From the day we met, I could tell she was something special. She had a smile so warm it could melt butter, and so sweet it could give you cavities. She was quite possibly the prettiest girl on the planet. And when she spoke, I swear I could hear music. But the oddest part was, she spoke to me. See, I was a nobody in this area. In a world where people thought more then spoke, and almost everyone could read minds, I was an outcast. I hadn't been able to hear thoughts as a child, and while this condition usually passes with puberty, for me it had not. I was the only man in our town of nearly 100,000 who had been born this way, and it made me an outcast. Women would hardly speak to me, and most of the other men avoided me, or made jokes about me that I couldn't hear. Now I was 20, and alone, and mostly unwanted. The only reason they hadn't kicked me out of town was that my parents were fairly influential, and I was the only one in town who understood how to fix and maintain the last few gasoline engine vehicles, owned by some of the older rich folks. But that left me as the outcast mechanic who no one talked to, except to get their car fixed. Until this weekend. For some reason, this girl was talking to me. And smiling at me.
I met her on Friday afternoon. She came to the shop with her grandfather, who was getting his car fixed. As he was looking over it, she came over and started talking to me. She said she had just turned 18 a few days ago, and was looking for something fun and exciting and different to do, and asked me if I had any ideas. I suggested that she get in touch with Chris, a pilot I knew from high school. He was one of the few people who still respected me, and I knew he would be nice. I also knew he had started running skydiving flights for folks who wanted an adventure. I had gone a couple times, his payment for me keeping his plane in the sky, and knew how much fun it could be. She liked the idea, and asked if I had gone before. I said yes, and she asked if I would like to go again, with her, on Saturday. She said it was only fair, since I had been so nice as to give her the suggestion. I could hardly refuse.
She brought four other people with her, all about her age, and we went up in the plane, and came back down again. She described it as the most fun she had ever had, and looked forward to doing it again sometime.
Later that evening, she came by my house. She was excited about something. Very excited. She said she had to tell someone, and she thought I'd understand. She had found a place for herself, outside of her father's house, where she could live on her own, as an adult. But she didn't know what all that would entail. She asked if I could provide some advice, if she showed me the place. I agreed, and she took me to her new apartment. It was about 2 blocks from where I lived, in an apartment that mostly catered to the young folks who attended the local college. I would have fit in there, were it not for my lack of telepathy and my job as a mechanic. She invited me into the place, which was still empty, save a mattress in the bedroom. She said she was going to get furniture tomorrow. She wanted to know if I wanted to come over when she got the place together. I said sure.
The next day, she stopped by again. It was weird that she kept coming to me to talk, or spend time. She invited me over again, saying she had gotten everything together. She said she wanted to show me something that not many people had seen before. So I went. When I got there, she showed me an old TV. I recognized it, because I was one of the few other people who had one like this. It was a replica of an almost 500 year old model, from before they developed the mental projectors that everyone used now. It was a good old fashioned rear projecting moving light style, with a speaker that produced sound.
"I rebuilt this so I could watch very old movies. The ones from before mental projection. When the people spoke to one another, and you had to use your ears to hear them. And to hear the sound. I don't like the new movies, they aren't as much fun. But the old ones were great. Have you seen one of these before?"
"Yes, I have one. I modified a player from a mental projector to display images and play sound through one of these. But I haven't seen any of the old movies."
We sat and watched Somewhere in Time, an old movie I had never heard of. And at the end, she turned to me, and said "There is something I have to tell you. Something that may surprise you. I was looking for you. My father hates it, but he accepts it. You are one of the few people I can relate to well, because, you see, I hate the telepathy. It is bad for us. The way we think with each other, the way we force our thoughts into other peoples minds. The way we sometimes broadcast what we shouldn't. I have hated it since I was 8, when I heard my parents in the next room. Perhaps heard is the wrong word.... I felt them. They were broadcasting everything they were feeling and seeing, and they were doing something no 8 year old girl should know about. Which is why I sought you. You have a unique ability, in this world of telepathy. You don't hear the noise of your neighbors thoughts. Only your own. I wish I could experience that, just for one day. But instead, I hear the voices."
We sat in silence for a while after that, until I had to go. But I knew we would see each other the next day. And I told her so, and bid her farewell. I hope this is the beginning of something good.
No comments:
Post a Comment