Page 129 of Switch!
“So when you pushed me out of my body,” I say, “youliterallypushed me out… But I don’t remember you actually touching me.”
“No, but our souls aren’t always contained to our bodies, are they? I cannot wander away from mine as you can, but I can step outside for a brief stretch.”
“Spiritual yoga,” Trixie says with a snort. “I love it. How did you know that Travis should go to the Circle of Light meeting?”
“What is this, the end of a murder mystery?” Gismonda complains. “So much exposition! Time is different for the spirits. Slippery. Did they simply see what would happen and I told you, ensuring nothing would change? Or does acting on their advice alter the fabric of time and space? Again… Who can say?”
“The spirits?” I suggest.
Gismonda nods, as if conceding that it’s a fair point. “We who are living don’t truly understand the nature of our own existence or the universe around us. Only pieces of it. The spirits are no different. Their world is often a mystery to them as well.”
“Have you ever asked them what makes us this way?” Trixie asks.
“Yes, but they don’t know anything that wasn’t already in the Book.”
“The book?” I repeat.
“No, the Book. You have to say it with more emphasis because it’s important.” Gismonda rolls her eyes in response to something we can’t hear. “There’s no sense in keeping it a secret. They can’t steal what has already been taken.”
“What’s in this book?” I ask, practically salivating at the prospect. I bet it’s stuffed full of the answers I need.
“Research,” Gismonda says. “Compiled by one of our own, decades ago. The author dedicated the second half of her life to documenting the gifts of others. And she noticed patterns. When it comes to people like us, there are… types.”
“Types?” Trixie and I repeat in unison.
“Categories. Some of us have altered senses, others have unusual mental abilities, and precious few are capable of impressive physical feats.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Moving in ways that aren’t natural or causing things to happen,” Gismonda says. “Fire starters, for instance. The list was long. And fascinating. I mourn the book’s loss. Before you ask what happened to it, the answer is none of your business. But I will share with you the author’s theory that these gifts are hereditary. My great-grandfather, Ripley Osborne, was a renowned mystic.” Her eyes move to one of the large portraits on the wall. “I believe he shared the same gift as me.”
“Is it always the same type of power that’s inherited?” Trixie asks, “or is it more of a mutant gene that causes random results?”
“The same gift is passed down the bloodline,” Gismonda says. “If there is any variation in how that manifests, the author of the Book didn’t deem it worthy of writing down.”
“I’ll be writing downallof this,” Trixie says. “We’re working on our own book.”
“For personal use only,” I add hurriedly. “We aren’t going to publish it or anything.”
Gismonda shrugs. “Only a crazy person would believe you. Even I question my sanity at times.”
“Same!” Trixie says.
“Me too,” I agree with a chuckle. “It feels good to talk about it openly like this. We should start our own Circle of Light—”
“Or superhero league,” Trixie interrupts, but Gismonda is already shaking her head.
“You are not the first to have such an idea or to seek the benefits of combining our resources. To do so always ends in disaster.”
“How so?”
“Power corrupts,” Gismonda replies. “You didn’t need to come here to learn that. Open a history book to any page. This is why you should have stayed in school.”
“We didn’t only come here to learn about ourselves,” I say, glancing at Trixie to see if she’s okay with me changing the subject. After she nods, I clear my throat, my mouth feeling dry, because I reallyreallywant my idea to work. If it’s even possible.
“Patrick,” I begin, “the owner of the body I’m in, he lost his daughter. You were right about him being on the brink of death. He was suicidal when we met, and kind of still is. Right now he’s living inside me in this sort of virtual reality situation… It’s complicated, but do you know what a holodeck is? Have you ever seen Star Trek? Or even just the Matrix?”
Gismonda looks from me to Trixie and then back again. “Now I understand why you are friends. So many words, and yet, so few are necessary.”
