spellcaster's disease - chapter 19

8/14/2019 Spellcaster's Disease - Chapter 19

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Chapter 19 – Most People

I’ve asked a few others, and the story seems to hold true. When you get shot, you

don’t really notice it initially. You know something happened, you know something’s

wrong, but the pain doesn’t come for a while.

I knew something had happened when I felt something in my chest right after

hearing a bang. When I looked down and saw the smoldering hole in my shirt, time

slowed to a crawl. My focus stayed on my chest, and I just stared at the hole in disbelief.

I didn’t try to touch it or anything. I just stared.

As I did that, my strength faded, and the crowd started to overrun me. I fell to the

ground and the sea of protesters flooded over me. I don’t remember much about this. I

think I was still in shock over being shot.

I only remember hearing a new sound. Not just a bang, this one was a deep

boom.

After another boom, I heard the screaming. From my spot on the concrete, Icouldn’t make out too much, just something like, “Holy shit! Screw this, run!”

I couldn’t see a thing, just the crowd pressing me into the ground. But just like

that, the sea parted and I could see the sky.

It was nice.

But then I felt the heat. I mean, the day was hot, but this felt like an oven, or

maybe what I picture a forge would feel like. I’d only be confused for a second. That’s

when I saw the sea of blue fire encircle me. Now that was hot. But just for a moment.

The fires cleared, and I saw the square mostly empty. The remaining protesters ran away



down the streets. They didn’t want to be barbequed. The only people I saw were Ryan

controlling the flames, and Kevin running towards me.

“Steve! You ok? Hang in there!”

My friends ran up to me, but I stayed down on the concrete.

“Yo, can you get up? What’s hurting.”

Actually, nothing hurt. I just kept staring at the smoldering hole in my shirt. It

took a second for Ryan to notice.

“Holy shit! You’ve been shot! But…” Ryan ran his fingers over the hole.

“You’re not bleeding.”I don’t think I moved. Ryan had to grab my arm and move my hand over the

hole, pressing it down on the area. He waved my hand in front of my face.

“You’re not bleeding. You see any blood?”

No, I didn’t, but it took a bit for that to register in my head.

“Sit up, you’re not bleeding.” I heard them, but I don’t think I sat up until they

pulled me up. Even then, I kept staring at the hole, my hand, and generally just looking

stoned. Finally, I spoke.

“I got shot.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“But, I’m ok. How?”

A new voice came down to me. “Take off your shirt.” I looked up and saw Brad,

holding his sign as always. “Take a look at your chest.”

I lifted my shirt. Sure enough, there was no blood. Actually, the only thing I saw

was a black circle on my chest, maybe a centimeter in diameter.”



“Let me see your back.” I leaned forward and they took a look. “Yeah, same

thing. Just a little, black circle. Does that hurt?”

“No.” I poked around the front hole and felt nothing out of the ordinary as well.

Only Brad didn’t seem surprised by this. “The bullet didn’t touch you, Steve. It’s

sitting in that wall behind you.”

“But, how is that possible?”

“You phased out. I got to say, your skin’s pretty neat. It knew to phase out a little

section of your body when the bullet came. You can’t get hit if you can’t get touched.

That skin’s pretty tough too. You didn’t get banged up when those knucklehead squashedyou either.”

I didn’t hear anything past, ‘phased out.’ “Wait, if I phased out, then… Awww

shit! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

I think I jumped up and started storming around. I don’t really remember, I was

really pissed. If I’d phased out, that meant that the black spot was just my skin, and that

the artificial layer was compromised, and that it’d be cracking and falling off soon, and

that with my house on lockdown and Dave who-knows-where that I’d have no way to fix

this.

My friends tried to calm me down.

“Hey, you just got shot and you’re fine. That’s pretty sweet!”

“Look, we’ll talk to the government and work something out.”

“Relax, it’ll be alright.”

I stopped and turned back to them. “Alright?!?! You know how hard it was just

to get anyone to talk to me. Now, they’ll just let me use hundreds of millions of dollars



of stolen property so I can fix something they don’t even know about. Yeah, that’ll work.

You know how long I had to wait just so they wouldn’t shut down my office? And that

wasn’t shit compared to this. Why the hell would they help me out?”

Only Brad had an answer. “It’s not like they can stop you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

But Brad just waved and walked away, leaving the three of us in the middle of

smoldering, crumbling bricks and concrete. Apparently, Pershing Square doesn’t like

being the site of a riot or being turned into a sea of fire.

Oh yeah, the cops rushed back into the square and yelled at us, well, mostly Ryanfor setting the place on fire. I just kind of slipped away. I’d had enough of magic for a

day, or hell, my whole life. I went back to my tiny apartment, showered, ordered a pizza,

and plopped in front of the TV.

Escapism is my friend.

Apparently, it’s not a two way street. First off, the riot made every single

newscast or tabloid show. Even after that, there were other stories. “Tonight, hear about

a UCLA researcher’s new discoveries about magic. Could you be in for some new

abilities?” Now, normally, I’d have switched the channel, but the UCLA researcher was

Rachel.

As I waited through commercials, I checked myself over, looking for any other

injuries from the day. Now, cuts I had, but they were all shallow and really just in the

artificial layer. I couldn’t find a single bruise or sore spot. I checked again since that was

a lot of protesters that had stepped on me. But no, Brad was right about my skin. Maybe



I was tougher than I thought. Really, I looked fine, except for the black circle on my

chest.

“Magic is everywhere nowadays.” The voice on the television turned me back to

the newscast.

“That it is, and no one really knows how it starts. Or do they. A UCLA

researcher may have found something new.”

The picture cut to a recorded interview with Rachel at her lab. “There seems to

be a way to teach certain abilities.”

It went back to the voiceover, “Dr. Rachel Hoffman at the UCLA center for healthsciences has been one of the preeminent researchers in the field of atypical abilities for

the past few years. With her research on those with magic, she had made quite a

discovery.”

The picture cut to another interview with Rachel. “These gifts we see, these

skills, they’re not unique to a single person, at least in terms of increased physical

strength or speed. It also seems that the first ability shown isn’t the end of development.

Due to its non-unique qualities, we find that instruction can give abilities.”

And again to the voiceover, now showing pictures of Rachel’s lab. “Yes, just

because you can run fast today, doesn’t mean you can’t run on walls tomorrow with a

little help. Much research still needs to be done, but perhaps higher education will

someday have a totally different meaning.”

The screen cut back to the anchors. “This is quite a discovery.”

“Yes, but it also raises new ethical issues. What skills should be taught, or should

they even be taught.”



“Yeah, and what about teaching someone who doesn’t have any powers already.”

“That’s right, maybe this could be the first step in giving magical powers to

anyone who wants them.”

I don’t think Rachel ever said that.

Actually, I know she never said that. That’s because she blew up when she saw

the headlines over the next couple days. “Magic for Sale?” “Could Magical Children be

a Eugenic Benefit?” “Large Coffee and Super Strength Please.”

We were all at Ryan’s place that night, watching Rachel storm and pace around

his tiny living room. “I can’t believe this! First they rob me blind of all my research andequipment, and then when I finally get a second on the news, they misquote me and use

me to start some big ministry of misinformation campaign. I said, ‘Due to its non-unique

qualities, we find that instruction can give abilities IN THESE SPECIFIC CASES,’ these

specific cases only. Dammit, why do they even bother interviewing me if they’re just

going to twist my words and use them to start controversy and drum up ratings? I should

just give interviews to Star or TMZ or something, they’ll be just as honest as the

‘reputable’ news sources.”

“We all got problems.”

Rachel turned and glared at me. “This is my life here.”

I lifted my shirt, showing the black circle, and the two-inch black, spidery cracks

in the skin now surrounding it. What do you got to say?

She didn’t have much to say. She just sat down and crossed her arms across her

chest. I had something to say, though. “Anyone have any suggestions?”

“Yeah, break into your house.”



“Anyone have any suggestions, that unlike Ryan’s, won’t get me thrown into

jail?”

Ryan didn’t shut up. “You know, I wonder if your friend Brad had a point. What

could they do to you?”

“This isn’t helping, man. I need to get into the reactor and get this fixed before I

freaking look like the Thing.”

No one had much to say.

“Rachel, you know anyone in your circles who could pull some strings.”

“There’s some help you just don’t want.”“Wait, you know someone who can help? You do, don’t you. Who’s got some

pull?”

“No one, forget it.”

“No, I need this fixed, and if you’re not going to tell me…”

“Use your brain. You know who can help you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t know anyone who can…” And then

I realized something. I did know someone. He was someone who probably had the exact

kind of pull to do this.

And he was exactly the person who I didn’t want to ask.

But now that his name had gotten into my head, there was no getting it out. I tried

to ignore it, tried just going to work and doing my everyday junk. Tried calling everyone

I knew. Tried calling Astrial to see if anyone could help.

It didn’t do a whole lot.



It’s a funny thing when your biggest enemy is your own skin. You can try to

cover it up, try not to look at it, but you know it’s there. Even if it doesn’t feel like

anything, you can still kind of feel something. It’s not really a sensation. Maybe it’s just

an over awareness that something’s not right. And when it’s right in the middle of your

chest, there’s not a whole lot you can do to ignore it.

Even when it’s hidden under a shirt, you’re still wondering if people can see

something off when you’re talking to them. If they look down from your face, you

wonder if maybe it shows through. Maybe it’s spread up to your neck? Maybe it’s only a

matter of time before your whole face falls off and you’re a freak of nature.Maybe most people don’t think about these things.

I thought about these things practically every minute of everyday. But then again,

I’m not most people.

But most people will end up doing whatever it takes to get rid of something like

this, even if the person they have to ask is anything but a friend. Even if they know that

this person definitely does not have your best interests in mind.

I stepped into the Maharin Institute four days later.

“Hello, I have an appointment with Dr. Maharin.”

I guess I am most people.

spellcaster's disease - chapter 19

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