FILTERS 11

PSYCHICS!

Andrew is seated, his mother stands behind him, her hands on his shoulders.

His father watches footage of the event play on the television. "I saw rumors that you were seen in Mexico City."

"Yeah. There's a memorial near the edge of the ring. I spoke with a priest there."

"What about?"

Andrew shakes his head. He was right. He was absolutely right. "He. . . he said that I." he stops himself. "He knew who I was, and I apologized for not stopping the sphere there, and he asked if I was going to stop every sphere from now on. He said that if I didn't, then the guilt I feel is actually pride, I guess like a twisted magnanimity where it's okay if I don't intervene sometimes as long as I feel bad about it."

His father quietly says "What a thing to say. . ."

His mother says "You do have to intervene, Andrew, whenever you can."

His father adds "But if you can't fly fast enough to reach a sphere in Europe or Asia, then you aren't choosing not to intervene, you truly can't."

"After today I know I could have reached the sphere in Mexico City. Other than that, even if I could, dad, I don't know that I would, and that man knew I felt that way."

"Andrew, why wouldn't you?" asks his mother.

"I have a life that I need to protect. Am I supposed to drop everything every time I feel it happen? What if I'm playing in a game? What if I'm in a bus, or in an airplane? Do I just stop playing football? What then? Do I stop going to school, too? Become the flying ascetic?"

His mother walks around the desk to stand behind his father. They remain quiet.

"You think I should, don't you."

His father taps his chin and turns off the television. "No, I don't. Not yet. Football doesn't start in full until August and your classes are about to end. In the summer, if and when a sphere occurs, other than if you had to run out on Emilia, there won't be a game or bus or plane keeping you away. That gives time, not just for you, but for the world, because when the next sphere hits, someone else like you might appear to stop it."

Andrew almost rolls his eyes, "You still think there are others out there like me?"

His father confidently nods, "As much as ever."

"Then where are they?"

"Waiting, like you were. There's a story I've never told you about my grandfather's service in the Navy."

Andrew says "What, like, when he was out during the Haze?"

"He knew what caused it."

Andrew's mouth drops, "What do you mean he knew what caused it?"

"My grandfather served on a ship called the Patapsco. At the end of February in 1954 his ship was in the Marshall Islands and they were ordered to return to Pearl Harbor with great haste. They received that order because on March 1 the United States planned to detonate a thermonuclear bomb and they needed to be clear of the fallout. History books say the bomb test, part of a series of tests called Operation Castle, began in June, and that is a lie. The ship suffered mechanical issues that left them close enough at detonation to witness the fireball, your grandfather said it was like a second sun. They were well within the trajectory of the fallout, and radioactive coral ash covered the boat. This was 1954, the understanding of radioactivity was nothing like it is now and the ship had no equipment to detect radiation and they believed the ash was safe–until they fell ill. Much of the crew, your grandfather included, suffered greatly as they experienced the onset of acute radiation poisoning. They couldn't eat without vomiting, they couldn't walk without stumbling, fatigue weighed on them yet sleep did not come easily. But in those first few days as they were stranded in the fog and they slept above-board on the deck, they rapidly recovered, and in the following weeks when they were still stuck in The Haze, they showed no lingering illness. If you described this to a physician, they would tell you that the extent and swiftness of their recovery would be impossible, even with intervention. The Haze cleansed that ship and its crew, who were never told what happened. Your grandfather realized later in his life that he had witnessed and been poisoned by the nuclear bomb on March 1 that was officially recorded as happening on June 1. The Haze was triggered when humanity detonated that fusion bomb. The Haze changed us by imbuing some with the genetics we now call the UQ-Marker, The Haze gave us world trees and dire beasts, and The Haze gave us you. That is why I am certain you are not the only one."

"Why did you never tell me?"

His father says "Because until I saw you today, I still had doubt."

Up the stairs, to his brother's bedroom.

"Hey, Mike."

Michael jumps up, "Drew! Holy shit! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!" and he's shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief and he says "You gotta see this."

Michael has clearly been waiting for this, Andrew can't help but smile, "See what?"

"You!" and he holds up his phone.

Twitter open. #PSYCHICS

Every picture. Black jumpsuit, white rain jacket, Adidas large and in black on the back, "Like a fucking billboard." he mutters. Rainy shots from boats in the bay and as he was at the barrier. Clear shots as he crossed the ring, from where he passed between buildings, from where he entered the sphere. Of the woman, of him beside her, and of his disintegration of destroyed buildings.

Michael asks "What was it like?"

"It's strange, thinking about it, because thinking back it feels like I was on autopilot. I flew there, I tested some things at the barrier to see if I could get through, and I did, and I flew to the center and you've seen the rest."

"Did you know that woman was going to be there?"

"I thought there was going to be someone at the center, yeah, and when I was close enough I was able to look inside the sphere, and sure enough, someone was there."

Michael's laughing, "Wow. Dad said he told you to go to Mexico, and I read rumors that you were there on Twitter, but people were saying that all over the place and that just turned into memes."

"That's funny. Yeah, I did, I went to Mexico City."

Michael's still laughing, "Dude it is fucking wild that you just casually fucking flew from Gainesville to Tampa, stopped the sphere, flew to Mexico, and flew back.

"Well I went over Cuba, too."

"Fucking smartass."

Andrew laughs.

"Drew, bro, what you did was incredible. God. You've always done that stuff in sports, but. . . I've never been so proud that you're my brother. I've also never wished more that I had it too, but, man. It's crazy. It's fucking crazy."

Andrew puts his hand on his brother's shoulder, "Thanks."

His father is up early, having insisted the night before on driving him back. The highway is busy for what would have otherwise been an ordinary Sunday morning; Andrew wonders how many cars around them are headed for Tampa. They talk, they don't talk, they listen to the news and to music.

Gainesville has come alive, a revelry in the air appreciable even before they reach campus as everyone in the city seems to be outside. They arrive at his dorm, a familiar figure sitting at a table in the empty cafe. He walks to his building, awash in feeling as his hands touch the door. There are many outside here as well, many in the halls and gathered together in rooms, many balconies and front doors open. He hears televisions and conversations, every sound part of the whole, every sound one subject: him.

The people in the halls on each floor cheer when they see him, as they cheer when anyone comes up or down the stairs. He can't help but cheer back. His door is locked until he touches the handle, and once inside he empties his bag. His jacket goes back on its hangar, his boots on the shelf above, his jumpsuit folded and tucked at the bottom of a drawer. Mask and gloves underneath his socks, goggles with his underwear. The compass and watch go on his nightstand, beside his phone, still sitting on its charger. He picks it up.

There are texts from Emilia, Michael, Devaris, and what looks like everyone on the football team. There are two missed calls from Emilia and eight missed calls from Devaris, the most recent only minutes before. He reads the messages from Emilia.

hey, did you see there's a sphere in tampa?

i never thought it would happen so close to us

oh my god. Andrew, are you watching this?

i'll come over

. . . do you not want me to?

where are you?

Andrew?

He reads the messages from Devaris.

Drew, sphere in Tampa, bad fucking break

People keep saying sports are gonna have to stop

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

ARE YOU WATCHING THIS?!

CHECK YOUR FUCKING PHONE

WHY DO YOU NEVER CHECK YOUR FUCKING PHONE DREW

ANDREW

ANDREW

ANDREW

ANDREW

ANDREW ANDREW ANDREW ANDREW ANDREW ANDREW I'M AT YOUR DOOR DREW WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU DREW WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS DREW GODDAMMIT CHECK YOUR FUCKING PHONE DREW

Michael sent two pictures and one word. The pictures are of high quality, the work of a professional with a high-power telephoto lens. Him in black and white, first ahead of the sphere, then in front of the woman, Michael's caption:

P U L I T Z E R

He responds to Devaris–Unbelievable! I went home for the weekend and I forgot my phone but after yesterday I had to come right back–and looks again at Emilia's texts. He thinks about what to say. He thinks about messaging her. He thinks about calling her when the figure in the cafe begins to move. He takes his phone and leaves his dorm, again passing the boisterous floors. She is walking out of the office, toward her car, his pace quickens, crossing the spokes-paths, to the small parking at the back of the office. She comes into sight, he's not quite running, she hears his steps and turns and her eyes widen and she begins to smile and begins to say his name and he picks her up and she's laughing and he's kissing her.

She's still in his arms. She asks "Where were you?"

"I went home and forgot my phone, but after all that I had to come back a little early."

She's smiling, not serious as she says "Don't you remember my number? You could have called."

Andrew says "Yeah I should have, I'm sorry, I should have known that you would prefer a phone call over a boring surprise."

She takes one hand from his shoulder and runs it over his head to the side of his face, one finger running over his lips and the rest gently pressing into his neck and she kisses him. She says "I think I–" but she stops herself. He says "Yeah?"

"I think I can just leave for the day, if you want to spend it with me."

Andrew sets her down, "My dad's here, we were going to get lunch before he went back, do you want to go with us?"

Same show on every screen. Andrew goes to the bathroom.

Emilia says "It was nice of you to drive him back. Why didn't he drive himself?"

James says "Well, as I'm sure it's come up, I own a machine shop, and I had an order to pick up in Jacksonville, so I offered to come here after."

Emilia says "That's nice. That's a long drive, though, right?'

"Atlanta to Gainesville is about five hours, but that meant an extra ten hours to spend with my son. In a few years these opportunities will go away, I'm glad to do it."

Emilia smiles, "That's nice," but there's something thoughtful in her eyes, and she says "he's really going to be someone, isn't he."

James says "He already is. But yes, he will be. He cares deeply for you, Emilia. You could be there beside him."

Andrew returns, saving her from having to respond to this. Instead she says "I still can't believe what happened yesterday."

Andrew says "Yeah, finding out all the other spheres must have had a person at the center, that's scary."

Emilia gazes at him. "What do you think about that. . . person who stopped it?"

"I hope he's just the beginning."

She tilts her head, "You think there are more?"

"I hope there are, yeah. I think my dad has a better way of putting it, though," and he thinks "Might as well keep lying" as James starts to speak.

"If that is an individual from an extraterrestrial race, then perhaps all members of that race possess those–well, psychic–abilities, or else possess the technology to imbue that power in themselves. If that individual is human, then they are either the result of technology humans possess, or this emerged naturally. Many science fiction authors have written about humans eventually developing and exhibiting psychic abilities; maybe they drew from something known instinctively, or subconsciously, from ancient wisdom, from stories of great heroes that are considered myths, but that are in fact true or only slightly embellished accounts of those who were simply ahead of the curve. Whoever that individual is, each possibility indicates that we should expect more."

Emilia still looks only at Andrew, but she listened, and she says "Or they were an angel."

James says "That's true. Divine power must be considered. What happened yesterday could absolutely be described as a miraculous intervention. So if that individual comes forward and says they were blessed by God, whoever their God is, I imagine many will listen."

"Which do you believe, Andrew?" asks Emilia.

"They're human."

She rubs his arm. "I think so too. And. . . you must hope they're the beginning so when other spheres happen those are stopped too."

"Yeah. Tampa was the fifth time. China hasn't released any information but there's speculation based on the density of where it happened in Zhengzhou and the total lost could be in the millions. I hope someone shows up every time it happens from now on, and if not, I hope we figure out a way to stop them ourselves."

James gets the check. Andrew says "I need to talk with my dad about some things before he leaves, so I'll ride with him and he can drop me off at your apartment."

She smiles at him, "Okay."

At the register, James watches them.

His father drives, and once they're on the road he says "Emilia is a lovely young woman. She's very sharp, you two go well together."

Andrew says "I like her a lot, dad."

"I did not enjoy lying to her."

Andrew thinks "That's what you taught me to do, dad," as he says "Me neither, but what else are we supposed to say?"

"You stop stringing her along."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She is profoundly in love with you. I could feel it just sitting at the table with you. She is ready to be beside you for the rest of your life. Do you feel the same way about her?"

Andrew does, but he can't find the words, so he says "I don't know. I'm nineteen, dad."

"You are physically nineteen, but your unique experience of day and night has clearly matured your mind. Your gift, and burden, have only furthered that. I believe you are capable of answering that question."

He thinks of her voice, her eyes, her lips, the quiet nights in her apartment. "I. . . I can't imagine life without her. She's been my constant in all of this."

"Then you owe it to her to decide if you are going to marry her and tell her, and I would suggest in that order, no matter how duplicitous that would be–"

Andrew is stunned but he still interrupts, "How could I do that to her, dad?"

"You still wrestle with your personal sense of duty in balance with your life. You relate yourself to the spheres and the destruction they bring, but it seems that have not yet considered your relation with and greater significance to the world beyond the spheres."

"You're the one who told me I can wait to choose."

"You can wait. As her life becomes ever more intertwined with yours, the consequences of your existence will loom ever greater upon her. If you cannot trust her with knowing who you are, then you should no longer see her, for her sake."

Andrew says "If I can trust her, then why wouldn't I tell her before?"

"Andrew, you saved many thousands of lives yesterday, but what the world saw was the existence of the most dangerous weapon on Earth, and they only caught a hint of what I know you can do. I am moved every day that you remain so grounded in the height of your ability, but you must give your position its due respect: humanity has entered a new era and the secret that you hold, and that we hold, is of unprecedented importance."

Andrew shakes his head, "'Grounded', huh? How could a grounded man lie so deeply to the woman he loves? Sometimes I think you can't see what is for your beliefs of what ought to be."

"This secret that binds you, and myself, and your mother and Michael, is as significant as anything on this Earth. Emilia cannot know if you do not intend to marry her. If you believe that she will consider herself bound to this secret, as we are, before she has your name, then tell her. But if you have any uncertainty, then you can either hope that marriage ensures it in light of the revelation, or, as I said, stop seeing her. This is not out of fear that she will run and tell, it is from a proper understanding that for her, this secret would be a hardship. You will not have told her the truth, you will have inflicted her with it. To be married first would be deceptive, but it would also demonstrate intent. To tell her before is to say 'I understand you may leave.' To tell her after is to say 'I have proven the depth of my commitment to you, I am bound to you for the rest of my life, and I will always protect you.'"

Andrew says "No. I don't like the idea of being that kind of person, dad. That's not right, no matter how many words you put in front of it, no matter how entirely logical your argument probably is, it's not right. I know what I am and what I can do, and I know that in this, I can define the rules. I don't have to be that person, I don't want to be that person, and I am not going to be that person."

They reach Emilia's apartment building. Before he gets out of the car, his father places a hand on his shoulder. "I love you, Andrew. I trust you completely."

She makes him dinner.

They eat. They watch a film.

They go to her bed.

Her head is on his chest, her hair is on his skin.

Emilia is drifting off when she murmurs "Te amo."