The Pilgrim of Cele — 4
Chapter 4 — The Rules of Pasticha
Within a millisecond the whole room fell completely silent. Paul held his breath, his eyes quickly scanned the group for any signs of disbelief as he strained to find a hint of what he should say or do next.
Nothing, he thought, do nothing. Nothing was coming to him and he knew the first rule of Pasticha is : If you don’t know exactly what to do or say - then do nothing until you do.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up from the intentionally uncomfortable chair that was roasting underneath the glaring light in what was obviously a makeshift interrogation room. Intel was the next word that came to him automatically. Rule number two ; Gather as much intel as possible, as quickly as possible.
A long metal counter top looked like a suitable place to address them from. Although it was not much higher than the roasting chair it would have to do in order for him to obey rule number three of Pasticha : Never let others look down on you when you are speaking.
Paul had the distinct feeling he was an oddity on display, like some piece of misunderstood abstract art they’d all been invited to critique. Under this microscope of inspection he suddenly felt dirty, as if they knew every secret of his life. He glanced down at his hands and noticed thin lines of dried blood under his fingernails, blood he knew was not merely his own. He sensed one woman’s golden eyes on him, peering out through ringlets of loose dark hair all springing out of a loosely tied deep blue scarf. Her eyes pierced into his thoughts making him feel awkward and naked in front of her.
A tiny shiver caused his neck to twitch involuntarily. Ah, there it is , the fear, it’s never far behind… he mused to himself. He forced any visible signs that he could be lying back under his control, mentally forcing a false innocence to take over, even though he was already convinced they knew they were looking at a pile of asteroid cruft. He envisioned this next unplanned exit from a ship sans life support. One can only get so lucky so many times. He’d heard rumors that was the only way people ever “disembarked” from one of these searching-for-a-better-world vessels if, by chance, your shipmates found the oxygen you consumed more valuable than you.
Paul could hear each one’s breath as if they were within an inch of his face. He inhaled deeply and pulled his chest and spine erect. He was going to have to sell this and sell it hard, this new Samuel Creed persona, born under the pressure of that one ill-considered moment of inspection. The option to tell the truth had quickly vanished under that microscope.
His mother always said he was born with the gift of the Pasticha and she was right, but it wasn’t that simple. The raw talent was a documented genetic holdover from his father’s own genetically manipulated conception, but the unusual ability to believe one’s own con had been perfected and regularly polished growing up under the spell of a man who excelled in using both of those gifts. His father was exactly such a character, a Pasticha of the first order. The only way to survive being under the control of a Master Pasticha, in any setting at any age is to learn to master some of the techniques yourself. Paul’s level of expertise had been achieved at great cost to his psyche and his young heart. Trust was a commodity Paul rarely traded.
In this moment of stress, against his will, Paul’s memory flashed back to a vision of his biological father, just as it always did whenever he felt anxious. Every single time these short bursts of this vision hit him his head would jerk slightly backwards from the power of the sensations it brought with it. This vision was the only way he ever saw an image of his father, no matter how he tried, only this visual memory remained with him.
In the vision Zen’s stringy waist-length black hair flowed outward in a thousand directions as it reacted to the inhuman force that had hit Zen. His spindly arms were thrust out reaching for Paul as his deep yellow eyes seemed to plead tenderly, yet a look of absolute horror and confusion was on his weathered sunken face.
“WHY ??! WHY ??!” Zen screamed.
Paul never knew the answer to Zen’s “Why ??!” He was haunted by the lingering fear that his father had thought Paul himself was really the source behind the force overtaking him.
The vision made Paul’s head jerk backwards ever so slightly and he realized some of the adults in the room must have noticed it. Golden Eyes certainly took note of it, and he could have sworn he could feel her willing him to relax. With exceptional control he composed himself at once creating and transforming himself into yet another alter ego, in effect becoming this Brother Samuel persona. Mercifully, a small thin boy broke the silence, before he spoke.
“It’s him ! See, I told you, Diane! Now pay up!! Come on!! ” Kai jumped down from the counter top he’d been standing on to try to get a better look at the noob everyone was staring at in disbelief. He thrust his hand out towards Diane, obviously waiting for her to “pay up.”
At the same time, six of the more simply dressed adults that stood in front of Kai, facing Paul’s direction, dropped to the floor all at once and landed on their knees. They all covered their heads with both arms and laid their faces down on the cool metal floor. The others present, including Brother Stephen and Brother Kelley, scarcely seemed to notice what the six kneelers did. They kept staring at Paul silently and he noticed that a few of them even seemed to find the kneelers subservient actions a little humorous.
Brother Stephen mumbled under his breath “ Brother Samuel, huh??” he said to no one in particular “Yeah… I’m just gonna be callin’ you by your initials buddy…. Ol’ B.S. ” he shook his head slightly side to side and elbowed the arm of the man next to him. “That’s a good one, huh? You KNOW it is !!” he laughed at his own joke, an annoying dry laugh that sounded more like wheezing to Paul. No one else in the group laughed, but Paul/Brother Samuel had a seriously hard time keeping a straight face. He couldn’t help but think to himself that “Ol’ B.S.” was a pretty “good one.”
Once more Kai opened his mouth to tell Diane to pay up, but no sound came out and then he just stopped moving at all and froze in place with his mouth hanging open. Kai’s eyes rolled up into their sockets and stuck there.
Suddenly, in one swift motion, his thin body shot upwards, as if a hole had burst in the ship’s plating and the pressurization of the ship was being sucked out. His small head then his shoulder blades slammed into the metal ceiling with such force that the ship shuddered. The six who’d fallen to the floor looked up and saw Kai, simultaneously gasped then again collapsed completely to the floor in heaps and began muttering hushed rhythmic prayers in unison. In the same instant Brother Stephen stepped forward, extended one huge arm and threw Paul off the counter with one astounding swipe of his arm. Paul’s first and only thought as he was falling down was to try to at least take Brother Stephens down with him, so he clawed wildly at the air trying to grab any part of Stephens or even just a piece of his shirt..to no avail. His flailing only caused his head to whack the sharp corner of the metal counter as he clumsily tumbled off to one side of the table. Paul’s body made an echoing thud on the shiny floor. Suddenly all he could hear was an intense loud ringing in both ears.
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Paul opened his eyes just in time to see Kai’s thin body detach from the ceiling, as a loud hiss filled the small room, so loud that it overrode the ringing in both his ears. There standing directly underneath the frail boy was the pretty lady with the curly black hair, Ms. Golden Eyes herself and she caught the little boy almost casually, as if she’d done it a thousand times.
Meanwhile Brother Stephen had flung the top of the counter open and he was elbows deep digging into the valuable hidden contents and was throwing packets at each person in the room.
The last packet he pitched towards Paul, who caught it just before it would have hit his face. Paul had to focus on his Pasticha training harder than he had in a long time to keep from cussing the large man out. Thankfully the ringing in his ears slowly subsided.
“You could have just asked me to move!” he shouted at Stephens, his self control lagging briefly. He struggled to get to his feet.
The others were ripping open the small blue packets and taking out a device that looked like something from the last century used by physicians to inject medicines, before mednodes were invented. With mednodes , microscopic nanomeds entered through pores and went to work where they were needed so no one used these archaic things anymore…. at least Paul thought they didn’t. In amazement, he watched them as one after the other began to hastily jab the ancient things into their hips. He paused, holding the device in his hand , wondering what they were taking and why like this and why Stephen threw one to him ? What if this was a test and he was supposed to know how to use this ? What if he was not supposed to know how ? He relied on rule one and did nothing, silently observing what they were each doing for a few seconds.
Before he could ask anyone anything, the pretty lady who’d so easily caught the young boy 30 seconds ago grabbed Paul’s device out of his hand, pulled a cap off the end of it and jabbed it straight into his hip so hard he figured she must have hit bone. She yanked it out, then held the unit out to Paul, who ignored the device in her hand because he was busy forming a loud vulgar screech of pain…
Paul heard his own voice, over the ringing in both ears, yell out, “SHIIIIITTT!!!!”.
He looked at Golden Eyes, who’d seemed so cute a few moments ago, and he fought hard to resist the urge...no..the need, to slap her dead across her cute little face. Just then he caught sight of the sharp metal needle in her hand and saw one dot of red blood there on the end of it.
“Oh no, not blood,” he thought, “anything but blood…” He felt dizziness wash over him all at once and was so lightheaded that his knees buckled on him and there he was headed for the floor again.
As the lights went out for Paul one more time he slurred “Now THIS …. this ssshhhit is some b.s…..”
Editor’s Note: This story is really coming together! Thanks to everyone who’s helped out so far and to Kathy Hussey for this awesome chapter. I was honestly just thinking how cool Kai was right before Kathy injured him. Who knows what actually happened to him… I guess it’s up to the next writer. Here’s the list of the next writers (We’re still accepting requests to write for both books):
Tomas — May 19 ch5
C. Allen Exline — May 26 Ch6
Leo Charles M. — June 2 Ch7
