Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

“Make yourself comfortable,” his father said with a chuckle. “Did you lose your razor?”

“It’s the five o’clock shadow look, Father. Women love it.”

Magda rubbed Eduard’s cheek. “Not this woman. Too scratchy.” She turned back to her son. “How does Karla like it?”

“She thinks I’m hot.”

His father poured drinks, dark Alhambra lager for himself and Viktor, and a glass of Àn Tinto wine for Magda. “We have something to celebrate.”

They all raised their glasses.

Eduard offered a toast. “To our son. Two years. No tumors.”

Viktor took a drink, savoring the flavor, and set his glass on the coffee table. “No more tests. No more doctors.”

His mother smiled. “It’s a good idea to go for testing every five years or so, just to be sure.”

Viktor was a keen observer of body language. His mother’s smile was broad and genuine, showcasing her pearly white teeth. Her eyes were radiant. But he also sensed her emotions, something she didn’t show on her face. “You’re worried about my brain waves. The EEG results.”

“I can’t hide anything from you,” said his mother. “Even though you appear to be healthy, I worry. The doctor might be right. Your brain uses so much energy, it could be harming you.”

“You mean my headaches, don’t you?”

Eduard set his glass on the nightstand. “I’m no doctor, and I can see it. Those aren’t normal headaches.”

Viktor worried about it, too. Sometimes he got so dizzy he nearly passed out. “It only happens when I get upset. I’ve learned to control it.” There were also things he hadn’t told his parents, like how his vision often suffered—objects became blurry, and sometimes he saw double. The thought of losing sight in his only healthy eye was frightening.

His mother nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

Viktor looked at his father. “What is it? I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“That’s the problem. You can tell. You know too much about other peoples’ thoughts.” Eduard reached out and held Magda’s hand. “You can’t let anyone know what you’re capable of.”

“I don’t care what the EEG shows.” Viktor tugged nervously at the edge of his eye patch. “I can’t read minds.”

Magda looked at her son. “We never said you could read minds. But sensing someone else’s emotions is unusual.”

His father shook his head. “This is serious. Do you want people to be afraid of you? You scare the wrong people, and you could be locked up—or worse.”

Viktor didn’t share his father’s concern about sensing feelings. He stood up and scratched his scar. “I’m going to bed. What time is our flight tomorrow?”

“Eleven o’clock,” said his father. “But we need to catch the seven o’clock commuter train to Madrid. It’s a short walk to the train station, but we have to leave early.”

“Do they serve breakfast on the train?”

“We can get something at the station—maybe juice or a pastry. When we get to the airport, we’ll have time to eat a real meal.”

Magda took her husband’s hand. “Remember. We have a dinner date tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Viktor. “March eleventh. Happy Anniversary in advance.”

****

In the early morning, Viktor shoved his gloved left hand into the pocket of his winter coat as he pulled his luggage with the other. Alcalá Station was only a hundred meters away.

His father wrapped one arm around Magda as he pulled their bag with the other. “You’ll warm up once we get inside the station.”

“I know.” Magda wore a cashmere coat, with a scarf wrapped around most of her face. “Which train are we looking for?”

“There are a lot of trains to Madrid. We’re going to the same station we used yesterday on our way here—Atocha.”

Warm air welcomed them when they entered and headed toward the lighted board displaying train schedules. Viktor was still learning how to cope with his sensitivity to emotions. The man to his right was excited, but the woman with him was worried, and she held the hand of a young girl who was confused. Their emotions, as well as the emotions of everyone else within a ten-meter circle, assaulted his mind from all directions, as though everyone was yelling at once.

He recognized the ‘emotional signatures’ of his parents, but the feelings of the strangers around him seemed to blend together. All except for one person whose emotions screamed for attention.

Hatred . He sensed intense feelings coming from someone in front of him. He studied the people until he was fairly certain he knew who it was.

He looked at his father and pointed ahead to the left, about two meters away. “The man with the blue hoodie is angry at everyone. More hate than I’ve ever felt before. And he’s struggling with a heavy gym bag.”

“He probably doesn’t like crowds. Keep moving. Tell me when you see which platform our train leaves on.”

“You don’t understand, Father. I’ve gotta stop him.”

Viktor’s sensitivity to feelings often proved to be an advantage, but it would be of no use in stopping this dangerous person. He’d have to intrude into the man’s emotions – another ability he acquired from his illegal medical treatment. It wouldn’t be easy. And then there were the headaches.

The man in the hoodie was close but moving away. Viktor had to act fast. He focused on the strong hateful emotion, then he amplified the intensity and projected it back. He could sense the increase in hatred coming back from this man. It worked. Viktor had control.

He shifted the emotion from hate to fear and then terror. He concentrated on strengthening it as much as possible. Suddenly, pain struck Viktor like a hammer, right in the center of his forehead. It was the headache that always came, punishing him for his strong emotions. My curse . He wasn’t even sure if his efforts paid off.

Fortunately, they did. The man he targeted let out a scream, dropped his bag, and clutched his head with both hands.

Viktor’s eye moved from the man to the bag on the floor. Two wires, red and green, hung out of the side. Ignoring the pain in his head, he shoved the suspicious satchel out of the man’s reach with his foot and yelled. “¡ Bomba !”

He sensed his mother’s fear and saw it in her face. His mind must have affected her as well, but not as much as the man with the bomb.

Screams erupted from the crowd. Everyone tried to get away.

Eduard grabbed Magda by the arm and yelled, “Let’s get out of here. Now!”

Viktor sensed the fear from his parents and the people nearby. I did this . Caused their fear . He concentrated on calming himself. As he did, his headache began to subside.

The man in the hoodie must have recovered as well. He leaned over and reached for the bag.

The bomb ! Viktor raised his right knee, pivoted toward the man, and delivered a round kick to the elbow. He won’t pick it up now . Momentum sent the man to the ground, falling on his injured arm.

Eduard grabbed Viktor. “Let’s move!”

The shrill sound of a whistle announced the arrival of two police officers. One of them ran over to the man lying on the ground. The other one inspected the fallen gym bag.

Viktor’s vision blurred, and he felt dizzy. Nevertheless, he did his best to follow his parents as they moved away from the officers.

His father pointed to the overhead board. “There’s ours—Atocha Station on platform two.”

As they waited in line to access the platform, an official closed the gate.

“ Atención ! Atención !” a man’s voice bellowed over the public-address system. “Alcalá de Henares Security orders everyone to leave the station immediately. All trains have been cancelled. Repeat. Everyone leave the station immediately.”