The Bus Stop

[brian_campo]

Brian sat on a long bench at the Reno Avenue bus stop. Overhead, an awning lined with fluorescent lights cast a bluish glow on his skin. Behind the bench, a wall of ads hawked hair and skin care products. Someone had drawn a magic marker dick on an ad for Oil of Olay face cream. He flipped through a magazine until he got bored, and then he rolled it into a tube. His Toyota was in the shop for an oil leak, which stuck him with public transportation as a means to get between work, practice, and his apartment.

A bum hunched at the opposite corner of the bench with a boombox playing Lionel Ritchie's "Hello". The man was fast asleep with a half-empty bottle of liquor between his feet.

Brian eyed the power button. 'Wonder if I can...' He narrowed his eyes and focused, but as hard as he stared, he couldn't depress it with his brain. A change in tactic was needed. After a quick check of his surroundings, he flexed his fingers and flung out his arm, pretending to throw an object at the button.

The whole boombox pitched to the side and clattered onto the sidewalk.

The bum jolted upright and looked around for the culprit.

Brian became preoccupied with his hair.

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[brian_campo]

Brian wondered what was supposed to happen if it wasn't alright.

He shook hands. "Brian," he spoke cautiously, because with that wink-wink-nudge-nudge look from Cian, he knew he had been busted. Lately he couldn't throw a rock without hitting somebody who thought it wasn't a big deal, or had something weird going on themselves.

"You um... you see that a lot? What I did?" The concern on his face made Brian look even younger than his twenty-four years.

[cian_oneill]

"No, not what you jus' did. It's usually been with a little more intent and a lot more success," he told Brian, giving him a wry smile. "You uh, been doing it long?" he asked, curious as to why the man hadn't been able to perform a basic action like turning the power off from a few feet away.

[brian_campo]

"Couple of months," he admitted. Brian opened his palm and rubbed his thumb over the creases. He sat in silence as a red light changed to green and street traffic surged through the intersection, kicking up a breeze that rumpled his hair.

Brian slung his arm over the back of the bench and raised his voice over a stereo. "So you're saying that, compared to a peer group I didn't even know existed... I suck."

[cian_oneill]

Cian shook his head, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth creating the impression of a smile.

"No idea about y' peer group. Just knew someone who c'ld do it. 'nd did. Without riskin' damaging anyone's property."

[brian_campo]

"Great."

Brian tried to see the positive side of this news: it meant that someday, he might develop control over it, or meet a person who had done so.

"Ah, sorry to keep asking you questions, but... Do you happen to know how they did it?" he asked. "I mean, was it some kind of magic spell, were they born like that, or...?" He drifted off because he didn't know what other possible causes might exist. "'Cause I don't know how I'm doing it," he answered sheepishly.

[cian_oneill]

Cian shrugged a shoulder, not completely sure how Mac had done it. "He just did it. Had been able to since he was a kid, and was pretty damned good at it." He looked at Brian and gave him some encouragement. "Said it took practice," he told him, "but he taught himself."

The last time Cian had seen him was when he was taken from court to be detained in a high security prison, that didn't use keys.

[brian_campo]

"That's what my girlfriend says, practice and meditation. But I have a hard enough time settling down to sleep. Meditating?" He fixed Cian with a crooked smile. "I dunno. But she's... she's special. She was probably born meditating."

[cian_oneill]

Cian laughed, wondering if Brian had even realised how that sounded. But he knew the difference it made, and it was something he and Annie had fought about when he'd been learning.

Laddie if'n y' no givin' y'self, or 'im, the chance then y' gonna pay th' price! It had been about then she'd named Siofra.

"F' most it ain' summin' y' can jus' do, but I c'n tell you it's worth givin' it a go."