short timers: Episode 2a

Jance made his way back to his quarters with a mixture of relief and excitement. How was he supposed to teach someone how to use the Field the way he did? He didn’t even really know how he used it! He was just meditating one day, trying to slow down his brain, from all the information he’d accumulated over the years of his life, and boom! There it was. It was hard enough to believe that an ability like this even existed, let alone try to describe to someone how to access with the same ease that he did. It was a serious problem for him.

He understood Morgan’s point of view though, and considering the position of any leader in a system of chaotically evolving abilities and circumstances, understanding the potential assets available would be paramount. But how to teach it? Jance was baffled.

He came to his room and placed his wrist up against a small black box on the wall next to the handle. Each Short Timer was granted some specific privacy. This was insured by the scanners that controlled the locks to each members quarters. A small computer chip was implanted in each individual so that when the chip was passed over the sensor, not only did Morgan and certain members of the science group know that person was in there room, but also that they were alive and healthy. The computer chip monitored heartbeat, brain wave signals, and hormone secretions. With that information, if a Short Timer couldn’t contact Morgan or anyone else, at the very least anyone monitoring the system would know if a person was under heavy stress, or in a coma, or any other various ailment that would cause any of those systems to change.

A small green light flashed once, and the door lock disengaged, a lot like a hotel room door. Jance walked into the room and the lights came on, and dimmed instantly. The same chip controlled the lighting and climate control functions of the room. Jance’s computer terminal powered up, and flipped to the last place he was in his journal.

Jance sat down and wrote a brief article on his interview with Morgan, and a longer article on the evenings mission. He did that sometimes, writing backwards in time frame, just to keep some memories fresh and accessible. Even though Short Timers had near perfect recall, sometimes the brain would cross link one set of information with another. This had to be worked around in any way comfortable and possible, and everyone had their own tricks. The only downfall to the recall systems, is that after a little while, the memories gained after the procedure took precedence over some of the older memories unless an operator spent a little time keeping the information fresh. In other words, where he could remember everything perfectly from the evenings mission, his childhood and university years were growing a little fuzzy. The information was still there, just needed some cohesion. Jance kept things fresh by writing a journal. As did Morgan and Ed. What the other Short Timers did Jance wasn’t certain, but he didn’t necessarily care. Their memories were theirs. He couldn’t think of any reason at the moment why he should care.

He closed up the electronic journal, and leaned back in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his mind wander. As soon as he did, he was in the Field again, this time he tried to remember exactly how he’d done it. He let go of the Field, then brought it back up, let it go, brought it up. After three or four times he thought he had a fairly accurate description in mind for telling Morgan what he was going to look, and feel for when he successfully entered the Field. He opened his computer again, and picked a different screen than his journal. He typed across the top of it, in floating orange letters in bold writing.. ‘The Psyche Field.” and began writing down his thoughts, opinions, and presumed truths about the Fields origins and uses.

Two hours later he had a 15 page document, short and to the point, almost as terse and heartless as an electronics instruction manual. Even when he stepped out of the realm of ‘fact’ and into the realm of ‘educated guessing’, Jance made the sections short, clear, and devoid of bullshit. He reread the paper a couple of times and decided that it reminded him of short burst machine gun fire on paper. He thought that would be (at least he hoped it would be) somewhat appealing to Morgan’s sensibilities when it came to reading through material for information, not pleasure.

“Alright, I’m in.” Morgan said. “But on two conditions.”

“Oh s**t.” Tsang said. He always enjoyed using English curses. They just sort of fell out of the mouth and onto the floor. They sounded to him like the bodily functions they described.

“Oh it’s not that bad, but since the two of us are going out on a limb for the sake of your brother‘s..”

“Former brother.” Tsang corrected.

“…Former brother’s survival. I would like to ask a small favor in return.”

“Fair enough. What do you require?”

“I would like you to spend some time with the other Short Timers, and myself, regarding our training. You’ve already proven yourself adept at every fighting style that I know of, and an easy match for Stella’s abilities. I want the rest of the team as capable as you are.”

“Deal.”

Morgan blinked in surprise at Tsang’s easy agreement. All of his Short Timer’s were excellent fighters… But Tsang was something else entirely. Morgan expected some argument based on ancient agreements with Martial Arts secrets or some such weirdness… But Tsang offered up no hesitation at all.

“Really?” Morgan asked, still skeptical. “You’re not breaking any ancient codes or anything?”

“Nope.” Tsang said. “There aren’t really any codes to be broken… of course I’ll keep some secrets to myself… like how to fly and walk through walls… but apart from those things I’ll teach everything I know.”

Tsang was f*****g with him. But Morgan didn’t sense any meanness. “Fair enough.” Morgan said.

“What’s the second condition?” Tsang asked.

Morgan smiled, a little touch of malice crept into it. “I need to visit someone tonight, someone outside. I’d like you to join me for back up.”

Tsang responded. “It’s a date.”

“One more question.” Morgan said. “Where did you get the Saki?”

“It’s a little something I had Jack brew up.” Tsang said.

Jack was to the Science Group, what Tsang was to the Short Timer’s… The Genius genius. He was, as far as Morgan could tell, absolutely unstoppable in his mastery of applied science.

“I didn’t know he took an interest in alcohol.” Morgan said.

“He doesn’t really.” Tsang said. “But I asked him to concoct something that wouldn’t damage us, but would act like Saki.”

“He seems to have done an alright job.”

“... if you say so.” Tsang said, and produced the container again. “For Saki, this would make fine horse piss.” He poured a small amount into the tiny cup and slid it over to Morgan. “But at least it won’t kill us any faster than we are already dying. If you don’t count the taste that is.”

Morgan barked a laugh. “I wonder how he would do with beer?” Morgan asked absently.

“Might be worth finding out.” Tsang said.

They both took a drink of the bitter liquid, wincing hard at the burn at the back of the throat.

“Then again maybe not.” Morgan said. “Jesus that’s awful.”

In the early afternoon Morgan went in for his infusion. Suffering the same indignity and mild torture that he’d watched Stella and Jance go through earlier, as well as Ed and Jimmy when they returned from the night on the pier. He’d have to go through it again when he got back.

There was no set time on when they received their infusions, and sometimes they mixed up the chemicals to allow for more physical activities. Tonight Morgan and Tsang would be going out, they needed the full dose.

Tsang was in the room adjacent to Morgan’s, quietly sitting in a cross-legged position. He was meditating. He was in the Field. He was hidden. The doctors and scientists could do almost anything to his body right now and he could choose to feel it or not. The IV in his arm would sting if he allowed it to, the stomach tube would make him gag if he paid it any attention. But he didn’t. The doctors in the room had become accustomed to this behavior from him, and they believed he was out of body, or temporarily catatonic. They held their conversation around him as if he didn’t exist. Like two grave diggers over a corpse.

But Tsang was in the Field. He heard everything.

What he heard disturbed him greatly.

“You know?” Dr. on the far left of the room said. “I think they’re planning something big.”

“What do you mean, something big? And Who are you talking about?” His friend behind and to the right of Tsang said.

“Dr. Marcus, and the other groupies up top. I think they’re planning something that’ll involve all of us.”

Who is Dr. Marcus? Tsang thought.

“Well,” Guy on the Right. “He’s the big boss, he’ll do whatever he wants with us.”

Guy on the left. “Yeah, but he always let us in on some of the info in the past. I’m just thinking that they’ve been really quiet up there for the last couple of weeks, and I’d kinda like to know what they’re up to.”

“I know, me too.” Guy on the right. “But honestly man, what these guys can do? That’s enough to keep me out of their business.”

“Yeah. That’s usually enough for me too. I just wonder if it’s something that we should be concerned about.”

Tsang would have like to have volunteered some wisdom to that statement, Anything hidden is something to be concerned about.

Using the Field, as carefully as he would sneaking up on a sleeping tiger, Tsang slid up the facility and tried to explore the upper floor. He discovered a block, like running into dark glass. Uh Oh. He thought, and returned to his body. He didn’t open his eyes, or make any outward signs that he was aware. He was curious though, the doctors in the room had to wonder if this was information that Tsang knew about. Were they trying to coax it out of him? Did they believe that he knew something about what was going on up there? He couldn’t imagine that they could be so stupid as to believe this little game would work. Then again they did seem very young.

He slowly opened his eyes, keeping them half lidded in the intense light of the room. He would have to discuss this with Morgan when he thought it was safe. Far away from the facility, later tonight.

Dr. on the left gently touched Tsang’s shoulder to get his attention.

“We are ready to remove the infusion, do you feel ok?” They were both young, probably no older than Jance, perhaps younger. They seemed intelligent enough, though from their last exchange, Tsang wondered. But they looked at him with somewhat expectant eyes, they were digging for information.

They removed the needles, and carefully removed the stomach tube. It tasted terrible, but he’d gotten used to it over the last few months. The Doctors still stared.

“Tsang, do you know what is going on up there?” Doctor on the left asked.

“Shhh.” Tsang said, placing a single index finger to his lips. Then he winked. Better to keep them guessing for the time being.

They both nodded agreement, looking nervous and foolish.

Tsang slid off the bed and padded lightly towards the door. His mind spinning in circles of concern and curiosity.

Morgan finished receiving his infusion at about the same time. He and Tsang bumped into each other in the hall.

Tsang looked wary. We have more to discuss. He said and walked off towards his quarters, Morgan assumed to go get dressed in something more comfortable than the grey scrubs they were wearing. Tsang sounded ominous, and Morgan’s internal radar gave a single loud warning in his head. Something was up. Considering the discussion the two had just finished in his office earlier, Morgan had expected Tsang to be in a little bit of a lighter mood.

Of course. He replied, watching the small man disappear down the hall through a set of double doors. Meet me in my office when your changed.

No. He said. Tonight, when we go see your friend.

Fair enough . Morgan said. His internal radar went from a solo warning, to ape s**t in that instant. Tsang did not sound pleased.

Despite their earlier discussion, Tsang didn’t completely trust Morgan. He’d expected this. Mistrust was how Tsang lived his life, and managed to stay alive for so long. After that brief discussion between the doctors, and his blunted exploration of the top floor of the facility, Tsang had more questions than he had answers to. In his mind this was an intolerable situation, one that required digging for information from his new brother. Tsang despised being ignorant, or feeling like a fool.

Whether or not either man would honor the new brotherhood was still up for debate, however, Tsang had been honest when he’d offered his loyalty. For no reason that he could identify other than a hopeful feeling of trust for the leader of the Short Timers. He wondered if Morgan was a talented hypnotist, that could ease Tsang into a false sense of security. Tsang doubted it. But he couldn’t explain away his uneasiness. Tsang was not a purist in the sense of honor and trust. He’d betrayed many people through his years as an assassin, keeping his true honor for himself. His betrayals were never discovered, because there were never any survivors. Tsang wondered if Morgan was another man he’d have to betray.

Tsang opened the door to his small room, passing his wrist in front of the sensor to unlock it. The lights came on, the holographic console came on. Tsang walked to the center of the room, where a thin black pad lay situated carefully and consciously to maximize Tsang’s comfort in this cold place. He didn’t need much space to feel comfortable; a place to meditate, a bed to sleep in (no longer necessary), and a place to eat (also no longer necessary). Tsang sat, lotus style, in the center of the pad and began to meditate. He was no longer concerned with the problem of the secret doctor, and his secret rooms. He was no longer worried about Morgan. He was no longer worried about the Field. Tsang now traveled above the Field, beyond his feeling of ignorance and foolishness. In this place, Tsang was in his true home, and in this home he was free.

Morgan met with Jance, and they went over the document that he’d prepared. Morgan was impressed, but after a lifetime of reading military manuals he was bored with the bloodless descriptions. He asked that Jance explain to him what he’d written and take him through exercises that would allow him to access the Field effectively. This seemed to surprise the young man, and he looked a little offended. Morgan understood, and playing the conscientious leader he explained his reasons, and patted Jance’s ego.

“You did good with the document kid, and it will be helpful for reference, but you have an extraordinary ability that I would prefer to have some one on one training with you in order to better understand what I need to do.”

They were in his office again, the computer screens behind him making Jance’s eyes glow.

“I understand, and I’ll do my best.” Jance said, his pride repaired, he proceeded to explain his beliefs about what the Psyche field was.

“The Psyche Field is an energy system that connects all living things on this planet together. We’re all attached to it; organic, inorganic, alive or dead. Science and metaphysics have explored this idea for a long time, that there was something connecting us all together above or below the surface of our perceptions. I believe that... through our transformation processes as Short Timers.... we’ve somehow leapt our evolutionary track farther ahead and we can now detect, communicate, and manipulate the Psyche Field.”

“Why did you call it the Psyche Field?” Morgan said, making certain that Jance was aware that he wouldn’t be some passive student. Morgan had a lot of questions about the Field, and he would pursue his curiosity directly.

“I don’t know exactly, other than it seemed an appropriate name based on a description. The ‘Field’ denoted to me a sense of openness, where ‘Psyche’ described the process with which it was accessed.”

“So what are we experiencing when we enter it?” Morgan asked. He was leaning forward, closing the gap between the two of them.

“I believe we’re experiencing a set of perceptive filter crashes. Say for example our general senses. Sight, Taste, Touch, etc. Each one is limited in its scope. We know x-rays exist, but we can’t see them. We know that there are sub and super sonic sound frequencies, but our ears aren’t good enough to perceive them. It’s simply a question of evolution and the bare minimum requirements for the human species to continue to evolve. Also, of course, is the question of our environment. We, as humans, have no reason to see in the dark, or smell things hundreds of miles away, or hear sub sonic sounds. Perhaps as a product of natural mutation we had those abilities in the past, but with neglect comes atrophy, and we lost our heightened senses for a trade off.” Jance was a good speaker, and a natural teacher. He wasn’t arrogant or over bearing. He was just putting forth his ideas, but he understood that they were just ideas, and left them open to be challenged.

“So now we can access these things in our minds?” Morgan asked. “How?”

Jance thought for a moment before responding. “I believe that what we experience with the Field, is a byproduct of the infusion processes on the brain. We experience the Field with our mind because it has somehow linked with the energy vibrations around us. The Field has less to do with our perception, and more to do with our imagination linking with physical energetic receptors in the brain. It’s like we’ve always had an antenna situated somewhere within our heads, but with modern science giving us computers, cell phones, vehicles, and convenience stores the antenna went dead or at least quiet. But, due to the infusions we receive during the Short Timer process, the antenna is receiving again, and if we give our imaginations a little room to work, we can perceive the Field as mental impressions.

“I think that one way or the other the signals have been getting in, but for the most part humans haven‘t had much use for the information. Now, where we can use the information for what we do, I believe the antenna is active and receiving full signal. But, we have no form of reference to the information we receive. So honestly we have to get creative.”

“What do you mean by ‘mental impressions’?” Morgan asked. He was sucked in. Operating in receiver mode.

“Think of it as memories attached to objects. Suppose I tell you to think of an apple. You create a mental image of what an apple looks like, filling in the blanks of what I’ve left out. Is it large? Small? Green? Or Red? Your mind will decide what you choose to see based on your preferences. Now if I tell you to taste the apple a similar thing takes place, but then you have to decide what it taste’s like based on what you know of apples, and particularly the ones that you like.”

“Ok, so how does this work with what you do?” Morgan asked.

“That’s a good question. Because what I do is more complicated by far than a basic apple.” He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Morgan was patient, but he was excited to finally have the opportunity to understand the Field.

“What I do, is listen to the Field, and turn impressions into data, in this case sensory data, that the rest of the group can understand. Say for example when I’m up on the roof, monitoring the people below me. Short Timers, enemies, bystanders…anyone. Each individual gives off a certain frequency of energy, both mental and physical. You saw an illustration of that today when we discussed my ‘jacking’ of the shot gunners body. I can locate individuals by feeling that frequency and incorporating it into a form. I can feel heartbeat, blood pressure, and mental frequencies. I can tell if a person is a man or a woman by the feel of their bodies. Now, that still doesn’t tell me what they look like, but I can figure that out if I can get closer, or aim a little tighter on their energies. These energies come through, and I can mimic what I believe that person looks like in my mind. I’m not always accurate, but I’m pretty close.”

“What about buildings and inanimate objects?”

“Same thing. If I don’t get a direct energy from them, I can sometimes get a reflection. But again things are not always accurate.”

“So when you took over that guy, were you seeing through his eyes? Or was it something else?”

“I was seeing through his eyes. I’d hitched a ride on his brain waves, and essentially booted his consciousness for a moment.” Jance seemed very certain of all of this information, but he still wasn’t stating anything as fact. It seemed he was being careful not to state that he knew everything there was to know about the Field, which Morgan considered wise. Particularly after his discussion with Tsang.

“We discussed how you ‘jacked’ his consciousness, but it raises some questions about consciousness in general. I figured consciousness was a function of the brain, and neither could operate without the other.” Morgan was curious about that tidbit. It just didn’t fit in his reasonable mind.

“Rationally I would agree. However, there are plenty of scientific pursuits based on the premise that consciousness, mind, and body are all separate. I never cared too much for the study until now. However, where I’m living in a world where consciousness can separate from the body, and where the Will dominates the road, it makes all of the arguments useless to me.”

“The Will?”

“Yeah. None of these things could be possible if I didn’t want them to happen.” Jance leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Look Morgan, I don’t know if all that I’m telling you is true. All I know is that what I’ve been messing around with has been working for me. I don’t know the arguments between mind, consciousness, and body. I spent some time in Psychology when I was in school, but not long enough to bullshit myself into believing I knew anything about it. Yes, science understands much of the brains functions, but they still have a very difficult time understanding what the mind does. Honestly as soon as a you get a Biologist on the stage, and introduce a question on the mind he’ll probably get pissed and tell you to talk to a philosopher.” Jance leaned back in his chair again.

“That was the training I had before coming to this place. Now everything is different.”

“Ok. Fair enough. We’ll leave the Mind vs. Consciousness argument alone.” Morgan said. “So here’s the next question for you kid….”

“Wait a minute, let me finish answering your question about the will.” Jance interrupted. “I’m sorry I got off on a tangent there, but the will is important to our understanding of what we do in the Field.”

“Ok. Shoot.”

“Alright.” Jance leaned forward again, and fixed Morgan with a steady gaze. “The will is absolutely necessary for the Field to work. You have to want to believe in what you’re experiencing.” He was quiet for several seconds, like he was trying to add something to the statement, and couldn’t think of anything.

“You lost me kid. What the hell does that mean. Want to believe in what I‘m experiencing? How can I not believe what I‘m experiencing?” Morgan said, for the first time since the conversation started he felt the sting of frustration.

Jance sighed. “It means that we need to start experimenting, and hope that I can describe it while we explore.”

Morgan could see that Jance was frustrated with his inability to explain that one aspect of the Field. But the kid had done well in Morgan’s eyes. He’d already cleared up a few questions that Morgan had been curious about…except.

“Wait a minute Jance. There’s one more thing I’d like to know before we get started.”

“Sure.”

“Why, do you think, you came so quickly to understanding the Field, where the rest of us only get a little taste.” The little taste Morgan referred to was the telepathy. He wanted to know what the kid thought was the key to his success. Now that Morgan had discovered Tsang’s abilities to go into the Field, Morgan wondered what the cross correlation was between the two individuals that made them more talented than others.

“I’ve thought about that a lot over the last few weeks.” Jance said, “And I think it has to do with my background in the sciences, my long time habit of meditation…” Bingo! Morgan thought. “…And maybe my youth compared to all of you.” The cross correlation between Jance and Tsang was the meditation. Morgan was aware that Tsang meditated, but this was the first he’d heard of Jance meditating.

“Ok, before I give you s**t for calling me old…”

“..I didn’t!..”

“Relax kid, I’m f*****g with you.” Morgan heard Jance sigh, and smiled. “The last question that I’d like for you to try to answer is this: Why do you have to be functioning in the Field for the rest of us to experience it?”

“That’s a really good question…” Jance’s eyebrows pinched together. “When I first started my experimentation with the Field I was in a deep meditation. I wasn’t expecting anything other that the usual. But I can say that it was the only way I could get close to sleep. I can’t tell you how much I miss a good long nap, or a night of dreams.” Jance looked tired and sad when he said this. Morgan understood completely and nodded his head.

“Anyway… So I was in deep meditation. Trying to just…be…for a minute or two without my mind racing a thousand miles a second. Since I was a kid in high school I always wanted to try alpha projection, and have an out of body experience. So I figured, ‘hey we’re already affecting telepathy day in and day out. Why not alpha?’. So I started experimenting with that. Sure enough, I lost feeling of my body, and just started floating around the room. I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything, I was just there. It was then that I noticed the feel. At first it was the light in the room. I could feel it’s frequency, and feel it’s reflection off the walls. It reminded me of being underwater in a current, how the flow of it rippling against me from different directions, it was very peaceful. After awhile I started to feel other things. The vibration of the walls as the heating system clicked on. The feel of a conversation between a couple of doctors on the floor above me. I started to wander around and check things out. I kept at it, and kept at it. It wasn’t until I cross referenced some information from a conversation that I had eavesdropped on that I thought there was anything more to it than just occupying a tired and bored brain. I started to ‘ping’ with my mind. Sending out little signals around me, and seeing if I could feel a return. Like echo location.” Jance leaned forward again.

“I started to feel heartbeats, and patterns. I just got better and better at it the more I experimented. That was when I started wondering about the Fields uses, and decided to tell you about it.”

Morgan remembered that day, he thought the kid was totally bonkers at first. When Jance said ‘Here, I can show you.’ Morgan started to pay more attention. Jance sent a telepathic image of a room that Morgan had just stepped out of with two doctors, and a med tech. He sent Morgan another image where Morgan had the impression of heart beats, and he could hear snippets of conversation. Later he cross referenced the information with a video feed from the room. The information Jance had sent him, and the video feed were identical.

After a couple weeks of research, Morgan wanted Jance to go with them on a mission, to see what he could learn. Again, all the information was accurate. And the Short Timers could use Jance’s vision to ‘see’ the lay of the land without the use of electronics. They discovered that just by Jance being there, the telepathic link between them all was much stronger. That was a couple of months ago, and Jance continued to learn more. As he learned, he tried to share. But for some reason the science group couldn’t receive the information that Jance was sending them, no matter how many different ways they tried. But none of the science group could use telepathy either, so they were blind to Jance’s abilities.

But Morgan wasn’t.

Now they had computer systems that Jance had designed receiving information from the Field. The progress they’d made was amazing.

Morgan was ashamed that he’d spent more time making the trick work, than taking the time to sit with Jance and understanding how it worked. Even now the only reason he wanted to learn how to operate the Field was to make sure that it was maintainable should Jance die. Not anymore, he thought.

“I think the only reason that everyone else needs me around to access the Field is because I have the most experience with it. It’s easier to use my experiences than to have to create their own.” Jance said.

“Well,” Morgan said, leaning forward in his chair. “They’re gonna have to now. And that includes me.”

“Then let’s get started.” Jance said. “Besides, I’m getting tired of hearing myself talk.”

Morgan and Jance worked for about an hour establishing the foundation for Morgan’s view of the field. The hardest part for both of them was getting Morgan into the state of mind required to make contact with the Field directly. It required a calm meditative mind, open to new idea’s and perceptions. The Field was based on vibration, and perceived interpretation. Imagination, a trait usually trained out of military men, proved near impossible. Jance pulled out all the stops trying to train Morgan how to sense the Field for himself. At one point Jance literally had to ‘invade’ Morgans mind in order to give them a point of reference of symbols, experiences, and memories so Jance could lead Morgan to discover for himself the conduit that lead to the Field. The closest state of mind he could come up with was with Morgan’s weapons training. Snipers are trained to attach their conscious state to the target, to ‘be the target’ as it were. Jance discovered that in that state of mind Morgan had just a shadow of the wide concentrative state required to make the link. They studied those memories thoroughly until Morgan understood how much his consciousness was  actually open when he was staring down a rifle sight.

It was a sudden breakthrough. The idea just clicked, and suddenly Morgan could access the field as quickly as Jance, even though his perceptions were different. Jance understood that in order to teach the Psyche Field, he had to understand how to access the underlying Zen Master within each individual.

Morgan described his version of the Field as black and white, humming and in almost constant motion. Everything had depth and weight, but nothing had color. Morgan asked Jance if he understood what caused that, and Jance could only shrug. Jance told him he believed it may have something to with a predominant sensory input.

“The mind receives the information through one source, but the mental image has to come from something else. That’s where the imagination comes into play. When the vibrations suggest a wall, the mind has to extrapolate that information and place the texture, material, solidity, and weight of the wall. Perhaps your mind will learn to interpret more information later, but for now it doesn’t require the color. Especially when the other tactile impressions, the ones we’re unaccustomed to receiving anyway, are still very new for the mind to understand.

“Also I think that a mental predisposition is coming into play here.” Jance said. “I think that, because I am a scientist and focus so much attention on my mental state, images and impressions that normally wouldn’t be perceived we’re easier to conjure. Where as your warrior training predisposes you to understand and perceive the real. See it, hear it, touch it, taste it… These are the things a man of action needs to understand in order to be successful at his job. Imagination would lead to self doubt, needless worry, apprehension, and hesitation. Anyone of these things means death for the warrior.”

“So you think that warriors have no imagination?” Morgan said, giving Jance a sideways look. A sarcastic grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes looked tired but excited. Morgan had worked his a*s off for this success, and it was indeed a huge success.

“No no, not at all!” Jance said. “I was just pointing out that imagination will lead an individual into fear based thought. The warrior can have imagination, and I’m certain that they do. My point is, that in a life or death situation, the unimaginative warrior who is trained to pay attention to his surroundings, follow orders as well as his training, will live. Where the imaginative warrior in the same situation will probably be more focused on the outcome, which will spiral towards fear. I think a fundamental rule of battle is that a fearful soldier is a dead soldier.”

Morgan agreed this was probably true, but it raised many questions about the Field.

“So by accessing the Field, and using predominantly imaginative processes, am I leaving myself open to fear based impressions?”

Jance thought about this for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I do believe that will vary from individual to individual. Where you are a naturally trained and successful soldier, you will naturally glide into the information based impressions. However, if your thoughts or mental state begin to sway from either past experiences or potential outcomes, I believe you may experience some fear potentials.” Jance paused again. “Now Stella on the other hand….” Jance sighed, and looked worried.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. She may be an open target for fear based thought.”

Jance looked surprised. “I have to disagree with you on that one Morg.” He said. “I think what we may have to watch out for with her, and any of the Short Timers, is aggression.”

“Ah.” Morgan said. He understood.

“Aggression is a short term, future based emotional state. The battle cry of aggression is ‘I’m gonna f**k something up!’, which leads to thoughts negatively based, and future action directed.”

“So, the Field should be used present tense only?” Morgan asked.

“For the moment, until we understand more. I would say yes.”

“Fair enough.”

They worked for another half an hour, drilling the thought patterns and mental states into Morgan’s brain until Jance was certain that he could access the Field on his own, and experiment on his own. That in Jance’s opinion was going to be where Morgan’s learning curve would show strength or weakness. But it would also show Morgan’s intense individuality. He was excited to see what Morgan could learn to do.

“Before I leave you to experiment,” Jance said. “I need to leave you with a few cautionary notes: One. Be careful. I reiterate that there is a vast world in the experience of the Field, and very little of it do I know. Two. Be careful. I’ve practiced at it so much that I’ve very nearly burned myself out on it, I damn near lost my access completely one time because I was trying too hard. Three. Be careful. I sometimes get the impression that I’m being watched.

“In theory, we could be at the edge of worlds. I have no explanation for that statement other than a lifetime of watching too damn much T.V. about ghosts, vampires, and aliens. It sounds stupid, but I’m serious. When we’re out in the Field, we are not the bad assess that we are here. Be. Careful.” Jance got up and headed towards the door.

He looked back and studied his new student.

Morgan looked hard and intimidating as ever, sitting in his chair like a mad king. Jance had never experienced such a strange flood of emotions in his life, when he locked eyes with Morgan. It left him a little thunderstruck. All he could do was give Morgan a strange half nod, feeling like he’d achieved some strange equanimity with his boss. Morgan returned the nod, with a telepathic promise to be careful in the Field, and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Jance left the room. Morgan entered the Field.

Morgan’s face, in the strange gray impression of this new world, broke out into a wide toothy grin. Like the grin of a shark, or a snarling wolf. Eye’s glowing.  

Military men are trained to be cold, calculating, machinelike. Yet, when a military man strays from the path of that hard education, becomes a leader of men, and extends his will upon the world. He must come to terms with emotion, the thing that will direct his path as he lines his people up and sends them into action. Morgan’s war, to this point was a physical one. He learned the new tricks, justified the donation of his own body and the rest of his life, to the dedication of his war. He justified using the lives of other people.

All ideas had been buried in his mind, because none could be honorable, sensible, or for the better good. He dedicated his life, and the lives of the men and women he led, to the sharpening of a blade. It is so hard to justify murder... To the honorable man it is hard. But the dedicated will find a way.

In the moment when the real world slipped away, and the Psyche Field became focused, all his inner demons came front and center. Justification altered his self definition. He could no longer consider himself an honorable man. He was a murderer and a fiend. Whatever truths he held needed to be folded in, disregarded, explained away.

Morgan saw himself…All of himself…within the gray mirror of the Fields vibrating skin. He did not like what he saw, but understood what he saw. He came to terms with that mad face. But in the strange half light, something snapped, and when it did… Morgan roared.

That roar, in the sense of so many emotions led the way to the shattering of silence in the Field that lies beneath the worlds outer consciousness. And an ancient witness opened it’s eye for the first time in a very long time. It fixed it’s gaze, bright and terrifying on the hard student of the world. Interested. Curious. From this point to the day of Morgan’s death, he would be watched. Morgan would know it, he would feel it, and he wouldn’t mind.

A part of Jance heard the howl, as he walked away from Morgan’s office into his quarters to write his journal. A chill sizzled up his spine and across his shoulders. Like feeling a gun aimed at you.

It was a curious feeling, but one that excited more than it intimidated him. He felt his lips pull up in a snarl for a split second. A snarl that turned to a smile. A smile that wanted to split into peals of laughter. He felt strong. Capable. Mean.

His face returned to normal, but an aggressive, challenging state of mind settled over his thoughts.

He’d accomplished his task of showing Morgan the Field.

But he felt like he’d opened the stable door to the rabid dog. But he couldn’t find the compassion in his heart to care.

That hidden part of Jance that heard the roar… roared with him.

Tsang, readying himself for the evening felt the roars reverberations through his soul. Instantly he clapped his hands together to gain the interest of the spirit world. He sat in the Za Zen position. He bowed deeply, placing forehead on the floor. Paying respect to the warriors that passed before him ten thousand years before, and respect to the ten thousand that would pass after.

Ed felt it, and he closed his eyes. He squeezed his fists so hard that the bones cracked. His lips twitched into a snarling grin. Finally. He thought, and left his room to go work with Jimmy in the gym. They had some practicing to do.

Jimmy felt it, but he didn’t understand. But he knew what it felt like. It felt like a call to arms. In the midst of spinning blades, and practiced flowing muscle. Jimmy smiled.

Stella felt the wave course through her. Words sprang forth from the deep of her mind. She reached to the surface of the dark pool, and dipped a small amount from the black liquid. In the palm of her hand she felt the word form: Rage. She hissed the word through clenched teeth.

Far above them all, in a dark room on the fifth floor of the facility. Two bodies; one male, the other female, shared the roar through the haze of unconsciousness. They both moved ever so slightly. They suffered terrible dreams, a bald man, staring in a mirror. His teeth were blades, his eyes shown like black stars glowing from their core. His head tilted to heaven, screaming his rage to God.

None of them would remember the moment. Even Morgan would forget the potency of his first drink of the Field. But they would know in some buried part of their souls, in the oubliette where dark things were tossed to wait and grow, that Morgan had thrown the gauntlet down.

They were watched. By something distant and alien, as different as gladiators to Gods. The Gods would open the cage doors and release the appropriate dragon upon the ready warriors in the center of the coliseum. Morgan’s scream into the quiet world of the Field’s strange heart said: “Bring it.”.

Morgan and Tsang sat staring across a gap at a building in the heart of the city. It rose high and black in the night sky, a dark blade thrust through the chest of the earth. It shimmered, it’s glassy surface like wet blood. One floor was illuminated. It was Papa Vincent’s building, and the East Coast Syndicates headquarters. He was buried in the center floor.

You think he’s paranoid? Morgan asked. They were both dressed in their battle suits. These were the next generation of suits. They had bladelike armor that meshed cleanly, and the nano’s were smarter. They were lighter and faster, but offered about 50% more protection. Small arms fire was almost useless against them.

Wouldn’t you be? Tsang asked in return. Considering the Syndicate boss had lost about 75% of his business and people over the last six months, it was perfectly natural for him to feel hunted.

They were both in the Field. Morgan stared through the building, feeling all the souls that waited there. All of them armed. Papa Vincent was located in a huge reinforced panic room in his luxury suite. Morgan felt him pace the floor of the panic room, he was yelling into a phone, and gesturing wildly with his free arm. Morgan didn’t need the field to know the man was highly pissed at the killing of his son on the docks the night before.

This is going to be a challenge. Tsang said, It would be nice if we had Stella to crack that panic room. You know it’ll lock down as soon as there is a disturbance. And that’ll be a very tough.

Yeah, it’ll be a little mean. But, we’ve got a couple tricks. Morgan said. He switched into a more direct system of the Field.

Ed! You there? Morgan figured out Jance’s distance trick fairly quickly after his finally being able to access the Field directly.

Yep, I’m here boss. Ed’s voice across the Field was deep and pleasant.

How’s the building locks and electricity coming? Morgan asked.

Good. I only need a couple more minutes and I’ll have it hacked. They were careful, and they tried to make it a ‘jar’, but I found a couple of back doors to use. I’ll let you know when you have control.

Tsang looked at Morgan carefully. He was extremely impressed. Morgan had learned the distance communication. Tsang had a limited ability with that, but he could do it. It was a tough trick.

Ok Ed. But don’t shut any systems down until I give the word. Do you think you can reopen the panic room if he shuts it down?

There was a moment of silence…a long moment.

That’s a very definite maybe boss. It’s all internally controlled. If I shut down the main power, and the backup systems, there may still be a battery that can handle basic living conditions and the locking systems. You may have to hack it open from the inside. Ed was a very capable computer hack, having been taught by some of the best technicians in the world at the NSA before he became a Short Timer. He was good at giving zero bullshit answers, and Morgan respected his honesty.

Ok, that’ll have to do. We’ll see what we’re facing when we get inside. Morgan Said.

Hey. Morg. Ed Said, a little concern leaking through his tone. Do you need any backup? There’s a s**t load of dudes in there.

Morgan expected the question from Ed, and was prepared to answer it.

We got this Ed. It’s gonna suck, but I’m not sending someone else out to do my dirty work on this one. Morgan said.

There was another long pause. 10-4 boss. But let me know if you get an itch. We can have someone close within a few minutes. I’ll tell Jimmy and Stella to prep.

Ok, but don’t tell them what’s up until I give the go ahead. And I’m serious Ed. This is my thing, and probably not a very smart thing. But this mother f****r has been on my list for a long time.  

Tsang’s weapon of choice, a long black samurai sword clung to his back. Morgan had originally questioned the practicality of it, until he’d watched Tsang use it.

Morgan’s weapon was an adjustable length staff. At each end a long retractable blade, serrated and bathed in a potent neurotoxin. Likewise Tsang’s sword blade was also poisoned. The effects of the poison were instant bone breaking convulsions, accompanied by an electric ‘shock knife‘ that found the nearest nerve and caused it to disintegrate. Not a good way to die, in an effort to maintain humanity Morgan preached ‘death stroke’s when possible.’. Most of the Short Timers agreed to make the killings as quick as possible. But Morgan had noticed the sense of violence in some of the attitudes of his people. Ed and Jimmy in particular liked to cause more than a little pain to their victims. Ed liked to hear bones crunch, and jimmy liked to feel them crunch. It was hard to justify torturing victims with painful deaths. But he understood that most of the people they killed probably deserved a little pain. No one they killed had clean hands. So Morgan kept his trap shut unless the pain treatment got too far out of hand.

Tonight, Morgan and Tsang had a new addition to their arsenal. They were going in close quarters against many men, and they needed guns.

Specially designed, light weight pistols. Silent and fast. They didn’t fire conventional rounds. Intended for mid range attacks, they used spring technology and fired small solid state flash frozen chemical ‘rings‘, that once they pierced flesh would dissolve in the bloodstream leaving no trace of a slug. The chemicals, also potent neurotoxins, started working as soon as the ring was fired. Even a scrape was fatal.

Ballistics were a bit of a b***h, the rings didn’t like to fire in a straight line. However, to compensate for this, the scientists had made them rapid fire if need be. Morgan wasn’t too concerned about this, he believed that most of their fighting tonight would be done with their other weapons. He was excited to try them out though, and pulled his gun out to try the firing mechanism.  

The weapon had a mid length barrel, blocky and smooth. It reminded him of the Berretta, that he used to carry before joining the Short Timers. He missed his guns. He smiled down at it, appreciating the feel. He raised it, and let loose about ten rounds into a nearby wall.

Now that was weird. He said to Tsang. There was only the faintest of clicks when the round was discharged, and barely any recoil. There was a dull vibration that came from the grip as it fired. He was so used to the boom of conventional weapons that to fire something so quiet and easy to handle felt…anticlimactic.

He looked at the wall he’d shot. A small group of dimples against the cement. The rings hitting the wall were louder than the firing mechanism had been. He noticed a deep etching in the cement. He heard a hiss.

Jesus! They didn’t say the rounds were acidic. A light tendril of steam raised from the tiny indents. They grew slightly as the acid worked.

Are you supposed to breathe those vapors Morgan? Tsang asked. Keeping his distance from the steam and holes.

From what the techs said, we should be fine. The poison works for only a second or so, and our suits have a filtering system on the breather. But, I ain’t taking any chances. He stepped away. Looking at the gun in his hand. A small wisp of super cold steam rolled from the barrel. He holstered it into a built in compartment on his upper thigh. It felt a little weird there, and he made a mental note to talk to the techs about locating the holster to the small of his back.

The ammunition cartridge was longer than the standard clip, it was filled with the chemical/toxin in liquid form. Each clip contained enough chemical to produce about 200 rings. Once it was slid into the housing, requiring the same basic movement as a standard automatic weapon, a small chamber was activated at the base of the firing mechanism that flash froze the chemical into it’s solid state. Using a new magnetic reloading system, the slide action was incredibly fast. When switched to auto, the weapon could burp about 50 rounds in a second. The techs did warn that too much automatic fire could lead the gun to literally freeze to their hands before the mechanism quit being operational, and they were cautioned against too much auto fire. Morgan wasn’t concerned about that. He far preferred carefully aimed single shots to scattered machine gun fire. It was just a cleaner way to operate. And Morgan highly doubted that Tsang would use the handgun at all.

Tsang did try his weapons though, as a test fire. He pulled both at the same time and drilled the same wall with five rounds from each gun in alternating trigger pulls. He was extremely fast. Morgan watched the grouping carefully, and from the same distance as Morgan had been, Tsang’s grouping was impressively close for alternating fire. He noticed a couple of stray hits from Tsang’s left hand weapon, but they were still within the kill zone for even standard bullets, let alone these little b******s which even scratching the skin would cause severe pain, convulsions, then death.

The one concern that Morgan did have was the penetration of the ring. Judging from the impact on the wall he gauged they had about the same force as a .22 caliber. Not very much, and if they came against anyone with even light armor they were going to need to be extremely accurate and looking for head, or unprotected limbs. Or, of course, switch to full auto and spray the b*****d.

There were a lot of variables to this mission, and many ways that it could f**k up. Morgan didn’t like not knowing all the variables, but he understood the risk. He was curious about Tsang though.

Ok, Tsang. He said. How do you feel about this?

Tsang was watching the men through the Field, seeing their movements. Some were military trained, and carrying very capable weaponry. He was putting numbers on who he thought was the most dangerous, and deciding who was going to die first.

Well. He said. It won’t be a walk in the park. You really know how to pick some rough missions Morgan. He was focused intently on the floors above the target floor. Very light resistance, they weren’t expecting anyone to come from the roof. Not without hearing a chopper first. The top of the building had two very cold and sleepy guards outside, and three playing cards on the inside just outside of the entrances. But I think this will be fun. I haven’t had a good challenge since I got here.

Morgan smiled. None of them really had. The only ones who’d pushed any boundaries so far had been Stella and Jance last night on the docks.

Now, Morgan said. Before we head out on this little trip… You had questions. I sensed a considerable amount of unease with you just after we had our infusions. I’d hate for us to have a stain on our new friendship Tsang. Especially tonight.

Tsang looked at Morgan, his eyes were the only things visible beneath the armor covered mask. The armor looked like engineered snake scales. There were even two clear ones that dropped in front of the eyes when the suit and the nano’s went active.

Yes, I have questions. Tsang said. Who is Dr. Marcus? And what is hidden on the fifth floor of the Short Timer facility?

No bullshit, quick and clean questions. Morgan thought the direct questions required direct answers.

Dr. Anthony Marcus is the originator of the Short Timers serum… he invented it. He asked me, as a personal favor not to mention his existence to the rest of the Short Timers should there be a conflict of leadership. Morgan knew that the man’s secrecy wouldn’t last forever, and he was honestly surprised it had lasted this long. The Short Timer’s were just too damn smart to have anything hidden from them for long. Dr. Marcus wanted to keep a low profile, because he really didn’t like what they were doing. He didn’t think that the pursuit of science should require the cost of life. This was a major source of tension between the two of them, one which they chose not to discuss. Morgan’s justification, was that by taking on the mob they were saving lives. Dr. Marcus conceded the point…sometimes. The problem that Dr. Marcus ran into, was that despite the amazing things that the Short Timer drug could do. Researchers couldn’t accept experimentation on human subjects. Except the U.S. government. And when they backed research, it was usually intended for use in the military. But this project was so black…that no one knew about it. As per Morgan’s insistence. The fewer people that knew of their experimentation the fewer people who could burn them. Morgan had arranged things so carefully, that only two individuals in the NSA knew of their existence. And he trusted them completely.

The Short Timers project had started as an independent scientific study, closely guarded and very secret. When Morgan joined the group, and underwent the Short Time procedure, he instantly pulled his military strings, and the project disappeared, and went under military funding. He insisted that he oversee the military aspects of the project personally. His contacts with the NSA were trust worthy and discrete. Neither one required any more information than what Morgan felt appropriate to give them. All he told them to watch for, to see the effects of the Short Timers progress, was ’Watch the body count of the East Coast Mafia’. Morgan held a very quick communication with them about a week ago. His contacts were very pleased. They asked him when they could be briefed on the specifics of the project. He replied, with a grin on his face when he said it, ‘When you find us.’. All three of them laughed, knowing full well that Morgan was serious. He’d thrown down the gauntlet to play a game of hide and seek. His contacts were not the ambitious, chest beating type. They truly maintained their patriotism. And they knew Morgan was a patriot as well, albeit one with a grudge against the Mafia. But they also maintained a wonderful sense of humor, which is one reason why Morgan trusted them so well.

Tsang. Morgan paused. Dr. Marcus is a good man. When we get back to the facility I will arrange a meeting between all of us. He was the original scientist that first approached me to volunteer for the procedure.

Tsang nodded. He’d expected an answer like this. So why is the fifth floor hidden from the Field?

Morgan suddenly gained a sense of tension. I don’t know. It isn’t supposed to be. As far as I was aware the scientists couldn’t access the Field let alone hide anything from it. That news is disturbing. Morgan was highly surprised by this piece of information, he’d never thought to check out the fifth floor of the facility. But he would now. But he still wasn’t skilled enough with the Field to trust it at this distance. Papa Vincent’s stronghold was 40 miles from the Short Timers facility. Tsang and Morgan had broken protocol and taken a nondescript car for the first 35 miles, and hiked the rest of the way to get to where they were now. He trusted Ed when he said he could have backup there in minutes, but he didn’t know how that was possible. Some things Morgan did take on faith. Ed’s backup was one of them.

Tsang. You have my word that I don’t know why they would hide that floor from us. But I swear to you that we will get some answers immediately after we finish this visit. We will confront the issue together. Morgan said. He hoped that Tsang believed him. He was telling the truth.

Ok Morgan. That answers enough of my curiosity and unease for the moment. Understand that hidden enemies are hard enough to deal with in my view. But hidden allies can be just as dangerous if not more so. You and I know that this world is composed of secret alliances, but where I must reveal the secrets of my former alliances in order to satisfy trust within my present agreement, I expect a thorough understanding of this present alliance between you and I.

I understand, and agree. Morgan empathized with Tsang’s need to know. He’d spent decades in the military, given only a taste of information from day to day. This was not a set of behavior that he could expect to extend on others who needed full information. Tonight, his life depended upon Tsang’s loyalty. He could not afford to extend partial measures of truth.He only hoped that his sincerity was enough to sway Tsang’s naturally cautious mind. Honesty, though his favorite trait, was usually looked down upon in military operations. And that was true of all cultures. It was common knowledge that a good leader was required to lie well, and often, to ensure that his troops morale and loyalty was guaranteed. But that was troop commanders, and generals. Morgan was at best a squad captain, now and forever a fighting member of the group. Squad members were too close to their captain to bullshit, without potential harm caused to everyone within the group. However, Morgan was also the primary military leader of the entire Short Timer organization which put him in the position of general. He needed to make up his own rules for this job. There simply was no manual to follow.  

Morgan looked up at the building. He activated his nano’s. He was instantly surrounded in a fog of particles that operated off of computer controlled electromagnetic pulses. Once his body was still, the nano particles settled on him, froze, and based on a few snapshots from several onboard camera’s placed on his suit, they mimicked the color scheme and lighting ambience of the surrounding area and projected it outward. The nano’s had become so intelligent that they rendered the Short Timers almost perfectly invisible. But at the slightest movement, including small facial twitches and breathing movements, the nano’s had to ‘reset’ sending them flying in all directions as the cameras took more snapshots. The process was quick, but still imperfect. The micro technology scientists at the facility were very good at their jobs, and they discovered more and more ways to manipulate the nano’s each day. But what Morgan wanted, which even now the scientists at the facility were saying was impossible, was real time invisibility. Now that would be extremely useful. Even now the nano’s were capable of sending multiple signals that rendered them invisible from infra red, night vision, and most other conceivable military visual aides.

Morgan studied the gap between the building they were on, and the one across the street. He looked down, then up. His eyes settled on the upper most floors of the black glass building. Christ, he thought, it might be easier to just blow the f*****g thing up. Then they could just blame terrorists.

That thought had crossed my mind as well. Tsang said. But I’m still interested in the challenge.

Morgan sighed, looked at his small and deadly friend. Pulled his staff from a shoulder mounted sheath on his back and actuated the extension buttons. Both ends shot silently. Like the longest and quietest switch blade invented. He spun the staff a few times then actuated the switch again, it collapsed with another silent movement. The he actuated the blade button of one side, then produced another staff identical to the first one. He actuated the blade on the end of that one. Giving Morgan poison tipped Kali sticks. Satisfied that everything worked, Morgan sheathed both staves and looked again at the street, and again at the roof. It was twenty stories or so above them, and a considerable distance to try to span by any means. But they’d thought of this, and had the perfect tool. A line from a movie did a sudden drive by in his mind, ‘where does he get those wonderful toys?’. Jack Nicolson, white faced, dressed in purple cackling at a black caped hero. Betcha Batman would like to get his hands on some of my toys, he thought, very careful to hide this thought. He reached to his feet and picked up two small backpacks, handing one to Tsang.

The roof? Tsang asked.

The roof. Morgan replied, attaching the pack to his shoulders. He backed a few paces away from the edge of the building, and prepared to jump. Tsang mimicked his movements.

I was hoping you’d say that. Tsang said, and sprinted towards the edge. A dark ghost leaping into the night sky. Falling fast. The small man disappeared from view, and Morgan sprinted to join him.