Bright Star. Grayson Reyes-Cole
then slipped out into the cosmos. Smaller than atoms, they floated undetectable out of his mouth. The words were of him, yet somehow did not belong to him. Rush had learned long ago how to lie and experience the serenity of removal. There was a science or art to the lack of culpability. He had perfected this science and art in the last ten years of his life as he watched the skills of his younger brother develop, as he watched his mother’s love shift to Jackson the Extraordinary, while Rush longed for and achieved obscurity. “Yeah, sure.” He nodded briefly. “I would help people if I could. What you’re able to do is amazing, Jacks. And I totally recognize your need to put it to good use. Guess that’s why you got all the power.”
“Yeah.” Jackson slightly furrowed his eyebrows. Then, as Rush expected, the lines smoothed, and Jackson was again at peace. “It is the right thing to do. Civil… social responsibility and everything.”
Rush nodded. He watched as Jackson went into the living room. Then he pushed from the table and walked into the bathroom. He smiled into the mirror, stretching his lips as wide as he could, baring his teeth and straining muscles until even his neck tensed with the effort. He held the smile and wondered what others would feel if they were to see him smile. A smile on that face was an unnatural occurrence. He continued to hold the expression, wondering how long he could stand there that way. He had done the right thing, too. Now, Jackson wouldn’t worry that he had made the wrong decisions or that he, somehow, had a monster for a brother.
* * * *
Rush fully expected his brother to leave the house then. Jackson took his responsibilities to the Service very seriously. And Rush had seen firsthand the way they revered Jackson there, the way they watched his brother in awe and with a respect that one gave to a prophet… or a rock star. That near-worship unsettled Rush.
Even though he expected his brother to go, Rush knew he was still in the apartment. For that reason, he chose safeguards. Rush traced the word despair into the dust on the back of his closed bedroom door. The word glowed shiny black, then vanished. He thought of testing it with his palm, but he knew the Energy was still there. He sighed heavily and faced the unremarkable room. It was green and dark gray. There was a desk and a chair. There was a TV, a game console hooked up to it on the floor, a stereo, a computer, and a long unused chess set. There was his bed, two mattresses on the floor with a blanket over them. His brother had complained about it half-heartedly. The walls were blank and white.
A mirror leaning over his dresser showed him his unremarkable reflection. He glanced down at his body and sighed again.
Then he changed.
His skin warmed visibly to a healthy toffee glow. His hair, dry and kinky, waved softly over his eyes. His narrow shoulders widened, his slender body strengthened, packets of flesh filled in the hollows of his bones. With a brush of his hand over his face, his strong jaw was wiped clean of stubble and his dull black eyes changed to a sherry brown. His nose was a perfect line with flared nostrils over broad lips. Rush was sure he wasn’t a handsome fellow anyway. Still, people stared at him when he went around in his natural skin. Even without his unusual Talents, he could tell they were watching him. They still did, though less so with his diminished appearance. Rush would never be comfortable with that. People were smarter than even they knew. Most of them could sense there was something different within him, even if they couldn’t pinpoint what.
He waved a hand and it was as if a shallow wave of dim rippled across the room. Wherever the ripple touched seemed to bend, shatter, and reshape. The white walls stretched and darkened into a shadowed slate gray. The floor shifted and opened until the carpet melted away to reveal smooth rock. The bed lowered, curved, shimmered in a cerulean blue. Eggplant and emerald colored pillows and coverlets covered the soft rise invitingly. A depression in the center of the slate deepened until it became a hot pool of scented water bubbling over dark blue tile. In the center of the pool was a long burning flame that seemed to touch the water and yet continue to burn. Similar flames attached themselves to the ceiling and walls to give the room a warm aura. Deep blue, iridescent boxes spilled soft music into the air. The ceiling dripped low and bowed into the worn stone of a subterranean cavern. This was his luxury, his heaven. A palace buried in caverns. He smiled wryly to himself: his dream home. All he needed was a dream girl. But he knew, even as she made her way to him, that Elizabeth was already dead.
Effortlessly, he snapped his fingers and a banquet appeared before him. Damn, he was always hungry, especially when he thought of her.
“How did you do that?” The voice, surprising like a beam of sunlight in dilated pupils, sliced through Rush’s chest. The bones in his shoulders ached, then his collarbone and sternum. His ribs squeezed around his heart. His throat closed over and he began gulping for air and clutching at his windpipe. The muscles convulsed on the left side of his face, closing his eye then straining him so that his head began to shake. His body continued to collapse around his organs. He felt the seizing in his bladder as he struggled. He fell hard on his back.
Jackson’s eyes, driven wide by the sight of his brother’s act, grew tight as he went over to Rush and placed a hand over his chest. A cool charge went through to Rush’s heart. For a moment, his body seemed to expand again, enough so that he could concentrate on the words flowing from Jackson’s mouth.
“First you focus on your heart and lungs. Think of them being transparent, thin, so much so that air and light can pass through them.” Rush followed the instruction and felt the constriction inside him begin to subside.
“Now,” Jackson continued, “breathe and do the same for your mind. Imagine it empty, clear, porous. It may sound strange but try to picture fruit. A series of all the fruits you know, one after the other.”
Again, Rush followed Jackson’s queues. Strawberries. Apples. Grapes. Bananas. Easy. Oranges. He found the discomfort had almost completely subsided. Mangos. Tangerines. Peaches. Almost. Pineapples. Raspberries.
“All better?” Jackson inquired with a quizzical brow.
Rush nodded and looked away. That is when he remembered the Shift. The faint scent of musk on the air enhanced the exotic nature of his creation and served to remind him that this atmosphere was quite man-made, and probably beyond anything his brother had seen created so easily. He was caught—again—and his heart constricted—again. He was now going to have to convince Jackson that what he was witnessing was not real… again. Wearily, Rush sank down onto the side of the very normal and non-Shifted bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and waited.
“How did you do it?” Jackson asked without attempting to hide his awe. He tapped Rush excitedly on the shoulder to gain his attention.
“How did you know what was happening to me just then?” Rush countered instead of answering. He needed time to think.
“It happens.” Jackson offered with a quick shrug. “Permanent Shift. Usually when you expend too much energy on any one specific Shift. You know, Parameters of Shift 101. What you’ve done here is amazing, record-breaking in the time that you accomplished it. It would have taken me days to do it. And, after I was done, I never would have been able to put it back.” Jackson swept his arm toward the room that had subtly returned to its original condition.
“No,” Rush mumbled absently. “This is an easy Shift.” Then, as he considered Jackson’s words, he asked, “Why fruit?”
“Fruit is mundane. It’s the first and easiest way to train children on how to manage Perma-Shift. Something about the listing that focuses your cognitive skills and forces your Energy to center there instead of in manifestation, if that makes any sense to you. And…” Jackson paused. He measured his next words very carefully. “And they’re healthy.”
“Healthy?” Rush was empirically incredulous.
“Yes, healthy,” Jackson assured him. “It’s one of the weird phenomena of Shift. Thinking about healthy things has a significantly healthy impact on your body, including when you are in the throes of Perma-Shift.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why doesn’t it work for heart attacks?”
“Sometimes