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Andrew is seated. His mother stands behind him, her hands on his shoulders.
His father watches footage from Tampa replayed one more time, then shuts off the television. “I saw a rumors that you were spotted in Mexico city.”
“Yeah, I went, like you said.”
“What’d you do there?” asks his father.
“There’s a memorial near the edge of the ring. A priest was there, he and I spoke.”
“What about?” asks his mother.
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 intervening 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 I think 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 knew I could have reached Mexico City. Other than that, even if I could, dad, I don’t know that I would. He knew I felt that way.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” asks his mother.
“I have a life 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 a plane? People would notice, unless I quit football. Do I quit school? Become the flying ascetic?”
His mother walks around the desk to stand behind his father. They remain quiet.
“You think I should.”
His father taps his chin. “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 buys time, not just for you, but the world, because when the next sphere hits, someone like you might appear to stop it.”
Andrew could have rolled his eyes. “You still think there are others like me?”
His father nods. “As much as ever.”
“Then where are they?”
“Waiting, like you were.”
At Andrew’s sigh, his father says “There’s a story I’ve never told you about my grandfather’s service in the Navy.”
“What, like when he was out during the Haze?”
“He saw what caused it.”
Andrew’s mouth drops. “What do you mean he saw what caused it?”
“My grandfather served on a ship called the Patapsco. At the end of February in ‘54 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 first, 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, commenced 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 range of the fallout, and radioactive coral ash covered the boat. This was 1954, the understanding of radiation was nothing like it is now, and since the ship had no equipment to detect it, they believed the ash was safe. All the way 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 heavy yet sleep wouldn’t find them. But in those first few days as they were stranded in the fog and they slept above-board on the decks, 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 the extent and swiftness of their recovery was 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 first that was officially recorded as happening on June first. 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. “Drew! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” and he shakes his head and says “You gotta see this.”
Michael has clearly been waiting, 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 passed into the barrier, from when he was between buildings, from when he entered the sphere. Of the woman, of his hand on her, of his disintegration of destroyed buildings.
“What was it like?” asks Michael.
“It’s strange. Thinking back, I wasn’t thinking. I flew there, I tested some things at the barrier, then I flew to the center and you’ve seen the rest.”
“Did you know the woman was going to be there?”
“I thought someone would be at the center. When I was close enough I could look inside, and I saw her.”
Michael laughs. “Damn. Dad said he told you to go to Mexico, and I saw rumors you were there, 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 still laughs. “It is wild that you just casually flew from Gainesville to Tampa, then to Mexico, then back here, all in one day.”
“I went over Cuba, too.”
“Smartass.”
Andrew laughs.
Michael shakes his head again. “Drew, what you did was incredible. God. You’ve always done that stuff in sports, but. I’ve never been so proud you’re my brother. I’ve also never wished more that I had it too. It’s crazy. It’s fucking crazy.”
Andrew puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mike.”
His father gets up early, having insisted the night before on driving him back. The highways are busy for what would have been an otherwise ordinary Sunday morning. Andrew wonders how many cars around them head for Tampa. They talk, they listen to the news and to music.
Gainesville has come alive, a revelry in the air appreciable even before campus as everyone in the city seems to be outside. They arrive at his dorm, he finds a familiar figure sitting at a table in the empty café. He walks to his building, awash in the feeling as his hands touch the door. Many are outside here as well, many in the halls and gathered together in rooms, many on balconies and many front doors propped open. He hears televisions and music 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 inside he empties his bag. His jacket goes back on its hanger, his boots on the shelf above, his jumpsuit folded and tucked in the bottom of a drawer. Mask and gloves underneath his socks, goggles with his underwear. The compass and watch go in the drawer of his nightstand. His phone is 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 has 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 re-reads Emilia’s messages. He thinks about what to say. He thinks about messaging her. He thinks about calling her when the figure in the café stands. 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 when 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 left my phone, but after all that I had to come back a little early.”
She’s smiling, not serious as she says “You know my number, you could have called.”
Andrew says “Yeah, I should have, I’m sorry. I should have known you would prefer a phone call over a boring surprise.”
She takes one hand from his shoulder and runs it through his hair 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 starts to say “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 drove back. Go with us?”
Same show on every screen. Andrew goes to the bathroom.
Emilia says “It was kind of you to drive him back. Why didn’t he drive himself?”
James says “Well, as I’m sure he’s mentioned, I own a machine shop. I had an order to pick up in Jacksonville, so I offered to come here after.”
“That’s nice,” she says. “That’s a long drive, though, right?”
“Atlanta to Gainesville is about five hours, but that meant an extra ten to spend with my son. In a few years chances like this will go away, I’m glad to have them.”
She smiles, but there’s something in her eyes and she says “He’s going to be someone, isn’t he.”
“He already is. But yes, he will be. He cares deeply for you, Emilia. You could be there beside him.”
Andrew returns, sparing her from responding. 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. It’s hard to believe.”
She stares at him. “What do you think about that . . . person, who stopped it?”
“I hope he’s just the beginning?”
She asks “You think there are more?”
Might as well keep lying, he thinks. “I hope there are, but my dad says it better, I think.”
James says “If that individual is an alien, then perhaps all members of their race possess those, well, psychic, abilities, or else possess the technology to imbue that power in themselves. If that individual is human, then either they are the result of technology humans possess, or this emerged naturally. Many authors have written about humans eventually developing and exhibiting psychic abilities. Maybe they drew from something known instinctively, or from truth subconsciously understood from ancient wisdom, of those stories of great heroes that are considered myths, but that are in fact true or only slightly embellished accounts of men who were simply ahead of the curve. Whoever that individual is, each possibility indicates that we should expect more.”
Emilia still only looks at Andrew, but she listened. 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 claims they were blessed by God, whoever their God is, I imagine many will listen.”
“What do you believe, Andrew?” asks Emilia.
“They’re human.”
She rubs his arm. “I think so too, and you must hope they’re just the beginning, so when other spheres happen those are stopped too.”
“Yeah, I do. Tampa was the fifth time. China hasn’t released the numbers but from where it happened the total lost could be in the millions. I hope someone shows up every time it happens from now on, and I hope we figure out a way to stop spheres without them.”
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.
In the truck, his father says “Emilia is a lovely young woman. She’s very sharp. You two go well together.”
“I like her a lot, dad.”
“I did not enjoy lying to her.”
He thinks, That’s what you taught me to do, dad. “I don’t either, but what else are we supposed to say?”
“You stop stringing her along.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Andrew, she is profoundly in love with you. I could see it, I could feel it just sitting at the table. In her heart, she’s already committed to you, she’s ready to be beside you for the rest of her life. Do you feel the same way?”
Andrew does, but he can’t find the words. “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 know you’re young, but I know you, and I know you’re capable of answering that question.”
He hears her voice, feels her lips, sees the gold of her eyes. He thinks of the quiet nights with her asleep beside him. “I can’t imagine life without her. She’s been my constant in all of this.”
His father says “Then you owe to her to decide if you are going to marry her and tell her, and I suggest in that order, no matter how deceitful it would be—”
Andrew is stunned but still interrupts, “How could I do that to her?”
“You still wrestle with your personal sense of duty in balance with your life. You relate yourself to the spheres and the destruction they cause, but it seems you have not yet considered your relation with and significance to the world.”
“You’re the one who told me I can wait to make a choice.”
“You can wait. As her life becomes ever more intertwined with yours, the consequences of your existence will loom every 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, 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 in the history of our species, 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 I be grounded and still lie so completely to the girl I love? Sometimes I think you can’t see what is for your beliefs on 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 spend your life with 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 marriage ensures it in light of the revelation, or as I said, stop seeing her. This is not from fear she will run and tell, it is from a proper understanding that for her, this secret will be a hardship. You will not have told her the truth, you will have inflicted her with it. To be married first would be a lie, 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 bonded to you for the rest of my life, 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 what 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 in this, I 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. Before he gets out of the truck, his father puts a hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Andrew. I trust you completely.”
They talk until it’s dark. She makes him dinner. They eat and watch a film.
They go to her bed.
He feels her skin, warm on his. Her body holds against his, her cheek on his chest.
Emilia is drifting off when she whispers “Te amo.”