Part I:  The Lock
Chapter 1:  Awakenings

Yellow-white light filtered through the wide window of the room, drenching its contents and its sole inhabitant in shades of gold and yellow coloring, the light reflecting off the semi-reflective white walls, warming and brightening the room considerably.

The young man who was the room’s only occupant sat on the gray-white of the room’s floor tiles against the bed, and stared at the palm of his right hand with an indecipherable expression on his face.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that he was now over 500 years old, having spent the bulk of that span inside a cryo-sleep chamber in the hope of curing the disease that had ravaged him and 13 others, and untold millions more if the doctors who had awakened and supposedly cured him were correct.

Five long centuries had passed in what seemed both an eternity and instant of falling, drifting through a cold white sea of fragments of memory and thought.  It was good that he didn’t remember what those little bits of dreams were, he felt, since he felt they would be little comfort to knowing the horrors that humanity had faced during those centuries just in order to cure the disease he had inflicted upon the world, though it wasn’t his fault.

That was what the doctors had said, noting that it was no fault of his own that Nature had apparently decided to take the sword to one of her more problematic creations.  However, the young man thought with a mental snort, you could just as easily insert God for Nature there and blame humanity for doing something to bring down His wrath upon his creations.

He’d been given to understand that had happened as well in that long, long sleep, and that as many people died from the conflicts that sprang up as a result of the disease’s appearance as from the disease itself.  By the time the dust had settled and “cures” found for the disease, the world held barely a third of the population it had held eighty years before its outbreak, before he had been placed into sleep.
He hadn’t done it because he had wanted to live any longer; at the time he was placed into the hospital he had been already dying from the disease’s onslaught, and he had merely sought to provide even a feeble bit of hope for those still alive and those who would come after.  Claire, he thought to himself with an accompanying pang of sadness, regret, and love, his mind turning back for a moment on that long gone hospital room.  As he sat in the room’s empty silence, gazing at the golden hues staining his upheld hand, he remembered the people in suits who had come to visit him in his isolation chamber, knowing they were important politicians.  He remembered listening to them thanking him for his sacrifice, remembered not caring about their fervent and desperate praise a bit, only wanting to be with Claire for a few moments longer.

Now they were gone, lost to the past and their own ends, and here he was, stuck in a body both familiar and strange, with strange new strength, speed, reflexes, and intelligence.  Every movement was a careful exercise in not suddenly overdoing it; even a casual movement to pick up a glass of water took extreme concentration so he wouldn’t knock it flying or crush it in his hands.  His mind was even worse, since he had been woken up two months ago he constantly found his mind drifting off on tangents, and his memories had become almost painfully sharp and vivid.  The young man was just barely getting used to the way his “new” body worked and now they were going to dump a trainer on him for…rehab, since he couldn’t think of anything else to call it.

A series of muffled knocks on the cream-colored security door snapped the man out of his reverie, and he rose slowly and clumsily from his position against the bed, even that careless movement taking an eternity to complete.

“Enter,” he said, still unaccustomed to the new language he’d been learning for over two months since his awakening.  The people of this era still used English, but mostly in a scholarly or scientific setting, English having taken the role that Latin used to fill back before he’d been put into cold sleep.  The common language of this era sounded like a pidgin of several different languages, most prominently English and maybe Chinese or Japanese.  One of the few benefits of suddenly being able to use a larger part of his brain was a newfound talent for languages, or at least this one at any rate.

After nearly two months of (or trying to) speaking it his command of the language had improved incredibly, and now most of his problems stemmed from a lack of vocabulary.  He’d taken to listening in on the guards’ conversations with his enhanced hearing in order to improve it, and to add to his collection of swear words.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of another tangent, and he looked up to see one of the two doctors in charge of him, one Doctor Elman Alan, stride into his little room holding some kind of tablet computer and with one of those paternally condescending looks plastered on his face.

“Gone diving off into another current, eh Mr. Henderson?  Dr. Manaes and I would have hoped that wouldn’t happen as often as you became more comfortable with the changes to your body.”

Henderson gave the doctor a distant smile, and scratched his head in response.  “Yeah, I guess so.  I have been getting better lately, especially since this time two weeks ago.  My mind seems to be more resistant to going on tangents, and it’s getting easier to snap out of them too.”

He frowned, since even unconscious gestures like scratching his head took some concentration to make sure he didn’t exaggerate his movements, and that aspect of his acclimation hadn’t improved much at all in the last two months.

“I’m still having problems with my coordination and physical abilities though.  Maybe that trainer I heard was coming can help me with that.”

Dr. Alan raised an eyebrow in response, and Henderson could feel something like a wave of surprise roll off the doctor.  “You knew about that already?  I thought neither Sylia nor I had told you about it yet.”

Henderson shrugged and grinned at the doctor, forcibly stopping himself from making another customary and dangerous movement.  “I do have the freedom to walk around the section of the facility devoted to my project, and people still gossip in this century, so…”

The doctor snorted in response, familiar as he was with the gossiping tendencies of his fellow staff.  “Well you heard right Brian,” he said with a decided emphasis on Brian’s first name and an underlying feeling of something dark.  “We have hired a civilian contractor to help you learn how to use your body properly, mostly because if we had military personnel in charge of your rehabilitation and the public found out about it, there might be an outcry.  You are one of the legendary people responsible for much of the change over the last six hundred years after all.”

A heavy weight of something resembling responsibility settled over Brian at that comment, and he sat down on his bed as the implications and thoughts related to that responsibility threatened to drag him off into another spiraling tangent.

Alan studied him for a moment with an expressionless look, and even caught up as he was in his own thoughts, Brian was sure he could feel cold and calm calculation radiating from the doctor.  “Well, since you already seem to know about what I wanted to talk to you about today, we’ll leave it at I think.  Oh, and in case you had not heard this as well, your trainer will also handle your cultural and educational acclimation.  She should be arriving in a few days, and though it is extremely short notice, it is because we weren’t sure that we could find a trainer for you so quickly.”

Something about that last statement of the doctor’s struck Brian as off, and frowning he said, “Wait a moment please.  Why isn’t Dr. Manaes handling the mental aspect of my rehab?  Isn’t she a qualified psychologist?”

His question got another patronizing smile in response and a wave of condescension and calculation from Dr. Alan, and Brian had to fight back a chill running down his spine in response.  “Dr. Manaes’ particular skill set is better suited to another aspect of the project, and her personality is…not well suited to handling your particular situation.  Thus, we have hired someone to professionally handle your rehabilitation.”

There was still something wrong with this, seriously wrong with this, and Brian didn’t like the implications of what the good doctor was saying, nor the feelings underlying those statements.  The mere fact that he could perceive those feelings scared him as well, and deep down, he knew that this insight into the minds of others wasn’t fake.

It begged the question of what exactly he was now.  He’d already learned of the existence of the vaccine for Beta Humanus, and of the creation of the Newborn.  He still looked mostly like himself, save that his features had a more refined cast to them, and his eyes had taken on a deeper and multifaceted green color than they had been originally.  The way in which he perceived the world was different as well.  He’d always been aware of his surroundings to a certain extent, something his father, an ex-fighter pilot, had called “situational awareness,” but now he had the feeling that he could expand or focus that enhanced awareness.  His perceiving the emotions and drives behind the doctor’s thoughts were a part of that, he understood intuitively.

A slight cough, one that would have gone unheard before his senses had been sharpened jerked Brian out of his reverie, and he had the sense to smile sheepishly at the doctor and perpetrate the idea that he was no more than a helpless fool out of his element.  Which he was, no doubt about that, but he had the potential to find that element again.  That much he knew.

“Another aimless current, Mr. Henderson?  Anyway, now that you are paying attention to this world again, I will take my leave with the reminder that your trainer will be arriving later this week.  The details should be listed in your wristcom, should you choose to wear it for once.”

Computer in hand, Alan walked out of Brian’s room with muted footsteps, leaving the young man wracked with guilt and worries about his new world.

* * *

Several hours of tiring and frustrating mental exercises later Brian finally decided to listen to the minute grumblings of his stomach, something he’d been pointedly ignoring for awhile, mostly because he didn’t relish leaving his room.  It wasn’t agoraphobia exactly, just the knowledge that he stuck out of the crowd in some way.  His new ability to sense the emotions of other people was the biggest reason why he didn’t like to leave his room.  Ensconced in the room as he usually was meant that he didn’t run into too many people and their emotions, and he was getting better at restricting the range of his perceptions.  Particularly strong emotional impressions could and did make it through even if he was trying to hold his ability in, and touch gave him the strongest impressions.

He still remembered being awakened in the middle of a nap a week prior by a group of scientists having an intense argument over a hundred meters away in a different part of the building, the fierce impressions of their anger and frustration washing over him and making him irritable for the rest of the day.  That sort of occurrence was rare so far, and Brian had been getting much better at blocking out things and keeping his range of perception short, usually about a fifteen-meter radius.  He could also sense the “direction” of a particular impression, of who or what the emotion was directed at.

Going to lunch in the facility’s cafeteria was one way of practicing his control, and it was his best source of information besides the obvious propaganda the facility computers and his instructors were serving him.  It also let him learn more about the social customs of the era, and after his first experience at the cafeteria, nearly three weeks ago, he knew he needed the practice, as much as he dreaded it.
Sighing, he rose shakily from the lotus position he’d been sitting in during his exercises, straightened his clothes, a set of white shirt and pants and a coat with tails on front and back, and walked out into the hallway on his way to the cafeteria.  While he walked, he pushed his perceptions out to about twenty meters and navigated around people, their conversations, and their emotions.  Brian still wasn’t sure exactly what the limits of his abilities were, or if he might be able to do more than just read the emotions of the people around him.  It was a scary thought, and at the same time seductive, his natural curiosity and his drive to find out more about what he was making it hard to resist the lure of trying out various things on someone.

As he negotiated the wide hallways of the medical research facility Brian caught a hint of what felt like twin suns blazing in the corner of his mind, almost reflexively contracting the range of his ability to avoid the intense ‘heat’ created by the two people…enjoying themselves.  Brian avoided thinking about that one too deeply, though he took a moment as he started walking again to reflect on how focused the two of them were on each other that he hadn’t even noticed they were in their room until he’d walked within range.  Usually strong emotions of that caliber had him hiding in a corner of his room trying to shut out the overwhelming impressions.
Shoving thoughts of the two lovers aside momentarily as he walked in the cafeteria’s double doors and into a welter of people, conversations and emotions.  As much as the chatter devolved into an intense wave of pure sound, the vast number of emotional impressions merged into a surge of mental noise that Brian forced himself to ignore as he walked towards the cafeteria’s counter to get himself some food.

The usual youngish-looking woman was behind the counter, and Brian had to fight his urge to flinch at the strong waves of curiosity and muted attraction radiating from the woman.  She was youngish-looking because Brian had learned (the hard way) that physical appearance didn’t correspond with actual age with the advances in medical science and the effect of the Beta Humanus vaccine.  The food service lady looked like she was in her early twenties, much like Brian felt he was but he’d learned through some secondhand gossip that she was actually closer to sixty than thirty, which shouldn’t have been so surprising to him since he was pushing towards the second half of his sixth century.  

Of course, he’d spent over five hundred years of that in a cryo-sleep chamber but, he thought to himself with a snort.

Another little cough and a sinking feeling snapped Brian out of yet another reverie, and he gave the woman across the counter a hesitant smile as she repeated her question.

“Sir, what would you like?  Your usual?”  Her professional smile masked the curiosity and puzzlement that Brian could sense behind it.

He was still fighting his way through his embarrassment at being caught in thought in public as twin waves of incredibly intense ecstasy rolled through the cafeteria, and Brian nearly blacked out from the intensity of the paired emotions, briefly strong enough to completely drown out the noise of the somewhat crowded cafeteria.
“That…that’ll be fine, thanks,” Brian managed to stutter out as he steadied himself on the lunch counter and focused on blocking out his empathic talents.

She looked at him with a concerned expression, a tiny bit of her concern floating through his shaky mental barriers.  “All you all right sir?  You turned pale all of a sudden.  Would you like me to call a medic?”

Brian shook his head vigorously, ignoring the sudden flare of pain in his temples from the motion, knowing that would be the last thing he wanted right now.  He saw her begin to move her hand towards his through the sudden and blinding pain.
“No, I’m fine, just been fighting a bad headache all day,” he lied, awkwardly moving his hand to his temple in a rather transparent attempt to avoid her touching his hand.

He could see the disappointment and hurt on her face briefly, before it assumed its former professional impassiveness.  Touch was something important to the social lives of people here, and that was something that Brian tried to avoid whenever possible.  Touching someone gave him a window look into the emotional composition of the person who touched him or the other way around.  Brian had passed out the first few times someone had touched him after his powers had grown strong enough that he had begun to sense emotions around him.

The food service woman assembled his order, some kind of traditional noodle entrée that wasn’t familiar to him from his past life, and handed it to him on a plastic tray promptly once she finished putting it together.

“Sorry,” he muttered quietly as he walked off to an empty table quickly, ignoring the headache caused by the strong blast of emotion he’d felt a moment ago, which was probably from those two lovers he’d felt earlier.  That certainly hadn’t been anywhere as self-contained as the earlier incident had been.

He used the set of disposable chopsticks he’d been given and quietly slurped up spicy noodles covered in some kind of mint sauce that tasted a lot better than it sounded, and Brian was content to watch the blue waters of the lake bordering the facility from his window seat and to let the headache slowly fade away.

Blessings and banes abounded in his life, and he wasn’t sure which edge of his new gifts was sharper.  Brian could only hope that this new trainer of his would help him find a way for him to balance that double-edged blade.

* * *

Three days had passed since Dr. Alan had informed Brian of the hiring of his new trainer and teacher, and now he was waiting for her to arrive in one of the facility’s lounges wearing much the same thing he had three days earlier.  He was getting a bit tired of the sterile whiteness that seemed to pervade everything, and he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to take comfort in that unchanged fact from his past life, but hospitals were still depressing even if they were primarily research centers.
Brian managed to avoid making another trip through his memories as the door chimed to admit Dr. Alan and a Newborn woman, who looked like she was barely out of her teens, which probably meant she was in her thirties or so in Brian’s estimation.

Alan was wearing his usual white doctor’s smock over the universal white/grey shirt and pants combination, while the Newborn was dressed in a sober black and green uniform-ish outfit that somehow managed to look baggy and form clinging at the same time.  The dark greens and black of her uniform complimented the deep, dark blue of her shoulder length hair and eyes.

The youngish looking Newborn woman looked up slightly into Brian’s eyes, and he could sense the steadfastness and strength that lay behind the azure gaze of her eyes, and he also got the definite feeling that she was sizing him up in some way.
“You are Brian Henderson then?  I am Elara Wunn, a contracted officer from the Avatar Consultation office, and I’ll be in charge of your rehabilitation and education from here on out.  While I won’t be on the premises for the entirety of each day, you will be spending the majority of the morning and afternoon in my care in order to get you accustomed to your changed body quickly.  Do you have any questions before we start?”

Brian started to shake his head in response as he puzzled out the strangeness of her emotional reactions.  He usually managed to catch even minute impulses and feelings in people this close, and yet Elara felt almost cool to his mental senses, a hint of caution and razor-sharp awareness the only things he could glean from her.
A slight movement and rustling of Dr. Alan’s coat pulled Brian’s attention from studying his impressions of Elara’s emotions, and he looked at the smiling doctor with a vague sense of suspicion, since he had that same aura of calculation about him again.

“Well then, since there seem to be no problems between the two of you, I will leave you to it then.  Please remember not to strain or hurt yourself Mr. Henderson, and remember to come to your regular medical checkups.  I shall see the two of you later then.”

Both Brian and Elara watched the doctor turn around and walk out the door, and the Newborn woman waited until the door hissed shut in the doctor’s wake before stepping in close to Brian quickly enough that he barely recognized that she had moved.

“I would suggest that you learn to hide when you check on other people’s emotions Mr. Henderson.  Most normal full-blooded humans, vaccinated or otherwise, don’t show much if any esper talents.”

Her whispered voice carried the same sharp edge of awareness and caution that her previous impression had carried, and her comment itself involuntarily stiffened his spine in response.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was just wondering why you were staring at me like that.”

His denial sounded weak even to his own ears, but Elara only smiled in response and Brian caught a brief flash of approval and wry amusement from the woman.  Approval?  He didn’t understand why she would approve of him denying his empathic abilities like that, and he definitely didn’t understand how she knew about his talent.

“I wasn’t the one staring Mr. Henderson.  Unless customs were different in your previous life, staring is still regarded as somewhat impolite.”

“Sorry,” he said lamely, “It’s just that you’re the first person I’ve talked to that’s from outside of the facility.  It’s a little rare to meet someone that I haven’t seen a few dozen times already Ms. Wunn.”

Brian caught a brief hint of surprise that was quickly squashed as she waved off his comment and stepped back a little bit.  “Call me Elara, please.  Physical rehabilitation doesn’t lend itself to formality.  I expect by the time this is over to have learned a lot of English curses.”