(no subject)

7.

The class was just called “Extension.”

Mickey didn’t know what that meant, but he was sure it would be great. He had no idea of the surprise that would wait for him when he entered the gym where the class was to proceed.

There stood his mother, as composed as he had ever seen her and standing before a dozen kids his age.

She smiled at him and tilted her head to get him to come and sit. When he did she began to present.

“You all know at least something about your abilities,” She announced, “Or you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

She chuckled and the class laughed. Mickey breathed a little easier. No child expects successful laughter from his peers to be created by his parents, and when it happens it is a relief.

“But your appetency may exceed anything you have anticipated,” She continued, “Many of us found ourselves with minor talents that were extended with exercise to become something marvelously
more.”

This woman he had known as meek and mild was captivating the whole room. This was more than just the fact you was unarguably pretty and personable, she was almost magnetic in a way that
he hadn’t even begun to appreciate before this.

She told them tales of a boy in Germany who thought all he could do was fly, but after a few years found he could fly at something approaching supersonic speeds. He was also able to control the powerful waves of air that were displaced by his passing. He could use those waves to knock over walls and hold back tidal waves. When he passed away at 45 he was only beginning to understand the extent of adeptness he hadn’t even thought to look at when he was being enthralled by his ability to fly.

“And he, believe it or not, was known throughout mythology as the messenger of the Gods.”

“Mercury?” Mickey blurted out, for a moment forgetting who he was talking to, and just enjoying the information.

“Or Hermes, but, yes, that’s correct Mr. McCauley,” The Teacher answered.

“Nowhere was he ever called a God himself, he was, like Hercules, the son of a God.”

 “Like us,” A boy Mickey had never seen before proffered.

“Well, not that directly,” Mrs. McCauley said, “The early hybrids were much more regularly endowed with spectacular facility. But even so, the later generations have no shortage of impressive outcroppings of capability.”

“We will be working in this class to search the reserve you hold within yourself and see if we cannot find a hidden trove of aptitude that can bring you to an even higher level in your ability to do that which you will invariably be call on to do.”

“But first,” She said in a somber note, “I want to lead you in a meditation that may be the beginning of our search.”

Meditation?

Mickey had not signed on for meditation.

He didn’t want to do yoga either.

“Close your eyes, please,” His mother said.

He did so, but doubted that there would be anything coming from this.

“I want you to think of where you first found your powers within your head.”

How did she know that?

“I would like you to picture it in the form of a room,” She went on.

He was so caught up in the ease of doing this he ceased to wonder why his mother knew that he had found the abilities secreted away in his head in the first place. And if she was looking here, she must know that he had felt before that there were other things lurking in here.

Mickey saw a room much like an office. There were file cabinets, and in those were the files were he kept “flying,” “invulnerability” and “strength.”

He opened the file cabinet, but there were no more files.

But it still didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel complete. There was more here. Somewhere.

“Don’t stop where you have looked before,” The voice of his mother came from somewhere far away, “You would have found them already if they had been that easy to locate.”

Mickey pictured himself turning around in the room. None of the desks had drawers, so nothing would have been hidden there.

There were no folders on the desktops.

Then he noticed something new. It was a wastebasket. He walked over to it, and looked inside.

There were mounds of paper. He picked the paper up and under the paper, in the bottom of the can, were a dozen file folder. He put the paper aside and withdrew the folders.

His excitement grew as he sat at the desk and didn’t hear any of the “guiding” his mother was leading the rest of the class through.

“Powers” was emblazoned on the face of the first folder.

The boy opened the stack of papers and began to read.

It would have been easier if the files had not been in Japanese, or whatever language they were in that he did not understand.

“Damn!” He said out loud, and was instantly aware of being in class.

Those around him giggled at his outburst, but his mother seemed to be aware of everything that had happened in his head.

“In the next few days,” She said to everyone, but Mickey in particular, “We’ll begin to make those images make sense.”

The bell rang and everyone started to gather their things.

“But that is it for us today,” She dismissed them.

“Any of you who found more,” She uttered as they stood, “You are about to find out what I found years ago. There is more to you than anyone ever imagined.”

There were random smiles of contentment around the room, and then the gym cleared.

Mickey, alone, remained seated even after everyone else had left.

“Mom,” the boy said, “Do you read Japanese?”

“No, Honey,” she said as she stroked the hair on her boy’s head, “But I think we’ll find that you do.”

© 2005 by C. Wayne Owens