back.
He pulled back a bit, clearly not expecting my aggressive counter. He was, after all, older, and if he was running around quizzing people about their standings, then it reasoned that his were near the top.
“You should learn to speak to people with more respect. It might have a big impact on your future,” he said, now going for the rational older student approach.
“Hah, good advice. Try some yourself. I’m not in your program. I’m not here for programming. My skill set is… different... very different. It doesn’t fit into your neat little world. So step off, MIT. Bother someone else with your status game. Or maybe you could fix your own cell phone, if you’re so smart and all,” I said, pointing at his pocket, where I could sense it. The cloud that I could only feel, not see, had crept closer, moving into unopened laptops and cell phones until it was as close as the douche canoe’s own Android treasure.
Part of me was weirding out about how vivid this all was: the image of the cloud, the sense of it in individual pieces of electronics that I wasn’t even touching. The other part was noticing that it hadn’t come near my own phone or the Macbook in the computer case at my feet.
MIT frowned at me, pulled his phone and looked at it, then started to push keys with increasing frustration.
“What did you do to my phone?” he demanded.
“What’s the matter? Need help? Here, let me look at it,” I offered, extending my right hand toward him. The runes and glyphs on my skin darkened to visibility as my hand got near the phone in his hand. The cloud pulled back, the phone’s display lit up, MIT gaped at me, and the guard at the desk called my name.
“Mr O’Carroll? Sir, our system is back up and your appointment is clear. We’ve called the executive suite and someone will be right down to get you… sir.”
“Thank you,” I said, mildly shocked at the sudden respect in his voice. What the hell was on that monitor screen?
MIT had an odd look on his face; half constipation and half strangled frustration.
“We done here?” I asked.
I’ll give him this… his recovery time was fast. The confusion left his face and he leaned closer. “Done? I don’t think we’ve started.”
“Good,” I said, smiling. “Because the last thing we want to do is get started. That would be bad. Real bad.”
A woman’s loud gasp by the elevator precluded his response and we both turned to look.
One of the center elevators had opened and the woman was backing away from it, a look of panic on her face.
A massive wolf flowed out of the elevator and stopped, swiveling its big head till it locked on to us like a tank turret. Seven feet long, standing three-and-a-half feet at the shoulder with a black cape over tannish brown fur, it was impressive and instantly recognizable to just about anyone in the world who had seen any form of media in the last six or seven months.
Awasos started walking right toward MIT and me, his form suddenly shimmering and shifting until a much, much larger Kodiak brown bear walked where the wolf had been moments before.
God’s gift to programming pulled back, tripping in his haste to get back to the other kids, who were either frozen or falling back themselves.
Awasos ignored him and stayed focused on me, while everyone else focused on him. I’m not sure that anyone else noticed the woman who stepped off the elevator behind ‘Sos, but I sure did. It must have been one of the few times she hadn’t commanded instant attention upon entering a room, and I think she might have been amused by it. Or perhaps just amused to see the massive beast beeline straight for me.
“What do we do?” Andrew the guard asked.
“We don’t do anything… anything at all,” the other one, Joe, answered.
As if they could. For the second time in
He pulled back a bit, clearly not expecting my aggressive counter. He was, after all, older, and if he was running around quizzing people about their standings, then it reasoned that his were near the top.
“You should learn to speak to people with more respect. It might have a big impact on your future,” he said, now going for the rational older student approach.
“Hah, good advice. Try some yourself. I’m not in your program. I’m not here for programming. My skill set is… different... very different. It doesn’t fit into your neat little world. So step off, MIT. Bother someone else with your status game. Or maybe you could fix your own cell phone, if you’re so smart and all,” I said, pointing at his pocket, where I could sense it. The cloud that I could only feel, not see, had crept closer, moving into unopened laptops and cell phones until it was as close as the douche canoe’s own Android treasure.
Part of me was weirding out about how vivid this all was: the image of the cloud, the sense of it in individual pieces of electronics that I wasn’t even touching. The other part was noticing that it hadn’t come near my own phone or the Macbook in the computer case at my feet.
MIT frowned at me, pulled his phone and looked at it, then started to push keys with increasing frustration.
“What did you do to my phone?” he demanded.
“What’s the matter? Need help? Here, let me look at it,” I offered, extending my right hand toward him. The runes and glyphs on my skin darkened to visibility as my hand got near the phone in his hand. The cloud pulled back, the phone’s display lit up, MIT gaped at me, and the guard at the desk called my name.
“Mr O’Carroll? Sir, our system is back up and your appointment is clear. We’ve called the executive suite and someone will be right down to get you… sir.”
“Thank you,” I said, mildly shocked at the sudden respect in his voice. What the hell was on that monitor screen?
MIT had an odd look on his face; half constipation and half strangled frustration.
“We done here?” I asked.
I’ll give him this… his recovery time was fast. The confusion left his face and he leaned closer. “Done? I don’t think we’ve started.”
“Good,” I said, smiling. “Because the last thing we want to do is get started. That would be bad. Real bad.”
A woman’s loud gasp by the elevator precluded his response and we both turned to look.
One of the center elevators had opened and the woman was backing away from it, a look of panic on her face.
A massive wolf flowed out of the elevator and stopped, swiveling its big head till it locked on to us like a tank turret. Seven feet long, standing three-and-a-half feet at the shoulder with a black cape over tannish brown fur, it was impressive and instantly recognizable to just about anyone in the world who had seen any form of media in the last six or seven months.
Awasos started walking right toward MIT and me, his form suddenly shimmering and shifting until a much, much larger Kodiak brown bear walked where the wolf had been moments before.
God’s gift to programming pulled back, tripping in his haste to get back to the other kids, who were either frozen or falling back themselves.
Awasos ignored him and stayed focused on me, while everyone else focused on him. I’m not sure that anyone else noticed the woman who stepped off the elevator behind ‘Sos, but I sure did. It must have been one of the few times she hadn’t commanded instant attention upon entering a room, and I think she might have been amused by it. Or perhaps just amused to see the massive beast beeline straight for me.
“What do we do?” Andrew the guard asked.
“We don’t do anything… anything at all,” the other one, Joe, answered.
As if they could. For the second time in
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