Chapter 48—Earth
“We've been split into two groups for thousands of years. The Followers of Isis—that’s the group I’ve joined—believe we shouldn't attempt to use our powers on Earth, whereas the Followers of Amun think we should.”
“Why wouldn’t w—” I catch myself, barely in time “—you—use your powers, if you have them?”
“That’s the catch, I suppose. On Earth our powers are stronger than in the linked prison world, but acquiring them is only achieved by paying a steep price. We can't use them naturally when we're born—a byproduct of the existence of Terra in the first place. Its entire purpose, really.”
“You said it’s a prison, but I don’t understand.”
“The names, Isis and Amun.” Kahn frowns. “Thousands of years ago, Amun, whom you may have heard referred to as Ra, an ancient Egyptian God, led a vast group of people. No one dared oppose him.”
None of this is a surprise to me—I’m no expert, but when people on Terra kept using the names Isis and Amun, I looked them up. Obsessively, when I had access to a library.
I don’t argue, but he still pauses to convince me. “It’s confusing, and it sounds far-fetched, I know, but so does the concept that humans should be able to telekinetically Lift things. Right?”
Not really. “Sure.”
“And this Amun-Ra, we don’t really know who he was or how he came to be. For a while he was worshipped as two separate entities. Then he was worshipped only as one. Some scholars say Amun was Ra’s father. Some say they were the same. Some say that neither existed and that the pharaohs made them up for political reasons—priests and all that—and that they were combined for the same reason. Some believe Amun-Ra was at one time a human. Others argue that he was always a God. Most of the Egyptian pharaohs claimed to be his physical offspring.”
I read that much myself.
“And somehow, his enemy, Isis—”
“I read Isis was his wife,” I say.
Kahn’s mouth drops open. “You’ve researched—”
“Of course I did. Wouldn’t you?”
“I guess I would.” Kahn’s eyes stare into mine, their icy-blue depths flecked with silver. “Well, apparently Isis, his wife, his enemy, whatever she was to him, somehow created a prison world that binds our powers on Earth, and she named it Terra. People think she either killed or bound Amun to create the prison. The result is that unless something traumatic or terrifying happens to us on Earth, each human born will pass from birth to death without ever knowing we have powers at all.”
“Wait. Are you saying every single human on Earth has some kind of power?”
“All the males, anyway. Not all of them are Lifters or Healers, and their strengths vary widely. But every human on earth would have some kind of power, had Terra not been created. Bear with me for a moment. I’ll get to that part.”
I don’t get it. At all.
“Think of all the men and women and children you see on Terra. Every mother who is on Terra—all her children will be born there, on Terra, too. Every single person on Terra is either someone who can Lift or Heal, or someone who can have a child who can Lift or Heal.”
Children just appearing in their mother’s bellies. The Naming, the Wasting. It all begins to make a bizarre sort of sense. “Terra mirrors Earth, then.”
“In everything, yes.” Kahn looks at his hands. “I wish I could dream of it to experience life there—but I suppose I should be happy that I have powers instead of dreams.”
“Because the women can dream of Terra—but we can’t Lift or Heal, here or there.”
Kahn’s brow furrows, and his voice drops to a whisper. “I know you know me there—I hope that I’m kind to you.”
Poor guy. He knows he’s stuck with a mirror image walking around on another world, but he has no control over what he says or does. I mean—he does—it’s still him. But. This is confusing. “You have been kind to me—helped me, even.”
He exhales. “I’m glad.”
“So the women, they can all dream of Terra?”
He shakes his head. “It’s like the men, sort of. Our strength varies, and so too does the attenuation of the women to Terra. Some may only have a dream once or twice in their lifetimes. Some dream of it regularly.”
“Are there any women who always dream of Terra? Any females who experience every waking second there?”
His jaw drops.
“Because every single time I go to sleep. . .”
“That can’t be right,” he says. “Because you must sleep here for, what? Eight or so hours? You’d only be able to witness eight or so hours of waking time on Terra.”
“I speak every language,” I say. “Can you explain that one?”
Kahn’s eyes widen. “It must be something to do with being the Warden. We believe you’re responsible for ruling Terra—for its upkeep and everything else. I’m not sure how that could be possible, but if anyone can defy the laws of space and time. . .” He shrugs. “I can’t explain it, but I’m in awe.”
Fan-freaking-tastic. I’m an even bigger weirdo than I realized.
Kahn stares at me for a moment and then shivers. “I guess I should explain the rest?”
“Go ahead.”
“The process of gaining access to men’s powers on Earth is commonly called 'Waking.' Typically, the greater the powers, the more difficult it is to gain access to them. Isis leadership believes no one should ever be Woken on purpose, but Amun disagrees. They believe that whatever damage is done to the individual in pursuit of unlocking their power is worth it in the end. They forcibly Wake all their members, as well as those members' male children.”
I turn to face the camera. I wonder who else is watching. “So that's what they wanted to do to my brother?”
“It’s likely. What can you tell us about Amun? What happened last night?” His voice drops to the barest whisper. “What we don’t know is whether you’ve been Woken here.”
Is he helping me? Is he sharing information he shouldn’t? Or is this yet another manipulation?
“You think I can Lift here?”
“Can’t you?” He Lifts a pen from his pocket and flings it through the air toward me.
I could block it. I could bat it out of the way easily. I could even seize it and flip it around and impale him with it.
But I don’t.
I let it wham into my forehead and fall to the ground with a clatter.
“Ouch.” I clap my palm against my head, where the beginning of a splitting headache is now forming. “Why’d you do that?”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I momentarily lost control.” But he looks pointedly at the camera. “We can't say for sure, but we believe Amun orchestrated the long sequence of horrible events that happened to you and your brother with the express purpose of trying to Wake Jesse.”
“How did they even know who we were?”
“Your parents are known in our circles on Earth. When they had a son, they considered fostering him out, to prevent Amun from doing just what they did. We all wanted to protect your brother, to prevent him from having to undergo something like, well, like what took place last night. As I mentioned, the stronger the power, the harder it is to Awaken.”
The pieces click into place. “My parents put us up for adoption and had the records redacted to hide us.” I come by my paranoia and desire to run honestly, I guess. “Except Amun found us anyway, and they orchestrated the car crash. Only, it didn't work.”
“We feel awful about your adoptive parents' deaths. They were good people, and they had no idea what risk they were taking. They knew nothing about Amun or Isis or Terra.”
“Even their deaths didn’t Wake Jesse.” Or me.
I close my eyes and think about that day, the day my whole world tilted on its axis for the first time.
The first time I remember it happening, anyway.
Why don’t I remember my birth parents? Why didn’t Jesse? “How old were we when it happened? The adoption I mean.”
“You were three. Jesse was four.”
But. . .“If my parents were only worried about Jesse, why did they give me up, too?” I don't ask whether I was broken.
“According to your file, you and Jesse always had a special bond, far beyond the normal sibling connection. When they took him to his new family, the two of you clung to one another. After they pried you apart and took you home, you both refused to eat. With no advance planning, and in separate locations, you behaved the same way, refusing all food. You'd spit out anything they shoved at you, or scream so much you puked up anything forced into you. After a week, your parents feared that neither of you would survive if they kept you apart. Even then, at such a young age, it was both of you or neither.”
“Why don't I remember any of that? Or my birth parents?”
“We have people who specialize in easing transitions, Healers who are adept with things like that.”
I scowl at him. “Why didn't they make me forget Jesse?”
“They tried.” He sighs. “It didn't take.”
Because Jesse has always been my anchor—and I’ve been his.
And now he's gone, ripped away from me.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
“Our files end with you running from a group home, but I’m guessing the Followers of Amun didn't give up.”
I shake my head. “No, they didn't.”
“What happened last night?” Kahn’s eyes are intent, his shoulders rigid. This is the question he’s been working up to asking me.
They want to know whether I’ve been Woken. As much as I'd love to trust Kahn, as drawn to him as I am, even here, I can’t risk it.
The only person I’ve ever trusted is lying on a stretcher right now.