Giants in Psychic Society

Content between "[" and "]" indicate thoughts that are being read or summarized telepathically. Content between "{" and "}" indicate thoughts that are being transmitted mind-to-mind, like a chat or instant message.]

~*~

“Heya, Paulleh,” I called out of my apartment window at the tanned boy walking down the street. His name’s Paul, actually, but my Manchester accent makes it sound weird to the Americans I live around. I’m calling him Paulie, but they don’t seem to get that.

Paul looks up at my second story window and scowls contemptuously as he continues on his way a little faster. I don’t think he favors me very much. Maybe it’s to do with the fact that I unlocked my psionic powers and he didn’t. Or that I have been openly crushing on him for the better part of two years now, and it ruins his heterosexual image to have another guy at the bar as ever-so-slightly fey as I when he’s trying to pick up girls.

He’s extremely attractive with his well-styled medium brown hair that accents his bronze-tan skin. He gets mistaken for being part African-American or Latino a lot, but he’s all white he claims. Since he’s from a small town, they used to make fun of his mum, saying that she had something going on with the milk man, but really, he’s of Roma descent. He’s the only one of all his siblings to inherit dark skin though.

You might ask how I know this; you might wonder if I’m a stalker. But I was serious earlier. I’m a telepath. Paul would’ve been one too had he put in the work it took to unlock the powers. But apparently, if you have to throw away a year’s worth of weekends to read minds, it isn’t worth doing.

I follow him down the street with my gaze until he turns the corner. He glances back for a second to see if I’m still looking. A roll of his eyes and he’s gone. I flinch though, because he shouted something very loudly mentally. I try not to let him know that he’s got the ability to give me headaches if he only shouted in his mind, because then I’d never get any rest. He’s the only person beside myself and the psionic community who knows about me.

When he’s gone, I go back into the living room where I was watching television. I would like to point out that I didn’t just go to the window because I heard Paul’s thoughts or anything; it’s much more serious than that. For about two weeks now, I’ve been picking up a weird interference. It’s like hearing a constant buzzing. At first, it was so annoying that I couldn’t get to sleep (imagine a constant low-volume white-noise sound that even rushing water won’t drown out because it isn’t technically a physical sound), but after a while, I adjusted to it. I have to work harder to pick up thoughts though, since this new thing is always around. But anyway, I went to the window because I was able to pinpoint it.

At first, I thought it was coming from everywhere, as did other psions I’ve talked to. But as of two days ago, I noticed that from my window, its source seemed to come from the east. It’s such a weird interference that I can’t locate it with an estimate the way I can locate, say, Mister Van Dam by his thoughts. I know whether that filthy pig is two buildings or two blocks away based on the clarity of his thoughts. More on that individual later. But a special group of psions have been called in to investigate. It’s going on in at least four different large cities all over the world, so they’re trying to find a pattern. In about two years, I’ll be a part of that group… A hotshot rookie on the P.S.I. squad.

I shrug and pick up the remote from the kitchen, guiding it through the air mentally and plopping it down on my lap. I miscalculate it’s position and it falls onto my balls, causing me to wince in bark out a pained yelp. I’m not against ball-busting—since gaining my abilities, I’ve inadvertently learned that a few respected people I know indulge in it—but I cannot see how any pleasure is derived from the act. But I suppose that’s what I get for being lazy. I turn to the cartoon channel and promptly fall asleep.

~*~

I awaken several hours later, not by my own decision or some random subconscious thought reminding me there’s something I forgot to do. No, I awaken to a bunch of screams, both mental and physical. It’s enough that I struggle to put up my shields and keep them up. I normally keep my active mind unshielded because I don’t have anything to hide, and I rather enjoy picking up stray thoughts—it sometimes becomes a psychic Wikipedia in my brain when the husbands leave their wives and I learn what a dirty Sanchez is—but it’s the easiest way to get assaulted, which can occur inadvertently. But seriously, how many people in a middle class part of the city go through enough pain that I am weakened by it?

I stand up and look to the window. It’s starting to get dark, but I do see a green light brightening up the sky from the ground a block or two away from where I stand. It looks like nothing I’ve seen before. I know that’s cliché, but the closest I’ve come to seeing anything like this was in the Harry Potter movies when someone cast Avada Kedavra. But even that never lasted this long. I immediately want to fly through the window, but there are people outside. And also, I’m not strong enough to lift a sack of potatoes through the air without a headache, let alone myself.

I dash to the door and pull on my coat, after which I psychic my keys from the table. It’s a great thing I duck, because I did not think about the acceleration of the keys and they smash into the wall by my face. I grab them as they fall from the air and pocket them, leaving my apartment and running down the stairs.

As I get outside, I feel a heavy psionic force steadily bludgeoning my shields. The best I can describe the feeling is to have you imagine your hand being numb and someone plucking you with their fingers: you feel it happening, but it doesn’t hurt; you just kind of get the feeling that your nerves are giving you the equivalent of a Facebook notification like, ‘Hey… Just wanted to let you know you’re being plucked.’

The only thing that concerns me as I run down the block and turn the corner, heading east, is that this is how it feels when my shields are up. I hope I don’t slip up and lose focus. Then I’d be really fucked up. But this is sort of what I trained for. It’s a test.

The light grows brighter the closer I get to the source. I swear to myself because it’s three blocks and not two—I’m getting a stitch in my side! Finally, I reach the third block and almost collide with a tawny-haired Honduran boy, better known as Ben. We nod at each other and continue our run to the end of the third block—the intersection of Mickenzie and Bormann.

What we see is unbelievable. There is a shining circle on the ground about as wide as the street and it’s emitting the green glow. On the other side of it, a man about ten feet tall with massive hands is is slowly walking around, seeming to take in the sight of the brownstone apartments around him. Aside from his height, I don’t notice anything weird about him. But then, as he turns around, an icy hand clutches my heart: His eyes are glowing bright green when he opens his mouth, blood begins to spill down his chin.

{But this is no time to be standing aghast.{/i}}

I turn around and see my instructor, Dr. Le, standing behind Ben and me. It was his words that were planted into my head. I nod and begin to access the situation: I calm down and look around to see what’s going on with my inner eye.

[A brick stairway nearest the giant is in half-debris. A woman is lying on the ground unconscious; scanning her quickly, I see that she has merely fainted from shock. Three cars have crashed into each other trying to stop from making contact with the giant; all of them, including the ones behind them, have been abandoned by their owners. And there are six psions on the scene, including Dr. Le, Ben and myself.]

Suddenly, I’m pulled to the side by my arm and shocked out of my trance. I glare at Ben, who points behind me. Where I had just been standing, a chunk of rock resides. That bitch-giant thew a rock at me! I moan, but quickly abandon the thought. Dr. Le won’t stand for it. I can already here him criticizing me for not being able to scan scenes with my eyes open, and lecturing me about the dangers of closing off the physical senses in exchange for the psychic ones.

I link minds with Ben, who has already been in contact with the other psions, and it’s like a chatroom in which your thoughts do the talking.

As we discuss what to do at the speed of thought, we decide on a plan of action: [I will use my telepathy to jam the giant’s thoughts and incapacitate it along with Sam, a psion I don’t know. Ben and Dr. Le will use their psychokinetic abilities to physically subdue the giant. The last two people will evacuate people and make sure that no damage has been done to anything that could cause more harm, like fire hydrants or power lines.] It takes the better part of 3 seconds to plan.

I break myself from the link and turn my attention to the giant. I back away and look around, noting that Sam is on the other side of the giant hole with the giant. I summon my mental energy, focusing it just before my forehead, and then sending a bolt of energy at the giant. He’s obviously not shielded, or else he’d have been able to block that. His mind is like that of a non-psychic human being. The giant begins thrashing, but I notice that his movements are limited, mostly due to the efforts of Ben and Dr. Le. I continue my psychic assault, the hairs on my neck standing up as I feel the energy run up and down my spinal chord. I make contact briefly with Sam, who is doing the same thing I’m doing. Her energy feels like a gust of unrelenting sand. I break it off when I feel my mind getting fuzzy and I focus continually on the giant.

Just then, three things happen: The first, Dr. Le and Ben get the giant under control and he is completely immobilized, falling to the ground. The second, an arrow finds its way into the giant’s arm from above. The third, the giant green circle shrinks and vanishes in a blink of light as the giant’s eyes darken.

When I stop feeling any mental activity from our ginormous friend, I cease the attack. The non-psychic citizens continue panicking, probably not even noticing us. I look at the arrow in the giant’s arm and I measure the trajectory. When I look at the rooftop from whence it most likely came, I don’t see anyone. Surely they’ve run away. I do a quick scan to the rooftop and upper floors of those apartments and find my answer, but I’m distracted from thinking about the fact that Paul is the would-be-mysterious archer when I turn and see the giant slowly shrinking to the size of a normal man.

Ironically, despite all of the freaky things that I have come to discover as real over the past two years—the Psychic Society, the Psionic Lyceum, a class of people who dedicate their lives to the protection of the “normal world”—this is the thing that makes my jaw drop and my wrist fracture as it connects with the ground because I just passed out.