[Fiction] Broken Mirror

[Ptesan-Wi]

I can't be alone.

This was the conclusion that the young Lakota anti-nova - no, 'mesmerist', she reminded herself - had finally reached one afternoon, carrying the last of the produce up the long trail in wicker baskets.

I just can't be the last of my kind.

Weeks had passed since the strange little gathering at the Phoenix Room, but those weeks had been long... and in some ways, brutal.

The trip home had been as simple as Long willing it so; once again, Ptesan-Wi was reminded of the limited scope of her powers as she stepped through the rift in space onto her beloved Inyan Kara. Happiness that had swelled in her heart at the sight of Wakinyan had fallen away when she realized that her beautiful mihinga ki was deeply troubled by something. What little remained of that joy had been crushed entirely by his news the next day: the news that he would be going away to a place where he could heal his own wounds, and that his return was not nearly so certain as what she later told the gathered elders of the tribe.

Loneliness was a shroud upon her, heavier than the thick blackness she had watched Timeslip use to carry her beloved mate away to some other world. At least when Wakinyan had been with her, the uniqueness of her life had not seemed to matter so much. But now? Now, it was altogether different. The tribe thought of her as either a goddess or a nova, and while she aspired to the first and played at the second, she was neither. Her mentor had not visited the sacred lands since the Pow-Wow over two months before. The handful of novas that she knew and trusted went on with their busy lives, and Ptesan-Wi was left very much alone with her thoughts.

Yet those thoughts had offered a lifeline. Samhra's amazing gift of archival knowledge had shown her that others of her kind had existed before, others who had powers of the mind but were untouched and untouching of quantum energies. Their names, lost to the greater world, were stamped indelibly in her mind. Whitley Styles, Count Zorbo, Fulminatore, Lady de Winter... the names marched on, revealing a people every bit as diverse as the "One Race", with visionaries and madmen, heroes and scoundrels, and everything in-between. All lost behind the veil of a modern world that did not care to remember that novas were not the first new breed to walk the earth.

But I cannot be the last. There must be others... somewhere. Somehow.

And as she crested the ledge that held the opening of her cave-home, Ptesan-Wi knew that she would find them, somehow.

[Ptesan-Wi]

No small amount of trepidation caused Ptesan-Wi's fingers to tremble as she tapped out the message on her OpNet terminal. It wasn't just that she was contacting a particularly powerful nova, nor was it only a matter of the risk of being exposed by doing so. No, today she was trying to contact a murderer.

The path to this decision had not been an easy one.

Over the past several days, Ptesan-Wi had busied herself in various villages of the Lakota people. Ostensibly, she was there in a consultant role, filling - as best she could - Wakinyan's very large shoes. Indeed, she did help with matters of that sort: negotiating an agreement between two arguing chiefs, providing spiritual guidance as best she could to a troubled medicine woman, helping to plan an end-of-harvest celebration, etcetera. But while part of her was dealing with these matters, a very different part was trying to find something very, very special. Trying – and failing – to find any sign of someone else who used the quiet sort of energy that would mark a fellow ‘mesmerist’.

She had heard descriptions of novas doing this; indeed, she had ‘felt’, by way of a mental link, Wakinyan do exactly that on a number of occasions. A small amount of quantum would be gathered and then sent out in a pulse, generating a resonating response from other novas in the area. But did it work the same (albeit with a different kind of energy) for a mesmerist? In the end, there was only one way to know, and that was to try it in the vicinity of one. And as the only mesmerist she knew of, she faced a Catch-22: to find others of her kind, she needed to use a power that she could only learn to use around others of her kind.

The obvious conclusion came quickly enough. The courage to pursue it did not. But finally, after days of indecision, she sent the message:

*** Timeslip: I need your help on a project of a personal nature. I need to visit another world. If you are willing to help, please respond. Ptesan-Wi ***

Hours later, when a brief message appeared in her in-box, the isolated young woman didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

[Ptesan-Wi]

Settling down beside the cookfire, Ptesan-Wi took a cup of herbal tea in shaking hands. Well, she thought to herself, that was most definitely the strangest day I've ever had. With chamomile slowly calming her nerves, she reflected on the extraordinary day.

----------------------

Meeting with Timeslip - face-to-face - had been intimidating enough. The cosmic appearance of Long's wife was so complete, so seamless, that there was no good visual point of reference; Ptesan-Wi had found herself staring not so much at, but through, the infamous Terat.

But even with all that power at her fingertips, Timeslip's mind had proven to be a relatively open book. Oh, there had been supplementary defenses - a pair of devices given to her by Long, she eventually learned - but Timeslip's mind was not trained to defend itself against the quiet sort of peek that Ptesan-Wi took. That peek helped her rest easy. Timeslip was genuinely supportive of the Lakota woman's desire to meet "herself" in another timeline, having done so herself; images of a half-Japanese girl with star-filled eyes came briefly to Ptesan-Wi's mind when she explained what she wanted to the skilled temporal manipulator.

The trip itself had been deeply, deeply disconcerting. After Timeslip had focused silently for a moment, she nodded her head; then, her starfield had ballooned outward, capturing Ptesan-Wi within it. For a moment, she started to panic. Then, just as quickly and with a gut-wrenching twist of reality, the shroud collapsed back into Timeslip... and the two were standing in a bare and empty cave.

Ptesan-Wi looked around at what had been, seconds ago, her comfortable home. No trace of that comfort was to be found here. Instead, there was nothing but claw marks, broken stone, dust... and old, dark stains that looked disturbingly like blood. The pair left the cave, and Ptesan-Wi stopped short. There was a carving she had not seen in over a year - a carving that Wakinyan had shattered in anger and rage after being spurned by the artist. It was the only such carving here; the surrounding stones were untouched by Carver's deft, deadly claws. If there had been any doubt at all that this was a different world, that lone sculpture had erased it.

Timeslip had recommended that Ptesan-Wi bring a set of "normal" clothing; digging into her pack, the Lakota woman dug out the jeans and shirt from a previous life, clothes that she had not worn since shortly after meeting Wakinyan. They felt strange on her; despite having worn such for most of her life, Ptesan-Wi had long since set that part of her life aside. Once changed, the two took to the air, and - with the aid of Timeslip's namesake talents - were soon outside a very familiar home in Colorado.

"Well hello, Angela; I didn't know you were in the area!" Iron Rose's voice brought memories sweeping back for Ptesan-Wi. She almost - almost - reacted with a familiar and friendly greeting of her own; it took a good deal of self-control to keep from doing so. This isn't my Iron Rose. And if who I'm looking for is here, it's time I find out. Gathering what she had for so long thought of as anti-quantum, Ptesan-Wi released a pulse... and for the first time in her life, she received an echo. YES! It works!!!

A few seconds later, the source of that echo appeared beside Iron Rose. Pale skin, delicate caucasian features... and staring at Ptesan-Wi with as much, if not more, intensity than the latter was staring at the former. Timeslip said, "It's good to see you again, Thoughtwave."

While Timeslip struck up a conversation with this world's Iron Rose, an entirely separate - and silent - conversation was happening between the two near-twins.

*You're just like me,* Thoughtwave sent. *In fact, you are me, sort of. Where are you from?*

Ptesan-Wi replied, *Timeslip brought me here, from... from another timeline. I needed to find you; I needed to find someone else like me.*

*Does she know?* The caucasian girl didn't need to finish the thought for the Lakota girl to know exactly what she meant.

*No; she thinks I'm a nova that developed special shielding that blocks sensing quantum energy. Does your Iron Rose know?*

*Yes; I told her at the start that I'm an anti-nova, right after Alchemist told me. Other than them and Augment, though, nobody knows; I tell novas that ask that I have a distributed node.*

Ptesan-Wi smiled. *I have some good news for you, then: I found out what we are.* In answer to Thoughtwave's curious look, Ptesan-Wi sent all the information that Samhra had given her on mesmerists. It wasn't as fast as what Samhra had managed, but a few minutes later, Thoughtwave was nodding.

*That makes a lot of sense; thank you!* There was a pause, then: *So, are you living with Long and Timeslip where you're from?*

Ptesan-Wi gave a sad little smile. *No. I'm living in the Black Hills. I married Wakinyan, but he's away now.*

Incomprehension came to Thoughtwave's face. *Wakinyan? Who is... oh wait, you mean Totem? But he's....* She stopped, and looked paler than she had a moment before.

*He's what?* Ptesan-Wi asked the question with dread; did she really want to know, given what she had seen of the cave?

Thoughtwave swallowed hard. *He's dead. He's been dead for over a year. I remember hearing about it on the news; a nova artist killed him, she claims after he attacked her. I think her name was Carver. There was something about multiple personalities or something; she's locked up in one of Utopia's facilites now. I'm... I'm sorry, even though he wasn't your Totem.*

It was Ptesan-Wi's turn to go pale... at least, as pale as her skin would allow. Then, Thoughtwave asked, *So, you're parents were Indians? Is this a case of convergent timeline evolution or something like that?*

Thankful for the distraction from the news of what had happened to this world's Wakinyan, Ptesan-Wi explained the gift of Neil Preston, how he had given her both the perfect disguise and a path to integrate better with the Lakota.

Finally, Timeslip touched Ptesan-Wi lightly on the shoulder. "It's time that we get going. Been good seeing you again, Iron Rose... and you too, Thoughtwave. Take care!"

The two versions of Melina Harris said their silent goodbyes, each knowing that they had just experienced something they were unlikely to share again.

Timeslip and Ptesan-Wi was less than a mile away from the house before the Lakota woman asked the obvious question. "So... have you been here before?"

"Yes," Timeslip replied. "I've wondered from time to time what life would be like if I were more social. The Timeslip in this world is more social; she keeps in contact with a lot of Long's friends. I've met her, and she knows that I come over here now and again to try my hand at socialization. That's how I knew to pick this world; I've seen Thoughtwave here before, when stepping into the shoes of this world's Timeslip and visiting with Iron Rose. That said, I need to shoot a message over to 'Angela', and let her know what Iron Rose and I talked about. Wouldn't be a good thing for there to be an unfortunate memory gap there." She pulled an OpNet device out from her eufiber, and started tapping away at an impossible pace; then, she took Ptesan-Wi by the hand, and the land swept by beneath them until they were once more at the empty cave, the shell of a life that had never been lived.

Another transition while enveloped within Timeslip's stars, and the pair were back where they had started, in the cave that Ptesan-Wi had turned into a home. She started to thank the temporal master for her help... and Timeslip cut her off. "We're both Terats, both of the One Race; helping each other is what we do. Someday, I may need your assistance, and when that day comes, I hope that you'll remember today." There was a whirl of stars and blackness, and Ptesan-Wi was one more alone in her home.

----------------------

So that's what I would have done without Wakinyan. I would have stayed out there in Colorado, with Iron Rose and Augment, with television, with pizza, with central heating, with a job....

A small form wriggled under her hand, and Chipmunk poked his face up toward her own. With a smile, she said aloud, "Wakan Tanka, I'm glad that I met mihinka ki."

Ptesan-Wi poured herself another cup of tea.

[Ptesan-Wi]

She wasn't alone.

The sole fellow mesmerist - latent mesmerist, Ptesan-Wi reminded herself - that she had so far found had come, not from her tribe, but in a chance meeting so unlikely that she almost physically felt the guiding hand of Wakan Tanka. Sean's adopted daughter was, however, of the People: she came from the native stock of Peru, and had the dark skin and beautiful black hair to prove it.

Sean and Iharra had discussed the matter with her after the unexpected discovery, with all parties agreeing that it would be good for the young girl to visit Ptesan-Wi from time to time. Nobody actually spoke the words, but all held some hope that exposure may increase the chance that Iharra would manifest her mental powers, rather than remain latent for the long term. Also agreed was that the matter was to remain a private one, secret from all but these three souls; when Ptesan-Wi had related her escape from the Rashoud facility and her time on the run, Sean had been quick to agree to maintaining confidence on this matter.

The discovery had been more than just a comfort to Sean, who knew now that the future might hold great things for his daughter. It has also proven to be a major shot in the arm for Ptesan-Wi, who had begun to dispair for ever finding another of her kind. Now, armed with the knowledge that at least one other with her unique "anti-quantum" gifts existed, she gave a silent promise to Wakan Tanka to redouble her efforts to find others amongst the People.

[Ptesan-Wi]

This is harder than I thought it would be.

Three times in as many weeks, Sean had brought Iharra back out to the cave high up on Inyan Kara, and had shown the trust to leave his adopted daughter in the hands of Ptesan-Wi. For hours, the two had talked without saying a word, though it had taken some time to get the young girl out of her shell enough even for that.

All the while, the Lakota psiad had used her powers to their utmost, both as example and in an effort to trigger whatever it was that would bring Iharra out of latency and allow her to blossom as a 'mesmerist'. She had heard that exposure to novas was often a trigger for quantum latents, and on some level she simply knew that the same held even truer for those like herself. And yet, there still wasn't a hint of anything in this girl - just the resounding, clear echo of her latency that was felt by both mentor and student.

By Wakan Tanka, I'm a mentor now. I never thought that I would be able to fill that particular role as a Terat... but now? Now I have taken that step. I can only hope that I'm up to the task.

She looked at the girl, trying with all her might to move a pebble. But I think I can save overt explanations of Teras for a later day.

[Ptesan-Wi]

So much change, in so little time.

The past two meetings with Sean and Iharra had been so very, very different that the four earlier. How the situation had changed - had, in some ways, soured - in so short a time still left Ptesan-Wi flustered during the long flight home on her 'snowshoe'.

The new meeting place was anything but ideal: a motel room in Pender, Nebraska. It was as close as the former Terat was willing to bring his adopted daughter... and was still within (barely) the 500-mile radius of Chicago from which Wakinyan was forbidden to enter. Only with prodding was he willing to go even that far. At least, the psiad mused, it is on the sacred lands of the People; maybe it will be enough, in time.

That Sean felt such anger towards her mate was still a sticking point with Ptesan-Wi... and for a variety of reasons. Can he not see that we are ascended, him and I? Can he not just accept that we need to be who and what we are, and that Wakinyan would never harm Iharra? Whatever the source of our powers, Wakinyan and I are gods... and so is Sean, if he would just open himself up to the fact. Will he deny his daughter her rightful place when she comes into her own?

The long sessions with Iharra had been frustrating as well. The girl clearly had the spark, but fanning it into a flame was a daunting task. Ptesan-Wi had strained against her own limits, trying with every ounce of her divine strength to help Iharra blossom. A small hint of promise was starting to show, however; at the end of the last session, just as Ptesan-Wi was withdrawing the mental connection she had forged with the girl, she had unexpectedly felt fingers of thought - frail, fragile, but nonetheless there - reaching out from Iharra's mind to grasp for a last moment at the link. It had been, she thought grimly, the one shining point of the day. She could only hope, as she covered the last few miles to Inyan Kara with its promise of hearth and home, that it was a promise of things to come.