Psycher Chronicles

Chapter 7

Back To School

“You sure you are ready to go back?” Andrea found herself asking Misha.

No grand insight came, no great revelation about what to do next came to Andrea, despite her desperate plea. In the end her only recourse was to eventually put Misha to bed, and then to lie down, where she tossed and turned all night until finally giving way to fits of disturbed but restful sleep.

Honestly of the two, Andrea realized she was the worst to wear, as Misha looked as stoic as ever. Though today her case of helmet head was mostly gone, wearing a helmet every day would take its tolls on a girl’s curls, but a quick brush job made it, so her hair looked normal, well mostly normal. As Andrea was still having a hard time getting used to the way her daughter looked without the top half of her head covered.

“Yes.” Misha answered succinctly, no pause, no hesitation just a cold and resolute response.

“Do you want me to walk you in?” Andrea asked.

“No, I will be fine at the car drop off.” Misha said.

Then before Andrea even realized, the long line of cars ahead of her slowly but surely dwindled down, until it was Misha’s turn to exit. The teacher in charge of arrivals came over, opened the passenger door and Misha got out fluidly and made her way quickly to the school.

Click.

The door closed, and Andrea stared over at her daughter who didn’t even look back.

Seeing that her daughter clearly didn’t need her, Andrea let out a breath, put her vehicle in drive and began making her way out of the parking lot. Then began heading to her job, before she was too late.

***

Misha entered the school and felt the residue of emotions all but clinging to the place. Had this been her first time going through such experiences, she would have lost her way and succumbed to the perpetual melancholy that seemed to linger to the school’s old brick walls.

Yet, Misha had come a long way in her training. Lifetime after lifetime built her up for such experiences, and now that she had fully bonded with the element of electricity, she no longer felt overwhelmed by the influx of power that surrounded her.

It still shocked her to see how primitive this world was and wasn’t at the same time. Clearly the planet had seen an influx of devices and gadgets that were beyond the normal pattern for most developing planets, giving rise to the idea that she might not be the only Psycher to have reincarnated here.

If that was the case, then Misha made it a point to try to lay low until she found out which group of Psychers arrived here first. Were they renegades that had purposefully bucked the imperial system during the war? Were they separatists? Occultists? Or worse, advanced traitors for the enemies?

So far, every search ended up nothing when Misha let her consciousness join the great web of logic. While there were no signs of other Psychers present, Misha herself traveled with as faint of a presence as possible, so as not to alert suspicion. Her body was still weak, and while her mind was capable of a great many things, she was only as good as her body let her be. This was why for now, Misha kept herself low.

Oddly enough, while she couldn’t find the presence of other Psychers, she could now find pockets of other individuals. As there were clear pockets of individuals that she was fairly certain were werewolves, or at the very least were infected with Lykanthropy. There were also pockets of those subjected to vampirism, and a third smaller pocket that Misha could only assume were the techo-phobic mages of the world. Again, not much was known about that last group, but they did seem to have some presence on the connected world logic web, that the people of this planet called the Internet.

Misha made her way to her classroom, and was greeted by her teacher.

“Why hello there, are you lost?” Ms. Folk asked, staring at Misha with confusion clearly evident on her face.

“No, Ms. Folk. This is still my designated area.” Misha answered mechanically.

Hearing the words and the voice, a sudden recognition came to Ms. Folk as she leaned back half a foot to take a better look at Misha.

“Is that you Misha?” She asked.

“Yes.” Misha answered, not nodding or giving any extraneous movements.

“Oh wow, you are so pretty. I didn’t recognize you without the,” Ms. Folk paused. As she was clearly trying to find a nice way to mention the fact that Misha had been wearing a self-made electro-magnetic disruption array device that was then placed into a helmet so it would not shift around too much while moving. “The helmet.”

“Apparently.” Misha responded, not quite knowing what else to say to such a statement.

Flustered.

“Right then, why don’t you go take your seat.” Ms. Folk said, clearly not knowing how to interact with Misha who locked gazes with the teacher and clearly felt threatened by the gesture.

On her way to her assigned chair, Misha made a note of the sudden fear shown by the instructor. Her gaze had been meant to convey she was willing to listen to instruction, and that she was focused. Yet, for some reason that gaze had seemed to unnerve the teacher, despite it being the same gaze she had provided the teacher during every lesson. A brief thought about the visor she wore being down crossed her mind, but was instantly dismissed, as most people could or at the very least should be able to see through the basics of polarization. No, it had to be something else, was what Misha thought to herself as she sat down.

“Hey are you the new girl?” Brittany asked.

Misha, clearly not being the new girl did not even look at the girl. Instead, Misha decided to go to her seat. The first thing she did as usual was clear it out of any boobytraps. This time there was just a bit of water, nothing earth shattering but enough to give her a wet bottom if she sat down before looking.

“Hey you shouldn’t sit there, that’s the freak’s chair.” Brittany said, clearly trying to prevent Misha from sitting down in the slight pool of water, clearly showing her to be the culprit. This was fine, as Misha was used to such antics by this point and had already labelled Brittany as the instigator for most of these petty disturbances that she had been forced to endure during her time here.

Misha for her part realized that keeping a low profile meant that she could not stand out too much. While the helmet and gloves had made it stand out, she was still at an age where such eccentricities were not only accepted but often encouraged by external peer groups. Meaning that so far, she had kept her status as a newly reincarnated Psycher out of public attention. She had taken a risk to oust herself to the Magi, but that had been determined to be an acceptable risk, especially given how small of a footprint she and by extension the others of her group had on the interconnected web of worldly logic.

Barely paying Brittany any mind, Misha tilted the plastic chair forward, letting the water runoff. Plastic was still a novel concept to Misha as far as polymers went, this was an archaic part of the past that she had only read about in historical footnotes. To see it still filled her with a sense of awe and wonder every time. Even when it was doing something like wasting water by pouring it onto the floor. There might have been a slight pettiness to Misha as she made sure to let the water splash towards Brittany and her ballerina shoes that she always seemed to wear to class.

Water used to be something precious, but to this planet that had over seventy percent of its surface covered in water such pranks were deemed to be not only comical but encouraged by others.

With the seat mostly clear, Misha then lowered her hand and proceeded to wipe off the rest of the water. Making sure to apply a bit of heat to her hand that would help quickly evaporate any residual drops of water that would otherwise sink into the plastic grooves of the chair.

“What are you doing?” Brittany screamed, apparently concerned about the mess of water that had been spilled right under her own feet.

“Cleaning my seat.” Misha said coldly as she locked gazes with Brittany.

Brittany, always defiant, stared at Misha who just stared back with a cold look of indifference. While Misha felt that bullying an unevolved girl was beneath her, she didn’t mind instilling minor warnings that sometimes there are people you should not mess with.

Shiver.

After a second of staring, the winner of the staring contest was apparent, as Brittany began to tremble slightly, while locking gazes with Misha.

“Well don’t do it again.” Brittany said, a slight hint of fear and bluster to her words.

“You know, if I didn’t have to clean my seat, this likely wouldn’t happen.” Misha said, then quietly sat down in her chair.

After which, Brittany stared at Misha, to which Misha just peered at Brittany from the side of her eyes with a, go on try it glare.

Tremble.

With that Brittany turned away, going so far as to shift her entire body away at a forty-five-degree angle from Misha.

“Whatever freak.” Brittany said her words meant for Misha, thought it was clear she was not comfortable with confronting Misha on her own.

As far as morning routines went, there had been worse for Misha, and she considered this to be a minor victory.

“Hey, who is the new girl?” Bobby asked, his voice echoing in the oddly designed classroom.

“That is the freak.” Lewis replied.

“What, no way?”

“Way, look that is clearly the Freak’s seat.”

Hearing that, Misha realized this likely wasn’t a win at all. Still, she decided to stick with it, for appearances sake.

A Psycher was capable of dealing with any form of mental strain or attack. Sitting through mind numbing lessons only built-up character and furthered personal resolve, and mental resistances, Mish could do this.

***

“Listen up class, I would like to introduce to you our very special guest speaker today. As you know, we have been learning about Science from our studies. Well today, our guest speaker is a Doctor of Science, who has a very special job at the nearby university. Please give your complete and undivided attention to Dr. Grier.” Ms. Folk said.

For a moment Misha paused and looked at the woman before her. While there were certain characteristics that clearly showed similarities between her psychiatrist Dr. Grier and this Dr. Grier. It was clear that this Dr. Grier was older, also the odd magical energy that radiated from this Dr. Grier was much more intense than that of her psychiatrist.

Just being this close to so much power made Misha’s teeth feel like they were vibrating.

This too will pass, Misha said to herself a mantra that had helped her endure her first round of Psycher training. Now on this new world, she found herself having to revert to her earlier trainings, despite having long since completed the training and proven herself capable during the numerous courses of death and rebirth she had been subjected to in her past lifetimes.

Mages like plastic were of course things she had read about, but nothing she had seen with her own eyes. Not until this lifetime and while she had not been impressed with the therapist’s level of power, she found that this person before her now was much more powerful than she had originally anticipated from a Magi.

Power radiated off of this woman in waves.

Instantly most of the students began to cower from the subtle power radiating off of the woman.

To describe the sensation, it felt like the heat one would expect in deep space, when the radiation filters go off, or when she would stand too close to a microwave. Yet despite the excessive waves of energy, Misha held still and just stared, wondering what type of test this was.

Sobs.

A few kids started to cry from the pressure the woman exuded. Her eyes scanned the classroom and finally locked gazes with Misha.

The two shared a glance, at which time Dr. Grier, the more powerful and older Dr. Grier, watched the girl for a second, dropping her overall field of energy and finally directing it forward in a direct arc right towards Misha.

Seeing this, Misha applied a quick heat dispersal technique that eliminated the majority of energy from the impacting wave. This was a must for a Psycher who was assigned as a Technomancer of a ship, as their job was often to go to the unsafe parts of a ship, weld, mend, or otherwise fix parts of the ship that had been destroyed and do so with the least amount of protection. This was why those with a pyrotechnic affinity were often chosen, as they could naturally disperse excess heat and quinch fires quickly and effectively.

The wave passed over and around Misha, though it was less than she had prepared for, it had been more than enough for her to need to use her hands as a conduit to direct her psychic energy.

After the dispersal, Dr. Grier’s eyes widened in surprise as she had witnessed Misha’s reaction to everything. Everything from her ability to withstand her dispersal of power. Something that even the teacher had cowered away from, to an odd ability to disrupt her direct probe of the little girl. Clearly her information about a girl of exceptional powers being right here in her own backyard had not been wrong.

Seeing the girl still standing there, her left hand glowing with the residue of power, Dr. Grier decided to make her offer right here and now, to this class.

“Good morning class.” Dr. Grier began, instantly defusing the waves of energy she had been releasing and replaced them with a slight wave of calming energy.

As expected, everyone instantly relaxed. Everyone but the one girl who stared back with her bright green eyes that spoke of true power.

Even now, faced with overwhelming power and experience the girl just stared on defiantly. Seeing the girl, Dr. Grier could not help but let a slight shiver of anticipation run down her spine as she prepared herself to take on another student to the family. That is of course, if she can pass the next few tests.

“Today, I am going to tell you about Science. As you have heard, I am a professor at the nearby University. What you may not be aware, but we are offering your school an all expenses paid fieldtrip to visit our campus and to experience the wonders of science.” Dr. Grier said, scanning the whole room but invariably her eyes were always drawn back to the small girl who never even flinched at the power she wielded before her.

Yes, she will do nicely, Dr. Grier thought. My daughter really does have an eye for talent, too bad her talent never manifested, otherwise she might be a great heir to our dominance. Instead, I need to find the next heir soon, if they are going to be trained properly.

***

Andrea waited outside the school in the parent pickup line. The entire day she felt like impending doom was awaiting her daughter. That was why she even left work early to be one of the first in line to pick up her daughter, before having to go back to work for her second shift. Fortunately, the boss loved her daughter and allowed her in the office, otherwise this would be an issue.

Still, as it stood, she could deal with finding a new job, what she couldn’t have was something happening to her daughter, which was why she waited patiently all day for the moment that the bell would ring and students would begin migrating out of their classrooms.

Rinngg.

The bell rang, and Andrea tried to let out a breath, but it still clung tightly to her chest. Kids began pouring out of the building but nowhere in the mass of students was her daughter.

Cars began pulling out and around her as they had picked up their children first.

One teacher who was now acting as a security coordinator held up one finger then spoke into a walkie talkie.

More time passed, until finally Misha came out. Just seeing the girl caused the breath that had been held tightly within her chest finally begin to release.

Clip-clop.

Misha got into the backseat and immediately buckled herself in, then sitting forward at attention just stared.

“So how was your day?” Andrea asked.

“Adequate.”

“Did you do anything interesting?”

“No.”

Andrea stared, half expecting her to say something to give the sensation of fear that she had been experiencing something worth holding onto. But no, there was nothing apparently. Getting answers from her daughter was like pulling teeth from a hen. Inwardly, Andrea wondered if other parents had such a hard time.

“Okay.” Andrea said, then nodded her head, then began to turn around to face forward and begin driving off, finally.

Of course, it was then, with her back to her daughter, that she finally decided to say something.

“I was given a permission slip for a field trip that you need to sign.” Misha said.

With that Andrea suddenly wondered if this proposed field trip was what had caused so much anxious anticipation to build up within her. Odd that it would happen for an event off in the future, but Andrea began to relax, wondering if she should just have Misha call out sick that day instead.

As she pulled out of the cramped school parking lot, she failed to notice the white sports car that had been resting idly by the parking lot exit, only coming to life the moment that Misha had left the school and entered Andrea’s old clunker of a car.