The Spatial Shard
Chapter Eight: Making New Acquaintances

Darkness! So much of it surrounded her body and her mind. But there was no touch to it, no physical sense at all. It was like being held back by something she could never get a hold of herself. However, her inability to get a hold of it did not keep it from taking hold of her!

“Well, this hardly seems fair,” Imogene thought.

“You are quick to define,” she answered, or at least it sounded like Imogene. But the thought did not come from her mind. Still, it was in her head.

“Who are you?” Imogene asked. She did not know if she was looking in all directions, but she expended the normal effort to do so. There was nothing but nothingness to see.

“Given my understanding of the articles of your speech,” she answered, “I will take that as a compliment.” Her voice was somewhat softer now and higher in pitch; as if it was trying to sound different from Imogene’s voice. Imogene took it as a courtesy and found herself smiling at the gesture. It meant… whoever wanted to talk. “However, I am hardly a who.”

“Okay,” Imogene quickly agreed, “then what are you?”

“Another assumption,” she noted. Her voice was definitely different now. She sounded like Carol Kane’s character in Scrooged before she would become violent. “Yours is a voracious mind, I will give you that. You remind me of a Courier, which would explain a number of the decisions I have witnessed you making. However, since I am not a Zweitervarren, I am not a where or a when either. So, though it is unsubstantiated, your assumption is correct, I am a what.”

“Tangent much?” Imogene asked, noticing that the darkness was being dispelled by a soft pink-purplish light that surrounded her.

“What?” the voice asked before it could recall the conversation. “Oh, I apologize for that. I do tend to wax on endlessly from time to time. I simply do not have the luxury of constant company. And when I do, I am afraid I besiege them with continual barrages of verbiage that often stray from the original point of contention.”

“You mean like right now?” Imogene inserted. There was a moment of silence followed by a soft giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes.

“So, getting back to the… initial inquiry,” Imogene said, hoping that a slight change of the words she spoke might help keep things focused. “… what are you?”

“Why, I am the Spatial Shard, Genie.”

“Wow,” Imogene replied, lacking any real enthusiasm. “You say that like I’m supposed to know what that means.”

“But you do know what it means,” the Shard replied. “I have already given you that information… when you passed your first Gateway.”

“Just checking,” Imogene quickly replied. “Can’t be too sure these days. I’ve gone from fighting in parks, to getting blindsided in bazaars, to traipsing through the jungle with a trained killer on my trail. And that last bit came courtesy of a very funky wicked witch brought into today.”

“Wilma, as she has asked you to call her, is hardly a witch. She is Armonyean.”

“Arm and Hammer what?” Imogene stuttered receiving a giggle in response.

“Arm-on-yay-uhn,” the Shard pronounced more slowly as an image of the word appeared in front of Imogene’s eyes. “They study and follow the laws of power one can find only in nature.”

“Explains the meditation lesson,” Imogene commented.

“Not to mention her ability to pass her will onto others and have them perform as she wishes.”

“Are you telling me she used some sort of Jedi Mind Trick?!”

“If it helps you to understand what she did more easily,” the Shard answered. “But it was not telepathy; that would have felt quite different and she did not wish to run the risk that I would have responded violently to any such actions.”

“Violently?” Imogene asked, wincing at the range of answers to her question.

“While we share the same body, any uninvited entrance into your mind stands a chance at entering mine. And though I cannot say why, I will not allow that to occur!”

“Ah, I see,” Imogene said softly as she nodded. “You sure you’re not a who? Because that sounded a lot like a double standard to me.”

“I do not understand. What do you mean?”

“Well you’ve already said you’ve looked all through my memories.”

“But we share the same form!” the Shard argued.

“And that was when I invited you to join me, right?”

“I have offended you,” the Shard said. “And for that, I do apologize. But I sense there is more than a few hurt feelings you are dealing with at this time.”

“Picked up on that, did you?”

“And now you seek to become offensive,” the Shard replied as the pink-purplish haze started to darken.

“No, wait!” Imogene called out. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Whoa!” Imogene exclaimed. “Seems I’m not the only one with a few tell-tale signs. That had to be the shortest sentence you’ve said since we started talking.

“Look, Shard, humans are not an easy bunch to get.”

“And you have yet to acquire your first PhD?” the Shard asked as the darkness slipped away again. The choice of words gave Imogene pause and she felt as if she was smiling. “You are correct, however, in your assessment. I am ready to prevent what I have done, without invitation, to your mind. I am sorry. I thought with everything I felt within you that we would work well together. Have I proceeded upon a false assumption?”

“So, you assume too,” Imogene replied. Now she was sure she was smiling and the dark purple became bright and warm. “What is going on with all of this light around me?”

“We have changed positions, slightly.”

“What do you mean?” Imogene asked.

“Well, for some time, I have been inside of you,” the Shard answered. “I thought it best, given your condition, that you spent some time inside of me.”

“Inside of you? My condition?” Imogene asked.”

“Inside of me,” the Shard replied. “Inside the Spatial Shard with which you have successfully merged. What I am was the only thing I withheld from the knowledge feed I gave you in your approach to the Minor Hub. From what I found in your mind, a more direct approach seemed to be what you would respond to best.

“Regarding your condition, you were struck very hard in the temple region of your head. It aggravated the tumor in your brain and-”

“Tumor in my brain?!” Imogene gasped.

“Why, yes,” the Shard answered in a matter-of-factly tone. “According to your range of knowledge, you would call it Cancer, just as it was diagnosed with your mother. But it is nothing of the sort; it is a genetic default you inherited from your mother. It would seem, from my cursory examination, that it is common in the females of your particular bloodline.”

“So my brother and my father don’t have it?” Imogene asked quickly.

“They do not posses any of the traits of the default and, due to a slight bombardment of radiation, neither do you.”

“Radiation? Where did you get radiation from?”

“I went to the corner market and purchased some,” the Shard replied. “They were running a two-for-one special so I picked up three doses.

“Really, Genie,” the Shard spoke in a relaxed tone, hoping its voice would relax its guest. “Is ‘where did you get radiation from’ all you have to say to me?”

“No,” Imogene said, taking a moment to regroup and get a handle on the moment. She made sure not to ask herself if finding such a handle would actually make things better. “Thank you,” she finally said. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You saved mine,” the Shard said. “It was the least I could do.”

“You know what, every time you say something, I get the feeling it is only going to lead to more questions. So why don’t we start from the top. My name’s Imogene. My friends call me Genie, which you’ve already started using, and please continue. I am a very confused young Human female that has merged with you, taking your words as fact… for the moment. You made it sound as if it that was something common to you, but it is obviously not common to me, or anyone I know for that matter. The one thing keeping me from going completely batty-”

“Is the fact that your mother tried to warn you that something big was going to happen,” the Shard interrupted and now the light around Imogene was very bright and comforting. She felt as if she was floating in a warm sea of fond memories.

“Bull’s-eye!” Imogene answered. “And I think that makes it your turn. I will only ask that you stay on point.

“As you wish,” the Shard said. “Let me first say that I cannot change who you are, but it is obvious I have changed what you are. I was once part of a body, an entity that existed very, very long ago. It has been called many, many things over time, but one I have come to like is Nirvana.”

“Leave it to the Buddhists to get it right,” Imogene thought.

“When the one became many, I think your side of the Nexus called it the Big Bang, many Shards were created. As an entity, there was a universal consciousness with infinite thoughts. After the separation, there were countless Shards, with large groups possessing a shared consciousness.

“The True Nexus and the dimensions were also created, with some of the Shards serving as the stewards to travel between them. Over time, as sentience became more prevalent in the universe, there arose a need to possess and control the Shards.”

“Knew this part was coming,” Imogene muttered.

“In doing so, one group consciousness decided it did not want to be the source of destruction of life. So it chose to destroy itself, but only after it would also destroy the other Shards. It was a civil war in the cosmos and while some Shards chose to fight, others chose to flee or change themselves to become the entity from which they were all created. From this effort, many different types have been formed and some of them have been named. A Spatial Shard, which you have become, is a key which can bridge you to other worlds. Because of my former Masters, I have developed a voice with which to express my sentience. But your mind is the first to hear me!”

“Uh, how many… Masters are we talking about?”

“Since I developed a voice, forty-four. You are the forty-ninth owner.”

“Whoa!” Imogene said quickly. “Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat. Nothing living can be owned!”

“That is more your mother’s belief,” the Shard pointed out.

“Yes, and I am beginning to think she had a better handle on things than any of us. Whether she did or didn’t doesn’t matter. I don’t own you!”

“I am happy to hear you say that,” the Shard replied.

“But since I know nothing of how we merged, I – Owww!” Imogene felt a sharp stabbing pain in her head.

“That is how we merged. I was told to generate the power necessary for a portalway. While I was building that power reserve, we touched.”

“And?” Imogene pressed.

“And something inside of you called out to me. I did not mean to initiate the merge, but the moment we touched minds, the physical link we had was broken, along with that which was formerly my home.”

“The diamonds!”

“Not hardly,” the Shard answered. “That was you!”

“What?!”

“Or should I say that was your body’s initial reaction to the merging. I must say it is a very good sign.

“I should also mention that while you are here with me, you are unaware of that which transpires outside your body,” the Shard mentioned.

“But you are not unaware, are you?”

“An assumption?” the Shard asked.

“An educated guess,” Imogene affirmed. “Surely a former cosmic entity can see outside of a sixteen year-old’s head!”

“Yes, quite the strong mind, and your conclusion is correct. The man you call father is about to call nine-one-one because of your lack of response. I sense that you do not like hospitals so-”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Imogene answered. “I don’t mean to meet and run off, but-”

“We have merged, Genie,” the Shard replied as things quickly went dark again. “Where exactly would you go to get away from you?”

She opened her eyes and saw Gordon looking down on her. He was crying, and his face was red. He was furious, or at least he had been. When her eyes opened, he was relieved.

“Hey, Sport,” she said, looking up at her little brother. “Those tears for me?” Gordon did not want to say they were, he was still angry with her, but he could not help but feel better knowing she was alive and well. “Hey, we need to talk,” Imogene whispered to Gordon. “Because I can’t go back there alone.”

“We’re going back?!” Gordon said excitedly, but not above the soft tone his sister had established.

“I need my fighter. You with me?” Again Gordon said nothing. His smile fell from sight as he threw his arms around his sister.

“I’m sorry, Genie,” he cried.

“It’s okay, Gordo,” she said softly, rubbing her brother’s back. “I’m sorry too.”

“Genie?!” Alan said as he reached for Timothy’s shoulder. A very worried father was on the phone; apparently he had been put on hold. “You back with us?”

“Sorry, Coach, I made that left turn at Albuquerque and things got all out of sorts. Where’s your deputy?”

“Walking off the butt-whipping your little brother gave him,” Alan answered with a proud smile. Imogene looked up at Gordon who was looking at the floor. “He’s going to be limping for a while!”

“I thought that was your voice I heard before I checked out,” Imogene said, messing up Gordon’s hair. “What was he looking for anyway?”

“He was looking for this,” Alan said as he pointed to a section of wall that had been torn down. It appeared to be a hiding place that Frank was using for storage purposes. “Nothing in here but supplies for Frank’s mailed-out items.”

“What’s Uncle Frank mailing?” Gordon asked.

“Uncle Frank took over Mom’s business, Gordo,” Imogene answered. “This New Deal Incorporated is his new name for the same old thing Mom used to sell in her shop.”

“New Deal?” Gordon was confused. “Is he looking for somebody to forgive him or something?”

“PhD question, Sport,” Imogene replied, slowly getting up. Timothy was quick to help her. “But the New Deal was something that President Roosevelt came up with during the Great Depression.”

“What’s that got to do with Uncle Frank?” her little brother asked.

“Your Uncle Frank’s real name is Franklin,” Timothy answered. “And your Mom’s name is Eleanor, the same as Roosevelt’s wife. I’m thinking Grandpa and Grandma Edwards really loved FDR.” Timothy looked down at his daughter who was just looking up at him. She made a silent request and he sighed, nodding and embracing her tightly. “No hospitals!” His daughter’s smile was all the ‘thank you’ he needed.

“Okay,” Alan said, patting Imogene on the shoulder and Timothy on the back, “I’m going to get Jarvis to a doctor just to make sure Hammerin’ Hank over here didn’t do any serious damage.” The sheriff adjusted his hat, donned his sunglasses and headed for the door.

“Sure, Alan,” Timothy replied, walking his friend to the door.. “And thanks… for everything.”

“Do you think Dad told Coach Thaxton what happened in Santa Cruz?” Imogene asked Gordon as the two of them watched the men walk away.

“I don’t know,” Gordon answered. “They were outside for a while, but I thought they were just talking.”

“Our Dad just doesn’t watch enough TV,” Imogene concluded. “You and I have got to keep a lid on what we tell grown-ups.”

“Why?”

“Chalk it up to female intuition,” Imogene answered as she ushered her brother over to their sleeping uncle.

“What about male intuition?”

“That’s an oxymoron!” Imogene answered. “But if anyone’s got it, Gordo, it’s you!”

“In that case,” Gordon said quietly, “I need to show you something after Coach Thaxton and Dad leave.” Imogene nodded and the two looked after their uncle until their father returned.

The three of them managed to carry Franklin from the floor to his tub where they rinsed him off. Not surprising to Imogene, it did not take Timothy too long to get the bad smell off of Franklin and she kept it to herself that she knew which soap to use of the three bars she had found in his bathroom. After some drying and dressing, the two siblings were asked to assist once more as they carried Franklin to his bed and Timothy situated things after that. He came downstairs a few minutes later, slightly winded and very confused.

“Why on Earth did he smell like that?” Timothy asked.

“Not sure,” Imogene replied as she presented Timothy with a sheet of paper.

“What’s this?”

“He’s set for bachelor living, Dad,” Imogene answered. “If we’re going to stay here, we need groceries. Some real human food!”

Timothy looked at the list and sighed. But he was not in any position to argue or delay. “You wanna come with me, Gordon?”

“I think I need to stay here, Dad,” Gordon answered and Timothy smiled his surprise.

“Okay, Sport, no problem,” Timothy said as he looked around the room.

“Keys are on the coffee table,” Imogene said as she tried to replace the panel to the secret storage room. Timothy grabbed the keys and walked out of the door. “Give him a twenty count and then go to the door to make sure he’s pulling out.” Gordon looked at the door his father left through and started counting. “Once he’s out of sight, go to the edge of the garage and make sure he drives away.” Gordon did as he was instructed and came back a few moments later.

“What took so long?” Imogene asked.

“I thought he might have seen me taking a look,” Gordon answered in a whisper. “So I waited to see if he would drive back by. But he didn’t.”

“So everything’s okay?” Imogene also whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Then why are we whispering?”

“Because, we’re sneaking around doing stuff we’re not supposed to do!” Gordon explained.

“How do you know that?”

“Follow me and find out,” Gordon replied and walked away. Imogene followed him to the room where he normally slept whenever they stayed with Uncle Frank. But that had been almost sixteen months ago. “Okay, this is it!”

“You have to stop whispering!” Imogene insisted… at a whisper.

Gordon made no reply, he just pushed the door open. Imogene gasped when she saw two young Latino people seated on the bed. “I think these are the strays the sheriff was looking for. They were in that secret room that Jarvis found. It fell open while you two were fighting. I got them out of there after I knocked him out.”

“You knocked out a grown man?!” Imogene jumped.

“You beat up the deputy?” the young girl spoke up. She had a fairly thick Spanish accent, but her English was still pretty good. Imogene was taken aback by her brother’s courage and by the response demonstrated by the young girl. She had long black hair and big brown eyes that blinked with amazement.

“Oh, why not!” Imogene thought, entertaining a devilish notion.

“Who else?” Imogene barked. “There was no one left in the room! I was down for the count, and the last thing I saw was Gordo here flying through the air, nailing James with a flying kick.”

“How did you see that?” Gordon asked.

“See former note on female intuition,” Imogene muttered. “Believe, little bro! Believe!”

“I’m Imogene Schultz,” she said aloud to the two young people. “You guys obviously know my Uncle Frank,” Imogene said as she stepped forward and offered her hand.

“That’s close enough, gringa!” the young Spanish man said, taking a point of defense in front of the younger girl. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Relax your poncho, Pancho!”

“My name’s Javier, not Pancho!”

“And I’m Imogene, not gringa,” Imogene corrected. Javier looked her over; Genie’s hand was still extended. “We’ve gone through a lot for people we don’t even know. The least you could do is be civil.”

Javier stepped forward and shook her hand.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Imogene said sarcastically. “Well Gordo, you’re right, this is something we’re not supposed to be doing.”

“That’s too bad,” Franklin said as he entered the room, rubbing his head. “Because your mother had been doing it for years!” Imogene and Gordon jumped at the sound of his voice. The other two siblings jumped as well, but they were glad to see him and not nearly as shocked.

“Francis,” the young girl cried as she ran to Franklin and embraced him. He picked her up off the ground, returning the hug.

“Easy, Milania,” Frank said with a smile. “I’m getting too old for this!” Frank eventually put the girl down and then set his eyes on Javier. The two nodded when their eyes met.

“Boy, the name New Deal is taking on more and more as the day gets older,” Imogene said as her uncle turned and glared at her.

“Why are you here anyway?” Frank asked, feeling an awkward explanation forthcoming. “And how did I wind up in my own bed?”

“Your Brazilian marital arts got stuck somewhere in Panama,” Imogene answered. “You nearly killed yourself, but Dad put you to bed. He’s in your car now getting groceries.”

“There’s food here!” Frank insisted.

“Not where we can find it,” Imogene said.

“Because it’s not for you!” Frank shot back. “It’s for them.”

Imogene put her fists on her hips and smiled as she looked between her brother, her uncle and his two illegal alien guests. “I can see this is going to take a long talk and some coffee. I’m going downstairs to get the coffee and the aspirin.”

“I don’t have a headache!” Franklin grumbled.

“It’s early yet,” Imogene replied as she went down the stairs.

“Did you really beat up the deputy?” Javier asked.

“He was already pretty much brain-challenged,” Gordon answered. “I got lucky.”

“Whoa!” Franklin sighed as he looked into a younger and male version of his sister. He could still remember Eleanor pulling him out of fights that he had started and she had finished. At first, he had been embarrassed to be saved by his younger sister. Over time, like all things that went against Eleanor, this too had turned in her favor and there had been more than a couple of occasions where he came to depend on her ability.

“Yeah, kid,” he said as he left the room, feeling a headache coming on. Apparently the female version of his baby sister had Eleanor’s foresight. “Some luck!”

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