”
McGuire’s Pub was mostly empty. It was after midnight on a weeknight, so most of the college students weren’t there and most of the locals had gone home. The dimly-lit main room had a long wooden bar, a dozen stools, several booths along the wall, and a half-dozen aging wooden tables in the middle. The only bright light in the otherwise dark room came from the glow of a few neon signs and the glare of a wide-screen TV high on the wall in one corner. There were three people watching the TV, two people at the bar, and one bartender behind the bar. Aside from the buzz of the TV, it was very quiet.
Hugh looked down at his half-empty pint glass. He was halfway through his third beer and still no closer to making a decision. Option A was by far the most appealing, but could he really sever ties with his family? He hadn’t visited or even spoken to his parents since Christmas, but they were still family. And what would this new job ask him to do that would require such high pay?
The bell above the door rang as a new patron entered the pub. Hugh didn’t look up to see who it was until she stepped up to the bar. She was a slightly short woman in her early twenties with long red hair, bright blue eyes, pale freckled skin, a dark green T-shirt, and black jeans. The woman approached the bar a few feet away from Hugh and ordered a beer, sitting down on one of the stools and quietly waiting for her drink.
After looking at her for a moment, Hugh looked back down at his drink. While he was gathering his thoughts, the woman spoke.
“Hi there.”
Hugh looked up at the woman with a smile.
“Hi.”
As their eyes met, he noticed that she was already smiling. She accepted the beer from the bartender, taking a drink and leaning toward Hugh.
“My name’s Vicky.”
“I’m Hugh.”
“Hi, Hugh. Are you new here?”
“Not really. I don’t come very often, but I’ve been coming here for years.”
“Same here. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you.”
Hugh shrugged. “I’m not usually here on a Tuesday night.”
“Me neither.” Vicky scooted onto the bar stool closest to Hugh. After taking another drink, she leaned in closer. “Tonight, though, I’ve got something on my mind.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
She leaned forward, whispering in his ear.
“Telepathy.”
Hugh’s eyes widened. “Can you do it too?”
“No.” She looked around the mostly-empty bar, casually scanning her surroundings. “But I do h
“What information? Is this about my options?”
“Yes.” She looked into his eyes, placing her palm on the back of his hand. “You’ve probably been given two options. But there’s more to this than meets the eye. Some of us choose to live free. Some of us want to create a world where those of us who are different don’t have to be registered and catalogued.”
Hugh placed his free hand on top of hers. “Is it really that bad?”
“Worse.” She took another drink. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re very loyal to their employees. Working for Order pays very well. It may even seem like a harmless job at first. But everything Order does is part of a calculated strategy to control the world’s governments and economies. Anyone who doesn’t go along with their plans is an Anomaly who must be neutralized.”
Hugh took a long drink, staring down at his glass as he mulled over Vicky’s words. He noticed that she had a very guarded consciousness. She was eager to speak with him, but in the moments of silence, she kept her mind intently focused on a memory of the sound of a metronome. The handful of other people whom he had told about his ability over the years had all tried something similar, focusing on a particular sound or image to block out other thoughts. Vicky, however, was better at it than most.
“So tell me, Vicky. What’s your counter offer? If this is all true, I imagine they won’t let me just walk away.”
“No, they won’t.” She leaned in close again, lowering her voice. “There are only a few dozen of us