EON FICTION COMPETITION
- WINNER -

"Family ties, totality binds”, by Victor Frost

In my limited time here I’ve learned two things: one, there are no assurances; two: there isn’t a guarantee that the sun will rise tomorrow, for you, me, or anyone else. My name is Jason. Not that its all that meaningful for you to know my name, what I have to say is not something that will gain or lose any importance because of who told you, it just happens to be me, and my name just happens to be Jason. This story is also of little true importance, but I tell it simply so that I am no longer the only one to have known these things. I’m a clear, one of the Old Man’s brood if you will, and this is one of the last days of my life.

Unlike most clears that have visions of their own death, mine wasn’t quite as, uhm, “clear” as most. I don’t know how its going to happen, I don’t even have a very specific date yet, all I know is that its coming, sometime in my thirtieth year of life. I don’t wear the armband, all that serves is a crutch for those afraid of their own end, afraid to make those they love suffer. All it does in the end is separate you from the only people who could ever possibly make these final moments worthwhile. These days I take private contracts, I’ve peaceably retired from the order, so my services are lent to anyone that wishes them. All this affords me is the peace to live my final years in the way I want. Of course, most of that peace was taken from me the day I met Isis and her family. Family is the wrong word, I’m not sure Isis has family anymore, she may merely have blood relations. I get ahead of myself, a problem most of us clairsentients have, hard to speak in the here and now when your brain is constantly a few seconds ahead.

Two months ago I was hired by a woman named Isis Ellinas. Isis, like most of my clients these days, was a meta-corp executive, heck, she may have ran the whole corp., I was never sure. The request itself was, shall we say cryptic. Just a message on my minicomp saying, “services required, triple your standard fee.” I’m not one to question; I’ve spent a vast portion of my life following orders, so that’s what I did here. I gave my usual non-committal response, even Otha’s abilities aren’t an exact science as far as I can tell, and I’m nowhere near as old as he is. At any rate I agreed to meet her at her home in Rome.

The house was to put it mildly, spectacular. The entire property is surrounded by a three-meter wall, capped at intermediate points with large vases full of lush red flower arrangements. Don’t ask me what kind, I’m terrible with flowers. The gates are equally ornate, brass fittings and wrought iron styles, leading to a wide road of sorts made from fractured cement blocks sunk into the ground and filed to lay smooth, like a mirror still cracked in its own frame. On either edge of the road about every ten feet there is a small dome, perhaps as far across as my foot, and shallow in stature. Some extraneous decoration I supposed. Off to both sides of the road are large, healthy trees with full blooming branches; I get the feeling it’s always spring there, something to do with chemical treatments and artificial local climate manipulators. I barely noticed the trees for the butterflies though, thousands of them, Monarchs. You can hardly see the green of the leaves for the orange and red of the insect wings. Every step I took in the path the trees ahead of me on either side would momentarily come alive and empty of their inhabitants only to have them resettle once I had passed. The whole entryway was like walking down a path of living carpet that shuddered at my presence. I must confess to some inner sense of pride granted by this, its not often I have any creature, man insect or otherwise, rise at my passing.

I took my time walking that road to the house, and I can’t say it was wasted time. I think it amounted to fourteen and a half minutes of my life I can’t get back, though for the life of me I can’t say I would change it. There was a peace I found on that road I haven’t known since before I joined ISRA, and I have yet to feel it again. The road bent slightly, gracefully curving as it mounted the unassuming yet firm hill. At the end I stood before the house. The road had been a prelude, though an enticing one, to the sight I now enjoyed. The house was deceptively small, for its three-story frame it appeared twice that. The cement and marble motifs where only highlighted by the flowers, like the ones on the wall, but in more shades, orange and yellow with red. Again all the flowers were arranged in white stone vases set at even points along the house’s porch and balconies. The walls were almost bone white, polished to a dull sheen that caught the sun just so that it was eye catching, but not abrasive. And beneath it all sat a lawn of pure emerald. The grass was so firm and crisp I was hardly sure it was real. The only thing that makes me think it was is the smell which I’ve since been told can be fabricated. I’m disappointed knowing that, takes some of the magic out of it. The house sprawled, a great beast that had laid down for a nap. Its width and length nearly double that of its height and at every conceivable point were windows with pearl curtains drawn. This was the first detail that disturbed me, and had I known what lay ahead I might have taken it as an omen, all those windows, and not a ray of unfiltered sunlight to be let into this gorgeous home.

The doors were heavy, made of some ancient wood that was a dull red brown; it was hard not to feel their age. As I approached them I wondered exactly how anyone could afford such splendor, even within a meta-corp. This whole place reeked of gratuitous spending. Nothing in the area was out of order; it was all sequenced into some pattern of beauty. To this day I’m not certain who designed or built that house, but I know he was an artist, that much was apparent. I stepped towards the doors and let my hand fall against them four times. They took the punishment well, allowing the noise to echo through the passages beyond. I would have preferred a bell of some kind, the doors were too grand to knock on in such a manner, but none was present. After a brief moment a woman answered the door. She pulled the massive wood barrier back and glanced out with a face that seemed to half recognize me.

“You must be Mr. Gallyon.”
“Jason, never liked my last name, always seemed too heavy.”
“Jason then. Come in, my sister will be down in a moment, she’s taking an important call.”

The girl was stunning, maybe a year or two younger than I, but so intense. Every time she spoke she met my eyes without hesitation. Hers were orbs of pure indigo, tinted with small flecks of gray. She ushered me in warmly, guiding me through the main hall and into the living area. Only after we settled onto separate couches in the living room was I able to actually take in her full appearance. She was younger than I, but only barely, with thin, straight blonde hair tied back behind her head so as not to get in the way. A few strands were loose, but they only served to make the curves in her face more pronounced. She was wearing some dark athletic clothes, all black and navy; it made her stand out against the cream of the couch. She looked like she might have been on her way out for a jog when I arrived.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I’m sure you must be busy.”
“Not as much as you’d think I bet.”
“Really? Hmm, well then I suppose it’s alright to ask you if you’d like any tea?”
“Certainly, that sounds great.”

Tea… a year ago when I was out in the belt I’d be drinking the hardest liquor they had. Legionnaire gun ships aren’t the best place for people like me, regardless of how much I was needed. I still remember how much trouble came of all that, I think it was one week before I left I got the vision of my death. Not really a vision so much I suppose, more a feeling. When you have talents like these you start to realize that such feelings are more than just feelings. One second I’m putting on my uniform, prepping for that morning’s duties, the tedious minutiae of coordinate plotting, and all of the sudden I just knew. Terrible thing to realize before breakfast, the totality could have at least revealed it to me on a full stomach. Let me actually have something to puke up instead of dry heaving for twenty minutes. No such luck. The tea was warm, soothing, just enough to keep me focused on what the girl was saying.

“So, did sis’ tell you why she needed you? I’m sure it has something to do with William; what with all the fuss she’s been giving over him the last few days. She’s so quiet about “business.” Not that she ever really tells me anything about anything, just kind of musing to myself on this one.”
“Sorry, she hasn’t said specified any of the parameters of the deal yet.”
“That’s a somewhat dry way of saying it.”
“Seems most people like it dry, hard to describe my profession any other way without getting blank stares.”
“I bet those blank stares are worse for you than anybody, knowing the things you know.”
“You’re very direct.”
“You like to veil your feelings so people won’t see the truth you do, you know they’d fear you for it.”
“Very direct.”
“You feel trapped by your abilities, so afraid to open up and hope because you’ve seen it all. We’re all trapped you know, including me. Everyone feels a little imprisoned by their lives.”

She stared into my eyes, much as I wanted to turn I found it difficult even to blink away from her gaze. She broke first upon hearing footsteps coming down the main staircase. I quickly looked down; anything to avoid her eyes, they were paralyzing. I knew she looked back at me but I was busy taking in details of the room, had to avoid looking at her anymore. The floor was white stone of some kind, detailed and framed in gray marble; everything here was so smooth. The couch to the floor to the trees on the hill, your eyes slid off of everything. Eventually my head calmed and I looked in the direction of the footsteps that had so mercifully broken my trance. Rounding the side of the staircase was another woman, taller and markedly older than the one I was speaking to though lacking nothing in beauty, and more lavishly dressed in pearl and olive colored fabrics. She looked towards me. Her hair was a crown of tight curls; it reminded me of old Roman sculptures I’d seen. It twisted down in the back and two of the curls rested on her shoulder. Her posture spoke to her authority and I could only guess that she was the one I was here to meet. There was something wrong with her eyes, though it didn’t strike me till she crossed over and I stood to shake her hand. She had no eyes, only pupiless ivory globes where they should have been. Some sort of prosthetic. She griped my hand with a gentle strength.

“Mr. Gallyon.”
“He prefers Jason, sis’.”
“Jason, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, I’m Isis, this is my sister Aia.”

So that was her name. I couldn’t remember if I’d forgotten to ask or she’d just never told me. Aia, an enthralling girl that had in only seconds reduced my focus to smoldering wreckage. Nothing to be done, I had to regain composure quickly.

“A pleasure to meet you both.”
“If you will, Jason, this way. We have some business to discuss.”

I followed her quickly, all the while knowing that Aia was standing right where we’d been sitting simply gazing at me as I retreated with Isis. I could feel those indigo eyes stabbing into my back, prodding me to turn back and continue dancing with them at the expense of my own sanity. I was relieved when we finally started up the staircase and I knew she wasn’t looking anymore. I shifted my attentions to Isis. Her dress was long and silken; I assume hand made. It shifted on her frame lightly, the measured step of the aristocrat. At the top of the stairs she turned and proceeded to a door on the left. She opened it into a spacious personal office. She proceeded in and took her place behind the hardwood desk. I took mine across from her and clasped my hands together to keep from fidgeting. She turned her face to where she would be starring directly at me, though her eyes being as they were I could only guess where she was really looking.

“Tell me Jason, why did you accept my offer?”
“It was intriguing, mysteries are nice every now and again.”
“It was dangerous, you’ve crossed some eccentric people in your day.”
“I believe Capt. Voorhees is still under strict medical supervision.”
“So he is, so he is. Is he why you left the Shomen Ryu?”
“He’s part of the reason, yes.”
“I’m sure an insane captain kept you busy while you were with the Legions, what was the other reason?”
“I’m sorry Ms., Isis was it? You seem to have me at an awkward disadvantage. Clearly you’ve read my files, why are we covering ground you already know? What part of my talents do you require, what was I hired for?”

Wanting to shift some of the balance I searched ahead a few seconds, trying to snag her next sentence so I could dissect it and form a response without being caught off guard by whatever she had to say. I was at a loss, the totality was gone; whoever this woman was, whatever she was doing, I couldn’t call on my abilities. I scanned the room with my eyes looking for the device, suddenly panicked without the totality aiding my steps as it had for so long.

“What’s wrong Mr. Gallyon? Oh! That…I’m terribly sorry, how impolite of me,” she flicked her fingers across a keypad and I was suddenly reconnected. “Security measure, you’d be amazed just what kinds of talents can be bought these days; you must have noticed it on the road up to the house as well, why didn’t you remind me sooner?”
“The road…I was, distracted.”
“Well, it’s fixed; they’ve all been turned off. You will be able to access your abilities from now on.”
“Th… thank you.”
“As I was about to say, my reason for inquiring was merely trying to familiarize myself with the kind of person you were. I meant no disrespect. I tend to make a habit out of knowing more about others than they do about me at first, though I suppose that’s a silly stance to take with one like yourself isn’t it?”
“You’d be amazed what we don’t know.”
“I might be, but that’s not what you’re here for. You’re here because of what you do know. I need you to look at someone for me, need you to try to see into his future, see where he is going. My son William, I want to know what his life holds. I need to know that he will live to be a great man.”
“You want me to do a fortune telling? I can’t. Surely you must know it doesn’t work like that. All the effort you took to get my file and you’d ask me to do this?”
“I know you can do this, and I know that for you it does work like that. You may know all and see all but I can tell a bluff when it comes my way. Your file is far more accurate than you might like to believe.”
“Why do you want this, why does it matter? The totality isn’t perfect, human will factors in, I can’t tell you for certain what will happen to your child.,” it was increasingly difficult to focus on her and maintain composure, her vacant eyes gave her all the advantage she’d ever need over me. I couldn’t keep from stumbling through it.
“But you can tell me the most likely outcome, that’s what I’m paying you to do. Please, you can’t imagine how important this is to me. I must know that William will grow up to take my place.”
“And if he won’t? What then? What if you don’t like what you hear, the future isn’t always bright,” those hemispherical balls narrowed in their sockets, I couldn’t tell whether she was insulted or off balance.
“If he is not to be the man I hope he is, steps will be taken, you need not know what steps, that isn’t important. I know what cruelties the future can hold.”

I wasn’t hearing her words anymore, my vision had already slipped and was sweeping other images into view. I saw a child, a misshapen child, with pink eyes as large as its head, black slick skin and short, segmented protrusions on its forehead, held in the arms of a much younger Isis. It cried a shrill cry that sounded only vaguely of this world and as it did its long, tube-like tongue stretched from a toothless maw. I saw Isis crying, tearing her beautiful brown locks from her head as her adolescent child was wretched from her arms and into the hands of authorities, a danger to her and everyone around her. I saw another man’s body lying still as stone on the ground, bathed in his own gore. I winced and gripped the chair arms. There was nothing I could do, the image played and played in my brain. For minutes on end I couldn’t see or hear for the shrieks of the monster child and his mother. When I regained my senses I was on the floor curled into a ball.

“Are you alright Mr. Gallyon? Do you need some water?”
“Yes, please. And it’s Jason. I hate the name Gallyon.”

I sat up on the floor as Isis brought me a small cup of water. I gulped it down, pleased to feel something cool entering my stomach, reassuring me that I was again in the real world. Isis had avoided the issue, she didn’t want to know what kind of man William would be; she wanted to know simply that he would be a man. I stood up somewhat awkwardly.

“I’ll look at William. I’ll tell you what I see.”
“You understand now?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Thank you, I’ll take you to him.”

We proceeded back down stairs, and as we crossed the living room behind them I was relieved to see that Aia was gone, presumably out on her run. I wasn’t sure if I could take her eyes any more after what had just happened. We came to a sitting room at the very back of the house, set out of the main structure and made almost entirely of glass. The sun shined in brilliantly illuminating the white floor. In the center of the room grew another of those large trees, only this time without butterflies and contained within this glass cage of sorts. It cast a light shadow over several chairs and couches beneath it. Directly in front of the tree facing into the house was a crib, over which stood William’s babysitter. The woman turned from the child at our approach. Thus far she was the only thing remotely plain about this whole experience, she seemed an utterly average though no less caring youth. I could tell why Isis had her care for the child, she had the air of a mother around her.

“It’s alright Samantha. If you would be so kind as to give me and Jason a little privacy.”
“Jason, right, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me”
“Thank you Samantha,” As she passed she whispered under her breath a single word: ”seer.” Then she was gone.
“This,” Isis started, picking up the small brown hared child, “is William. He’s two years old this Saturday. Say ‘hello’ to the good man, William.” The child blinked at me. I garnered no specific response from people upon first impressions as a rule, this seemed to extend to children as well. William made no expression, his tiny round face was relaxed and uninterested. I stepped forward.
“Do you need to hold him? Or will this be enough?”
“This is fine,” I extended my hand and touched the child’s nose.
“Can we begin then?”
“Yes, I’ve already started.”

Clearing the fog of the totality is no easy matter, it takes discipline, finesse. Finding a path through the fog, to another person, to their destiny, is almost impossible. I’m not entirely sure why William’s life came to me so easily, but it flooded into my vision so quickly it was hard to make sense of. I saw him growing, becoming older and older, a fluid change in his form from adolescent to young man, athletic and handsome looking. The aging stopped there, to give way to images of events, a flight into space. He’s fleeing something, running away. His youth is eventful though he never sees it, and his adulthood is more eventful, though by then he is the one taking action. He flies out past the places I have been and meets someone, a woman. She is aggressive and spiteful, but he loves her. They sweep forward into the stars like comets racing to burn themselves out. And all the while I am watching this, another figure stands behind me, a dark, smooth shape in the background, watching as I do the boy’s growth and life. The figure is father like in its attentiveness, though not a father. It is colder, almost sinister. It watches to watch, with no more actual interest than a random passerby. Its stake in the boy’s life is something I wasn’t clear on. It was clearly significant, but it never crossed the child’s path directly. Always in the shadows, watching and waiting.

When I awoke from the dream I saw Isis had reclined herself in the nearby couch, gripping the baby in one arm and a small framed photo in another. I made my way slowly to them, my balance slightly off. Something that still occasionally happens to me on Earth; I spent so much time in space that when I have visions my body forgets where it is and defaults out to the place I spent the most time. I looked first at the child, pawing at his mother’s dress while she stared at the photo. She seemed mesmerized. I looked at the picture myself. It is of Isis and a man whom I believed was her husband. He holds William and all three are relaxed in front of one of the trees from the hill. There are butterflies everywhere and the tree itself looks massive in comparison to the parents and their child. The picture almost seemed posed. The father too stoic to be holding his son, the mother too poised to fiddle with the baby’s clothes. Even the tree seemed out of place, something about it was looming, thick, darker than the ones I had seen when I came up the road. Its shadows were deep, rounded, solid.

“Anton, William’s father, my ex-husband.”
“Ex-husband?”
“Well, its not official yet, though I’m expecting the papers any day now, I haven’t seen Anton in person for almost a year. We’ve been having troubles since… it’s been a long time coming, William was just the final straw for him.”
“He doesn’t want to be a part of the child’s life?”
“Far from it, I expect he’ll ask to take William when he finally does reappear. I think he blames me.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. It’s not your fault.”
“No, but fairness isn’t one of Anton’s strong points.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” she wasn’t asking in reference to her husband.
“Yes I do actually. He’ll be fine, a rocky life, but no more than anyone’s is these days. He’ll have a passion for space. He’ll go there to escape things here. He’ll meet a girl there; they will end up together. His life won’t be uneventful,” I’d become so used to telling people my visions as I saw them I scarcely edited myself anymore. A bad habit I suppose, one can always say too much.
“I’m sure it won’t be an uneventful life. The space travel is out of the question, but that is easily remedied. You saw that he isn’t…”
“No, that’s not going to happen again, I’m sure of it. The space travel though, what do you mean out of the question?”
“William will never leave Earth, his place is here, he will have much to attend to when I’m gone.”
“You can’t make that decision, his destiny is laid out. The totality guides us all.”
“As you said, human will can change that destiny.”
“That’s not what I meant, you can’t just arbitrarily veto his choices before he’s made them. That could have catastrophic consequences, if not for you then at least for William.”
“I am his mother. I will decide what parts of the ‘totality’ are most advantageous to his upbringing.”
“But you can’t just…”
“And as for those catastrophic consequences, you needn’t worry about that, William will always be watched over. Even after his father and I pass there will be guardians for him. He is the key to the future of my line. He is where all my hopes for the future lie, and he will always be made aware of that.”
“You are what he flees from.”
“I promise you young man, fleeing from your own blood is not an option here. Thank you Mr. Gallyon, your services are rendered well. The money will be deposited in your account this evening. If you will show yourself to the door I still have meetings today.”

Samantha reentered the room as if on cue and I was prompted to exit. I did so begrudgingly, my duties were fulfilled and no matter how much I would have liked to continue the argument I had neither the energy nor authority to stay. As I trod back down the road from the house to the gates I was overcome by a mild despair. Not able to lose myself in the scenery as I did when I first arrived the images kept replaying in my mind. That child, so tiny, would be forced to run from the woman that birthed him. Whatever I felt at my own plights they paled in comparison to his. At the least I got to live my life. He would spend a large portion of his being chased by things he couldn’t control. The pity in my heart nearly overcame me.

“William will always be watched over. Even after his father and I pass there will be guardians for him.”

The dark figure, like a father but not since his actual father was most likely as wayward as his mother. That picture she held, so intently staring at it even though the roles expressed within its frame were so forced. What did she see in that image, a family that even she would never allow for the child? He would never grasp the understanding feigned on their faces there. The trees swayed around me, their insect inhabitants swirling in the now midday light. The trees. The tree had looked so black, so dark and smooth in its own shadow. Pictures have a funny way of deepening some shadows and lightening others, rounding them out into new forms that would never have been seen when it was taken. Or was it even a shadow? Hard to say now, memories are so fleeting sometimes. Some days I think I saw something else in that image. Another figure standing under that tree. Cold, dark, already ruined to the world. That black, chitinous skin that would loom so well in all the shadows of a young boy’s life. A keeper.

I reached the gates and took one long look back up the hill towards the house. As I turned back I was met with two blazing indigo orbs. Aia was apparently back from her jog. How long had I been here now? An hour, maybe two? How was it that my departure would coincide so perfectly with her return?

“Everything go well?” she would not allow me to avert my gaze.
“Y… not as well as I would like.”
“She’s going to strangle that kid’s life away the way she’s going. Suppose it’s all she can remember, our parents were that way too, you get used to it after awhile.”

“I promise you young man, fleeing from your own blood is not an option here.”

I felt sick. She was right, by doing as she asked I allowed the walls to be put into place that would bind William to that house indefinitely. His will might be enough to free him, though my intervention made it that much harder. My mind wandered back to the picture. If I was right… no fleeing, no being taken either. Nothing would shatter Isis’s family. She’d even managed to keep Aia close at hand.

“Cheer up. It’s never quite that bad. You look like somebody died.”
“Somebody may have.”
“I know what you mean, but its all there is to the universe. Be assured, tomorrow is another day, the sun will rise in the morning. Least that’s what I keep thinking to myself. We can only stay trapped for so long, right?”

The next day was August 3, 2122, and for a good few in my order, the sun didn’t come up that morning.