INITIUM NOVUM: Part 1 Read Free Page B

the sight of her.
    “I’d have a hard-on for me if I were a
pre-teen too. Hell, I’d have a hard-on for me if I was thirty,” she
thinks to herself, still watching her dark reflection in the faux
mirror of the train’s window. Finally, she decides to do it. She
fixes her tits, cupping the “bad boys” and pushing them together
inside her blazer.
    “A bit of spanking material for the horny
lad,” she says to herself as she turns her head to the boy and
winks.
    If she can be asked who she most likely
resembles, she’d say Marilyn Monroe. Truthfully, she only resembles
someone trying to impersonate Marilyn Monroe. Not that the young
boy has enough blood left in his brain to give thought to who or
what she’s thinks she resembles.
    The train enters the station and her
reflection in the dark window becomes the subway platform before
her. Oddly enough, even without her reflection in the glass, she
can still see herself in the scene just outside of the train doors;
she only needs to close her eyes and picture it.
    Now, if Laura Cohen can find all the
information she needs concerning an injured, elderly woman, she’ll
be well on her way to retrieving the one business card she should
not have given out.

CHAPTER 3:

    Go to her.
    Since the voice has yet to let him down, he
follows through and walks up to the gypsy-looking young lady
inside. Despite her weird, other-worldly style, the lady is a
looker; long, curly, black hair, and cold blue eyes.
    “How can I help you?” The girl asks with a
smile, leaning her weight on her elbows over the newsstand
counter.
    “I’m here for the interview,” he says, his
response sounding more like a question than a statement.
    She looks at him, her head tilted, her face
nearly resting on her shoulder. He smiles because she looks cute to
him, like a sad puppy. When she straightens her head, a smile
crosses her face too.
    “What’s your name?” Her smile widens even more
so when she sees the blank look on his face. “No. Of course you
don’t know.”
    She is dead-on, as correct as correct gets.
This surprises the young man.
    “No, I don’t,” he replies. “How do you
know?”
    “I’ve gotten good at predicting things, you
know?”
    “Like a psychic?”
    “Like, but not exactly,” she says, staring
into him so deeply he recoils in discomfort.
    He stares at the ground as he contemplates her
statement. “Was I drugged?”
    “You’ve never taken a drug in your
life?”
    “I’ve taken drugs. I know what drugs feel
like. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have a reference point.”
    “You have knowledge of it. But you have never
done any before. You haven’t done anything before today. Anything.
Ever.”
    “What are you talking about?” He asks as
mentally numb as ever.
    “Give me your wallet,” she says.
    He complies. She takes it, opens it, and
retrieves his photo I.D. After examining it, she places it face up
on the counter and slides it to him. He picks it up and examines it
as well. Everything on the card seems normal except for there being
no name on it.
    “I don’t get it,” he says. “What’s happening?
Am I being erased by the government or something?”
    “No, sweetie, not erased, written. The exact
opposite is happening to you. You are brand new. The universe is
catching up and you can’t know who you are until the course is set.
But, you’ve already messed up, haven’t you?”
    “How?”
    “The old lady, hot coffee, hard floor,” she
answers.
    “How did you know that?”
    “This interview, this is meant as a briefing
of sorts. To tell you what the universe wants from you.” She says
this in a serious tone.
    “The universe wants something from me?” He
repeats with an air of derision in his tone, as he stares blankly
at her, not quite following what she’s saying anymore.
    “The coffee incident,” she reminds him. “An
old lady is just now arriving at Beth Israel Medical Center. Her
condition is serious.” This quickly offends him. He does not