Zero Sight Part 15

"Did they ask for him by name?" Albright asked.

"Yes, sir-and they knew most of his personal details. I refused their demands, of course, and I deemed the threat level to Mr. Resnick was critical. Then I decided I should kill them." Rei paused. "That was okay, yes?"

Albright nodded.

"Oh. Good. Anyways, I lacked sufficient weaponry, but I engaged them with intent. I immobilized one troll before the second one staggered me. Things were looking manageable, but then the magus deployed an ACT device. He launched a rapid electric-based counter that temporarily disabled me." Rei sighed. "Then things just sort of went to splinters, sir. The second troll succeeded in collapsing my lung and shattering my cheekbone while-"

"Good G.o.d." Albright found a chair. "Ms. Strouse, call the emba.s.sy and-"

"Not to worry, sir. Mr. Resnick engaged them in the nick of time."

"What?" exclaimed Albright and Strouse.

"It was hard for me to see, as I had lost the function of one eye, but it appeared Mr. Resnick used a pipe to temporarily disable the magus. This left Dieter stunned, but his actions gave me sufficient time to recuperate, terminate the second troll, and apprehend the magus for questioning."

I glanced over at Rei. There were some slight oversights in that retelling. I bit my lip and let it go. She had told me to keep my eyes open and mouth shut. I decided to trust Rei knew what she was doing.

"I'm sad to report that the results of my interrogation were poor, sir. The magus was given blind pick-up instructions, tracing was impossible, and he claimed to have been wiped. It does seem that his mind was damaged in some way. He exhibited bouts of uncontrollable laughter during combat, demonstrated zero adaptability, and glamour didn't work on him at all."

"Sounds like a scrambling technique," Dean Albright replied. "I've seen it before. Whoever it was probably breeched mental tampering prohibitions to ensure an impregnable wipe. When you scramble a mind in such a manner, you not only disconnect the conscious mind from its memories, but you rearrange those connections as well. It is a very advanced technique...and irreversible." Albright shook his head. "And the ACT device had reactive countermeasures? Wonderful."

"The ACT device?" I asked. "You mean that pendant thingy?"

Albright nodded. "ACT is an acronym. It stands for Artificial Conduit Technology. ACT devices are nasty doohickeys. For now, just think of them as magic wands made of plutonium. They give a mage added power and control, but there are horrific downsides to their use. No sane mage would use such a device. It might even explain the brainwashing."

Albright turned back to Rei.

"Apologies, Ms. Bathory, but policy requires me to ask: Do you have any contamination or infection to report?"

"None, sir," Rei said, firmly. "Anything that mixed with my blood was incinerated."

InfectiWHAT? I started to feel a wee-bit dizzy-and yet it occurred to me that what Rei had just said wasn't quite a lie. My hands had been burnt to a crisp. I scratched at my scarred palms nervously.

"Good stuff, Rei Acerba. I'll be sure to write your father on this."

"Thank you, sir!" Rei said, beaming.

"Magus Bathory, you are herby relieved from active duty. Complete your debriefing with Lucas when he returns. And study hard this semester. I want to see a conduit out of you by fall."

Rei's shoulders drooped. "Yes, sir," she said, bowing slightly. She turned to me next. "Mr. Resnick, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you make the right decision."

With that, Rei turned and left.

Not a whisper from the carpet.

Not one single sound.

"Goodness, I hate how quiet they are," Ms. Strouse muttered.

The aged wood creaked beneath my feet. I had forgotten that Rei had been making extra noise. Forgotten because she had been so diligent in making it. The thought of that...it made me feel nice.

Albright excused himself to make a phone call. The dean left his door open, and I overheard him talking to someone about upgrading transit security. "Talmax. Yes, most likely," he said in agreement. I should have been paying more attention, but instead I kept getting the sinking feeling that I was forgetting something important. It was the same sensation I got when I misplaced my keys. I was busy digging through my duffle ticking off items on my mental checklist when Albright called me in to his office. I put down the pile of underwear I was shuffling through and let out a sigh. My obsessive-compulsive tendencies would have to wait till later.

The dean's office was as immaculate as he was. A pristine desk stood at its center with three neat stacks of paper in one corner. IN, PENDING, and DONE read the labels. Books lined two sides of the room. They were ordered with precision under detailed sub-headings: Frame Science, Hex Defense, Calvin and Hobbes, The Ethics of Alteration and so on. And in the fourth corner-sitting all by it's lonesome-a Clover.

I stared at the machine in awe.

In the history of coffee, there have been only a few major advances: 1) the discovery that coffee beans could be ground, 2) the shift away from men's hosiery as filters, 3) the invention of the espresso, and 4) the Clover. Pure stainless steel. Temperature control to within 0.5 degrees centigrade. A timer that talked in milliseconds. With the Clover, man had finally achieved what had eluded him for centuries: Total Brewing Control...and all for the low, low price of one mid-sized car.

Albright noted my revere with a nod. "It appears we have a common interest."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled through dollops of fanboy drool. (Some people like ogling cars. Some like collecting stamps. I like brewing beans. Mind your own hobby.) "Would Tanzanian peaberry suit you?" Albright asked.

"Oh, that would be well within the realm of acceptable, sir."

Dean Albright performed the ritual with the precision of a Kabuki actor.

"You seem to know a great deal about coffee, Mr. Resnick."

"Yes, sir. I sorta had a crush on this barista..."

"So you learned everything you could to impress her."

I raised an eyebrow. It hadn't been a question.

"Yes, sir."

Dean Albright poured one cup at a time into pre-warmed mugs.

"Land the babe?"

I accepted my mug mug. "Na, she started dating a muscle head-but I got myself an addiction." The first sip was magical. My exhaustion released as I exhaled in bliss. It was the single best cup of coffee I had ever tasted. By a mile too. If the dean was trying to seduce me, it was working.

"Sir? Is this just coffee?"

"What a compliment! Yessiree. Unadulterated. Far cry from the old range brew...however, I am working on a fascinating new bean that imbues the user with a number of elemental fortifications. I just have to figure out what's making the test subjects pee like racehorses. But I digress, again. We'll have more than enough time for fun stuff later. Please take a seat."

I sunk down into the incredibly comfortable leather chair across from him.

If I could just nod off for a bit...

I shook my head and took a bigger sip of Albright's coffee. It was Life Decision Time.

Albright took a sip and set his coffee down.

"Mr. Resnick, let me first say that I owe you an apology."

"Sir?"

"You were not rejected from all the schools you applied to. In fact, Harvard and Duke were in a bidding war over you."

I wasn't drowsy anymore. I sat up in my chair.

Albright flipped open a folder. My folder. It had photos I never recalled providing, let alone taking. Me going to school. Me with my friends. Shots of the destroyed chemistry lab. Newspaper clippings. Hospital records. Rowan dosing schedules. Didn't they call that kind of thing a dossier?

I gulped.

"Your scores in biology and chemistry are most impressive. It looks like you hold the new state records. And your paper on yeast metabolic thermoregulation was absolutely fascinating. How you managed to keep them thermostable at such a high working temperature is beyond me."

I felt warm inside. Academi-speak was as s.e.xy as I'd hoped it'd be.

"Maybe I can interest you in my alchemic workgroup in the future."

I mussed my hair and looked away. Not that I didn't like the compliments, but what the heck did Albright mean? How did this school have the power to interfere with other schools' admissions?

"Thank you, sir, but if I wasn't rejected, then what happened?"

"We interceded."

"We?"

"DOMA, Mr. Resnick. The Department of Mana Affairs. The Department is a pseudo-government agency, a collection of private and public interests. We are engaged in the development, instruction, and protection of the techniques oft defined by the lay as magic. We also enforce the laws and regulations pertaining to mana and defend both Magi and Imperiti populations against its misuse. The Department has other roles, but at the moment you lack the knowledge necessary to comprehend them. And please don't be offended, Mr. Resnick. I don't mean to say that you lack the potential for comprehension, just the tools."

I shrugged. "I've gotta agree with you there, sir. I'm still waiting patiently for this nightmare to end. But, sir, are you saying Elliot College is a front?"

"A front? No, Elliot College is an accredited degree-granting university. It's just that our best subjects are most certainly not the sciences."

"And how do I fit into this picture?"

"You are being given a recruitment offer. We want you to join up."

This was getting a bit loony. "Do I get a license to kill like Rei?"

Dean Albright frowned. "You misunderstand. We do not normally have to kill three men in order to make a recruitment offer. Current circ.u.mstances are most unusual. But let me cut right to it, son. You're not sitting pretty right now. You've killed a man."

"I didn't-"

"Intent doesn't matter, son. A boy is dead."

My face felt hot. To hear it spelled out like that...

"Under Tenet Law, you have two choices: You can choose to join up. You will be enrolled at Elliot College and trained by the finest minds in magic theory. If you graduate with honors, you will be granted a modest lifetime pension in return for part-time service. Think of it as the National Guard with unicorns."

"Unicorns?" I asked. Riding unicorns sounded way better than prison.

"Oh yes, but you don't get to actually ride them or anything. Nasty beasts. Best to wrangle them from a distance. Anyway, if you choose the first path, I must warn you of the risks. The world we operate in is much more hazardous than that of your average Imperiti. I like to compare it to the difference of living life as a civilian versus that of a soldier."

I was trying my best not to hyperventilate.

"Oh! Pardon me. You do know what Imperiti means, yes?"

"Non-magic folk?"

"Sharp as advertised. Nearly correct, Mr. Resnick, more specifically, Imperiti refers to those lacking knowledge of the occult. The Conscious world is not limited to just those who can manipulate mana, so saying 'non-magic folk' is not a sufficient definition."

I nodded.

"If you choose to join up, you have one year to change your mind. Beyond that point, there is no turning back. You would be bound for life by the additional laws prescribed by the local DOMA."

I wondered what the penalties where like. The image of Rei carving up the tall man crossed my mind.

"And the second option?"

"The second option is a complete wipe your memory. You would find yourself where you were if we had not interfered, enrolled at the school of your choice, blissfully unaware of any of the events that brought you to our attention." Dean Albright shuffled some papers. "We also need to deactivate certain brain centers so that no more unfortunate incidents occur."

I scratched said threatened head and frowned. "So under option number two I would be incapable of doing any 'magic,' as you call it, and I wouldn't recall meeting you nor Rei-Ms. Bathory?"

Dean Albright paused to think about it.

"By law, the Magi would not be allowed to acknowledge you. The laws regarding that are quite strict. But Ms. Bathory? She's a bit of an exception. I'm not sure what the ruling would be. It might depend on which state you were in. I'd have to ask Professor Simons."

I took a sip of coffee and sat back in my chair. My father had always been virulently anti-government-conspiracy this, conspiracy that, he was a fervent libertarian. In his mind, the government was always out to get you. They wanted to take away your rights, take away your money, and force you to eat tofu. He even had a stash of arms in the desert, "Just in case." And he wasn't alone. Nevada was a bastion for those with a deep mistrust of the Feds mixed with a strong pioneering spirit. "Whatever the government can do, we can do it better," was the mantra. George Orwell was a patron saint. Ann Rand had groupies. Growing up in that environment had an effect on me. I didn't buy into any of the conspiracies (maybe I should have), but signing up with a government agency was not at the top of my list of things to do before I die. In my neck of the woods they had once ordered soldiers to stand in the desert while they tested nuclear weapons.

Not cool, Big Brother. Not cool.

Still, I saw myself as a scientist, a person who wanted more than anything to follow the facts wherever they led. The idea of turning my back on all of this new knowledge was revolting. Sensing auras was pretty sweet. And that other power...I had to admit that, deep down, the prospect of wielding the sort of power I'd used to kill Tyrone was seductive. I had demolished a whole section of my high school with a hand gesture. That much power...if I could control it...I couldn't even conceive of all the possibilities. I was beginning to see why all those brilliant scientists signed up to work on said atomic bombs.

And then there was the promise I made with Rei...

I took another sip of coffee.

To recap, my main influences were: A) delusions of grandeur, and B) the advice of a vampire...wonderful.

"I have one year to pull out?"

I tried looking Dean Albright in the eye, but he avoided my gaze.

"One year. It's all spelled out here." He slid a slim stack of papers across the table. The letterhead read: "The Department of Mana Affairs of North America." It had an eagle seal and everything.

I picked up a pen. It felt like it was made of lead. I had never signed a contract before. Committing to something on paper sure came with a weird sensation. "All right then," I said, biting my lip, "you've got a year to wow me."

Dean Albright gave me a million-dollar smile. "Very good, grub. Just sign here."

Duffle slung over my back, I followed Dean Albright out of his office. When I put pen to paper, a giant door slammed shut in my mind. Behind it was everything that happened before I got on that big blue bus and left Las Vegas. That life was dead. I felt some sadness. It was like when you trade in an old car after it provides years of faithful service. You're never going to plop into that well-worn seat again, never going to feel the leather on the steering wheel. So, sure, I felt some sadness...but I was about to hop into a brand new Porsche. I was way more concerned with how fast the new girl could go. Dean Albright had shifted into orientation mode. He was rapidly describing the facilities and all the places that served good coffee on campus.

"...and for the love of G.o.d, avoid that Black Death they serve in the cafeteria. It'll melt your insides. On the bright side, the food is excellent. Pizza Fridays are my favorite. You should try the Dean Albright Special. It's my own spectacular concoction. It can even cure the common cold!"

He cleared his throat.