0 comments/ 6291 views/ 0 favorites Impetus Ch. 01 By: kingquib Pete Hascomb sat in the waiting room of the Huntington memorial hospital in South Pasadena California. He looked down at his hands, tracing the soft contours of his thin fingers and small knuckles. Every day now, his muscles seemed to shrink. The toes of his left foot had slowly knotted into fragile pink nubs since he became bound to a wheelchair. His father, Jeff, had bought Pete a new Wizard brand wheelchair made of lightweight plastic that cost eighty thousand dollars and came with a lifetime warranty. Jeff had told Pete the chair was worth it. In the end, buying the Wizard saved money. For Pete, those words had felt like a death sentence. Before the shock of loosing control of his legs could settle, Pete's father inadvertently had squashed Pete's hope of recovering. But somehow Pete had smirked when he switched the cheap hospital wheelchair for the expensive new one his father bought him. Since then, Pete had seen similar styles of wheelchairs on channels like ESPN or FOXSPORTS. Guys like Frank Weeler (Pete thought Frank's last name was a pseudonym) or Terry Richards were a couple names Pete wouldn't have recognized a few months ago, but who were suddenly role models. It was November 2063. Pete knew the date well because three weeks ago he had turned sixteen, but it had been the saddest birthday of his life. He had been bound to a wheelchair for three months, and his doctor, Dr. Wharton, had told Pete one morning when Pete had felt too sick to get out of bed, that he had Hyper Poliomyelitis or Hyper Polio. "Hyper Polio?" Pete remembered repeating. He remembered the fear that had over taken him by that strange new word, which carried the intonation of forever loosing something dear and irreplaceable. Like that, Pete's entire life had warped into something foreign like a character in one of the comic books he often read. But this was real, and so was the wheelchair he now sat on, waiting patiently for his parents to return. Right now, they were someplace upstairs discussing Dr. Wharton's latest batch of tests and graphs. Pete didn't know why grownups made such a big deal over graph and test results if all those expensive pieces of paper couldn't help him walk again. Dr. Wharton might as well take Pete's medical history folder and hide it in some rusty file cabinet in the hospital's basement under "H" for hopeless. Pete didn't care whether he had to undergo any number of painful operations to regain his legs; he just wanted to walk again for God's sake! He missed running and playing with Toby, his long time friend. Recently, before the accident, Pete had gone through a growth spurt. His Basketball skills had expanded alongside other children who had reached that level of youth where energy grows more potent with use. Some nights, he had imagined making a slam dunk for his high school basketball team. On a good night, the shot was for the school championship trophy, and the audience's cheer was almost loud enough to shake Pete in his bed. But Pete didn't have those fantasies anymore. He no longer saw himself making that slam dunk. Even at night when he could summon enough power to fantasize, Pete still saw himself wheeling around in the Wizard - even his dreams crippled. At the moment, his friend, Toby, was probably practicing his jump shot with the guys from school. Damn! Pete thought, and pounded the control box near his right hand, causing the chair to jerk forward, sending his shin into the coffee table. "Oww!" The table's edge had slammed into the soft cartilage along the ridge of bone that transferred a sharp rebounding pain between knee and foot. An increasing heat thumped along his leg like a little heart beat palpitating fresh pain. "God damn, crippled legs!" Don't be so negative, tuff guy, his father would say. At least you're alive. But Pete didn't consider himself lucky. Being lucky involved winning a bet or beating Toby at basketball ten times in a row. Being lucky was finding five dollars when you forgot your lunch card at home, and you were starving. But being in a wheelchair was definitely not lucky. So it was hard not to let the ugly emotions swimming inside his head like great white sharks to tear him apart. "Hey, tuff guy." Pete's father, Jeff, said. He stood in the open doorway of the waiting room looking down at his son. "Hi, Dad. What did Dr. Wharton say?" "Nothing new." Jeff's eyes stared at the coffee table. Sarah pushed her husband into the room, "Hi, sweetie." She walked up to Pete and hugged him fiercely around the neck. "I bet you're hungry. How does pizza sound?" What did the doctor say? Pete wanted to ask again, but he stopped to gauge his parent's bright smiles. Even Dr. Wharton, who had just entered the room, had a wide goofy grin taking up half his face. "How's the Wizard?" he asked. "Have you won any races yet?" Pete smiled at the thought of winning a race. "No, not yet." "Tell me when you enter your first competition. I'll hold a cold cup of Gatorade for you at the finish line." "Come on," Jeff said, waving Pete over to the door. Everyone smiled as wide as they could. It meant something bad, but Pete moved the control box forward, and the wheelchair silently eased around the table piled with issues of Newsweek and People magazine then went through the door his father held open. It was the final pat on the head that said something was rotten - that doom loomed near. But never once did any of their smiles waver. "Your father took the day off," said Sarah, "So whatever you want to do is doable." "Wow," Dr. Wharton said. "I could go for one of those. I almost can't remember the last time I had a day all to myself. Hey, Pete." Pete turned, raised his brow. "Make your dad open his wallet, huh?" Pete smiled then said, "The money might have turned to dust by now." Everyone laughed. Dr. Wharton stood next to the conference room door and watched the Hascomb family sail down the white hallway toward the elevator. Sarah asked, "So what's it going to be? What do you want to do?" Pete caressed his chin and narrowed his eyes. He was happy just leaving the hospital, but knew he should take advantage of his family being together. It wasn't everyday his father could get a day off from work. Jeff was a computer engineer working for the Government, and had to be at his job most of the day because he was in control of the Sync Project. But Jeff always told Pete that the most difficult part of his job was getting his team to cooperate with each other. Like he was surrounded by idiot savants who could program a pop tart to blow up a small country, but couldn't sharpen a pencil without a democratic vote. That's how his dad had put it. And Pete believed every word because his dad was smart. He could calculate everything and anything like a child working out 2 + 2. Not long ago before the accident, when Jeff was taking Pete to school, Pete thought he would test his dad with one of his homework math questions. It was one of those toughies with the one train leaving this station at this hour and another train leaving that station at that hour. Traffic was heavy; people honked their horns and kids ran through the middle of the street instead of using the corner traffic light like they were supposed to. But Jeff offered the correct answer a few seconds after Pete read the question from his math book. Only after checking the back of his book did Pete realize his father was right. That's how smart his dad was, and that was why the phone at Jeff's hip always ringed. And so Pete would definitely take advantage of the time they had together. That's why it was important to pick the right activity. "Do you want to go to Magic Mountain?" Jeff asked as they stood waiting for the doors to open. No, definitely not. Pete's dad hated Magic Mountain. The only reason Jeff had asked was because he knew Pete liked to go. True, they all could skip to the head of a line because Pete was handicapped, and they could also ride as many as four times consecutively on any rollercoaster, But, no. Pete wanted to do something the whole family could enjoy. "Mmm, nah." "Whatever you want." Jeff reminded. Pete offered his dad a tense look before resuming his ponderance. This was a lot harder than it should be. "Mmm, how 'bout we start off with the Comic Factory?" "Good idea. We'll go there," said Jeff. "Oh, I like that Indiana Jones girl comic," Sarah said. "Tomb Raider." Both Pete and Jeff said in unison. There was a smirk of indignation on Jeff's face as if to say, Even I knew that one. "Ok, boys. Call off your dogs. Tomb Raider. I think she's a cute heroine." Pete stifled a grimace. The elevator door, pinged. Pete moved the control box and the wheelchair maneuvered in front of a couple of patients with ease. Only in a hospital could a crippled sixteen-year-old boy stroll around in a wheelchair without people looking on in horror and pity. The patients didn't even glance, and Pete was grateful. The first floor button was already highlighted so they waited until the doors softly shut. As the elevator passed the second floor there came a dull ring, but it hadn't been from the elevator. Jeff looked down at his hip where his phone was planted. No matter what he wore, whether jogging pants or summer shorts the phone was a constant accessory. And worst of all, it had the power to destroy family outings. Pete gauged his father's expression from the corner of his eye, as the elevator passed the second level. Sarah also tried to sneak a look to watch what Jeff would do. Someone in the back corner of the elevator coughed loudly in a way that said, Either turn it off or answer the stupid thing! After the sixth ring, the phone stopped ringing. Everyone either sighed or made a general sound of relief, especially Pete. The Comic Factory seemed like an especially good idea at the moment. If only there was some way to get the phone away from his father's hip, then the day could go on without worry. The elevator doors opened and everyone spilled out onto the first floor. Sarah instinctively went for the back of the wheelchair to push it, but Pete jerked forward, and she paused as if just remembering his new wheelchair was motorized. An abundance of people stood about or sat thoughtfully in the Hospital's front lobby. Some wore makeshift bandages over arms and legs. Dark blood colored a white T-shirt a man held over his right shoulder. His face was sweaty as he explained something to a family member sitting right beside him. "Oh, my God," Sarah said, looking at the man with the bloody shirt. "Poor guy, wonder what happened to him?" Pete looked on as he exited the automated front doors. Outside, two taxis idled at the curb as injured and sick people moved toward or away from the hospital. "I think I should go and get the van. Why don't you two wait here?" asked Jeff. Sarah and Pete stopped near a bench so Sarah could sit while Jeff went to get the van. A number of trees provided shade while they waited. Pete let out a yawn and blinked his tired eyes; he was always tired. "Sleepy?" Sarah brushed Pete's hair away from his forehead and smiled as she had done in the conference room. "Mom?" "Yeah, honey?" "What did the doctor say?" Pete stiffened his gaze so as to detect any false gestures she might offer. But before She answered, she turned away for a moment then turned back with a serene expression and said, "Nothing a few more doctor visits can't cure." "A few?" Pete had been going to the doctor on and off for the last few months, and now he was in a wheelchair. "They can cure me then?" he asked with a tinge of hope mixed with desperation. "Well, Pete, it might not be as simple as that. First, Dr. Wharton has to stop the sickness from spreading then he can move onto a cure." Mom, why are your eyes watery? What aren't you telling me? "Oh." Pete looked away because he couldn't help biting his lip. "But hey, hey." Sarah pulled Pete's face so he was facing her. "That's the doctor's concern. Your concern is to keep your father from answering his phone so we can actually have some fun today, alright?" "Why doesn't he just turn it off?" Pete moped. Sarah blinked against the vacant expression that wanted to take hold and said, "Because your father is a very important man. And right now, they need him at work. Things are at a critical moment." "Things are always at a critical moment. Will he get in trouble if he doesn't answer?" "I don't know if it's as easy as that. This project is kind of like your father's pet. And right now his pet needs him very much." Pete squinted, looked down at his thinning legs and said, "I wish I could put Fido to sleep." Sarah laughed. "How do you think I feel?" She furtively wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "But it's his job that pays the bills, and paid for this nice wheelchair you've been speeding on." Pete smiled; it was genuine this time. "I'm trying to learn how to peel out, but I don't think it has enough juice." Sarah laughed. "That sounds like your father's department." "Yeah," Pete said, keeping an eye out for the minivan. They both waited, and after ten minutes, a minivan pulled to the green patient-pickup-curb. Jeff waived and pointed at his watch, as if they were behind schedule. "Oh, silly." Sarah said as she made to grab the handles of the wheelchair, but once again, Pete jerked forward. "Come on. Before the next century." Jeff hollered from the open passenger window. The side cab-door slid open, and a metallic lift stretched from the floor inside the van onto the curb of the sidewalk. Pete had to listen carefully to hear the lift's motor, but it hardly made any noise at all. "You got it?" Jeff asked. "Yeah, I'm ok. No need to help." Pete got the chair into position then the lift did the rest. A magnet locked onto a metal plate under the wheelchair tight enough to hold over a thousand pounds of pressure. The chair rose then settled into the van, but the magnet held in place. There was no need to change seats because the lift was just as secure, and the Wizard came equipped with its own seatbelt – everything was legal – everything government approved. "I'm locked." "Ok." Jeff said. The van pulled away from the curb then drove down the long driveway, and then moved onto the street. Somewhere along the ride, Pete asked, "Dad?" "Yeah?" "Mom and I think you should turn off your phone." Halfway through the sentence, Pete made it sound like a joke, as if his dad need only laugh and not answer. Jeff looked at the rearview and did just that, laughed, but his smile crinkled with embarrassment. The smile turned into a sturdy frown before he said, "I never told either of you this, but I guess I should confess since I receive certain scowls whenever this phone rings." As if preparing to admit a dark secret, Jeff took a breath then continued. "I signed a contract two years ago, promising I'd be available to the Sync project at all times of the day." "A contract?" Sarah asked. "I didn't really want to, but...management has its way of offhandedly threatening people who don't cooperate." Pete tried to keep his mouth from hanging open. This was the first time his father had ever said anything negative about the project. He also noticed his mother looked shocked; her left hand squeezed the side of the leather seat as she listened attentively. "Of course, I signed the paper," said Jeff. A deep silence pervaded the van to which Pete broke, "I didn't really mean for you to get rid of your phone, dad." "That's ok because the good news is that the project won't last longer than a few more years." A mixture of sadness and triumph passed his face. Another belt of silence stretched until Sarah asked, "Why are they ending the project?" "It won't be for another few years, but I think it'll be more like two and a half, nobody can be sure." Jeff thought for a second then added, "The work will be finished." When nobody said anything, Jeff exclaimed, "People, that's a good thing!" Pete and Sarah smiled as if on cue. "Really?" Pete asked. "Are you sad?" Jeff took a moment to say, "No, It's finally coming to an end. Most of the mainframe is built. It can run without fault, and we've tested a thousand trial programs." In a more interested tone, Jeff added, "We've tested a few people too." And then with a more pained hesitation, "I've...tried it...too." Sarah turned, lowering her head like a bull toward its matador. "You've what? Why haven't you told me about this? That's not your job, Jeff. That's not what you're paid for." Pete felt excited to see his mother's love for his father and because his father was brave enough to do something considerably reckless. "Believe me, I didn't do anything dangerous." "I know what you do. Don't tell me those head experiments aren't dangerous. Computers running your brain is what it is." "It's the future, honey. Soon, people all over the world will meet together in a utopian world to discuss politics and religion without the need to understand each other's language. It's amazing!" "I know, I know. Criminals won't be able to lie. Drug dealers won't be able to hide their connections. Yes, yes, but its still dangerous and even a little...weird." Pete's head turned between his father and mother as they argued. "It's not very risky business. There are safety mechanisms, a dozen of them. There's the master override." "What did you do, dad! When you were in there? Did it look real? Did it feel real?" Sarah suddenly stood quiet, as if she too was interested to know what it was like when a machine synced with a human mind. Jeff smiled, lingering in their curiosity before divulging his answer, "I swam in the ocean." "Swam in the ocean? What for?" Sarah asked. Jeff shook his head, as if they could never understand the overwhelming joy of his ineffable memory. "I was moving as fast as a torpedo." "What!" Sarah gasped. "Wow! A torpedo, dad? Did you shoot out of the water or something because that's what I would have done?" "Of course," Jeff answered smugly. "Wow!" Pete jumped in his chair. His illness withered under the importance of this new achievement. Sync will change the world! "What do you mean, you flew?" Sarah asked. "Oh, look. We're here." Jeff stopped in front of the Comic Factory. The name was written in large cartoonish letters while some of the customers leaving and entering looked like cartoons themselves with hair expanded wider then their heads, bodies looked out of proportion because the recent style blended two sizes of the same garment together so that a shirt had one baggy long sleeve while the other was short and regular. The pants were the same fashion except the baggy side corresponded to the regular side of the shirt so that the look was unified – in theory. Pete didn't dress like a lot of the other kids. His pants and shirt were normal for his size. The only accessory he wore was an eight hundred dollar watch he had received for his birthday. Jeff and Sarah watched the lift port their son onto the sidewalk. "Dad! A torpedo?" "Torpedo?" Jeff mimicked and scratched his head. "Don't be mean. Tell the boy. I'm even curious," said Sarah. "Oh, that torpedo." He said. Then his eyes changed as if recalling a far off yet memorable experience of lost youth. "I was swimming along in the water, shooting, I should say because I didn't have to paddle. I was propelled like a speed boat, and while I moved, I could see whales and sharks swimming underneath me." Jeff took a deep breath, as the lift retracted and the door slid shut. Impetus Ch. 01 "I wanted to go into the air so I shot out of the water like a missile. The air was cold on my skin." Jeff brushed the goose bumps on his forearms. "But I couldn't tell the difference between real life and that place. Sync takes all the information it needs from your brain, memories, pictures, and things you thought you had forgotten a long time ago, everything. Whatever you know, Sync knows." Jeff exhaled a yearning sigh then pursed his lips. "It was great. I can't help but feel that wind sometimes." "Honey?" Sarah said. Pete's eyes glazed with fantastical wonder as he stared at his father, the person responsible for building Sync. I want to fly. There was a look of mutual understanding between Jeff and Pete that Sarah felt distanced by. "Boys! Enough about flying. And I don't want you to play with that machine again, Jeff. It sounds like you love that thing." "Not even close." "No, Jeff." Sarah took Pete's hand and led him into the store. "Babe." Jeff said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and feeling chagrin. He caught the door before it completely closed. "Baby?" Pete and Sarah were halfway in the store as Jeff followed. "Oh, shoot." He knew he shouldn't have laid it on so thick. Real dumb, he thought, as he stopped to look at a comic book of Superman that was shinning with the glow of ceiling light. Superman held a powerfully clenched fist over his head, as white streaks of air raced from his knuckles. In the background of the picture, the sun glistened majestically, as Superman raced through the sky. Jeff felt a stream of air slip past his ears, and thought of a spotless blue ocean - rebounding thick rays of sunshine full in his face. Jeff tilted his head to look down at the stark white linoleum covered floor and shuddered. At the back of the store, Sarah and Pete were already reading comics. Pete looked up from his issue of Batman and Robin and said, "I wish I could use Sync. Do you think it feels really real?" Sarah sighed, looked back to see Jeff sluggishly making his way toward them while grazing through comics, then said, "Petey, I'm not going to endanger both my husband and son to some over-advanced video game – now, read your comic book." Pete grimaced. Like such an opportunity would come anytime soon. By the time such technology was ready to be implemented into video games, he'd probably have Alzheimer's and wouldn't be able to remember anything long enough for Sync to work properly. He could imagine playing an airplane video game at ninety years old and forgetting that the plane needed wings, splat! Or driving a Formula One racecar and steering with the gear shift instead of the wheel, crunch. "Why do they call her Tomb Raider if she isn't exploring any tombs?" Sarah asked as she briskly flipped pages. "I don't see any treasure either." "Because, mom. She doesn't live in a tomb. She has to be out in the real world sometimes. You know, sell artifacts, buy tiny shirts, and flares to search caverns – that kind of stuff." Pete returned to his Batman comic book and snapped it like his father sometimes did with the Sunday paper, making a face as if all business should be conducted seriously within the comic store. Sarah laughed, "Silly." "Mother, please. I'm studying." "Oh, sorry." Sarah snapped the Tomb Raider comic then read quietly. And while they seriously took on the serious business of reading comics, Jeff shimmied his way down the isle, pretending to read a comic book he accidentally held upside down while drawing closer. Pete lowered his comic so his right eye could peek over the edge at a blond girl with short pigtails who was busy reading. She must have been seventeen or eighteen but it was hard to tell. It didn't stop Pete from feeling warm every time the girl smiled at something she had read. Between his shoulders grew a mix of sharp pain and scorching heat. A girl as beautiful as her would never have anything to do with a crippled like him. It won't be forever. Everyone, the doctors, mom, and dad all tell me they'll find a cure. I'll be walking and playing just like I used to. And then maybe, maybe when I talk to a girl as beautiful as her... The girl turned and caught Pete looking. Maybe he had lowered the comic too much or maybe the girl just happened to turn while he stared a little too hard, but she rolled her eyes and left, leaving the comic book crinkled on the shelf, as if she couldn't have put it back fast enough. Pete shoved the Batman comic in front of his face close enough to make the words blurry, not daring to pull it away for fear the girl with pig tails would be there, standing in front of him, ready to declare to the entire store that he was some kind of pervert with nothing better to do than to sneak peeks at non-suspecting girls who were way out of his range. Though, he could hear her feet patter away down the isle, he promised himself not to look in her direction again. Jeff sidled Sarah who maintained a forced but active curiosity on her comic. "Don't strain yourself trying to understand those, it'll make you cross-eyed." In a hushed voice, Sarah said, "Being cross-eyed isn't what I'm worried about. I have a video game junkie husband, and a..." Sarah gently grabbed Jeff by the hand and led him further down the isle where Pete couldn't hear, "And a son who I don't know if he'll make it." Sarah hated the stinging tears that inevitably followed such an admission whether spoken or thought, but she tried very hard not to start a scene. Trying to keep things looking natural, Jeff hugged his wife in a way that might have been thought of as romantic. "We don't know that. You're jumping to conclusions." More of a shriek than anything, Sarah said, "No. No, no, no. That's not how Dr. Wharton sounded." Sarah's face was red with the effort of containing her grief. "Tell me I'm wrong." She said defiantly, as her eyes said, Don't you dare! "Dr. Wharton isn't giving up." Jeff swallowed what felt like a cork. "There're options, chances, we still have." Jeff pulled Sarah further down the isle while Pete pretended not to know what was happening, and faithfully continued reading. "Look, just calm down, for Pete." Jeff stole another glance at his son. He realized how strong Sarah was, though she could barely keep from crying. As it was, he could barely keep his own eyes from pouring forth the sorrow drowning his heart. "Shhh." Jeff cooed and held his wife tightly. "Let's have a fun day, remember? Fun, you still know what that is, don't you?" Sarah stifled a sob while wiping her eyes. "I know you're right, but it's hard." She looked down at the rack and pulled out a comic, staring at the picture then frowning. "Doesn't she wear any shirts her own size? Her boobs look like they're going to explode from the pressure." "You think it's too tight? Hmm, looks good to me." "Shut up." Sarah sent an elbow into his stomach. "She's just a cartoon; I'm a real woman. Will she make you breakfast in bed?" Jeff smirked, "She could feed me milk until Kingdom come by the looks of it." Sara gasped, "You're unbelievable! I'd better check what our little baby is doing, hopefully not gawking at half naked cartoon women like his father." "Admiring," Jeff said indignantly. "Whatever." Sarah turned. "Honey, wait." Jeff said. "You have mascara on your face." "Get it please." Sarah stood on her toes and leaned forward. Licking his thumb and forefinger, Jeff rubbed black makeup from under her eyes. "Save your tears for the right occasion. Our little Pete, who's not so little anymore, mind you, is here and alive. That alone warrants a fun day. Don't you think?" Sara frowned, "You're right." When Jeff finished wiping the last smear of mascara, Sarah kissed him on the lips, and then walked back to Pete. "Hey." Pete said. "Whatcha lookin' at now?" Sarah asked. "Same thing, Batman." "Is it good?" She leaned over his shoulder to look at dozens of pictures of Batman lined with white scrawl in between. Batman kicking, Batman jumping, and Batman punching. "Yeah." "Wanna buy it?" "Sure." Pete dropped the magazine on his lap, but didn't feel it hit his legs. Sometimes they turned numb, but sometimes there was merely a weak feeling. Like when he ran his shins into the coffee table – that hurt. But since the numbness could hit a portion of his body at any time without affecting any other limb, Pete wasn't sure when the feeling came and went, and he didn't want to check in front of his mother because she might worry. Obviously there was something worrying them already, and Pete didn't want to make it worse. "Can we rent an Anime?" Pete asked. "Of course you can, sweetie. Take anything you want." "Alright, thanks!" The Wizard took off toward the front of the store where the movies were pilled upon white shelves. Display cases were covered in various colors and shades to make characters look vibrant and happy. Jeff joined their search by rummaging along with them. "What about this one?" Jeff asked. Pete looked at it quickly, considering himself a critic of fine Anime, and could smell a low quality film easily. After scanning the back rapidly, ha gave a curt, "No." Jeff scowled, trying to scan the back like Pete had done, then walked away to put it back. "What about this?" Sarah asked. She didn't know anything about Anime except that her son often liked to watch it. She held a Tomb Raider Anime Vol. 3 in her hand. "She's wearing a big jacket because she's exploring a frozen kingdom." Pete took the movie case then flipped it over and then smiled after studying the back. He almost laughed as he said, "But the hotel she's staying at before she explores the frozen kingdom has a spa." Pete pointed to the picture of Lara Croft wearing a skimpy bikini in a pose that made Sarah grab the plastic box from Pete's hands." "Hussy." Sarah said. "I hope she freezes in a cave or something." Jeff approached with another movie in his hand. "Let me see that." "No!" Sarah said, pulling the movie away, as she passed to put it back. "Here, I bet you'll like this one." Jeff said, finding it hard to contain his anxiousness. Pete smiled when he recognized the title and cover, which took about two seconds. "Animatrix. That's a classic. It's really good, but I've seen it about ten times. We'll get it though. Leaning against the arm of the Wizard, Pete whispered, "There's a hot girl in the beginning of this one." He smiled again; a soft blush flirted against his cheek, and then they both laughed. "What's so funny?" Sarah asked. She was on the other side of the shelf looking at movies. Pete and Jeff looked at each other as if pointing the finger for who should have to answer. With a scratchy throat, Jeff said, "Nothing, dear." Then gave Pete a thumbs up. When Jeff placed the movie in Pete's lap, there had been no sensation – no feeling of contact between the box and Pete's leg. When his dad left to scout another movie, Pete bent over and rubbed his shins. At first, he thought he couldn't feel his hands moving because his pants were too thick, and then he thought he wasn't rubbing his legs hard enough. But, no, Pete couldn't feel anything because his shins were numb. They just keep getting worse. Pete meant his legs, but it was his entire body that was degenerating. When his toes had first started shriveling into tiny-knotted appendages, fit for a ninety year old grandparent, the grim truth had begun to set in – Pete's health was getting worse not better. But what's numbness? Pete tried to reason. It was nothing. It was the lack of pain, the polarization of agony. Numbness – nothing, Pete thought, as he pinched his shins. No pain should be good, but it was worse than angony. Like if his lower body had died and left the upper portion to defend itself. It wasn't like Pete to think negatively. He always had a joke to tell – mostly to his detriment, but he tried to have fun whenever possible; there was always something to glean from every bad situation. Hard times were something to scoff at when an ordeal was finished. This was the same. Dr. Wharton only needed time. That's all. Ok, finite! Pete thought hard. He sat straight in his seat then the Wizard shot forward so he could pick out a couple more movies. They left the Comic Factory after making their purchases and rentals, having taken five movies all together. Sarah would watch at least one and Jeff would probably watch two or three, and by tomorrow, Pete would be on his way to watching all of them for a second time. But everyone would have fun. Jeff and Sarah would talk during a movie, but that was ok; Pete enjoyed their company, and since all his friends were busy engaging in outside activities, his parents were also his best friends. As painful as that idea might be, it wasn't terrible. Not even that bad when he caught those spare moments when the entire family laughed at something one of them said; Sarah sometimes cried when she laughed too hard, and that made Pete feel extremely happy to know life could be that good. "Am I going to die?" It was meant to be a joke, but it wasn't received well. They were parked in front of Tony's Pizza Palace. Kids and parents rushed past the doors to get inside the restaurant. Sometimes Tony's got so packed you had to wait forty minutes or so sitting on a long cushioned bench in the foyer before a table was available. Tony's Pizza Palace was so popular, it became a chain, and it was partly due to each pizza covered in three different types of cheese. But also, Tony's was popular for the retro one-dollar arcade section that was quickly becoming a thing of the past since newer technology had been developed. Every other arcade charged at least two dollars for one round with a popular title. But regardless of all these attractions, Jeff and Sarah didn't like the place. They said it was too noisy, too greasy (the pizza), and too crowded. So that's why Pete thought it would have been funny to ask the question, but as soon as the words had come out, he wished he could have reached out with his arms, which thankfully could still feel, to grab onto those floating words and shove them back into his mouth. "Pete." Sarah looked at the mirror in the sun visor. Her eyes were marbles floating in tears not yet spilled. "Pete." Jeff repeated. Pete could see his father's jawbones clench – not good. "I just meant you never bring me here so what's the big celebration?" "No celebration, Pete." Sarah said sadly. What's going on? "The celebration is that were all here as a family." Jeff said; the clench marks were gone. He smiled then said, "And it's been a long time since I've had three types of cheese on a pizza. What are we, Spartans?" "Is this a chariot?" Pete asked. "No," Jeff answered. "Then were not Spartans." They poured out of the van. Jeff and Sarah talked on the sidewalk in front of Tony's while the lift placed Pete onto the empty handicapped zone. Definitely there were some benefits to being handicapped like always having a parking spot or cutting lines, and you had a good seat at the movie theater because nobody else could sit in the middle walkway of an amphitheater. Not that Pete was crazy enough to believe anyone preferred to be crippled for a few marginal conveniences. After the minivan door whispered shut, the Hascomb family entered Tony's Pizza Palace. It turned out that there was a waiting list, but when the waiter saw Pete, she ushered them to a corner where the table was adjustable for people with disabilities. At the next disabled table, a man with grayish hair, and who ate with a sturdy appetite sat alongside a pretty woman who might have been his wife or perhaps his sister, but who was eating her pizza demurely. It made Pete wonder whether one day he might find a girl who could look past the Wizard. When the pizza came, Sarah did something she had never done before. Instead of inhaling her slice of pizza like Pete and her husband, she folded her hands, offered an embarrassed smile then closed her eyes. At first Pete and Jeff thought she was going to make a wish like on her birthday. Make a wish that the rest of the year would be filled with peace and love or that Pete would feel better maybe even get off the Wizard and start running and playing basketball. But she stood quiet, her eyes rolling behind their lids, as if picturing something interesting in her mind. It seemed strange to Pete how watching someone pray made a person feel profane. Like a barbarian unequipped with the mental civility to push back a plate of food and give thanks. Not that Jeff or Pete slowed at this spectacle. They merely tried to quiet their slurps and sucks as they watched her slow controlled behavior. By now, people started to watch like if she were a rare creature that had somehow made it into the city without being caught. But Sarah didn't make it a long prayer. Her eyes opened then she pulled the plate closer and began to eat. "It taste good, huh?" She asked but her eyes never averted from her plate. Jeff coughed then chocked. "Um...fine. It's great. We should come more often. What do ya say, Pete?" "Hmm?" "I said we should come more often." "Oh, oh yeah. We should. Three types of cheese." Sarah nodded, "Tastes great. I wonder what cheeses." "I'm not sure." Jeff said. They're acting weird, Pete thought, and he knew it had something to do with him, but he never thought it could be something beyond spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair, which he dreaded. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he planned for it – living his life disabled. He could become the next Frank Weeler for American wheelchair racing. It would be a lot of hard work and a lot of dedication, but it was a goal worth accomplishing. Though, Pete worried the fatigue he'd been feeling on and off was a permanent part of Hyper Polio. Right now, he was too removed from these frightened thoughts to give them voice. Eventually he would find out. It might be better to be ignorant of the facts right now. Especially right now that he was enjoying three types of cheeses with his family. A thing like that was not to be wasted. As they ate their meal, everyone talked. An event, which would be noted in all their memories under the name "Treasured Moments". Afterward, Jeff handed Pete a fifty-dollar bill and said, "Get some tokens. I feel like playing games." On the side of the Wizard was a satchel, which Pete filled with "Tony Tokens", a plump Italian man with a wide grin and thick mustache stamped on the side of the coin. When the Hascombs reached a game named "Shoot 'Em Up", Pete rolled in front of it. Sarah made an almost inaudible sigh when she saw that the arcade game was too high for the Wizard. "I have it," said Pete. A button on the control box read "Accelerator", and he pushed it. At once the Wizard grew and stretched like a magical beanstalk. The new motor hardly made a noise as Pete grew to an advantageous height. His mother hadn't seen this or most of the other special features of the Wizard. "It can reach seven feet." Pete said. Sarah gasped. "Ok, but don't do it. I don't want you to fall off." "He'll be fine," Jeff said. He grabbed the life like gun from its plastic holster on the console of the arcade. "Now let's find out if you've gotten soft since the last time, varmint." He took two tokens from the satchel then fed them into the machine. "Smile when you say that." Pete leered. "I get winner." Said Sarah, standing between them to watch the approaching gun battle. It ended with Pete shouting victory and Jeff handing his gun over to Sarah. "Maybe you'll have better luck, mom." Impetus Ch. 01 "I don't think I can do much worse." "Just don't hold the muzzle to your chest like last time." Pete laughed, as did Sarah. "I didn't do that." "And point the gun at the screen not at Pete." "Just watch and learn," said Sarah, squinting her eye to aim at the screen. "Sure." Jeff griped. The next round of graphics blinked onto the screen, and the battle began. Again, Pete wound the victor. Sarah placed the gun back in the plastic holster. "I give up." They picked another game with much of the same results until the tokens were gone, and they decided to leave. At the house, they piled into the living room with a few assortments of snacks they picked up at a food mart then played one of the movies they rented. Halfway through, Sarah made two bowls of ice cream. Sometime before the end of the first movie, Pete absently rubbed his shins and was happy to feel his hands rubbing through the pants. When the movie finished, Sarah asked Pete, "Are you going to put another one on?" "Yeah." "Well, I'm going to bed then. One cartoon is enough." "A N I M E." Pete proclaimed. "There's an incredible difference. Consider the storylines. In a cartoon, the storyline is made up of a single, simple, premise. In Anime, the storyline must blend with character development, scenery composition, and factual time placement. That's for starters. Also, a cartoon drawing is goofy, bland. But an Anime is art." Pete smiled, crossed his arms over his chest, then said, "You see?" "Yeah, well enjoy your little baby cartoon. I'm tired." Sarah walked over to Pete, unsettling the dark hair that hung over his forehead, and then kissed him on the head. Before leaving, she kissed Jeff and said, "See you upstairs." "I'll be up soon." Jeff told her. "Don't stay up too late, Pete." "I won't. "Animatrix, here we come." Jeff made a zany giggle as he prepped the movie. Pete laughed loudly, but it was ok because Sarah was upstairs, and wouldn't hear. "This one is great." "I'm sure it is," Jeff said, as he took seat against the floor and couch. While the previews played, Jeff asked, "Did you have fun today?" "A lot of fun." Pete smiled. "Good. I did too, and I know your mother was happy as well." "I'm surprised you didn't get a call from work." Jeff nodded. It was true. Not once did the lab call. Awfully strange. But Jeff did warn the lab no to bother him unless there was a breakdown. A sense of erratic energy hit Jeff with worried interest. Suddenly, he wanted to be at the lab with a full report in his hands, noting every move made in the last twenty-four hours since his absence. Jeff often received such reports every morning concerned with the previous night's program test results. It was an earnest curiosity set on by years of dedicated work that made Jeff's mind constantly fret over his precious machine, but spending time with Pete was also important. No. Much more important, much more, Jeff. Don't ever forget that. The sensation of reading reports diminished. At one time in Jeff's life, nothing existed, which could eclipse his work. Work had been everything since high school when he first noticed his creation in a dream. A seed took root and slowly crowded much of the time he had spent on hobbies and with friends. Baseball games and diners with relatives were constantly cancelled because an hour or more extra was needed at the lab. Programs weren't working, a tech didn't solder a chip correctly, or a chip wasn't constructed with one of the hundreds of thousands of programs meshed together like one large fishing net, giving Sync the equivalent of the stomach flu. Over time, family became Jeff's real power and happiness. At first, when these sentiments first submerged, Jeff though of them as a fluke or weakness, but the older he got, the more he drew closer to his family. And when Pete began feeling ill... "Dad?" "Yeah?" Pete turned the Wizard so he could face his dad. "Did you ever get scared when you were flying? I mean, could you have fallen?" Jeff smiled, wrinkled his brow because he had never considered the concept of fear in Sync. When he had gone in, it had been with a positive eagerness. "Perhaps." Jeff thought about Sync's reaction to fear. How would it respond? "Could a person die?" "Maybe if an old person used Sync, and they worked on a platform, which carried a deep sense of fear. Like if this same hypothetical old person had a heart problem, and a terrible fear of heights. Put that person on the ledge of a skyscraper and push them off. "Before they hit the ground in the Sync world, they'd be dead. Not due to pain or gravity, but a fear induced heart attack." "Wow." "Pain and pleasure exist in the Sync world too, but pain has barriers." "You mean if somebody gets stabbed, it won't feel real?" "Right, but it will still hurt. You wouldn't want to go dancing on fire in Sync. That is unless we raise the barriers. Either that or specifically request Sync to make you impervious to fire, but then that would take away from the fun of reality. There'd be no sense of danger. The greater the danger, the greater the fun." Animatrix played, but Pete didn't turn to face the TV. His eyes dodged left and right, integrating this new information into his thrilled brain. "Pretty incredible where knowledge can take us." "And scary." "Not necessarily. People said that about cars when they first came out. They said that about factories and machines. When computers took over, people said they would be the end of the country, but people were wrong. Computers saved us." "Dad?" What Pete was going to ask took a lot of courage because he knew how serious his father took his job, but the question had been lingering ever since Jeff divulged his adventure within Sync. "Can you take me to the lab so I can use Sync?" About a million reasons to say no popped into Jeff's mind. Most of them involved the dangerousness of such a venture. Sync had never scanned a teenager's mind. Could something happen? Did something happen to his own mind? He hadn't told Sarah how dangerous testing Sync had been. Sync had scanned his mind, manipulated its normal process, distributed facsimile information, and fed his brain newly appropriated sequences. Like the false impression of rushing air when he flew against the axiom of gravity, based on Jeff's experiences in life. Conversely, a newborn baby without knowledge of wind could not experience anything of the kind. It was impossible for Sync to redistribute information that didn't exist. "Could I run in the Sync world?" Jeff had just been about to give an absolute negative when the words died in his mouth. They turned to cold hard tombstones then crumbled away; shards abraded down his gullet then landed into a dusty pile in his stomach. Jeff closed his mouth. "I don't know if I'm ever going to walk again. But I'd like to at least pretend." Pete's eyes watered. He wanted so much to experience the power that Sync could wield over his mind. "I'll give you that much. The experience would be euphoric, but that's part of the danger with Sync. And that's what we've been trying to get a better understanding on." Jeff got up to sit on the couch next to Pete. "TV volume down." The volume went down. Pete came forward in the Wizard, closer to his father. "But you used it." Jeff closed his eyes and nodded. "I did. And I don't know what it is about Sync, but it has a control of the mind. Like watching the best magic trick in the world, but not knowing how it was done. It could drive you crazy thinking about those kinds of things. Sync makes you reflect about your experience over and over again until you can't wait to go. Not the best effect, I have to admit. Tomorrow, I'll take a brain scan and blood test, but I'm not worried about that. It's all up here." Jeff taped his temple. Pete winced, "Then why did you use it, dad?" The wizard moved forward close enough so that Pete could hug his father. "I don't want you to use it anymore." Jeff felt defeated, stupid forever worrying his family. And for what? So that you could look like a big shot. A big o' stupid big shot! "I won't." He said without any motivation in his heart. The truth was, if the tests turned out clean, which they would, and there weren't any funny brain waves surfing through his cerebrum then he would hook into Sync again. A hyper jubilation pumped his heart a few beats faster than normal. Should you? Should you really go back? But Jeff knew the answer. Nobody should go into the Sync world until they understood the human mind better. But the technology was there. We can't wait, can't hesitate a moment longer so somebody in China can make their own version and steal my credit. Jeff blocked these concerns from his mind and held Pete for a while longer. "I guess I got excited with the idea of flying," Pete admitted. "It's reasonable, believe me. Everyone wants to use it, but the government is strict and they barely allowed me to use it. They've given me...kind of like an allowance." Jeff sarcastically laughed, "They gave me an allowance to my own idea." Pete looked at him because Jeff had sounded angry, felt his face burn with the heat of indignation. It's more than that. You're mad because they've taken away your little drug. "But it doesn't matter, better for me." Jeff's leg nervously vibrated. "There're a lot of things we need to learn about Sync." "But whenever you get to working out all the bugs, I'd like to be the first person to use it, deal?" "It'll probably be government property for the next twenty years. First, it'll go to government agencies like the FBI and CIA. After its been there for about five to ten years it'll fall into the hands of the regular army where somehow it'll find its way into the black market and from there it'll make its way into the real market." "That'll take forever!" Pete exclaimed. "But I was talking about sometime maybe next year when you've had time to test it and stuff." "Well, next year. That might be possible, but I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow. It's an ongoing thing, Pete, something different happening everyday. It's very exciting for me, not to mention important. Ergo the dog leash." Jeff patted the cell phone at his hip. "I bet you shower with it." Pete said humouredly. "I clip it to my earlobe." "That sounds like a cool idea. I should make that the next fad at school." "Too late, I already wear it like that at work." "Fads are created by the young, not the old." Pete laughed. Jeff pretended to be shocked. "I'm young at heart." Looking at the TV, Jeff added, "We missed the beginning. TV, restart movie." The movie paused then blinked off and then on to the start. Pete turned the Wizard to face the TV. Both of them watched the movie, and Pete enjoyed it like if it was the first time. When the movie finished, it was already late. After putting some plates away and turning off the TV, Jeff followed Pete to the elevator of their home; the elevator came before the Hyper Polio. When the elevator opened on the second floor, Jeff asked, "Do you want me to help you into bed?" "No. Goodnight." Jeff bent over and Pete hugged him. "I love you," said Jeff. "I love you too, dad. Have a good day at work tomorrow, and don't use Sync anymore." He couldn't see Jeff's constricted face because of the way they were hugging, but he noticed his dad stiffen. Before he let go, his dad said, "It would be better to rely on dreams." Pete furrowed his brow quizzically but Jeff left the elevator after saying goodnight again. The Wizard maneuvered the halls to Pete's bedroom. Once inside, he went to the bathroom and turned the knob of the large bathtub where a shower used to be - last week. The more decrepit Pete became, the more lavish his father's presents grew to be. It was hard to believe a pair of lame legs was so difficult to control. Pete grunted with each shrug as he shifted onto the rim of the large tub, balancing over the gap to open the faucets. After adjusting the water temperature, he slid slowly down into tepid water he could feel with his left leg but not with his right. "Damn." Pete said, touching his right shin. "Come on." The empty sensation rose above his right knee and stayed there. The uneasiness of dread and hopelessness sprang forth, which always advanced a constant battle of negative emotions. "Come on." Pete rubbed his leg and chanted, "Come on," over and over. He summoned his veins to awaken, to live! On a small scale, he petitioned an unknown force, as his mother had at Tony's restaurant when she prayed. But Pete didn't go to church. He didn't know the names or miracles of the prophets. This would be as close to calling on divine help as Pete would ever get, and it made him feel wretched. Wretched for resorting on outside strength because he was too weak to do it on his own. Pete rubbed his leg a while longer, but it didn't awaken like he had hoped. He tried begging and sobbing, and his tears dropped like a sacred ointment onto his legs, but nothing worked. It was gone. Don't tell mom or dad, he thought. Don't let them worry. Eventually, they'd learn. But not tomorrow. Maybe not that week. The happiness of today would stretch a little further - without mar on its beauty. Possibly the days ahead would find a drought of pleasant memories. Scrubbing dutifully, Pete finished his bath then flipped the metal switch in the tub to release the water, but it was much more difficult climbing out then it was climbing in. Each leg was a heavy dead weight. Slithering up the deep wall of the tub felt like edging away from a fissure of coagulated mud. But when it was done, and Pete was changed into his pajamas, he crawled into bed and covered himself in sheets. They were cool and inviting except for the section that covered his legs. His worry induced the picture of a nightmarish future where he had only the use of his head. It must have been far into the future because there were lines in his face and he lived alone in a great big house, and he was dressed in fine clothes. Everything having been paid for by his father's trust. And the air would be cold because nobody really lived there, not even the maid who you could barely tell was there because her soft-soled shoes kept her as stealthy as a cat. Every meal would be soup, because Pete couldn't eat solids without choking, and there'd be a book in front of him that he'd flip the pages with the use of a straw stuck in his mouth. No woman but a paraplegic could love him, and what kind of love would that be? Love without kissing? Love without consummation? Pete wringed the sheets with tight fists to stop from crying. He couldn't feel his legs anymore, couldn't feel his stomach. No, no, he had to check. He pressed down over his belly button, and felt the smooth skin of his fingertips, felt their thin caress. He sighed then closed his eyes. The room felt cooler, more inviting. For now, the worry abated enough so he could fall asleep. Strangely enough, his dream was peaceful. Pete, Jeff, and Sarah flew among the clouds, each contributing an acrobatic stunt to impress the other two. Sarah and Jeff laughed in hidden pockets of oblique white mist as Pete playfully searched them out. Pete could hear the air blowing past his ears. Am I in Sync? It felt so real. Is this...Sync? No, it was too real to be Sync. Nothing but the real world could feel this good. The last word Pete thought of was "Paradise".