Anyway, here goes for nothing.
Bubi
State Institute: Chapter 1
It all started when Kheradi Arukada’s parents allowed a woman, dressed in black from crown to heel, into their house. Her older siblings were instantly silent from their endless bickering and even her brother Aurelius was shocked at their coming. A self-professed master of telepathy, her fourteen year old brother did not even catch a glimmer of the approach of the State Telepath. The stern-faced woman regarded each member of the family in turn, not uttering a single word. Her eyes rested on the equally bewildered and apprehensive Kheradi, the fifth of eight children. The woman’s eyes bored through her, and Kheradi could sense her, prying at her thoughts. She wondered to herself what she had done to merit such attention. I’ve been a good girl, I’ve been a good girl, she thought to herself frantically, earnestly believing it, and she was sure each of her siblings was going through a similar ordeal as they each felt the gaze of the State Telepath. At a silent communication, her mother nodded and quickly and quietly bundled the other seven children out.
“Hurry now, we don’t want to waste her time,” she said anxiously, unsure whether her youngest children knew the gravity of the situation.
But, while Kheradi wondered at such behaviour, she considered her very self. She was only nine, but then she nodded to herself. Like most other Brakaan children her age, she had just gone through telepathic adolescence and her ability to read minds and speak across continents was gradually coming under control. However, she did not think of herself as especially strong.
“And you are clearly wrong in that respect,” the woman breathed gently as the door clicked behind the last of Kheradi’s older brothers.
Taken by surprised, she flushed, earning a small grin from the woman.
“And my name is Zhiveni Mrakenvine, and I am hardly a woman. Not yet, anyway.”
She lowered the hood of her cloak and Kheradi gasped, showing the appearance of a girl hardly older than Paraias, her oldest brother, seventeen years of age. What was strange was her blonde hair, a rare sight amongst Brakaan girls.
“… though my eyes are almost black. Would you care to deduce how?”
Kheradi thought about it but all she could think of was a first or second generation descendant of a European, but how could one such as she be of the Brakaan State Institute of Telepathy. Looking up, she took a breath.
“I don’t know…”
Zhiveni smiled, and it was genuine, another supposedly rare occurrence for a State Telepath, “Come, come, my dear girl, what are you?”
“A Brakaan…”
“And why am I here? And think carefully before you answer my question.”
Kheradi looked at the older girl and her mind turned within her, edging slowly towards Zhiveni. Around her mind was the wall that was around all sentient minds, and like silk, she carefully eased it aside, confronting the steel of the State Telepath’s walls. Her mind turned again, and she tried to brush away the wall, but it did not work. She tried again, and then again, but with the same result. Letting herself breathe, she realised the solution: mental assimilation, the only way to hack a State Telepath’s mind. Quite how she knew, she did not know, but Zhiveni did not communicate anything, however indirectly. As her mind melded into that of Zhiveni’s the wall shimmered and fell and what she saw before her took her breath away. In front of her was the astral being of the girl who sat opposite her, an entity of pure consciousness and thought.
“Welcome… to my mind. Ask what you may, I cannot lie,” Zhiveni stepped towards her.
“And by that count, neither can I,” Kheradi replied, understanding.
“That is so. And your questions?”
“Why are you here?”
“Do you wish to know, or do your parents wish to know?”
“I don’t know.”
“The only answer that you could give.
“Very well, I will answer. The very purpose to which I have come here is this very conversation that we have. You have passed the examination set by the State Telepaths which was to enter my mind of your own ability. You were adjudged to have the strength and capability to become one of us, a Guardian of the Brakaan State, part of Section 1 of the State Secret Security Service. And that you have held this conversation for such a long time with me is evidence enough of your ability, however much you were ignorant of its presence. Your ability to communicate so clearly over such distances and obstructions sets you apart from other young Brakaans, which is an achievement which we have not overlooked, especially because you are a girl.”
Kheradi knew there was more, but she needed to ask different questions to get those answers, but she had little need to. Even so, she grinned.
“And what is the explanation for your blonde hair?”
“I am from the line of the Zhonesein family of the old Knighthood, who were Swedish by origin, baring the name Jonsson, and being typically Scandinavian, were blond.”
“Need I ask any more questions?”
“Only of yourself and your family.”
“I see.”
“I will speak freely and of my own will now. I will not lie to you, largely because I can not. As a State Telepath, whether in training or not, you will have little time or opportunity to spend with your friends, family and loved ones. But while you will gradually start to lose one family, you will gain another. We are bound by our telepathic connections to each other. Through necessity we support each other and neither thought of need nor thought of desire is ever present and for that reason, we do not fight amongst each other. You come to us as a new born babe to be taught the ways of the world as it is and the world as we see it learning everything that we know and teaching us everything that you know. I see within you great strength which you need only release, and you will see your potential as one of the best protectors of this country.
“What say you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will speak to your parents.”
* * *
Opening her eyes, Zhiveni regarded the young girl. She was talented, yes, but not greatly so. As a young candidate she had managed the mind-meld in less than half the time and with just two attempts. After all, she had the blood of the Unifier in her as well, as an eighth generation descendant of his sister. But what drew Zhiveni to this new initiate was the fact that unlike most other ghosts, she had individuality, something that the Brakaan people had to sacrifice for their telepathy and the stable state it resulted in. This Kheradi Arukada had a sunny personality, and a sense of innocence that was very rare amongst even the most ‘human’ of all Brakaan children. Maybe she could bring to the State Telepaths something that was long missing: fun. Zhiveni herself knew that she was considered a great eccentric for indulging in solitary shopping sprees (or what passed for them, at least), something that many of her colleagues found almost disturbing. Humans would have found her shopping habits almost sociopathic, spending just fifty or so marks (about two hundred US dollars) over a period of hours on books, music (she loved the harpsichord works by Matherson) and rather sedate clothes (blood-black and dark blue were as adventurous as she was willing to go which was a massive step for a Ghost, but terrible even for a Brakaan). For her, the fun was in the solitude and the opportunity to spend time thinking away from the Overmind. However, for the State Telepaths, the Ghosts in particular, ‘fun’ constituted intellectual stimulation, namely science and history, or better yet, the history of science and its resultant discussions. On the other hand, the young Zhiveni found her fun in her imagination and story telling, albeit it ones based on history. Still, it was positively soporific compared to even an average Brakaan citizen’s pastimes, which were, in themselves, positively soporific compared to the hobbies of an average western world human.
However, before Zhiveni would inflict her habits on the potentially soon to be poor girl, there was the small matter of whether Kheradi would even be allowed to join the only telepathic intelligence service. The young White Ghost stood and looked squarely at the girl’s mother and father who entered, sitting either side of their daughter. She sat down again to address all three of them.
“Your child has informed me that she wishes to join the State Telepaths,” she started rather more brusquely than she wanted to, “though as her lawful guardians, I must also ask you for permission in this regard. However, as you have only partial say in this matter, if even only one parent should approve, she will be allowed to do as she wishes. But, it would be preferable if you agreed either way.”
They looked at each other, before the father spoke.
“What does it entail, with respect to her education and seeing us every so often?”
“Kheradi will be allowed back home whenever her wishes and the timetable coincide, which means one weekend every month. As for her education, she will receive one just as every other Brakaan child, with the exception that she will concentrate on analytical subjects, namely physics and mathematics, in concert with her daily telepathic conditioning. When she finishes her education at age seventeen, the final year being principally honing her telepathic abilities, she will be asked whether she wishes to stay on as a State Telepath with the opportunity to become part of the Ghosts’ Order. If she stays on, she may stay in her current position until the day she dies, coming and going as she wishes provided she performs her vocation to the best of her ability. If she desires nothing further of the Institute, her abilities will be severely curtailed but only so much to sever her bonds with the remainder of the Overmind. However, the greatest change will come if she becomes a Ghost. If she makes that decision then you will never see her again, in all likelihood, as her new family will become the entire remainder of the Order, due to the constant telepathic connections that will become an everyday part of her life. While this may seem undesirable to you as her parents know that no ill has ever befallen one of the Ghosts from one of their own…”
“How can you be so…?”
Her astral being flared at the question and everyone who was within her sphere of influence recoiled unconsciously.
“Do not ask it. Do not even think it,” she said, reprimanding Kheradi’s father, “It is true that we willingly sacrifice ourselves for the Order, but we are neither fools nor simpletons. If any hurt, then all hurt. You must know of a Black Ghost nearly twenty years ago who died of a broken heart because one of his closest companions died during the Five Nations War, and his death had effects of its own upon which I will not elaborate. Needless to say, they all felt it acutely, only he more so, and you will note that I stop short of saying ‘we’, because you well know I was not alive at that time. What she loses with you she will gain with us. I do not mean to degrade the value of you as a family, but realise that those of us who are telepathic every second we breathe are our own family and as such we love each other immensely. We may not be connected by blood, but the bond of mind is just as strong and you know this.
“Excuse me.”
She stood and strode towards the door.
“We will hear your answer in three days time. I will show myself out.”
And with that, Zhiveni left, scolding herself that she had almost lost her temper.
“Now, now, my dear,” came the soothing voice of her present lover Aristeidis, “I’m sure you realise we aren’t pleased if you come back sulking.”
“Tell Verikahd that she can tell me herself,” Zhiveni retorted as she crossed the road to her flight frame.
“But you prefer hearing it from me, and besides, she’s told you already.”
She sighed, as she fitted the ProjEv around her neck, “I know, I know.”
“Come back to us and have a nice soothing bath. And then we can share our day’s trivialities with each other and decide that whoever is duller, Kryan doesn’t seem to have any facial muscles.”
The young White Ghost could not help but grin at the man’s utterances and while there was a seven year age gap between the two of them, they got on very well. Unlike virtually every other one of his rank, the Grey Ghost was much more sardonic than the average State Telepath, and the novel part of that being his somewhat mordant sense of humour which never failed to confuse many, his colleague Kryan being one of them. Thinking for a moment, that was probably why they ‘clicked’ as lovers, though they would probably tire of each other within a week or so. After the first few days or so of their affair, they had done what everyone else tended to do and observed other couples in similar such encounters. But even so, Zhiveni hoped that they would ‘get together’, so to speak, occasionally in the future. She grinned sadly to herself, hoping in vain that Aristeidis felt the same way, as she released the brakes of the small hovercraft and flew back to the national headquarters, beneath the State University at Branqairos Stad.
* * *
“Nothing much going on across the world, as usual,” Verikahd Meristias muttered scornfully.
“Really?” Kiedan Eidesegrada raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
The junior telepath frowned and sucked the air through her teeth derisively.
“I’m not going to go into it,” she snapped.
“I know,” the National Branch Black Ghost said wistfully, “Still, I’m amazed that our country has not been at war for almost six years. One would have thought they were getting lax.”
“As you keep reminding us, day and night.”
“Oh, awfully sorry.”
“Sure you are…”
“Ah… I see our little girl has succeeded,” the Black Ghost smiled to himself.
“I’m hardly little, Dan,” he heard Zhiveni retort.
“You are compared to me, my dear, now get back and go about something more useful.”
“Such as?”
“Laundry!”
“Oh, very funny.”
“And keep your eyes on the road, Gigi,” Verikahd put in.
“Must I tolerate such nagging?” Zhiveni asked dryly.
“So long as you’re one of us, then yes, but you may nag as much as you please as well.”
“Yes, quite… uh-oh,” for a moment, Kiedan felt the young telepath falter at the controls of her vehicle.
“Ah, right. Return as quickly as you may, my dear, and remain calm,” he stopped the conversation, though all of the Ghosts knew that something had happened and all listened intently.
“As you all will know,” came the announcement, from another Black Ghost, “the Black Ghost Fenrir Durendahn is dying and it is likely that he will not last the month. Though he is our brother and our bond to him strong, we see it fit that his strands join to a new member of the Blacks. Twenty-four hours hence, our links to him will disappear, but we do not mourn. See him if you wish, but trust the Overmind to ensure that he passes peacefully.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Kiedan felt everything come to a gentle stop amongst the ranks of the Ghosts Order. Minds came and went, flitting about, embracing and talking to Fenrir, the ‘Wolf of Temeris’, saying random things and just small talk. Each one took their turn with the aging provincial overseer, and he had almost foreseen his death, despite his fifty-two years. Kiedan closed his eyes and dove into his old friend’s past. He felt the ecstasy when he made love to the mother of his first child, the pain when they shared the loss during the Five Nations War and comfort he drew over the years within this unimaginable family. At last, he sensed Fenrir’s children being beckoned by him and they came. His five sons and eight daughters, now mostly in their late teens or early twenties, accompanied by their surviving mothers, met with him, and they just talked, not as a family, though, but just as friends, about the time they spent together, whether physically or not, and even his grandchildren. For Fenrir was a good father to each of his children, letting them have a tentative grasp of the strands of the Overmind and visiting them in person and in mind as often as his time allowed. Their mothers, for their part, had been very understanding of his more than averagely outgoing nature and had encouraged the children in their youth to accept the pampering of their almost noble father. Of course, most of them had other children themselves, and they found comfort in the different ways that parents conversed and interacted with their ‘children of Ghosts’. But soon, they would no longer have a father to call upon when they needed an ear.
* * *
“What’s happening, I wonder,” Ashen muttered to his classmate as several of the Ghosts in the building fluttered past, almost dazed.
“Beats me,” Demeter replied with strained nonchalance, her feet up on the desk as the class waited for the study period to end, “Probably important, though, if it’s happening to everyone.”
“Sit up!” Ashen hissed and the girl did as he said.
The normally laid back Demeter was quick to do as told as the door suddenly burst open and the branch head walked in with a severe look on his face, though she already knew what he was going to say.
“You will not be able to participate in this evening’s interlinking this evening,” he said shortly, “Fenrir will depart tomorrow and his strands are being dissolved as we speak to ease the strain of the remainder of the web on his mind.”
No-one took this news particularly badly, since few had ever encountered the region’s reigning Black Ghost, but everyone was ever so slightly rocked by the news. While no-one had any direct dealings with the man, all knew that he was responsible for the very fabric of their telepathic bonds within this school. Everyone had felt his guiding presence, however unwittingly and to say that things would be a bit of shock when the strands changed minds would be an understatement. And though both Ashen and Demeter had been at the academy for less than a month each, both were accustomed to the old man’s silent instruction on the occasions when he chose to join the interlinking amongst the young apprentice State Telepaths. Even so, Ashen looked at his friend and paled, though she struggled not to let her emotions show determined to stare straight ahead.
Suddenly, throughout the whole of the central complex of the State Institute of Telepathy, there was total silence, physical and mental.
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