Impetus Ch. 01

"I don't think I can do much worse."

"Just don't hold the muzzle to your chest like last time."

Pete laughed, as did Sarah. "I didn't do that."

"And point the gun at the screen not at Pete."

"Just watch and learn," said Sarah, squinting her eye to aim at the screen.

"Sure." Jeff griped.

The next round of graphics blinked onto the screen, and the battle began. Again, Pete wound the victor. Sarah placed the gun back in the plastic holster. "I give up."

They picked another game with much of the same results until the tokens were gone, and they decided to leave.

At the house, they piled into the living room with a few assortments of snacks they picked up at a food mart then played one of the movies they rented. Halfway through, Sarah made two bowls of ice cream.

Sometime before the end of the first movie, Pete absently rubbed his shins and was happy to feel his hands rubbing through the pants.

When the movie finished, Sarah asked Pete, "Are you going to put another one on?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm going to bed then. One cartoon is enough."

"A N I M E." Pete proclaimed. "There's an incredible difference. Consider the storylines. In a cartoon, the storyline is made up of a single, simple, premise. In Anime, the storyline must blend with character development, scenery composition, and factual time placement. That's for starters. Also, a cartoon drawing is goofy, bland. But an Anime is art." Pete smiled, crossed his arms over his chest, then said, "You see?"

"Yeah, well enjoy your little baby cartoon. I'm tired." Sarah walked over to Pete, unsettling the dark hair that hung over his forehead, and then kissed him on the head. Before leaving, she kissed Jeff and said, "See you upstairs."

"I'll be up soon." Jeff told her.

"Don't stay up too late, Pete."

"I won't.

"Animatrix, here we come." Jeff made a zany giggle as he prepped the movie.

Pete laughed loudly, but it was ok because Sarah was upstairs, and wouldn't hear. "This one is great."

"I'm sure it is," Jeff said, as he took seat against the floor and couch. While the previews played, Jeff asked, "Did you have fun today?"

"A lot of fun." Pete smiled.

"Good. I did too, and I know your mother was happy as well."

"I'm surprised you didn't get a call from work."

Jeff nodded. It was true. Not once did the lab call. Awfully strange. But Jeff did warn the lab no to bother him unless there was a breakdown.

A sense of erratic energy hit Jeff with worried interest. Suddenly, he wanted to be at the lab with a full report in his hands, noting every move made in the last twenty-four hours since his absence. Jeff often received such reports every morning concerned with the previous night's program test results. It was an earnest curiosity set on by years of dedicated work that made Jeff's mind constantly fret over his precious machine, but spending time with Pete was also important. No. Much more important, much more, Jeff. Don't ever forget that. The sensation of reading reports diminished. At one time in Jeff's life, nothing existed, which could eclipse his work. Work had been everything since high school when he first noticed his creation in a dream. A seed took root and slowly crowded much of the time he had spent on hobbies and with friends. Baseball games and diners with relatives were constantly cancelled because an hour or more extra was needed at the lab. Programs weren't working, a tech didn't solder a chip correctly, or a chip wasn't constructed with one of the hundreds of thousands of programs meshed together like one large fishing net, giving Sync the equivalent of the stomach flu.

Over time, family became Jeff's real power and happiness. At first, when these sentiments first submerged, Jeff though of them as a fluke or weakness, but the older he got, the more he drew closer to his family. And when Pete began feeling ill...

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Pete turned the Wizard so he could face his dad. "Did you ever get scared when you were flying? I mean, could you have fallen?"

Jeff smiled, wrinkled his brow because he had never considered the concept of fear in Sync. When he had gone in, it had been with a positive eagerness. "Perhaps." Jeff thought about Sync's reaction to fear. How would it respond?

"Could a person die?"

"Maybe if an old person used Sync, and they worked on a platform, which carried a deep sense of fear. Like if this same hypothetical old person had a heart problem, and a terrible fear of heights. Put that person on the ledge of a skyscraper and push them off. "Before they hit the ground in the Sync world, they'd be dead. Not due to pain or gravity, but a fear induced heart attack."

"Wow."

"Pain and pleasure exist in the Sync world too, but pain has barriers."

"You mean if somebody gets stabbed, it won't feel real?"

"Right, but it will still hurt. You wouldn't want to go dancing on fire in Sync. That is unless we raise the barriers. Either that or specifically request Sync to make you impervious to fire, but then that would take away from the fun of reality. There'd be no sense of danger. The greater the danger, the greater the fun."

Animatrix played, but Pete didn't turn to face the TV. His eyes dodged left and right, integrating this new information into his thrilled brain.

"Pretty incredible where knowledge can take us."

"And scary."

"Not necessarily. People said that about cars when they first came out. They said that about factories and machines. When computers took over, people said they would be the end of the country, but people were wrong. Computers saved us."

"Dad?" What Pete was going to ask took a lot of courage because he knew how serious his father took his job, but the question had been lingering ever since Jeff divulged his adventure within Sync. "Can you take me to the lab so I can use Sync?"

About a million reasons to say no popped into Jeff's mind. Most of them involved the dangerousness of such a venture. Sync had never scanned a teenager's mind. Could something happen? Did something happen to his own mind? He hadn't told Sarah how dangerous testing Sync had been. Sync had scanned his mind, manipulated its normal process, distributed facsimile information, and fed his brain newly appropriated sequences. Like the false impression of rushing air when he flew against the axiom of gravity, based on Jeff's experiences in life. Conversely, a newborn baby without knowledge of wind could not experience anything of the kind. It was impossible for Sync to redistribute information that didn't exist.

"Could I run in the Sync world?"

Jeff had just been about to give an absolute negative when the words died in his mouth. They turned to cold hard tombstones then crumbled away; shards abraded down his gullet then landed into a dusty pile in his stomach. Jeff closed his mouth.

"I don't know if I'm ever going to walk again. But I'd like to at least pretend." Pete's eyes watered. He wanted so much to experience the power that Sync could wield over his mind.

"I'll give you that much. The experience would be euphoric, but that's part of the danger with Sync. And that's what we've been trying to get a better understanding on." Jeff got up to sit on the couch next to Pete. "TV volume down." The volume went down.

Pete came forward in the Wizard, closer to his father. "But you used it."

Jeff closed his eyes and nodded. "I did. And I don't know what it is about Sync, but it has a control of the mind. Like watching the best magic trick in the world, but not knowing how it was done. It could drive you crazy thinking about those kinds of things. Sync makes you reflect about your experience over and over again until you can't wait to go. Not the best effect, I have to admit. Tomorrow, I'll take a brain scan and blood test, but I'm not worried about that. It's all up here." Jeff taped his temple.

Pete winced, "Then why did you use it, dad?" The wizard moved forward close enough so that Pete could hug his father. "I don't want you to use it anymore."

Jeff felt defeated, stupid forever worrying his family. And for what? So that you could look like a big shot. A big o' stupid big shot! "I won't." He said without any motivation in his heart. The truth was, if the tests turned out clean, which they would, and there weren't any funny brain waves surfing through his cerebrum then he would hook into Sync again. A hyper jubilation pumped his heart a few beats faster than normal. Should you? Should you really go back? But Jeff knew the answer. Nobody should go into the Sync world until they understood the human mind better. But the technology was there. We can't wait, can't hesitate a moment longer so somebody in China can make their own version and steal my credit. Jeff blocked these concerns from his mind and held Pete for a while longer.

"I guess I got excited with the idea of flying," Pete admitted.

"It's reasonable, believe me. Everyone wants to use it, but the government is strict and they barely allowed me to use it. They've given me...kind of like an allowance." Jeff sarcastically laughed, "They gave me an allowance to my own idea." Pete looked at him because Jeff had sounded angry, felt his face burn with the heat of indignation. It's more than that. You're mad because they've taken away your little drug. "But it doesn't matter, better for me." Jeff's leg nervously vibrated. "There're a lot of things we need to learn about Sync."

"But whenever you get to working out all the bugs, I'd like to be the first person to use it, deal?"

"It'll probably be government property for the next twenty years. First, it'll go to government agencies like the FBI and CIA. After its been there for about five to ten years it'll fall into the hands of the regular army where somehow it'll find its way into the black market and from there it'll make its way into the real market."

"That'll take forever!" Pete exclaimed. "But I was talking about sometime maybe next year when you've had time to test it and stuff."

"Well, next year. That might be possible, but I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow. It's an ongoing thing, Pete, something different happening everyday. It's very exciting for me, not to mention important. Ergo the dog leash." Jeff patted the cell phone at his hip.

"I bet you shower with it." Pete said humouredly.

"I clip it to my earlobe."

"That sounds like a cool idea. I should make that the next fad at school."

"Too late, I already wear it like that at work."

"Fads are created by the young, not the old." Pete laughed.

Jeff pretended to be shocked. "I'm young at heart." Looking at the TV, Jeff added, "We missed the beginning. TV, restart movie." The movie paused then blinked off and then on to the start. Pete turned the Wizard to face the TV. Both of them watched the movie, and Pete enjoyed it like if it was the first time.

When the movie finished, it was already late. After putting some plates away and turning off the TV, Jeff followed Pete to the elevator of their home; the elevator came before the Hyper Polio.

When the elevator opened on the second floor, Jeff asked, "Do you want me to help you into bed?"

"No. Goodnight." Jeff bent over and Pete hugged him.

"I love you," said Jeff.

"I love you too, dad. Have a good day at work tomorrow, and don't use Sync anymore." He couldn't see Jeff's constricted face because of the way they were hugging, but he noticed his dad stiffen. Before he let go, his dad said, "It would be better to rely on dreams." Pete furrowed his brow quizzically but Jeff left the elevator after saying goodnight again.

The Wizard maneuvered the halls to Pete's bedroom. Once inside, he went to the bathroom and turned the knob of the large bathtub where a shower used to be - last week. The more decrepit Pete became, the more lavish his father's presents grew to be.

It was hard to believe a pair of lame legs was so difficult to control. Pete grunted with each shrug as he shifted onto the rim of the large tub, balancing over the gap to open the faucets. After adjusting the water temperature, he slid slowly down into tepid water he could feel with his left leg but not with his right. "Damn." Pete said, touching his right shin. "Come on." The empty sensation rose above his right knee and stayed there. The uneasiness of dread and hopelessness sprang forth, which always advanced a constant battle of negative emotions. "Come on." Pete rubbed his leg and chanted, "Come on," over and over. He summoned his veins to awaken, to live! On a small scale, he petitioned an unknown force, as his mother had at Tony's restaurant when she prayed. But Pete didn't go to church. He didn't know the names or miracles of the prophets. This would be as close to calling on divine help as Pete would ever get, and it made him feel wretched. Wretched for resorting on outside strength because he was too weak to do it on his own.

Pete rubbed his leg a while longer, but it didn't awaken like he had hoped. He tried begging and sobbing, and his tears dropped like a sacred ointment onto his legs, but nothing worked. It was gone. Don't tell mom or dad, he thought. Don't let them worry.

Eventually, they'd learn. But not tomorrow. Maybe not that week. The happiness of today would stretch a little further - without mar on its beauty. Possibly the days ahead would find a drought of pleasant memories.

Scrubbing dutifully, Pete finished his bath then flipped the metal switch in the tub to release the water, but it was much more difficult climbing out then it was climbing in. Each leg was a heavy dead weight. Slithering up the deep wall of the tub felt like edging away from a fissure of coagulated mud.

But when it was done, and Pete was changed into his pajamas, he crawled into bed and covered himself in sheets. They were cool and inviting except for the section that covered his legs. His worry induced the picture of a nightmarish future where he had only the use of his head. It must have been far into the future because there were lines in his face and he lived alone in a great big house, and he was dressed in fine clothes. Everything having been paid for by his father's trust. And the air would be cold because nobody really lived there, not even the maid who you could barely tell was there because her soft-soled shoes kept her as stealthy as a cat.

Every meal would be soup, because Pete couldn't eat solids without choking, and there'd be a book in front of him that he'd flip the pages with the use of a straw stuck in his mouth. No woman but a paraplegic could love him, and what kind of love would that be? Love without kissing? Love without consummation? Pete wringed the sheets with tight fists to stop from crying.

He couldn't feel his legs anymore, couldn't feel his stomach. No, no, he had to check. He pressed down over his belly button, and felt the smooth skin of his fingertips, felt their thin caress. He sighed then closed his eyes.

The room felt cooler, more inviting. For now, the worry abated enough so he could fall asleep.

Strangely enough, his dream was peaceful. Pete, Jeff, and Sarah flew among the clouds, each contributing an acrobatic stunt to impress the other two. Sarah and Jeff laughed in hidden pockets of oblique white mist as Pete playfully searched them out.

Pete could hear the air blowing past his ears. Am I in Sync? It felt so real. Is this...Sync? No, it was too real to be Sync. Nothing but the real world could feel this good.

The last word Pete thought of was "Paradise".